dilf enthusiast

MDNI! i love dilfs♡

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧welcome to my blog ⋆｡˚☤🩺✧

about me: i’m abigail, 25, i love reading, drawing and playing the sims♡

i am a sucker for a medical show, so requests are open for the pitt, ER, greys anatomy, chicago med, the resident and new amsterdam

❤︎- fluff ▲- angst ★- smut

drabbles-

addison montgomery inspired!reader x jack abbot (the pitt)

peds fellow!reader x john carter (er 1994) ★

perv!jack abbot x peds doctor!reader ★ part 2 part 3

jack abbot x dispensary worker!reader

frank langdon x wife! reader (the pitt) ★

asks are always open- claim an emoji if u wanna remain anonymous

general thoughts are tagged under #abby talks

[mariasont]

LET'S WORK IT OUT ON THE REMIX ˙⋆✮

frank and robby's unresolved resentment comes to a head when their rivalry turns sexual and they start using you as the middle ground.

MASTERLIST | RULES | PINTEREST

PAIRING michael robby robinavitch x reader x frank langdon

WARNING 18+ MDNI explicit smut, fem!reader, AFAB!reader, ménage à trois, boyfriend!langdon & boss!robby, freaks being freaks, hate sex?, robby and langdon using reader as a stress toy and therapist all in one <3, possessive!langdon, robby is condescending per usual but like in a hot way, oral (male & female receiving), robby picks up reader to throw her on mattress at one point, voyeurism, lots of pet names (sweetheart, baby, doll, etc), starts with robby and frank at odds with each other, ends with them teaming up against you... wink wink, lots of dirty talk, robby and frank talking about reader to each other, langdon lowkey degrading robby? idk yall

WC 4.2k | REQUEST here!

You didn’t think this little plan of yours all the way through. 

Which, in your defense, implies there was a point at which there had been a thought-through version, and that feels charitable now that you’re standing in the middle of your living room with a paper plate in one hand and a steadily souring sense of dread in the other.

Because really, what sort of person invites her chief attending over to the apartment she shares with her resident boyfriend while the two of them are still in the world’s iciest little bro-divorce? 

Your sort, apparently. Certified dim-bulb. Girl who sees a gas leak and thinks, hm, maybe a sparkler would improve this situation.

But in your defense the frost between them had been spreading and you were tired of pretending it wasn’t. Tired of pretending it wasn’t affecting the job itself. Everyone was.

So yes, maybe engineering one contained, inescapable little social crucible had felt wise at the time. Healing, even. Put two men in a room and let nature take its course. 

Frost can’t survive fire, you told yourself. What you failed to remember was that fire tends to not be warm in any benevolent way. Fire bites. Fire blackens. Fire leaves marks.

The proof of your terrible idea now sits on opposite ends of the sofa. Robby on one, Frank on the other, a clean swatch of empty cushion between them while they chew their food in perfect, hostile union — bite, grind, swallow, repeat — ostensibly watching the TV. 

The screen washes them in intermittent blue light, giving them both somewhere neutral to stare, somewhere that is not each other’s face. 

You give it three more seconds. A generous three, really. More than either of them deserves. Then your patient collapses inward on itself. With a sigh, you deposit your plate on the coffee table and cross the room.

If they want to commit to this pageant of masculine emotional constipation, fine. You can be disruptive. You turn and reverse yourself right into Frank’s lap, crossing your legs at the ankles.

His breath catches against your neck, a fracture in an otherwise composed exterior, surprise or shock of you climbing on him in front of your boss, but he stays statue-still except for the palm that migrates to your thigh and clamps there. 

“Robby, you still think their rookie QB’s gonna choke in the red zone?” you ask, making a doomed little bid for peace with the ragged scraps of football knowledge you’ve managed to absorb by osmosis, your chin tipping toward the drive unfolding onscreen. 

Without so much as a glance your way, Robby grunts, “Kid’s overdue for a disaster,” a verdict delivered to the television but seemingly tagged for his recovering subordinate to his left.

The half-smirk that follows is pure instigation, and Frank answers it the only way he can in mixed company: “Disaster? He just took them eighty yards in two and a half minutes. Think that earns him at least a little faith.”

And spiteful tone notwithstanding, the words pass between them minus bloodshed, which you decide counts as a victory.

Maybe not a large victory, not something they’d name a holiday after, but you’ll take whatever pocket-sized miracles the universe is handing out before it changes its mind.

Robby finally cuts Frank a sidelong look, head ticking just enough to register annoyance. “Faith won’t change the fact he’s already gift-wrapped the defense a few choice turnovers. Odds say he does it again once the end zone feels too close for comfort.”

Frank’s knee bobs once with a scoff, bouncing you with just enough force that your t-shirt shifts, neckline dipping. Robby’s gaze snaps there like iron to a magnet; he tips his beer to hide a grin, but the swelter in his stare is anything but subtle. 

Interesting.

It’s not the first time you’ve caught Robby looking at you like that.

There have been other moments, in passing, usually at work. You’ve caught him with that glazed, faraway stare before he could reel it back in when you bend over a counter to grab a pen or crowd too close beside him in those paper-thin scrubs.

It’s always just been filed away under things that are none of your business, because you are Frank’s and happily so, and desire from other men has always struck you as one of those minor background inconveniences of having a body in public.

But now this feels less easy to write off. Like all that tension that had been hard and almost boring in its predictability has warped into something else entirely. It feels humid and unstable and just this side of visible. 

You can’t name it yet, but it waits there all the same, right at the edge of articulation, poised like it knows you’ll eventually have to. 

“Real rich, coming from you,” Frank says to himself and you, but the tail end mutters itself into “— jackass.” 

They both return to the TV after that, or pretend to, shoulders squared forward, expressions set into the particular blankness of men who are absolutely not done arguing but have decided, temporarily, to ferment.

You take advantage of the attention shift, letting gravity slump you into Frank’s chest, hips shifting in an absent figure-eight as you settle. It would’ve been innocent if the movement didn’t drag you directly over the hard proof of his excitement beneath you.

Your brows lift.

Another interesting development.

Useful, too, knowing whatever strange atmospheric disturbance has rolled through the room has not passed over him untouched. Not just Robby, then.

“Easy.” His inhale saws across your nape, voice pitched for you alone, the consonants clipped and almost panicked. “You tryna start something?”

You really weren’t, but you know he’s not in a position to believe you right now after you made a show of climbing on top of him not two minutes earlier.

Across the cushions, Robby’s tongue drags across his lower lip like he’s cleaning a knife, bottle slack in his hand.

“Hmm? Third-and-four, babe. Pay attention.”

“You don’t even know what third-and-four means,” he growls under his breath. “You’re already on thin ice after springing Robby on me — so do us both a favor and quit squirming.”

“Should probably listen to him, kid,” Robby says suddenly. You and Frank turn at the same time, guilty in stereo. He reclines deeper into the couch, lids at half-mast, utterly unmoved by Frank’s incoming glare. “If Langdon wants you to quit squirming it’s only ‘cause he’s struggling to keep up,” he drawls, eyes flicking to the tell-tale bulge under your ass. “Guy’s never been great at thinking and feeling at the same time.”

You don’t even have time to be embarassed before Frank’s growling, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Robby.”

“Is that right?” he challenges with raised brows. “Well, you’re welcome to show me.”

Heat prickles along your neck, a phantom fingerprint.

Surely that’s not the invitation you take it as. You just have your mind in the gutter. A mind that happily projects the image anyway. Robby reclined in that same spot, beer perched on his knee, gaze foggy with lust while Frank’s mouth maps yours and your hips test how steady the good doctor’s hands really are.

It is, on reflection, not nearly as appalling a thought as it should be, which feels like a separate problem and also, perhaps, the main one. 

“Relax, Frank. If you can’t handle it, just say the word — I’m happy to keep her occupied.”

Oh. You stand corrected.

Frank’s lips peel back in something just shy of a grin. His hand slips from your thigh only long enough to cup your jaw, turning your head until the room blurs to the halo of his face.

“She’s already occupied,” he tells Robby, but his eyes stay on you, a dare stretching between eyelashes. 

You don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Don’t so much as twitch, and that tiny surrender is apparently all the permission Frank needs.

His lips crash into yours, teeth scraping, soda-sweet fizz sparking on this tongue while his arm bands tight around your waist. The couch groans under the sudden torque of bodies. Denim grinds denim until sparks pop behind your eyes and every rational neuron shrugs, clocks out, leaves libido in full command.

The instant your mouths part for air, Robby’s bottle clinks onto the table.

You turn just as he leans in, forearms braced on his knees, broad shoulders now blocking half the TV’s glow. Up close, his stare tracks the smear of Frank’s spit on your bottom lip, the way your chest still heaves in uneven intakes. 

A shadowy smile carves on cheek as Robby tilts his head, dark eyes roaming from your swollen mouth to Frank’s white-knuckled grip on your thigh.

“Could use a closer angle,” he mutters. 

“By all means,” Frank sneers, one fist gathering your waistband, tugging you a slow quarter-turn until you’re astride him, chest to chest, knees snug to his hips.

On the short but damning list of Professional Conduct Hell-Nos, “make out with your boyfriend while your boss spectates” probably ranks very high. Somewhere between falsifying patient charts and starting a fistfight in the ambulance bay. Possibly above stealing narcotics, which feels in poor taste to think with both men in the room, but then again, the evening has already wandered several zip codes past good taste.

It wanders even further when Frank kisses you again.

The list of reasons this is wrong atomizes into glitter until even Robby’s razor-keen gaze becomes another blur at the edge of the frame, taking in tremors you no longer have the bandwidth to hide.

But the awareness of the extra set of eyes of you only seems to dump pure accelerant into your bloodstream until you’re arching into Frank and rolling your hips down against the thick seam of his fly, bumping perfect pressure against your clit.

A wet rush answers between your thighs, lace sticking to your folds, and your breasts mash against Frank’s chest until you can feel your own heart ricochet through peaked nipples.

You break the kiss again only to clamp down on his lower lip in your teeth and tug, over-dramatic, leaving a sticky sheen that practically screams look what you’re missing, Dr. Robinavitch.

“Sure he’s convinced, Frankie?” you ask, breathless, thumb dragging over his lower lip to soothe the place your teeth had just nipped at. “Convinced I’m tied up and off-limits?” 

Frank laughs, a thin, rattled sound. His hand coasts up the slope of your back, ironing himself into every dip and imperfection.

“Dunno, baby.” He ghosts a kiss at the corner of your grin, another softer one under your jaw. His gaze darts over your shoulder to Robby, then sinks back to you, trouble puddling in the dimples you love. “You wanna show him? Show him how much you like taking care of me?”

You’re nodding before the sentence is half-born, a frantic little yes-yes-yes of motion.

In your haste you misjudge your own limbs, nearly knotting them with Frank’s before scrambling free. You drop between his thighs, the carpet scraping your knee raw as one hand shoots out to catch the dense muscle of his quad for balance.

To your left, Robby shakes loose a low, entertained hum. “Poor thing was just waiting to be useful.”

“She’s useful all the time,” Frank murmurs, and there’s no bite in it. His fingers sink into your hair and comb it gently back from your face. With his other hand, he pops the button of his jeans, zipping sliding down slow enough to hear every metal tooth give way. “Just happens to be especially pretty when she’s desperate to prove it.”

A guttural breath escapes Frank as he eases himself out, fist wrapped around a length that stands fierce in his hand, the flushed head of his cock blushing deeper with every absent pass of his thumb.

Your lips part, tongue wetting the seam, gaze fixed with the naked intent of an animal staring down dinner. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. He offers a slow, decisive nod.

You don’t wait for a second invitation. You are many things but wasteful is not one of them.

Fingers wrap him in one cautious loop, then tighten once his inhale hiccups above you. You lean in and drag your tongue in one flat stripe from base to tip, tasting salt and the darker thing that’s only his.

He hisses through his teeth, every muscle in his thighs wiring tight under your palms, his hands balling like he’s fighting the reflex to bury them in your hair and steer.

Before he’s recovered, you’re already sliding him past your lips, and all that soft worship knifes into raw, unfiltered hunger.

His fingers finally tangle at your nape, gathering the curtain of your hair back in a practiced sweep, granting him an unobstructed view as your mouth sets a slow pulse around him. Like he needs to see every inch of what you’re doing to him or he’ll die from not knowing.

Your hand picks up the slack, stroking the length your mouth vacates.

“Jesus.”

“Told you,” Frank says. “She likes takin’ care of me.”

“I’m getting that,” Robby drawls, dryness turning brittle-sharp . “Little overeager, though.”

And you are. Eager. Greedy. Shamelessly so, student-raises-her-hand-before-the-question-is-finished so. You take Robby’s little barb as praise anyway, letting it roll down your spine, because if he wanted you less eager then maybe he should stop sounding so interested in it. 

You work him deeper, spit glazing the shaft, smearing over your knuckles. Saliva puddles in the cradle of his pants, printing a wet halo.

Frank’s head thunks back against the couch. “If you had her mouth on you, Robby,” he grits, “you’d be begging for the same… enthusiasm.”

“You offering?” Robby asks Frank. “Because I’ll admit — she’s a lot more tempting on her knees than being a smartass during rounds. I could get used to that view. Might even teach her some new tricks.”

You answer with a muffled growl that vibrates along Frank’s cock. He twitches under it.

That is such bullshit. You are not a smartass indiscriminately. You are a smartass with standards. A smartass in self-defense. A smartass only when Robby shows up in his holier-than-thou vestments and wonders aloud if you’re “having trouble following directions” for daring to question a single judgment call, or when he lofts that patronizing brow at a truth everyone else is simply too cowardly to say, or when he coaxes your attitude out of you with all the patience of a snake charmer and then acts scandalized when it finally bares fangs. 

And yes, fine, maybe you’ve needled him once or twice simply because the little pinch of his mouth brings you joy.

Sue you. People have hobbies. Frank has terrible coping mechanisms. You have this. 

Your nose nudges the downy trail at Frank’s belly, saliva threading between your lips as your throat opens, then you draw up in one long, slow drag.

Warning flashes through every tense line of him a second before his breath punches out in a fractured little curse.

“Fuck, sweetheart —”

Frank’s fist eases you off him, and when your mouth slips away with a wet pop, he’s panting, cock flushed bruise-dark, a string of precum still kissing the corner of your lip before it snaps.

“Sorry — shit. You keep doing that and I’m gonna come down your throat in front of your boss.” 

You shrug. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Robby whistles. “Pretty sure we crossed that line a while ago, Langdon.”

Something hair-thin cracks across Frank’s face, a little fault line opening where the smirk had been, sour and old and too personal for the room you’re currently kneeling in. You can’t place it. Can’t tell how Robby managed to find the bruise when he’d only seemed to brush the skin. 

“Kind of rich, you saying that.”

Robby’s smile doesn’t move, but his eyes freeze over. “You implying somethin’?”

“Implying nothing. You love quoting policy til it suits you to break it.”

“You wanna pick a fight with me right now?” Robby scoffs. “Because I gotta say, your sense of timing’s still shit.”

“At least I’m consistent” 

“Listen, Langdon, the day I take a lecture on —” The rest of Robby’s retort dies when you stand, stepping straight into the line of fire and blotting out the last scrap of civility left between them.

This is what you wanted, right? The attention snapping toward you. Both of them suddenly silent because you have become, for one second, more interesting than their pride.

You catch both set of eyes as your fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming it up your ribs, knuckles brushing the goose-pimpled slope of your stomach.

The cotton’s off before either man can inhale a protest, pooling at your feet like a dropped flag, and for a heartbeat you let them see you in nothing by the pale, breath-strained lace of your bra: straps sliding, cups stretched indecently tight, nipples pebbling hard enough to ache.

You reach behind, flick the clasp, and let the bra fall too, shoulders rolling back so your breasts lift, unapologetic, into the hush. 

Frank reacts the way he always does, as if this is a miracle he’s somehow been deemed worthy of witnessing — never mind that he’s had your tits in his mouth four times already this week. 

But it’s Robby’s look that reroutes every living cell in your body. No wide-eyed marvel here, just pure clinician, jotting mental footnotes on nipple angle, respiratory excursion, overall breast biomechanics.

He’s studying you so hard you swear the room compresses, a slow squeeze that coaxes your back to arch and your knees to drift tighter, slick pulse drumming a reminder of why you stood up in the first place. 

You channel their attention straight into your backbone, thumbs hooking the waistband of your shorts and tugging until they puddle beside your discarded shirt, leaving you to stand in nothing but a damp lace thong.

“If you two would rather keep the pissing contest going, that’s fine,” you say. “I’m perfectly capable of finishing solo.”

A bluff — half bluff — because you could, but gods you’d rather make them beg to help.

You turn, gifting them a sway of your ass, all bravado, as you saunter toward your shared bedroom.

You make it exactly three steps. An insulting distance, really, before Frank’s hand brands the small of your back and Robby’s palm spreads wide over your belly, both of them converging so fast your brain barely has time to document the win under effective tactics.

Together, they swing you back into the wall hard enough for the plaster to kiss your shoulder blades.

The air leaves your lungs in a little hmph, quickly swallowed by Frank’s mouth claiming your collarbone, while Robby’s thigh muscles between yours and pins you there, your pussy dragging firm against his pant leg. 

“Sensitive little thing,” Frank murmurs, thumb stroking the underside of your breast while his lips charts a slow latitude up your throat.

Robby catches your chin between his fingers and tilts your face, giving Frank better access and forcing your gaze up to his at the same time. Efficient. Very attending of him.

“All that attitude for a fifteen-second wait? Spoiled, aren’t we?” He glances at Frank, amused as he jerks his thigh higher to your clit. “Think she even remembers why she started the tantrum?”

“Doubt it,” Frank answers, sliding a palm between your panties and robby’s leg to cup at the wet heat there. A tremor shoots down to your toes. “Memory’s about to get a lot worse, too.”

“Good,” Robby says, smiling crookedly as his hands make their way up your thigh. “Maybe then she’ll let the adults talk.”

Adults, you want to scoff, but Frank’s thumb circles over your clit and you forget what else you wanted to say about that. 

“Bedroom,” he decides.

“Copy that,” Robby answers, and then before you can blink, you’re scooped over his shoulder, world flipping until you’re staring at his (very nice) backside.

His hand smacks your ass once, proprietary punctuation as Frank follows, tossing directions like you’re precious cargo being delivered: “Second door on the left.”

You hit the mattress with a squeak. Plush bedding cups your spine, breasts pitching up and down before settling into a slow rhythm that seems to hypnotize them both.

You blink up into the twin eclipse of their silhouettes. Four eyes drinking you in. Every rise of your chest pulls a twitch from Frank’s jaw, drags Robby’s lower lip between white teeth. Shared silence of men who have finally found a reason to put their differences aside. 

Robby looks to Frank for permission. “Can I?”

Frank gives one curt nod. “Hands and mouth only.”

“I can work with that,” Robby says. 

He crawls forward, knees depressing the mattress, settling between your thighs. 

He leans in, and suddenly his eyes are galaxies: black centers swallowing brown until just a thin halo glows like caramel on a burner. 

It’s a weird feeling. How Robby, the same man who can watch arterial spray and merely sigh for suction, is gazing down at you like he’s the one white-knuckling the edge. 

But then the galaxy eyes disappear and in their place returns Dr. Robinavitch. Cool and insufferably sure. His expression settles into something almost cruel, like he’s caught you noticing the crack and intends to punish you for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb stroking a glistening stripe through your underwear. “Soaked through already. That’s pathetic, sweetheart.”

He punctuates the verdict with an almost tender kiss to the inside of your knee, then another, higher. Instinct yanks your thighs together, but Frank is suddenly there on your right, palm bracketing one knee and pressing it outward again.

“Don’t hide now,” he chides.

A raw, useless sound breaks from your throat.

“There she is,” Robby praises, mouthing higher. “Nothin’ smart to say?”

You do. You must. Somewhere. But you find only ache. Voice trembling, you plead, “Please… Robby.”

He answers with action, sealing his lips over your clip through the fabric, drawing a slow, punishing suction that makes you cry out. 

Frank’s hand pushes your abdomen down, steadying the tremor, while his voice near your ear sounds: “That’s it — let him see how polite you can be.” 

You look to your right to see his cock sitting against his stomach, free hand doing lazy strokes up and down the base.

Robby hums low, mouth dragging down the damp seam of your underwear in languid swipes. His tongue flattens, gathering your taste, then flicks upward. His nose nudges your swollen bud with every rise. 

“Press a little harder right there,” Frank tells Robby. “She’ll act like it’s too much, but she likes it. Don’t let her squirm away.”

Robby listens. You hate that, you decide. How he’s on Frank’s side now.

You had been counting on his natural contrarianism to save you from Frank’s encyclopedic knowledge of all your most intimate buttons. No suck luck.

He bears down on the pulse point Frank named, then tongue-blades upward. White heat flashes through you and you flinch, trying to shear sideways, but his grip tightens, thumbs denting soft skin. 

“Uh-uh, baby — stay right there and take it,” Frank croons, the up and down rhythm he approaches with his cock kicking up speed. “You know it feels good, let him give you every drop.”

Robby works you relentlessly, sloppy and dirty, tongue alternating broad licks and focused circles that make you arch off the bed. You bury both hands in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, unable to keep your moans at bay.

“Good girl,” Frank drawls. “Let him make it up to you. All those times he’s been a dick at work. Seems only fair he uses his mouth for something useful.”

Robby shoots him a murderous side-eye but doesn’t slow. Instead he hums, vibration punching straight through the fabric. Your moan breaks into pieces — so close you can taste it. 

“Michael, I’m gonna —”

He hears his first name like a starting gun. His tongue locks onto your clit in punishing patterns, each lap faster than the last, crooked nose grinding everything just right. 

In two heartbeats the world pinpoints to a blistering of sensation. Your vision whites out, fingers clawing uselessly at this hair and the sheets as your climax slams through you. A ragged cry spills against Frank’s thigh while every muscle locks, then ripples.

Still, Robby doesn’t relent. His mouth stays on you, tongue lapping through the quake, coaxing aftershocks that make your thighs quiver against his braced shoulders.

Only when tremors give way to trembling afterglow does he ease back, breath hot against the sodden fabric, leaving you boneless and blinking, pleasure echoing through every nerve like a fading siren. 

Robby lifts his mouth, chin and beard glistening. 

“Thought about this every damn shift,” he says, tongue darting out to chase another bead of you from his lip. “Tastes even better than the fantasy, doll.”

Your eyes drag into focus by inches.

“That’s wildly unprofessional,” you mumble, the words softened by the fact that your thighs are still trembling around his head. You try to look stern. You suspect you look freshly exorcised. “You should probably report yourself.”

Frank’s hand tightens where it rests on you, his voice dropping to something rougher. 

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give him plenty to confess to.” He looks over your body, then to Robby. “Think she’s ready to find out what happens when we stop taking turns?”

“She’s ready,” Robby responds. “And if she isn’t, she’ll tell us. Won’t you, angel?”

A twin grin blooms across two previously warring faces.

This is not how you pictured getting Frank Langdon and Michael Robinavitch back on the same page. 

But if this is what conflict resolution looks like nowadays, who are you to stand in the way of progress?

MARIA NOTE posting and ghosting this one bc i lowkey don't know what came over me when i wrote it

[groovyangelkisses]

@ceriseangels & i are going insane over viagra rabbot so here you go… a lil gift from the vault <3

having viagra already ready in the bedside table by the first time you actually sleep with jack. he's super embarassed because he forgot his bottle at home, and truthfully didn't anticipate the biweekly happy hour ending in having the 20- something year old intern nestled in his lap begging to feel him chub up.

in the midst of his annoyed grumbling, “fuck, i’m sorry, honey. thought it wouldn’t be a problem tonight, you look so beautiful, really. so, so sexy but of fucking course i fo-“ you whip out the bottle. straight face etching into the most casual, sweet smile of reassurance.

and jack is absolutely astounded. first, that you could be so casual about him needing a little blue pill to get it up– like he was talking about a vitamin or advil. secondly, that you already had a bottle waiting in your nightstand.

it doesn’t hit him until he’s balls deep in you about 15 minutes later, your hands pressed down on his shoulders as you whine. he raises his hand from your hip to rest at the base of your throat to grab your attention.

your eyes flash open, teary and expectant of the older man beneath you. he’s half teasing, half agony. begging you mid fuck “who were those for sweetheart? huh? who had you before me?”

smiling evilly at him & he knows he’s fucked, knows he’s changed forever by the youthful, playful woman in his lap; bouncing on him like a bunny and hugging him to her chest less then a second later.

[sugartalkingwrites]

MDNI 18+

jack abbot who jokingly complains to his girl that she's gotta stop getting stiletto nails every time you get your nails done. he whines about how you keep clawing up his back like a feral cat attacking him. s'not your fault that he bullies your cunt with his fat cock every time he comes home from work? ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)💢 fine, if it's such a problem, you'll just get short nails with dull tips.

he's coming home from work knowing you had just gotten a new set done the night before, the entire drive home he was thinking about the sweet way you'll cry when he's fucking you silly on the couch. the way your nails will drag down his back, leaving red welts and scratches in their wake, or the way they'll feel when you're dragging them through his hair. his smile fades when he looks down at freshly done round-tipped nails that are currently holding a book.

"what... what made you do something so... different, honey?"

"thought i'd try something new out for a bit.... what? you don't like? can't scratch you up anymore, baby!" you point out so proudly.

even as he's thrusting into you, all he's thinking about is how soon he can book your next manicure and what else he'll have to be buying you to make up for this. poor baby is even finding it hard to cum without your nails digging into his back when he hits the sweet spot that has you clenching around him so tightly. that's the last time he makes a complaint about how sharp your nails are, ever.

[zivistardust]

Slow- Brendon Park x Virgin reader

Warnings- loss of virginity (obviously), smut, fingering, handjobs, penetration. Brendon Park trying his best to be a gentleman but fucking up anyway. He’s kinda a perv but surprisingly lovesick and tender.

He takes it a bit like a slap, the shock of it.

“Are you serious?”

He can see how you deflate, wilt at his question, red with shame.

And he panics. This is so not how he wanted to react. His brain just went a little off line. It’s been… nearly 2 decades since anyone he knew was a fucking virgin.

“Sorry I’m not trying to be- there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you, or your… choice. It’s just a little unorthodox so I’m surprised, that’s all. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” He explained quickly.

His hands closed over yours. Weather it was because he was afraid you’d get up and leave after his misstep, or to show support, you didn’t know. But his eyes looked so sorry, you forgave him easily.

“It’s not like, a religious thing. Or something I really did on purpose. It kinda just… never happened. And the older I got the more guys, uh, freaked out.”

He freaked out, didn’t he.

“I’m really sorry about that” he admitted. “It was just a surprise. It’s not a problem for me or something.”

You nodded still pink, looking sideways to avoid his gaze. “Can we talk about anything else?” You begged shyly. “Absolutely. What are you thinking about dessert?.”

After that fumble of a first talk, Brendon swore he’d take it slow to himself. He didn’t need to be a fucking perv about it. He liked you before. He liked you after. Sure, maybe if it wasn’t the case, the second date he’d have tried to get you to invite him in. But it was the case. So he drove you home, walked you to your door, and asked for a kiss like a gentleman and did so respectfully with his hands chivalrously on your cheek and waist. Not too much tongue, no wandering hands. He felt like a fucking blushing virgin himself when you kissed his cheek before you locked your door, leaving a faint pink sticky mark on his cheek to match you lips.

This was fine.

It was fine. He could be normal about this. He wouldn’t get weird about it.

You took things slow. And as much as, of corse, he had thoughts about you that he had to keep to himself, desires and wants- not needs, it’s a want not a need-, it wasn’t all that big of a difference from dating someone else. You were just slowly rolling at your pace. At your comfortable pace.

He realized just how inexperienced you were early on. Not some everything but cutting corners church girl, you hadn’t every passed kissing. The first time he kissed your neck a little during a makeout session (he was keeping it in his pants, not being a saint okay) you got fucking loud to his delight, and admitted no one had ever done that to you before. “Do you like it?” He worried. You nodded aggressively. Cute.

Things were a lot like dating anyone else. You went out once or twice a week. Eventually you came to his place. The first time you were wound tight and anxious, seemingly afraid he’d try to push you. He didn’t. Of corse he didn’t. He made you dinner, asked you about your day with a hand on your thigh as he ate with one hand, put on a movie you had wanted to see and that was it. Walked you down to your car, and said honestly “I liked having you in my place. Let’s do this more.” Before he kissed you and watched you drive off.

Eventually you started staying over, too. Without sex. Just sleeping over. Casual dates in turned to you being far too sleepy to drive and him insisting you should stay. He can take the couch. It’s not safe to drive like this. You insisted he couldn’t do that, that was crazy. You slept in his bed, with his arms around you in nothing but his tee shirt and boxers, and he behaved like a saint. It’s by the grace of god he didn’t wake up with morning wood from spooning you all night. You smiled at him none the wiser as you kissed him good morning, morning breath and all.

Things slowly heated up. Brendon got intimately familiar with his hand in a way he hadn’t since highschool, and things heated up between you. Makeups got hotter and heavier, your hands now desperate, if he really got lucky he’d get a little grinding and dry humping and you’d let him grab your ass. He’s like a teenager again, really. 40 year old respected, desired, and feared surgeon, clubbed in the knees by his desire for a young innocent woman.

Ironically, Brendon realized he was in love with you, truly deeply loved you the first time you tried to have sex and it went to hell. There wasn’t a real talk about where it was going, it just went there. Maybe that was the problem. Kissing hot and heavy, pulling him down the hall to his bedroom, he was kneeling over you pulling off the buttons of his shirt desperately trying not to break the kiss. He reached for the hem of the pretty little two piece set you were wearing, and at the brush of his fingers against the skin of your waist you shot up, gasping for air. “I can’t, I’m sorry- I- I-“

He held you to his chest as you breathed hard, lips to your head promising you were okay, it was okay, he wasn’t mad, it was okay. Holding you close, shirt unbuttoned hanging off his shoulders. He held you close, cradled as you calmed down, breathless gasps.

“I don’t know why I’m so scared” you admitted in shame.

“Because it’s a lot, and you waited a long time so it makes you anxious. Lotta pressure lotta buildup. It’s okay. We’ll get there. You’re okay, it’s okay. We just gotta take it a little slower, this was too much too fast.”

“Thought it would be easy to rip of the bandaid.” You admitted though a sad laugh. “It’s not a bandaid to rip off. It’s special. You’re special.” He whispered, brushing away your tears.

You felt so safe. “You’re being so nice when I just blue balled you” you said wetly.

“Not nice. Just love you.” He admitted. On accident. Like an idiot. Who just says it when he thinks it.

“You love me?”.

Definitely.

“Definitely. My heart wouldn’t be breaking for you right now if I didn’t love you. I’d be a lot angrier about my hard on and less worried about you being down on yourself if I didn’t love you. I don’t know when it happened, but I do. I love you.” He swore as sure as anything. “I love you too.”

He breathed out a relief he didn’t know he needed. “Didn’t wanna be the crazy girl who said it too fast. But I love you.”

He smiled like a fool, stroking your hair back. “Look at us, huh? We’re in love”.

You kissed him full of giggles and joy, previous anxiety in the back of your mind.

“C’ mon baby. Why don’t you go take a shower? I think you need some sleep.”

He pulled out clothes for you, turned on the shower so it would warm up, and kissed you on the head. Told you to take a nice long shower. Then he took himself to his guest bath and hammered on it hard. Not that you needed to know. And then he crawled into bed next to you, where you fell asleep with your ear over his heavy heart.

The gameplan was formed. Take it slow. Step by step. Work up to it. Ease into it. Don’t go all the way in one night, baby steps. It was embarrassing but you agreed. “We’ll take it as it comes. Take it as you’re ready. It’ll happen, I know that. But I don’t want you to ever feel like that again. Slow.”

So you kept taking it slow.

You were on his lap, kissing him hard and breathless and sloppy, grinding on him like your hips had a mind of their own desperately.

“Brendon” you whined out desperately in his lap. What you’re desperate for you don’t even know, you just know you need. “What, baby? Turned on? Need me to help?”. With wild dumb eyes you nodded, almost at tears with need. Despite your anxiety, you were just a woman. You had cravings and desires and wants, too. And your boyfriend, your sweet and patient boyfriend, was hot. Muscular and masculine and successful and fucking sexy. Of corse he had certain effects on you. “I’ll help you honey, it’s okay, I gotcha.” He cooed. He bought his hand up to his mouth, spitting on his middle finger just incase and slipped a hand up your skirt.

You tensed, heartbreakingly. Braced for impact.

He cooed reassurances in your ear. “M not gonna go inside, baby, not tonight I promise. Don’t wanna hurt you. Just gonna make you feel good. Not gonna go inside.” he swore.

You nodded against his shoulder. You wanted it. You did.

“Just gonna touch you here and make you feel good.” He whispered, his thick middle finger collecting some wetness and stroking your clit.

Your body jumped like a live wire.

He chuckled, amused and endeared.

“Easy sweet girl. Feel good?”

Another experimental stroke, less of a jump, but a moan this time.

“Anyone ever touch you here before, baby?” He wondered. You shook your head. “Jus’ me” you admitted. He chuckled to himself. “Am I better?” He winked.

A vehement nod that made him nearly laugh.

You had an effect.

He was mindful of the pressure, his touch feeling like velvet against you. Easy steady strokes of his thumb that had you shaking and begging, crying his name into his neck.

“Can you- um-“ you glowed red. “What do you want baby?” He asked. He’d give you anything like this. “Can you. Uh. Put your fingers-“

“Inside?” He confirmed.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” He checked, just once. You nodded. “It’s not your- it doesn’t count.” You convinced yourself.

Cute.

She can barely say dick without melting.

“Sure, yeah. But only if it’s what you want.” He insisted. “I wanna see how it feels.”

“Okay baby” he cooed. “You should lay back for this then.” He insisted.

You obeyed easily, laying back on his couch.

He wanted to push. Fuck he wanted to push his luck so badly. Of corse he did. But he wouldn’t. Of corse not.

“What?” You panted worriedly, looking at how he stared down at you, popping onto your elbows.

He shook his head at that. You didn’t need to do that.

“Can I take off your panties? So I can get a better angle.” He explained. God, he wanted everything off. Wanted to see your wide hips and your soft belly and your fucking tits- god, he knew you were gonna be the shy type about them-

But he’d just settle with this for now.

You nodded burning red, letting him snake his fingers up your soft thighs and hook into them, dragging them down and leaving them behind him.

Fucking lace. Fucking pink lace. God. What’s a better gift than a desperate virgin leaking just for you I n lingerie?

And that pussy. He’d felt it, and just seen a glimpse. God. It was gorgeous. He wished he could taste it right now. Stare like a creep too. Hike you over his shoulders and dive his tongue deep till he was drunk. Wrap his arms around your thighs and never let go. But that wasn’t what you asked for. You wanted to feel something inside you. Feel something of his. So that’s what he’d give you.

He settled himself over your body, knelt on either side, his right hand softly rubbing your tight just above where he wanted to be.

“If it hurts, you have to tell me, okay baby?” He reminded you. You nodded sweetly. He kissed you slowly while he brought his hand to your warm wet hole, making sure not to surprise you.

When he made contact, you were ready to suck him in. Greedy and needy. Perfect.

He pulled back from the kisses. Giving you space to speak. To panic. To back out.

“I’m gonna go slow” he swore.

He began to insert his middle finger slowly, stopping when he realized he’d hit- holy shit. Unexpected territory. He knew you’d never been fucked. Not that you were completely untouched inside. “B?” You panted. “Going past here is gonna hurt a little.” He warned you. “This is your sweet little cherry.” He explained, head spinning with need. “Oh” you muttered. “You uh, want me to keep going? We can stop.” He confirmed. Nervously you nodded. You reached for his available hand, and who was he to deny you that? So fucking sweet.

“It’s okay. Just a little pinch” he promised.

In his more… questionable younger years, he’d have driven his cock right past it. Savored the reaction. But he was an older man. Kinder. Gentler. Refined. Better.

He kissed you slow and languid to finally push past, seeing the way you squeezed closed your eyes and whimpered in discomfort against his mouth.

Maybe you needed lube. But you were so wet.

Oh, sweet girl.

But then it was done. You’d let him take your physical literal virginity. Break your fucking hymen.

Woah.

You panted below him.

“Feel okay?” He worried. You nodded with doe eyes and an ajar mouth.

“I’m gonna add a finger” he warned you. And you nodded. In slid the second.

Tight fucking fit. He couldn’t wait to feel that on him.

You moaned.

“Feel good honey?” He asked, starting to slowly fuck in and out of you. Slow. He’d stay slow. He wouldn’t be hard or intense. He wouldn’t scare you. Wouldn’t make it hurt, wouldn’t be aggressive. Wouldn’t be like some young jackass in a porno. Slow. As slow and romantic as finger fucking a girl on your couch could be.

He brought his thumb up to your clit.

“Is that okay or too much?” He checked. You nodded. “Good. So good.”

“Good.” He agreed. “Just wanna make you feel good baby. It’s all about you right now. Making you cum on my fingers, making you feel good.” He muttered. “Tonight’s all about you. Just about you.”

“Keep- keep talking please.” You begged. “Yeah? You like it when I talk you through it? Such a sweet girl.” He cooed as you moaned and whimpered beneath him. “Respond so fucking pretty. So responsive. You’re like a live wire, it’s so hot. Never seen anything more beautiful than how relaxed you look while I fuck you with my fingers. They big, baby?”

You nodded and whimpered.

“So good you can’t even talk, huh? Bet you’re gonna cum fast like a teenager. Bet you won’t be able to fucking help it. It’s okay. We can do this again whenever the fuck you’d like. Gonna get you addicted to that. You want that?”

He curbed his fingers carefully against your walls, curious about the reaction.

You cried out loudly. His name broken on your lips.

“Yeah, you liked that. Come on baby, come for me. Know you feel good. Get there. I’ll get you there.”

You funny did cum, legs locking around his hand, voice loud and shameless, back arching off his couch.

A work of art.

He eased you through it, finally slipping his fingers loose when you had full calmed down. “You’re gonna be a little sore tomorrow” he warned immediately. You nodded, not really hearing him.

He dried his hand on his jeans, before pulling you into his lap. Made sure your skirt covered your modesty, softening up your sex wild hair.

God, this is you after just a fingering.

“You okay honey?” He asked finally. You nodded, before slouching into him.

Sleepy and cuddly.

He was thankful that you were selfish. Thankful you didn’t offer to take care of him so he’d have to shoot you down. Thankful you were ready to pass right out and he wouldn’t have to keep himself sane.

“I’m good. That was good. Thank you.”

“No hardship at all.” He promised, leaning in to kiss you softly. “So perfect.” He praised. “C’mon sleepy girl, let’s get you to bed.”

He took a very long shower, and joined you in bed to cover you in kisses and snuggle you tight.

In the morning, you shyly asked over breakfast “what happened to my, uh-“ “in my hamper” he shrugged. The good news was you kept clothes at his place now. You flushed. “Baby, there’s nothing about those to be embarrassed about. Happy to see them many more times. Very sexy.” He flirted.

And you just burned red, looking at your eggs.

“There’s plenty more where those came from” you admitted shyly. Brendon licked his lips with a proud grin. “Oh yeah? My girl likes feeling pretty huh?” He egged. You were melting with shame and desire at his teasing. “Bren” you whined. “I’ll stop, fine. I’ll be good.”

Things heated up from there.

Not more often than not, but occasionally mid makeout you’d be flushed with need, and look at him with sweet desperate eyes, and he knew what to do. Knew how to give you what you wanted. You’d grown slowly more confident, familiar with intimate touch. But you still hadn’t made any move to undress before him yet. And he made no move to do the same to you. He could sense your silent gratitude every time, so he made no move to disrupt that.

Eventually you stared at him with a hungry look in your eyes as you rutted on him one night. “Need a hand?” He teased, winking as he moved to kiss your neck. You bit your lips. Pensive. “What, baby?”

“Can I… take care of you tonight?” You asked nervously. “I know… I know I work you up too. I know I’m a tease-“ “you’re not. Don’t call yourself that” he scolded. “I just wanna make you feel good this time.” You admitted shyly. Almost sad.

He needed a second to think about it. Of corse he wanted it but was it a good idea?

“I don’t want it to be too much for you” he explained. “I don’t want to put a cock in your mouth before you’ve even lost your virginity. That’s a lot to handle. I know other girls do it first but you’re not other girls. It’s a lot I don’t want to to that to you.” He explained worriedly.

He feared hurting you. Pushing you too far. Feared it so bad. “What about my hands?.”

“Are you sure?” He checked again.

“Will you- will you help me?” You ensured vulnerably.

Fuck. This wasn’t gonna last.

“Of corse baby.” He swore with a passionate kiss.

You moved to get on the floor and he shook his head, patting the couch beside him.

“Right here.” He ordered.

You obeyed. Tucked your legs under you, pressed tight to his side.

He took your hand in his bringing it to the crotch of his jeans. His hard on straining the fabric. He put your hand over it, guiding it up and down and sighing from the contact. “Feel what you do to me, baby?” He sighed. “All for you. All my love for you.”

You felt yourself grow wetter by the second.

“Can I-?” Your finger teased his button. “Yeah. I’ll help you hold on.”

He eased his jeans and boxers down just enough to take out his cock, hard and red against his torso.

He let you take a second just to stare. He didn’t need to me mean. This was your first time seeing a cock in real life. He’d let you adjust.

Eventually he found your eyes, seeing your blush. “It’ll fit” he settled on teasing, making you burn brighter. “I know. It’s a little big.” “You’re so cocky” you giggled. “Well it’s easy with a cock like this.”

You snorted a laugh, hitting his arm.

Yes. Yes relax. Sex is fun, relax. Laugh.

He took your hand in his again, brining them both up to your mouth. “Spit. Or lick it. Choice is yours.” He instructed in a voice barely above a whisper.

You chose lick, unfortunately for his balls.

Way too hot.

He brought your hand in his back down to his cock. Hard and needy.

“Start with the tip. Very gentle. Just a little teasing.”

When your thumb, soft and dainty, stroked his tip, he knew he wouldn’t last long all. “Fuck.” He sighed as you fallowed his hands guidance, teasing his tip the way he liked. “Oh, baby.” He sighed.

When he looked at you, you held a face of awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Now. Uh. Keep it- keep it slow and gentle. Not too light, that’s just mean. But not tight either. Just like this.”

He guided your hand up and down his shaft, practiced swivels of his wrist, up and down.

“Good job, good girl. So good” he praised desperately.

“Sometimes it’s nice to get a little mean. Squeeze a little bit harder, a little nail- ah! Fuck. Fuck yes like that” he grunted. “You’re a natural. So good.” He praised more.

“Should I go faster?” “No, no this is perfect. You’re perfect.” He swore, before leaning over to kiss you. You didn’t stop the motions, to his delight. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, Y/N. Not gonna last, you’re doin good.”

It didn’t take much longer, Brendon grunting against your lips between slow lazy kisses for him to cum over your hand and his shirt.

He pulled off his soiled shirt, wiping his hand off on it and mentally noting to ditch it in his hamper.

“Was it good?” You worried biting your lip.

“Amazing.” He swore. “You’re perfect. Always are. Now, let’s worry about you sweet girl.”

“I think I’m ready” you admitted one night shyly.

“Ready for- oh. Yeah?”. He stopped in his tracks.

You nodded. “Yeah. Want you.” You said like it was nothing. It hadn’t been an especially special day. You hadn’t had any sort of special date, wasn’t any sort of anniversary. You had spent the day together, a museum and a dinner date before you came back to his like a hundred other nights. Whatever sparked this he didn’t know. But he wouldn’t complain.

“You sure?” He worried, stroking your cheeks where his hands rested on the sides of your face. Eyes locked on his you nodded coyly. “Okay. Whatever you want baby.” He swore, leaning in to kiss you softly.

He’d keep it calm. Keep it slow and easy. He wouldn’t get too keyed up and passionate, too rough and intense. He’d make sure it wasn’t too much for you.

“Let’s go to bed” he encouraged, nodding down the hall.

He led and you fallowed.

It was easier to take his own shirt off first. He wouldn’t make you strip first, that would be mean. Off came his shirt, and his lips were back on yours. He loved the way you looked at his body. With a shy hunger and an embarrassed need. Sometimes he’d catch you rub your thighs together if his shirt came off. He loved that.

Your hands found his chest easily as he walked you back to the bed, where you stumbled back into the cloud.

He made hasty messy work of his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers as you kicked off your sandals. No shoes on the bed.

“You’re a little overdressed” he teased.

You blushed, stammering a yes.

“May I?”

You swallowed and nodded.

First came your shirt, a cute little flouncy cotton thing. He had it he careful not to rip it as he pulled it over your head.

Then came your jeans, low rise and just snug enough on your ass to make him drool all night.

And there you were, in the softest blue lace that was nearly white.

He choked on his own breath.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He said, as if he hadn’t already known.

He’d never seen so much of you before, an expanse of soft stomach, delicate collar bones and full hips.

Framed by pretty lace.

A desperate virgin in lingerie just for him.

You blushed under his gaze but didn’t hide yourself as he resumed his kisses.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, reaching behind you for the clasp of your bra. Hesitantly you nodded, finally.

His hands were expertly practiced. Which was what you deserved. Not some fumbling 20 year old.

A man who knew what he was doing. Who could take care of you the way you deserved. You deserved nothing but the best. Someone who loved you and would put you first the way you deserved. Who’d make you feel nothing but blinding pleasure.

“You did the right thing. Waiting for me. Waiting for a men who’d do this right” he admitted.

You moaned.

“You know I know what you need. You know I’ll give you it. Such a smart girl. Such a beautiful, smart, amazing girl.” He swore.

Your bra fell down your shoulders with his guidance, and he had to bite down the sound that tried to leave his throat.

“So fucking pretty.” He sighed.

“B” you whined. “Right here baby.” He swore. “Right here. I gotcha.”

He kissed you once again, his hands ever so gently fondling your chest. “You’re perfect.” He repeated.

He started trailing his kisses down your neck, feather light and teasing.

You gripped his hair.

His palms spread wide on your hips over the thick band of lace on your hips. “Can I take these off?” He checked. To which you nodded.

He moved fast.

Once again cautious not to rip something so pretty and delicate.

“God. You’re everything.” He breathed, taking in the full sight of you. Of neatly trimmed hair, of soft folds.

“Brendon. Need you.” You begged.

His head swam.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked, inside feeling like he was begging.

“You want to?” You asked, in pure surprise. He knew you must have gotten the bad idea from other men that men didn’t enjoy this. But he did. Any real man loved it. “I’ve been craving this for months baby.” He swore.

“Okay.” You shyly nodded.

He beamed.

He did something he should have done minutes ago, pulling a pillow off the headboard to slide under your head. “Want you to be comfy. Don’t gotta think about anything else but coming over and over tonight.” He whispered, settling comfortably between your hips, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“If you don’t like it tell me.” He insisted once, before finally giving in.

He started with little teasing kisses inside your thighs, to see you squirm and mumble soft sounds.

Then dove in, giving himself exactly what he wanted.

He licked and sucked and kissed like the man starved he was, desperately drinking your juices in as you cried out his name, gripping his hair, squeezing his head with those fucking thighs of yours.

You begged for his hand, which he gave you without second thought.

“M gonna cum.” “Cum for me. I want you to. Use my face baby, feel good.”

You didn’t do as he asked, too nice, but you did cum, squeezing his hand and head, back arching off the bed, crying out his name and wild sounds.

After your aftershocks he pulled away, kissing your knee when he did so.

“Been wanting to do that since the first time you let me touch you.” He admitted. “Just as good as I thought it would be.” He praised.

“You’re the best.” You dumbly cooed.

“You’re the cutest.” He shook his head endearingly.

Boneless, naked, and blissed out in his bed. God you were everything.

“You still want to-“

“Yes.”

He chuckled at the certainty. “Feel empty. Want you in me” you pleaded. You had to know what you were doing.

“Okay, okay.”

He reached into his nightstand for his box of condoms. It had collected dust in all these months. Christ.

He stripped off his boxers, then completed the action once so familiar to him and now long unused as he rolled the condom over his hard cock.

He slid another pillow under your waist.

“Trust me.” He insured. You did. So much. In so many ways.

Brendon considered how he should do this. What position would be best for you.

He settled himself between your legs, gently placing your legs beside his waist, not without kissing you ankle bone first. You giggled, melting him to the core. “I love you.” He sighed, unable to resist the urge. “I love you too” you beamed.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned down, kissing you slow and sloppy.

“You ready?”

His voice was a heavy, breathy whisper as he asked, hand slipping down to line himself up.

This was it.

You nodded, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I gotcha, baby. Always.” He promised.

He kissed you again, gentle. And then pushed in glacier slow, watching your face for discomfort as he did so.

Holy fuck.

Your eyes were wide, your mouth a jar open as he gazed at you intensely.

He moved slowly until he was settled fully in, eyes locked in silence.

Fuck.

As tight as he’d thought. But the feeling is blinding. Religious. Better than he dreamed. “You feel amazing.” He whispered. You nodded in agreement, wordlessly. Just kissed him hard.

He gave you time to adjust, settled inside, hips against yours, patiently soaking it in.

It felt otherworldly.

God, god he hopes you never regret giving him this. He hopes you always cherish the memory.

It hits him like a lightning strike then.

He doesn’t want to just be the ex boyfriend you lost your virginity to. He doesn’t want to be a milestone in your past. He wants to be your everything. Not your first, but your last and only. He never wants to share you with another man. Accept that you’ve moved on. He wants to be it. Be the one. He wants to marry you. He will. He will marry you. He’ll buy a fucking ring tomorrow.

Big bad Brendon Park. Pussy whipped. By a sweet innocent wide eyed girl.

“I’m gonna move, okay?” “Okay.”

He pulled back slowly, rocking in shallowly, in and out slowly. Shallow thrusts.

You started to squeak out soft sounds, nails eventually scratching his back. “Too much?” He worried. “Feels good.” You promised.

He deepened his thrusts. Slow and steady, his cock dragging just right.

“Brendon” you moaned. “B”

“Got you baby, I got you. Gonna take care of you. Always.” He swore. Your head fell back moaning, arching under him. “You’re beautiful. Take me so good baby, so perfect.”

“M gonna-“

“Fuck, me too. You’ve got it. Come on, be good, cum for me.”

He kept dragging his cock across your sensitive inner walls, your legs tightening around his back, your nails pulling down his back. “You’re so amazing. I love you so much. Feel perfect. Feel like heaven.” He panted.

It only took a few more thrusts, some sloppy kisses and his loving words for you to squeeze around him, crying out as you came. The tightening pushed him over the edge too, burrowing ball deep and filling his condom.

He pulled out carefully, rubbing your hips as he eased your legs down.

He pulled off his condom, then collapsed ontop of you shamelessly.

You laughed breathily, stroking his hair where his head laid on your chest.

He kissed your sternum over and over. He’d cuddle with you proper in a minute. After he cleaned you up and made you pee. He just had to catch his breath now.

“Thank you for being so patient with me.” You whispered, eyes full of love.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat for you.” He swore. “I’d wait for you in any life.”

[robinavitchgf]

something something robby who retires a year after coming back from his sabbatical and moves into a nice house in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city—it’s peaceful, quiet, gives him time to think, to reflect on life and finally get some time to relax.

that is until he gets new neighbours—a group of girls in their mid 20s, all college students at the university of pittsburgh. so much for the peace and quiet, he thinks. he meets all of them one by one, a different one each day when he goes to collect the paper from his lawn and on friday he meets you. you don’t make conversation with him, just wave at him as you get into your car in the driveway before backing out and driving off. he thinks you’ll be an easy one, no conversation, no chirpy cheery voice greeting him in the mornings—with you he can just smile and nod and that’s all that’s needed.

and that’s how it is for a few weeks, until your house hosts a party and the music goes on until 1am. he tries to sleep through it, turning his tv louder but he grumbles and grunts, pulling the sheets off and marching over to knock at your door. you swing the door open with a yes can i help you? and then you’re taken aback by the sight of him—hair slightly disheveled, no t-shirt, pajama pants hung low on his hips, no t-shirt.

“can you turn the music down? i’m trying to sleep and it’s quite loud.”

“oh, sorry mister.. a lot of them are drunk anyway so we’re trying to organise rides home.”

“thank you.”

“no problem, mister..?”

“sorry, robinavitch.. but everyone calls me robby.”

you nod and smile at him, way too cheerily for one in the fucking morning, he thinks. he trudges back home and into bed, laying awake for 20 more minutes until the music stops and he sighs, slowly drifting off to sleep.

then he awakes with a jolt, sweat beading on his forehead as he checks the time. almost 2am. he tries to get back to sleep but the dreams just became more vivid. he couldn’t lay down and sleep without the image of you on top of him, wearing only a white pleated skirt as you bounced on his cock, hands on his chest as he just lay there, his hands on your waist, controlling your movements. then he heard your voice, that sweet, lilting voice that went straight to his cock whenever you spoke to him.

“you like when i bounce on your cock, mister? like having a pretty young thing like me all stretched out on your big cock?”

soon enough his hand is reaching down below the waistband of his pants, wrapping around his cock and tugging on his length. he groans, free hand gripping the sheets as he nears his orgasm. and he knows you’re not really here, just in his head, but he responds as if you were.

“yeah.. yeah i do, you look real pretty for me like that, kid. doin’ so well for daddy.”

he cums with a deep, low grunt, spilling himself all over his hand and the crotch area of his pajama pants. he curses under his breath as he goes to the bathroom, furiously washing his hands and then changing into another pair of pajama pants. he gets back into bed and he thinks of you again, on the first day he met you and how easy he thought you’d be to deal with, how little he would even think of you, how you’d go about your business and not ever have to deal with each other.

jesus fuck, was he wrong.

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

dispensary worker!reader x jack abbot

AN: This came to me in a dream... I do not have a prosthetic, but i do have chronic pain, so I tried my best here! Lmk if anyone would want a little series of this??

After Jack lost his leg, there were lots of adjustments that needed to be made. Phantom limb pain, the discomfort of the prosthetic rubbing the skin of his stump, how favouring his other leg put pressure on his hip which made him ache like an old man. He knew there was plenty of options of pain relief, but he's seen too many patients whose lives have been ruined with addiction. He pushes through, uses tylenol and advil, and when he gets home from a shift in the ER or with SWAT, its take out then bed. He is surviving, he's going to work, maybe an occasional drink after shift, but he's not living.

So when marijuana is legalised for medicinal use, someone in his veterans support group suggests it. Tells him how its changed their life, that they finally feel that weight lifted, the pain is eased. It isn't until a particularly long day in the ER (a mass casualty meaning he's pulled a double) has him pulling himself into bed, so much pain in his stump that he had to remove the prosthetic, that he decides to try it.

The dispensary is overwhelming, he has no idea whether he wants to smoke or edibles or oils (who knew that was an option), so he looks for a member of staff to ask. That's when he sees you. All bright smiles, hair perfectly framing your face, a few tattoos dotted over your arms, a nose piercing, and at least 15 years younger than him. You wave him over, telling him your name, and asking him what he's looking for, the two of you chatting as you explain the benefits of each strain. Eventually, he decides on some pre-rolled joints and some gummies. He gets out his card to pay, and you just shake your head, smiling, insisting its on the house while he gets to grip with what he likes. He keeps telling you he can pay, and instead you bat your eyelashes and tell him that if he needed anything at all, to call you, even if its just a smoking buddy. He leaves with the marijuana, and a little note with your number on it, feeling lighter than he has in years.

[bleghbarbie]

Kinda thinkin about Jack’s wife walking in on the two of you and being disgusted about him going for someone so young and it actually makes you both hornier

꣖ mdni! ꣓ 💬 .. ꕤ * .ﾟ u get it! these two are jus so disgusting.. one thing led to another ’nd i got carried away :p

heavy fauxcest. tiny mention of gagging

it’s almost like jack had been.. waiting for this. and it’s worse you weren’t even aware. all eyes on jack, hands on his chest, rolling your hips at the pace he likes. started off telling you, ‘go easy on me, be nice to your old man..’

but jack had eyes on you and the door across from the bed.. “look at my baby go.. you know how to work your cock. is it making you feel good? ’s all yours, you know how to use it..”

and the door wasn’t closed. cracked wide enough for his wife’s wide eyes to meet his through it. the small flicker of panic that ran through him dissipated the moment you squeezed down on him, clit fluttering at his words. “really? i can have it..?” your lips twitched on a smile, unaware of his unfocused eyes.

the door pushed open, jack’s wife’s eyes focused on the girl on top of him. jack circling his arms around you, rutting up faster into you at the look on her face. “jack..”

your body stilled at the new voice, eyes unmoving from jack’s face. “course, baby.. you can have it. he only wants to be in your sweet young pussy, loves it so much..”

“how young jack?” the voice rose higher, calling your attention to it, turning your head to see the woman at the foot of the bed, her eyes frowning harder upon fully seeing you. “that’s a fucking school girl, jack. she looks young enough to be your daughter!”

“’nd she’d be the best one i’d ever have.. better than any you could’ve given me.” his tone was sharp, cock still throbbing inside of you. and you hated to admit it brought a dull throb to your pussy as well..

you rocked forward on impact, drawing a little groan from jack, his eyes snapping back to you, “yeah, you like the sound of that? you being the one to make me a girl dad?”

his wife flinched, pressing a hand to her stomach, “that’s sick, jack.. why are you saying that? in our bed, are you kidding me? get off of him, little girl. the adults need to talk.”

you softly giggled, ignoring her and picking your pace back up. “you’re so sick, jack,” you mocked, lying down on jack’s stomach, hand pressed to his cheek, yours turned to look back at his wife. “’m way too young for you.. i don’t know any better. think i need my dad to fuck some sense into me..”

her hand came up to her mouth, stomach clenching and head shaking, “oh my gosh..”

jack pressed kisses on your cheek, hands groping all over you, bunching up into you, deep enough to punch out little gasps for you, fast enough for your body to bounce back and forth, eyes all glossy and pretty, mocking the lady behind you.

“such a bright girl.. my smart little lady,” jack cooed, eyes turning up to his wife, too. “see? she’s a big girl, she can handle it. say it in front of her.. ’s your stepdaughter after all, be nice,” he smirked.

his wife was out of the room and rushing to the bathroom before she could hear your giggles, turned moans, as jack fucked up into you faster, the sound of you two drowning out the gagging from down the hall. it was you two in your little nasty world, eyes only for each other.

[robinavitchslut]

bruhhhhh, this was so nasty give me 50 more 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[groovyangelkisses]

JACK ABBOT NATION YOU CANNOT DIE YET WE HAVEN’T EVEN GOTTEN TO THE SUMMER BBQ DADS BEST FRIEND FICS!!!!

[thykingdoncome]

his best girl

Part One | Masterlist | ao3

frank langdon x reader, michael robinavitch x reader

summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. And today, it's Langdon's turn.

|| smut MNDI 18+ f!receiving oral, fingering, dirty talk, free use kink, dom!robby, praise kink, pussy inspection, m!masturbation, face riding, medical malpractice lol, they do it at the hospital, orphaned reader, reader has trauma, no reader age specified but always legal, reader has no physical descriptions except for having breasts and hair long enough to grab, takes place during s2e14, reader likes Flamin' Hots cause I like Flamin' Hots, the relationships in this fic are not healthy!!! I do not condone this!!! but its kinda hot!!!!! power imbalance, pet names like honey / sweetheart / baby, reader calls langdon 'frankie' sometimes || a/n: listen... I had ONE little daydream about being shared by the pitt men....... and here we are....

"Look who we have here!" called a familiar voice from the center of the bustling ED.

The cool air hit your bare skin the second you stepped inside, AC blasting hard enough to slip under the hem of your shorts and across the damp curve of your chest where your blouse hung low. You shivered at the abrupt change, rubbing your hands once along your arms as your sandals flipped over the tile. The place was alive in the way it always was: doctors and nurses calling codes and medication orders, rumbling of stretchers over tile, machine chirps overlapping one another as you walked by.

"Just what the doctor ordered," came the same voice, her Pittsburgh accent thick. Dana came around the desk before you could answer, her sneakers squeaking with each step, and pulled you into a hug that smelled of hand sanitizer and coffee. As she pulled back, her palm slid down your arm, eyes checking you over.

"Was that a nurse joke?" you asked with an eyebrow.

"I only got a few, so I use ’em when I can," she shot back, not missing a beat. Then her eyes narrowed. "You eat today? You look a little peaky."

"Yes, Dana," you said, a little put-upon, you’d heard her mothering comments a hundred times, but even now your mouth pulled into a smile.

She gave you that look. Her brows lifted and lips pressed flat like she didn’t buy it for a second.

"I had a bagel!" you insisted, tipping your chin up just a bit.

"Okay, okay," she relented, one hand lifting in surrender, though her eyes stayed on you. "But just so you know, I got my good LaCroix stash in the lounge and some flamin' hots I know you like. Hidden behind the protein shakes in case anyone got greedy. I’d make an exception for you, though, angel girl."

"Thank you, D—" your face lit up, "the tangerine?"

"With your name all over it."

You grinned, and she hooked an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she steered you through the emergency department. Her hand was warm and firm where it rested against you, guiding without asking.

As you passed Perlah and Princess, they both paused at the desk. Their eyes followed you and Dana across the room, widening for a second before flicking to each other, something silent passing between them before they looked back at you.

"Not a word, ladies—" Dana said, pointing at them without even looking. They both straightened and spun their chairs around to face away.

Dana walked you a few more steps before stopping, turning you in front of her with a light hand still at your shoulder. Up close, you could see the tired lines at the corners of her eyes, her lips pursed tightly like she was thinking too hard about something.

"Now listen—" she said, lowering her voice to separate it from the rest of the noise around you. "Robby’s havin’ a bit of a day." Her eyes flicked down the hall, then back to you. "I’ll send him over as soon as he’s free, alright, angel girl?"

"Yes, Dana," you said gently, "is he okay?"

"Are any of us ever really okay?" she shot back, but there was something heavier sitting under it.

You nodded, your fingers brushing absently at the hem of your shorts. "I understand."

"But that’s why you’re here, innit'?" she said, her tone easing, the hand that was on your shoulder sliding down squeeze your upper arm. "Brighten things up a little. They need you, kid."

You smiled softly. Dana was always like this, as much as she had once hated the idea of it all the moment she became aware of you and Robby's…situation. But it grew on her the more she realized how much you meant to everyone, how you lifted their spirits too, nevermind the fact that you and Dana just plain liked each other. And yes, sometimes there was the typical testosterone shoot out where the men of the ED became territorial or antsy if you were around, Dana always said they were no better a pack of hungry wolves! when they got a whiff that you were in the hospital.

"Right in here, hon," she said, pushing open a door with her hip.

The room was quieter, the hum of the main floor dulled to a low murmur, curtains pulled tight across the glass and the overhead lights dimmed. The bed in the center was clean and fresh, no blankets or usual patient gown.

"Robby said go on ahead and get changed," she added, nodding toward the bed. "Leave the top on, alright?"

You nodded, already hooking your thumb into the button of your denim shorts.

"He’ll be here any minute," she went on, pausing in the doorway, one hand still braced against the frame. "You holler if you need me. And don’t you go leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye."

"Yes, ma’am."

She gave you a quick wink, then pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click.

When the room quieted, you took a moment to gather yourself, shunting your shorts down to the floor before picking them up again, folding them neatly and setting them off to the side. It was almost always the same routine when you came to see Dr. Robby. Once, sometimes twice a week if his schedule allowed. Sometimes he’d text you not to come in if things were bad. Sometimes he’d tell you to come in now if they were worse.

You and him had a good deal.

He’d found you after the crash. Or what was left of you, anyway. You’d come in shaking, blood barely beginning to dry down your arms that wasn’t yours, your parents already being rushed past you on separate gurneys, machines breathing for them before you could even understand what was happening.

That day--and the months that followed--were all a blur. But you remembered him, his steady voice and kind eyes. He was always there.

You never left their bedside, not when the machines took over or when the doctors would come in with those sad eyes and pitiful looks on their faces. People who you thought you were close to started to avoid you once your parents got moved permanently upstairs to a shared room on life support.

But Robby came every day to check on you. Other people started to come too. For him, you knew realized after a while, since they all had those same scrubs on, all of them had badges--residents, attendings. They'd bring you coffee, or just sit with you when he couldn’t. You got used to seeing the same faces, and they got used to seeing you.

You’d promised your parents you’d never date again. You weren’t sure if they could hear you, but you told them anyway. You told them if you could go back and change that night, you would. You would’ve never taken them to that god-awful dinner with your piece of shit boyfriend—now ex, thank you very much. His family was just as bad as he was. You should have known. About him, about them. About how the car ride would go after, your parents telling you that you deserved better, that they couldn’t believe you’d settled for any of that.

The whole ride had been tight with hurt feelings and raised voices, your dad turning in his seat to argue, your mom trying to calm him—and then the light, run red, and the sound that followed.

You’d never let them down again.

When the time finally came to take them off their breathing machines, to let them go naturally instead of artificial lifesource, you didn't have anything to go back to. Your job had let you go for not showing up without telling them what happened. Your bills went overdue and you were evicted from your house, the recliner by your parents’ bedside becoming the only thing you could even kind of call yours. Even then, you knew you’d be buried in debt for how long you kept them hanging on.

Robby took you in.

He had no hesitation, he didn't even let you argue. You vowed to him you'd never be his girlfriend, and that was fine by him. You told him you'd be an easy roommate if he let you stay for free. You'd cook for him, keep his place clean though he was barely there. You'd do and be anything else he needed.

And he needed you.

He'd come home to find you after his shifts, and you'd be there on his darkest days, and on the good ones too. You were something soft for him to fall into, something warm and steady after everything he carried through those hospital doors. A place for all that restless energy to land, for his hands to find you, for him to press his cock into you until the day finally left his body. Sometimes he'd let you take care of him instead, climbing into his lap, easing him back, letting him breathe while you did the work. In exchange, he gave you a place to stay, his credit cards, his company. He rebuilt you from scratch, a broken girl who'd been left all alone, now his one way or another.

And he began to change. His fellow attendings noticed, his residents noticed. People started asking questions. He'd bring you around just so you could say hi and get out of the house. He wanted the hospital feel like something other than the place you lost everything. You’d stay close to him at first, tucked into his side or in the break room, smiling when people spoke to you, letting them fuss over you a little because it felt…good. To be seen, wanted, loved. They already knew your face. They already knew your name. They felt like family.

Robby saw how his staff gravitated towards you any time you came in. And he was never territorial like some of your exes had been. If anything, it made him more confident, standing taller. Whenever anyone paid you a compliment near him he'd always puff his chest up, smile, and say That's my girl.

It wasn't anything at first-- when things really changed. that is. You'd gotten so used to Abbott's long and intense eye contact, Langdon's lingering touches and sweet words. Even Park, with those cocky smirks he never bothered to hide when he saw you. You'd started wearing less and less, choosing thinner fabric so if you got a chill, your breasts might peak and they'd get an eyeful, or you'd bend over in your little skirts Robby would buy for you to give them a flash of a pretty black thong beneath. You’d catch the way their eyes followed you around the ED, the way conversations stalled for a second before picking back up.

It was the night that Robby told you to give his resident a kiss goodbye when things really shifted direction. You'd listened, did as he told without hesitation, and that night he'd taken you home and nearly broke his king sized headboard with the force of how he fucked you into the mattress.

So…yeah. Things changed. He saw how much happier his staff was when you were around, how the whole place seemed to ease just a little with you in it, and you liked the way he looked at you because of it, the quiet pride in his eyes.

You were like his little reward to give out, and you were more than eager to please.

Though, there was a catch.

Robby saw you first. Always. He needed that moment with you before anyone else got their treat. He'd come in and check that everything was in 'working order' and that you were ready for his chosen resident or attending. Only if someone earned you, did they get to enjoy what was his.

"And how is my best girl doing today?"

It was a familiar voice that cut into your thoughts, one with a kind, rough crack through every word. He was so tall, hair mussed and fussed from where you knew he'd dragged his hands through it all day. Brown eyes twinkled down at you as he pulled on the usual blue sterile gloves, coming to the bedside of the hospital bed.

"Good." You sat up on your knees and pursed your lips, waiting for his greeting. He bent down and pressed a fat peck to them, humming contentedly. "How are you?" you added.

"Oh, living the dream as always," he said, shaking his head, laying his hands on either side of the guardrails raised around your bed.

"That bad?"

"I've had worse," he said softly, smiling at you, and then patted the end of the bed. "Scoot."

You grinned back and moved toward him, coming to the end of the bed, beginning to lay yourself down—but not before planting one more kiss to his lips, then along his bearded jaw. Your hands pet over his shoulders, his arms, until you could no longer reach him and you were flat on your back. His fingers hooked into your panties immediately, pulling them swiftly down your legs and putting them in his pocket. Then he guided your feet up to the stirrups and placed both hands on your knees, his touch warm despite the gloves, and opened your legs for his gaze to settle between them.

He hummed his approval, and dragged one hand light down the center of your thigh, "And how is she doing?"

"Better now," you whispered, breath catching as his gloved fingers pressed against the pearl that had throbbed all day at the thought of this. Your eyes closed in contended bliss.

"You haven't been playing, have you?" he asked, glancing up, head tipped.

Another rule: no touching unless he says so.

"No," you said quickly, opening your eyes. "Just thinking about you. About coming to see you."

"That so?"

Your hand came up, finger pressed between your teeth in anticipation. He dragged his finger down the seam of your center, and you could hear the humiliating shlick of wetness that gathered there for him, making your tummy flip.

"You must've been thinking some filthy things to be this soaked already, honey," he said, voice edged with amusement.

You nodded.

"You gonna tell me what you were thinking about?"

He worked two fingers along your folds, slow, thorough, up and down, spreading you open, circling your clit, making your hips undulate under his touch.

"Um—oh—yes, please, oh—"

And then you heard a thick, throaty sound, and he was spitting onto your already soaked core, making you mewl.

"Easy, easy," he added softly, "Gotta be a good girl and stay quiet now. These glass windows are only so sound proof, honey. Now c'mon—tell me what you were thinking about today."

"Well—I heard—um, I heard…"

You hesitated. Robby wasn’t going to like it. Maybe you could pivot.

"You seemed in a bad mood when I was texting you—and—" you scrambled, grasping for something safer, "and when you're in a bad mood you get rough with me and—and—"

"Hm…" he hummed thoughtfully, and reached up with his hand that wasn't teasing you, pulling the fabric of your top down so your breasts spilled over the neck band. You gasped, but smiled when his fingers twisted your nipples, making them pebble beneath his touch.

His other hand now pressed at your entrance, the slick sound of latex and wet making your eyes roll back so you couldn't watch him play. "You like when I'm a little rough, honey? That it? Thought I'd take my reward for myself tonight?"

"Mhmmmm," you moaned.

You opened your eyes once more, and instead of seeing his usual sweet demeanor, his kind brown eyes, he was now looking down at you with a stone face.

"You're lying."

"I'm not!" you squealed, and then choked on a moan as he entered two thick fingers into you.

He pulled back, then thrust again, hooking them up, working against the front of your walls as his lip lifted in a sneer. "Good girls don't lie to their doctors. Now tell me what you meant—go on."

"Ah! Ah!" you moaned, head thrown back.

"Tell me or this stops and you go home."

You brought your head back up to look at him over your breasts, sweat beginning to dabble your skin.

"Frank—" you hiccuped, "I heard Frank is back."

He paused the thick, long thrusts of his fingers inside of you. His eyes darkened even further, huffing out a sarcastic laugh you knew all too well.

You had been right, bad day to bring it up.

"I just—I missed him, Robby, I'm sorry—it’s been a while, and I kept thinking how—oh fuck—"

He began finger-fucking you in earnest then, the loud sound of your slick all over his hand as his lip curled, eyes black, "Language, young lady." he growled.

"You're lucky he's earned you today." he went on. "If you'd come in here moaning his name with my fingers inside you without him acing that fucking manual reduction—"

"Robby—oh fuck—please, please, I'm sorry, I'm gonna—"

He spat on your pussy again, the glob hitting you right on your clit before his thumb began working the little bundle of sensitive nerves. You were wailing like a damn cat, back arching in a boneless arch.

"Come for me, baby, c'mon, show me what's mine, make her soaked for my fucking resident."

Your thighs seized up, and jaw came unhinged, mouth open wide as you moaned his name.

"Robby, Robby, Robby," you gasped, thighs shaking, hips riding his fingers, until you were all breath and sweat and heat and all he could do was watch you.

"That's it, that's my good girl, nice and easy now, breathe," he soothed, his other hand sliding from your chest, down to your waist where he squeezed you assuringly, then resting warm at your knee, petting slow as he eased his fingers out of you. He brought them to his mouth, licking them clean. "Think she's ready for him. Don't you?"

You nodded, eyes half lidded. Your brain felt light and foggy, dazed as you watched the chief attending strip off his gloves.

"Robby…" your voice came quieter now, uncertain, your fingers curling into the hospital bed sheet beneath you. "I'm sorry I brought up…"

He moved to your side, bare hands replacing latex, fingers combing through your hair, grounding, warm, welcome. He helped you cover up your breasts again to keep warm. "I'm not mad at you for wanting Langdon, honey. Just—caught me off guard. I know you missed him."

"You missed him too, didn't you?" you murmured, leaning up just enough to press a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose.

Robby closed his eyes at that, a breath leaving him before he straightened, tossing the gloves into the bin. "Stay put. I'll bring him in."

It was only ten or so minutes later that the door was opening again, and Frank Langdon entered.

"Frank," you sighed, a smile pulling at your lips. You sat up in the bed.

"Hey, you," he said, but he didn’t come any farther once the door shut behind him. He stayed there, leaning back with hand still on the handle, like he hadn’t decided if he was staying or leaving.

"Umm… how are you?" you asked, a little unsure now.

"I’m good. I’m—yeah, I’m good," he said quickly, then glanced up at you, "You?"

"M'good."

You watched him—he'd changed since the last time you saw him. He wasn't as antsy as he usually was. Sometimes he'd come into the room bouncing off the walls, sometimes he'd come in irritated, but the ten months away seemed to have settled him down. It almost put you off a bit. He was suddenly hard to read.

"Come here, please," you said, reaching out from where you sat at the edge of the bed, your legs dangling.

His eyes flicked to your outstretched hands first, then up to your face, then down again, catching himself. It made your heart twinge. You always liked when he looked at you. Why didn't he want to look at you?

"I—" he shook his head once, like he was trying to clear it. "We should probably just—talk first."

"Hug me first?" you asked softly, wiggling your fingers where they were waiting for him.

You missed him too much, you didn't even bother trying to hide it. You just needed to know he was okay, that you and him were okay. There was a funny feeling of butterflies in your belly that didn’t quite feel like excitement, something you weren’t used to having around him.

He let out a slow breath, looking down at the floor for a second before finally pushing off the door.

"Yeah. Okay. Just—" he muttered, more to himself than you, as he crossed the room.

You didn’t give him time to finish the thought. You were eagerly at the edge of the bed, arms and legs wrapping around him the second he got close, clinging tight like a little barnacle.

"Missed you," you said softly, muffled by the way you pushed your face into his chest.

He stayed still for half a second before his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hummed, fingers wandering up his back, over the ridge of his strong shoulder blades, then down along his waist. "You smell so nice. Just like I remember."

He let out a quiet chuckle, but his hands slid down to your upper arms, gently pulling you back. "Listen… we need to talk."

Your stomach dropped. Your brows pulled tight as your thoughts started to spiral, one worse than the next—he didn’t want you anymore, he was leaving for good, you’d done something wrong. So many things began to cloud your thoughts, worries, insecurities you thought you'd thrown away after all this time. The confidence you'd built over the past few years crumbling under his intense stare. You pulled back from him too quickly, but he didn’t step away, still standing between your legs like he hadn’t fully committed to the distance.

"I—" he exhaled, dragging his hands over his face. "Do you know why I was gone, sweetheart?"

You nodded.

"You know I was in rehab, then?" he said, quieter now, his hands lowering again, hovering near you like he wanted to touch but stopped himself again.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Well, I've been making my amends, owning up to the things I did. Trying to be better," he went on. "Been 186 days."

"That’s amazing," you said softly, your hands finding his waist again. Okay. Now you understood. This wasn't about you. This was about him. His journey, his need for reassurance.

He nodded, licking his lips as he looked down at you. Once it had clicked that he wasn't rejecting you, you suddenly could see how hard he was fighting himself from giving in. "But that means I can’t— as much as I appreciate you asking for me, sweetheart—we can’t—"

"Oh, but Frankie," you whined with an exaggerated pout as you pulled him in again, arms wrapping tighter around his waist. You had to crane your neck to look up at him, your legs wrapping around him again, breasts pushed up into his stomach. "I missed you so badly! Didn't you miss me?"

He let out a breath, his hands settling on your shoulders, steadying you. "I did, baby. I missed you too, but—"

"What if—" you wet your lips, your gaze dropping briefly to his mouth before lifting again, "what if we just kissed? Please? I've been thinking about you all day."

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes fixed on you. You could see it there, the wheels turning in his head and how he paused. He was hesitating. Your feet pressed into the backs of his knees, waiting.

"Just a kiss?" he asked.

You nodded.

"I—" he sighed, "Okay. But only kissing, you understand?"

"Yes, Frankie," you said, already beginning to purse your lips up at him, "I promise."

He leaned down, finally, finally. You let your eyes flutter closed, waiting for him, and when his lips pressed against yours, you sighed dreamily into him, winding your legs tighter around his so you could feel him flush against you.

You couldn't help the noise that slipped out of you when his tongue traced the seam of your top lip.

"You're getting too excited," he murmured, but he didn’t stop.

You moaned again, hands gripping at his back, trying to keep them from wandering where you wanted to, keeping them locked around him instead. With how close you had him against you, you could feel the growing press of his member through his cotton pants on your stomach, and you shifted just slightly, pressing yourself even closer.

You opened your mouth for him, his thick, wet tongue finally finding yours, and it wasn't only you making pathetic little whines anymore— Frank had let out a suffocated moan at the taste of you, too.

"Fuckkk…" he whispered against you, his hands sliding from your shoulders to your face, tipping your head back even more so he could deepen the kiss, taking more, licking and eating at you, each press of his lips and slide of his tongue more urgent by the second.

He was fully hard beneath his black scrubs now, and you could feel him pushing into you just as much as you were pressing into him, not an inch of space between the two of you. Your breasts felt sandwiched against him, almost to the point of soreness, but they were aching for his touch, the throbbing between your legs only getting worse.

"I missed you so much, Frankie," you said again, pulling back to breath for only a second before kissing him again, his pillowy, swollen lips panting for breath. He smelled like mint, like that aftershave he always used. It was Pavlovian, only making you want more, practically drooling from your mouth—and between your legs—for him.

He let your tongue explore his mouth just the same, tasting behind his teeth for more of him, and when you suckled on his tongue between your lips, he groaned as if it pained him. He pulled you away with one more gentle lick to your lips, looking down at you.

His blue eyes were half lidded, a mirror of your arousal with pupils dilated, his pulse thick and quick where you felt his heart against your jaw when you rested your chin on his chest.

"I know, I know," he said softly, pressing one more kiss to your lips. "Come on, get up."

Your heart jumped in your chest, "But you said—"

"—Only kissing," he nodded, and he reached back behind him to unlatch your fingers from his shirt where you'd clung to him. "Be a good girl and listen now."

You knew better than to disobey, and pulled yourself away, albeit reluctantly, sliding off the bed and coming to stand beside him.

"Just kissing," he murmured, quieter this time, more to himself, the words coming out under his breath as he climbed up onto the bed. He shifted the thin pillow, flattening the stretcher before looking back at you as he settled onto his back.

"Take that off, baby. C’mon now, not done with you yet," he said, voice gentle.

You obeyed instantly, pulling your top over your head and tossing it aside, leaving you bare while he stayed fully dressed.

He patted his chest, coaxing you. "Up here, you know I've got a bad back—"

You climbed over him eagerly, a soft giggle slipping out when he smiled up at you and pinched your ass. He let you resume kissing him again, and you couldn't help but rock against the outline of his throbbing bulge. He didn’t let it go on long—his hand slid into your hair, fingers threading through before tightening at the nape, making you gasp, then tipping your head back.

"Getting too excited again—" he warned.

"M’sorryyyyy," you whined, hands pawing at his chest. "I told you I’ve been thinking about you all day."

"Yeah?" he whispered, nipping at your chin, and you nodded. "What a sweet girl you are," he added, cooing as he brushed his lips against your skin while he spoke. You gnawed at your bottom lip as he kissed up your jaw, suckling the skin under your ear, until you felt his breath against the shell of it as he said, "gonna let me kiss your pretty pussy, baby?"

You gasped, and made to pull away, but your hair was firmly in his grip.

"Yes, Frankie," you moaned in answer.

"Climb up." he ordered.

He helped you climb on top of him, your knees settling at the top of the bed, your hips lining up with his shoulders before you pushed yourself upright.

"Are you sure I’m not gonna suffocate you—"

"Trust me, if this is the way I go out, I’d die a happy man," he said with a breath of a laugh. "Besides, we’re in a hospital. If I pass out, there's plenty of doctor outside that door."

You giggled again, carding your fingers through the front of his long brown hair. He brought his hands up to squeeze the cheeks of your bum, hoisting you up so your core was hovering above his mouth. He leaned up and planted a light kiss to the top of it, and you gasped.

"Just as sweet as I remember, come closer," he murmured, and as you let yourself down onto him, he hooked his hands over the back of your hips and suddenly pulled you flush on top of him.

"Frankie!" you gasped, instinctively trying to pull away, worried you might hurt him.

"Shh, sh, sh," he cooed, his hands locked around you, "let me enjoy this."

You moaned when his tongue flattened over the slick seam of your folds, gathering all the arousal you'd made for him. Finally, you gave in as his lips closed over your clit, pulling hard. Your head fell back, a hoarse moan leaving you as your hips began to move against him, up and down, slow at first, then needing more.

"Ohhh, Frankie, holy shit—" you mewled. Your tongue peeked out to catch the bit of drool that had began to pool at the corner of your open mouth. "Feels so—ohhhhh…"

"Yeah, baby? Tell me." he moaned, a little muffled against your skin. His tongue kept up a rhythm then, cupping your entrance and back up to your clit where it swirled around, lips closing on the nub. You jolted a bit at the abrupt pleasure.

"So good, so so good," you whimpered, and as you opened your eyes to the feeling of the bed rocking, you looked behind you where his hips were moving, gently up into the air with no relief.

"Let me—"

"No, no," he cut in, breathless. "S’okay. Let me take care of you. You just—enjoy."

"But I wanna—!" you said petulantly, reaching around to touch his cock through the cotton pants.

He groaned at the contact, letting you quickly untie his scrubs and shove them down just enough to free his pulsing member. Your hand wrapped around him, velvet at the head and thick and warm at the shaft, but only for a second before he pulled your hand away, replacing it with his own, working himself with a rough grip. The sight of him like that—pleasuring himself, his cock red and angry with a pearl of arousal at the tip—made your mouth part and your brain fuzzy.

His other hand came up to cover your mouth as you let out a loud moan when his tongue plunged deep into your pussy, and you held onto his wrist for support. His hand moved to press two fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them, hard, tongue sliding between his two fingers, letting your teeth graze the top of his knuckles just how you knew he liked his cock sucked.

You heard a very muffled oh fuck come from between your legs, and you let your hips rock harder and harder against his face. You no longer seemed to care if you suffocated him to death. You were so so—

"Close! Frankie, I'm so close—I'm gonna—"

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," he said, tongue flat so you could ride against it, "doin' so good, you're such a good girl, I'm gonna fucking come too, oh fuck fuck fuck—!"

You weren't able to watch how his eyes rolled to the back of his head as your spine arched, stiffening, toes curling as one hand gripped his wrist, the other flat against the wall to steady yourself. You tried your best to stay quiet, the ecstasy coursing through your bloodstream too strong, and Langdon took his fingers that were in your mouth and buried them deeper down your throat. The pad of his fingers pressed at the back of your tongue where you began to gag on him, choking your moans, and he went stiff under you as his own orgasm tore through him.

You road out the wave of your orgasm with his, feeling the thick ropes of his spend shoot over your back. Soon, it quieted with only the sounds of your breathing and those of the hospital coming back to you outside the doors.

Frank was panting beneath you, both of his hands coming down to sooth you at the junction of your thighs, kissing sweetly at the apex of your center until you were a fidgety mess, twitching from overstimulation. You shifted back, giving him room to breathe, but he didn’t let you get far. You ended up seated on his stomach instead, his arms wrapping around your hips from over your legs.

"Thank you for…asking for me today," he said, a shy smile tugging at his mouth as he looked up at you. His lips were still shining, parted as he caught his breath, taking in slower, shallow lungfuls. "I think I needed it."

You rested your hands flat on his chest, letting your fingers drift back and forth over his pecs, up along his collarbones, to his strong shoulders and neck—tracing, remembering, like you were relearning him all over again. Your smile softened, just a little sad around the edges.

"You almost said no." you said quietly.

He pressed his lips together, rolling them once before answering. "I know. I’m sorry… it’s not—you, you know? It's a me thing. I wasn't sure if ..."

"I know." you whispered, touching his lips to quiet him.

"C’mere," he said gently, patting your leg, guiding you off him. You swung your leg to his side, and he scooted over to let you lay against him. He tucked himself back into his scrubs without much thought, more focused on pulling you close, his arm sliding under your head so you could rest against his shoulder.

He let out a long breath, "I meant what I said, about trying to be better." he whispered.

You believed him. Though you never saw anything the matter with him before, once you heard about his addiction, it made you wonder if you ever really knew what he was like beneath all the hubris, if the fidgety Langdon you knew was really him. You were glad that he was still here, beneath it, next to you now. He still had his gentleness, his sweet way with words. He was just… more mellow.

"And I owe you an apology too. I let a lot of people down. And you were nothing but good to me."

You tilted your head up, resting your chin against his chest. "That must be so hard to admit. You’re doing so well, Frank."

He huffed out a small laugh. "I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry."

"For what? You were perfect. You still are."

"Far from it," he said, softer now, "but thank you, sweet girl." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your nose.

You hummed, eyes slipping closed.

"I should probably clean you up and get back out there," he said after a moment, though he didn’t move.

"Stay for a few minutes," you murmured, wrapping your arm around his middle. "Just lay here with me."

He looked over at you with his eyes half closed, a grateful smile pulling at the edges of his lips like a string was tied to each end. "Alright."

You settled your cheek against his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed under your ear, so steady, so warm, so him— and let your eyes close, drifting asleep as he dozed beside you.

coming soon:

⤷ x Abbot ⤷ x Park ⤷ x Robby

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Shared Custody pt 2

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x reader

FIRST PART Updates Account

You convince yourself that sleeping with Robby was just a one-time relapse, and return to the co-parenting routine you’ve carefully built. But everything unravels when you’re dragged into a family vacation at a resort in Mexico. One full week of trying to survive Robby’s relentless attempts to win you back.

warnings/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but readers age isn’t disclosed), jealous!robby, co-parenting, GirlDad!Robby, this is long as fuck so read it with time, they’re still down bad for each other, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, handjob, blowjob, fingering, creampie

You remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. The cold porcelain of the toilet seat under your thighs. The pregnancy test stick clutched in your trembling fingers while you tried to aim. The uncertainty that made every sound echo louder in your tiny studio apartment, the best place a med student could afford. The steady drip-drip-drip from the leaky faucet. The nervous pacing of Robby’s footsteps just behind the thin wooden door.

“You good in there?” he asked, you could picture him leaning in, pressing his ear against the wood like he could somehow hear your thoughts.

You quickly wiped away the silent tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. “Yeah…” Your voice came out shaky and small. “Yeah. I’m done.”

You wiped, flushed the toilet, and stood up on unsteady legs, pulling your pants back on. Carefully, you set the cup and the pregnancy test on the edge of the sink before washing your hands.

“Can I come in?” Robby asked from the other side. Guilt was already eating him alive. This was his fault. He should have been the one guiding you, teaching you how to become a great doctor. Instead, he had jeopardized everything,  your education, your career, your future. Now, because of him, you were taking a pregnancy test in a cramped bathroom, wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life if two pink lines appeared.

You didn’t answer with words. You simply walked to the door, opened it, and stepped aside so he could enter. “It says three to five minutes,” you murmured, nodding toward the test resting on the sink.

“How—” Robby cleared his throat when his voice threatened to crack. “How are you feeling?”

“Scared?” The word came out like a question. Truthfully, you didn’t even know if “scared” was the right word. What was the right word for finding yourself in a situation you’d never wanted, knowing it was your own damn fault? You should have been more careful. You should have said yes the first time he asked about wearing a  condom. You should have told him to pull out instead of moaning “fill me up, Robby” every single time like you had lost all sense. 

You knew the odds. You knew the risks. But when he was inside you, none of that had mattered. And now destiny was laughing in your face. You had no plan. If you were pregnant… what then? Goodbye to med school. Goodbye to your dream of graduating and matching into emergency medicine. You’d probably have to move back in with your parents and spend your days raising a child instead of becoming a doctor. And goodbye to Robby, because why would a man like him want to stay tied to the med student he’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the baby he never asked for?

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, soaking your cheeks instantly. You tried to stay quiet, but the sobs broke free anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey… come here.” Robby closed the distance in one step. The heat of his body wrapped around you like a shield. He slid one strong arm around your waist, anchoring you against his solid frame, and the other hand cradled the back of your head. “It’s perfectly normal to be scared. But you’ve got me. You’re not alone in this.”

“What are we—” Another sob escaped, muffled against his shoulder. “What am I gonna do, Robby? What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever feels right,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You’re supposed to do whatever you want to do. You have all the choices.”

“But which one is the right one?” You pressed harder into him, as if you could disappear into his chest. “Which one won’t make you hate me?”

“Jesus— Look at me.” He gently cupped your face with both hands, lifting it from his chest so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His own were red and watery. “Let me say this once, and I need you to hear me. I could never hate you. None of this is your fault. It’s no one’s fault… this just happens, okay? If the test is positive, then… it’s not the end of the world. We’ve got options. We have time to think about it.”

“Then why does it feel like it is the end of the world?” You tried to hide your face again in the broad warmth of his chest, where your tears had already left a dark patch on his shirt. He wouldn’t let you. He kept your face cradled between his palms, one thumb softly stroking your cheek as he wiped away another tear. 

“Why does it feel like no matter what I choose, you’ll end up resenting me for it?”

“I won’t,” he assured you again, his voice steady even though you could feel how hard he was trying. “You have to think about what you want. Nothing is more important than that. I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

“What if I don’t want to keep it?” The words tumbled out. “Wouldn’t you feel like… like I took something away from you? Wouldn’t you think I’m selfish?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, his warm lips making you shiver. Then your cheek, tasting your tears. Then your lips, reassuringly. “If the test is positive and you choose to terminate 6he pregnancy, I wouldn’t think that makes you selfish. I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person or that you’re stealing something from me. I’d think you’re strong. I’d think you’re being brave. And I’d be right there with you.”

The calmness in his voice steadied you a little. You could tell he was terrified, probably having a panic attack on the inside, but he was pouring every ounce of strength into not showing it. He wanted to be the rock you could lean on, the one who had answer, who knew what to do, who’d be there to support you no matter what.

“Is that what you’d want?” he murmured against your lips. “An abortion?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, so softly he might not have heard if he weren’t so close. “But… maybe it’s the only right choice. What would I even do with a baby? I’d have to drop out of med school… I’d fall so far behind. Raising a baby… I don’t know when I could even go back.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know?” he said gently. “A lot of women finish their studies while pregnant. They work while being moms too. Think of Dr. Shamsi, she finished her residency while—”

You knew he meant well, but right now the last thing you needed was a pep talk about strong women. “Yeah, well, I’m not Dr. Shamsi, Robby,” you cut in, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I don’t think I can do it. And I can’t… I can’t put that weight on you. That burden. A child, Robby. I’d feel so guilty knowing I trapped you.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. He pulled back just enough to really look at you. “Trap me? Jesus fuck… do you even hear yourself? When have I ever made you feel like you’d be trapping me?” 

His tone edged toward anger, which only made your own flare up. “You didn’t ask for this! You’d be stuck with a child you never even wanted just because I didn’t want to get rid of it!” You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and stared at the floor instead.

“A child…” He let out a slow breath. “A child doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” The words he’d been too afraid to even think until now finally slipped out. “Yeah, it would be difficult. Yeah, it would be a fucking challenge. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared. But I don’t think a baby would be the worst thing to ever happen. Not by far.” 

He’d be lying if he said he had never dreamed of having a child, of becoming a father. In his mid-twenties, he had pictured it so differently. Finding the love of his life, getting married, waiting a year or two before having their first baby, then another one soon after. A proper family. But life had gotten in the way, long hours in the ED, the weight of responsibility, his own fears and insecurities reshaping the entire trajectory of his existence. Time slipped through his fingers, and before he knew it, the dream had been pushed further and further into the distance. Definitely not like this, a baby at forty-nine with the fourth-year med student he’d been sleeping with in a messy situationship for only a few months… that was never part of the plan. And yet, as that pregnancy test sat on the edge of the sink, the possibility grew heavier, more real. Maybe this was how it was meant to happen. Maybe the universe had finally caught up with him. Maybe it was time to stop running, time to stop hiding, and finally commit to something bigger than work. Something that actually mattered. Something that’d change his life and give it a new meaning, a new purpose.

“You’re saying you’d want it?” you asked, surprise flashing in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. “If I were pregnant… you’d want the baby?”

“I’m saying I want you to do what you want. But yeah… if you chose to keep it, then I’d want it too. I’m in, 100%.” Behind the fear in his voice, you heard absolute certainty.

“And how would that even look?” you asked quietly. “How would we do it?”

“If we’re doing it, we do it right. Together.” He took your hands in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “You could move in with me. Once the baby’s born, we’d arrange our shifts so one of us is always with them. We’d get a sitter to help us so you can still have time to do your residency. You have me. You’ll have me every step of the way.”

“Promise?” you whispered.

“Promise.”

Silence stretched between you, as if the rest of the world had stopped spinning. In that tiny bathroom, it was just the two of you, holding each other’s hands with the promise of facing whatever came next together.

“I think it’s been over five minutes,” Robby said finally, glancing toward the sink. “Want to check?”

You nodded, and Robby released one of your hands, picked up the test, and held it between you without looking at the result yet. “Together?” he asked.

You swallowed. “Together.”

The imposing voice of Dana cut through the fog in your mind. “Earth to you… hello?”

You blinked, startled, and reluctantly dragged your eyes away from the computer screen where you’d been pretending to chart for the last ten minutes. Dana was leaning against the nurses’ station counter with one hip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Are you even listening to me right now? Because I’ve been talking to myself for five minutes. What’s up with you? You look like you didn’t close an eye last night.”

You forced a small, nervous laugh and quickly looked back down at the computer, hoping the glow of the screen would hide the exhaustion on your face. “Sorry… I slept okay,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and unbothered. You weren’t fooling anyone, least of all Dana. You could feel her eyes studying you, taking in the faint shadows under your eyes, the slight slump of your shoulders, and the way you kept subtly shifting in your chair. Because no matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your body was still painfully aware of last night. The ghost of Robby’s thrusts still lingered between your thighs, a delicious ache that refused to fade even twelve hours later. 

Every time you moved, you were reminded of how hard he had taken you, how thoroughly he had ruined you. Your muscles were sore in the best and most inconvenient way possible. You crossed your legs under the desk, trying to ignore the throb that pulsed through you at the memory. The last thing you needed was Dana figuring out why you were so distracted. Unfortunately, Dana had the observational skills. She narrowed her eyes even further, tilting her head as she continued to stare at you. “Yeah… sure you did.”

Dana drifted his gaze past your shoulder down the corridor. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, lifting her brows a fraction and her mouth twitching like she’d tasted something sour. You followed her line of sight to Robby, striding toward trauma two, wearing his navy scrubs and cargo pants. There was a loose, easy roll to his shoulders, a confidence in his steps that screamed satisfaction. The corners of his mouth were curved in a half-smile that was the unmistakable “I got laid and it was fucking amazing” look.

Dana let out a dry huff of laughter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus. I hate when he walks around with that ‘I got laid and it was amazing’ face. It’s obnoxious as hell. Makes the rest of us feel like we’re doing it wrong.”

You kept your face carefully neutral, tapping your fingers against the keyboard, but without writing anything. “Maybe he’s just in a good mood.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that. You know that face, it’s always the same with that man.” Dana tilted her head, studying him as he paused to talk with Victoria, that satisfied smile lingering a beat too long. She narrowed her eyes, thinking hard for a second, then her head snapped back toward you when realization hit him. “Wait a minute… That face. That exact face is too familiar. It’s not just his regular ‘I got some’ look. That’s the same damn face he used to wear back when you two were sneaking around four years ago. And I haven’t seen it on him once since you two called it quits. Not a single time.”

Heat flooded your cheeks instantly. You felt cornered, exposed, like a deer caught in headlights. Dana ran this place, nothing escaped her eyes. Trying to lie to her was usually pointless, she could smell bullshit from miles away. “I– I really need to finish these charts,” you stammered. “I promised Hannah I’d try to get home early so we could—” The excuse died on your tongue, it sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

She looked at you like she’d already decided you were guilty. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?”

She snorted. “You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”

You exhaled through your nose, dropping your shoulders in defeat. You glanced around the nurse station. It was quiet, no one close enough to overhear, then leaned in just a fraction.“Okay,” you muttered. “It was one time. One weak moment. I’m not doing it again.”

Dana didn’t t look surprised, just disappointed in the resigned way of someone who’s watched this film before and knew how it ended . “You’re so stupid,” she said, almost fondly. “Letting that mess of a man back in again.”

“I know.” You rubbed a hand over your face, wishing you could teleport anywhere but here. “I know. I’m just… so weak when it comes to him. He’s got this way of looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, and the way he touches me…” You trailed off. “God, Dana, you don’t know how good it is. How he remembers every single—”

She held up a hand with the palm out. “Stop. Right there. I do not need the details. I’ve worked with that man for the last 20 years of my life, and I still got to work with him for the next eight hours. Spare me the play-by-play.”

“Sorry. It’s just… it felt like coming home, you know? And then this morning reality hit like a truck. And I realized I fucked up last night.”

Dana studied you for a long beat, and her expression softened just a fraction, enough to show the concern underneath.“Honey,” she said quietly, “you’re not weak. You’re human. And that man has always known exactly which buttons to push with you. But you’ve built something solid these last five years. Don’t throw that away because the sex is good.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I told him it was a one-time thing. A relapse. I’m not doing it again. I swear.”

Dana arched her eyebrow high. “You swear.”

“Yeah.” You met her eyes even if your stomach twisted. You were embarrassed to let anyone know about your poor life choices, but if you could trust anyone, that was Dana, one of the only people who’d been here since the start of your story with him. “Last night was… it was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

She studied you for a long beat, then she pushed off the counter, stepping closer and dropping her voice to that tone she used when she’s done playing nice.“You'd better not. Go out. Meet someone. Anyone whose last name isn’t Robinavitch. Someone who can actually commit to a relationship.”

You looked down at your hands, still faintly wrinkled from too much hand sanitizer, a nervous habit you’d gotten out of him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy,” she countered. “But it’s supposed to be possible. Find a guy who doesn’t bolt after a month because he ‘feels trapped’ and ‘needs space.’ Someone who doesn’t look at commitment like it’s an impossible mission. Someone who stays.”

The words sting because they’re true. Robby never lied about it, he’d told you early on he wasn’t built for the long haul, that relationships felt like another thing he’d inevitably fuck up. And when Hannah came along, when the exhaustion and the shifts and the fear piled up, he didn’t fight to keep you together. He just… drifted. Back to separate houses, separate beds, separate lives. 

“Hon, you know Robby was not made for a relationship. He’s a great dad, nobody’s arguing that. The man would walk through fire for that little girl. But you? He loves you in the way he knows how: sporadically. And that’s never gonna change. Keep it that way. Keep him in the dad column. Don’t let him back into the partner one.”

You rubbed your temples, the ache from last night’s lack of real sleep settling in behind your eyes. “I know. I do. It’s just… when he’s there, when he’s touching me, talking to me like I’m still his… it’s like the last five years never happened. Like we could pick up where we left off.”

“That’s the trap,” Dana said quietly. “It feels like home because it used to be. But homes can be haunted too.”

In the days that followed, you did everything you could to avoid Robby. At work, you kept your distance, volunteering for procedures on the opposite side of the ED whenever possible and burying yourself in charts or patient updates the moment you felt his presence nearby. Because every single time your eyes met his, even for a brief second, your body betrayed you.

You remembered the crushing weight of him on top of you that night, the way he’d fucked you into the mattress like the world was ending. You remembered how perfectly your bodies still moved together, how easily he could pull those broken sounds from your throat. Years had passed, but the fire between you hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it was burning brighter and hotter than ever, threatening to consume every boundary you had built.

Thankfully, Robby seemed to sense your need for space and didn’t push. He gave you room to breathe at the hospital, only speaking to you when a case genuinely required collaboration. His tone stayed strictly professional, his touches nonexistent. He still called every evening like clockwork to talk to Hannah, but with you he remained carefully polite, never lingering, never teasing, never crossing the lines you had drawn. 

You should have been relieved. He was finally respecting your wishes, he was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and yet… on nights like this, when Hannah was at his place for her half of the week, the silence in your house felt suffocating. The emptiness pressed in from every corner. No little footsteps pattering down the hallway, no giggles echoing from the living room. Just you, alone in the quiet, with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. And your mind refused to shut off, It buzzed loudly, relentlessly, replaying every moment of that night in vivid detail, the heat of Robby’s skin, the burn of his beard against your neck, the groan in your ear when he came undone inside you. 

You kept hearing his promises afterward: that he was a changed man, that this time he wanted you for real. Not out of duty because he’d gotten you pregnant. Not because he felt trapped by responsibility. But because he truly wanted to be with you, because he loved you. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. There were moments, weak and dangerous moments when you wished you could be reckless enough to fall for every word that came out of his mouth. To let yourself be dumb and hopeful and blind, just like you were five years ago.

Maybe you would have risked it if you were the only one who would get hurt when everything inevitably fell apart. You could survive a broken heart, you’d done it before. But Hannah couldn’t, she was innocent in all of this. She didn’t deserve to watch her parents try and fail again, to feel the instability, the confusion, the heartbreak of seeing her mother and father almost become a family, only for it to crumble. You refused to gamble with your daughter’s emotional safety just because you still craved the man who once broke your heart.

The knock on the door came right on time, just as the late afternoon sun was starting to slant through the living room windows. You were still in your scrubs, hair thrown up in a messy bun, when you opened the door to find Robby standing there with Hannah perched on his hip, her little pink backpack slung over his shoulder, making him look both silly and endearing at the same time, and her head resting sleepily against his chest.

“Hey,” Robby said softly. “We’re here.”

Hannah’s face lit up the second she saw you. “Mommy!” She reached both arms out, already wiggling to get to you. Robby shifted her gently into your arms, brushing his hand against your side in the process. The brief contact sent an unwelcome spark through you that you immediately tried to ignore.

“Hi, baby girl,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft brown hair, she smelled like the strawberry shampoo Robby always used on her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy?”

“We had a great time,” Robby answered for her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He set her little backpack down by the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, looking unusually hesitant. 

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about something.”

You raised an eyebrow, bouncing Hannah lightly on your hip as she played with the collar of your top. “That sounds ominous.”

He let out a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not ominous. Just… I’m thinking of taking some days off work. Vacation days.” Your surprise must have shown on your face because Robby quickly continued. “I’ve been thinking about taking her somewhere warm. She’s been talking about the beach nonstop lately. There’s this resort in Mexico I’ve been looking at, very kid-friendly, right on the beach. Thought it might be nice for her to run around in the sand and actually see the ocean.”

Robby had never been one to take vacations. For most of his life, work had consumed him completely. He was drowning in the ED, the never-ending stream of patients, the constant pressure of being the one everyone relied on. There was always something more important, and a quiet voice in the back of his head constantly whispered that everything would crumble if he wasn’t there to hold it all together. He had never felt the pull to travel, no place ever seemed worth leaving the hospital for. Nothing could impress him or hold his attention long enough to make him want to step away. His entire identity had been tied to the job for so long that the idea of doing anything else felt foreign, almost selfish.

That was before Hannah arrived, she changed everything. From the moment she came into his life, Hannah gave him something he had never truly had before, and that was real purpose. She became the reason he woke up every single day determined to be better, to be the kind of father she deserved. The person who had to stay strong and healthy because she depended on him for everything, from teaching her how to tie her shoes, to how to be kind, how to stand up for herself. 

But Hannah had given him more than just purpose. She had awakened in him a brand-new desire to actually live. For the first time in years, his world expanded beyondwork. He wanted to do things, he wanted to see things, and more than anything, he wanted to experience them with her. His life no longer felt like it should revolve solely around the ED, he craved as much free time as he could carve out so he could share it with his daughter, watching her discover the world. He refused to miss even a single moment of her childhood while she was still small and everything felt unique to her. Hannah had unknowingly pulled him out of the endless cycle of work and survival. 

And that was how the trips began. Beach days where Hannah squealed at the waves and collected seashells in her bucket. Lazy summer afternoons fishing at a lake. Winter weekends at a cabin resort in the mountains, where they built snowmen in the backyard and drank hot chocolate by the fire. Whatever Hannah wanted to do, Robby made it happen.

You nodded slowly, processing the information. You dropped Hannah off carefully on the floor, and she immediately walked to her bedroom, mumbling something about saying hello to her stuffed animals. “Mexico… That sounds really nice for her. When were you thinking?”

“Probably in a couple of weeks, if I can get the time approved. I’d take about a week.”  He paused, watching your expression carefully. “Are you okay with that? With me taking her?”

“Yeah,” you said without hesitation. “Of course I’m okay with it. She’ll love it. Just make sure you send me all the flight information and the hotel details once you have them. I want to know exactly where she’ll be and how to reach you.”

“Already planning on it,” he assured you. “I’ll send everything as soon as it’s booked.” A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Then Robby shifted his weight and looked at you again, something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes. “Actually… I wanted to ask you something else.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a tell you knew too well. “Would you want to come with us?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I’d pay for everything,” he added quickly. “Your flight, your room. You don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been working insane hours lately with residency. It might be good for you to get away for a few days, too. Relax. Sleep in.”

The offer hung in the air between you, and for one brief second, you let yourself imagine it. You pictured the three of you on a beach in Mexico. Hannah running barefoot through the warm sand, her hair messy from the ocean breeze, laughing with pure joy every time a wave came close enough to tickle her toes. You saw yourself and Robby sitting nearby on lounge chairs, drinking margaritas while the sun kissed your skin. The sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, lulling you into a nap you hadn’t allowed yourself in years. 

After surviving on less than six hours a night for so long, the mere idea of lying back on a lounge chair and actually resting felt almost sinful. Vacations had always been a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not with the mountain of student loans, the demands of your residency, and the constant juggle of motherhood. The thought of taking time off just to relax had felt selfish, unrealistic, and completely out of reach. And now Robby was offering it all on a silver platter.

You quickly shoved the beautiful images away before they could take root and make you weak. Because that was the problem with Robby’s offer, it wasn’t just a vacation. It was a week of playing house, of blurred lines, and of watching him be the devoted father he had become, while your stupid heart remembered exactly how good things used to feel when the three of you were almost a real family.

“Robby…” You let out a slow breath. “Thank you. Really. That’s incredibly generous. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He furrowed his brow slightly. “Why not?”

“Because going on a vacation like that, the three of us,  it would be confusing. For her, especially. If we’re sharing space like a family for a whole week, she might start getting ideas about us getting back together. I don’t want to give her false hope. And it’d be confusing for us two, we need to keep our distance after… You know what.”

Robby’s jaw tightened for a moment, but his voice stayed calm. “We can get separate rooms. Hell, we don’t even have to hang out the whole time if you don’t want to. You could do your own thing, be at a different pool, get spa treatments, whatever. I’m not asking you to pretend we’re a couple. I just… I want to do this for you. You deserve a break too.”

You shook your head, even as a small, traitorous part of you ached at how sincere he sounded. “No, Robby. Thank you, but no. It’s sweet of you to offer, but it’s too complicated. We’ve worked really hard to keep things stable and clear for Hannah. Mixing a family vacation into that… it blurs too many lines. I appreciate it, I really do. But I think it’s better if it’s just the two of you.”

He watched you for a long moment, something like disappointment passing across his face, a quiet frustration he tried so hard to hide. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Message received. I’ll just take her, then. But the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

You gave him a grateful smile, even though your chest felt tight from how much you wanted to say yes, because of how much you wished that maybe in another life, Robby and you could be those parents sunbathing in Mexico with their kid. “I won’t. But thank you.”

He nodded once, lingering for another few seconds like he wanted to say more, but decided that by pushing too hard to get close to you again, he’d only end up pushing you away. “I’ll text you the details as soon as everything’s booked.”

“Sounds good.”

Before heading toward the door, Robby paused. He gave you one last long look, the kind that always managed to slip past every defense you’d carefully built over the years. In that single glance, you were flooded with memories you spent most days trying desperately not to dwell on. Memories from five years ago, back when everything still felt possible. Back when you still believed, with naive, foolish hope, that the two of you could somehow make it work.

And then there were the much more dangerous memories from just two weeks ago, the night where, for a few stolen hours, it felt like the rest of the world had simply stopped existing. His hands on your body like he still owned every inch of it, the way he’d whispered your name against your skin, the overwhelming feeling that you had teleported back in time, back to when it was just the two of you. For those few hours, you had let yourself believe again. You had let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could still be a “we” in your future.

A couple of days later, you heard the knock of the door echo through the house just as you were finishing packing Hannah’s favorite stuffed capybara into her little backpack. You opened the door to find Robby standing on the porch. Hannah immediately squealed at the sight of him.

“Daddy!” She bolted forward, launching herself into his arms. Robby caught her with ease, laughing as he lifted her high and spun her once before settling her on his hip. “Hey, angel,” he said, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. “You ready for Daddy’s house?”

You stepped aside to let them both in, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you watched the usual handoff routine unfold. Hannah was buzzing with energy, clutching Robby’s shirt with her little hands. “Daddy, Daddy! Are we really going to the beach soon?” she asked with her eyes wide, full of pure excitement. “With the ocean and the sand?”

Robby grinned, the kind of soft and genuine smile he only ever wore for her. “We sure are, baby girl. I already picked out a really nice hotel. It’s right on the beach. Want me to show you the pictures later when we get home?”

“Yes!” Hannah bounced in his arms, practically vibrating. “Does it have a pool? And ice cream? And can I get a new swimsuit to wear?”

“It has a huge pool, and I’m pretty sure they have all the ice cream you can eat,” Robby answered patiently. He glanced over at you while still holding her. “I booked one of the family suites with a big balcony overlooking the ocean. You’re gonna love it, Han.”

Hannah gasped dramatically, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. “Mommy, did you hear? Daddy got a hotel with a balcony! For the ocean!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her pure joy, even as a knot started forming in your stomach. “I heard, sweetheart. Sounds amazing.”

Robby set Hannah down so she could run to grab her stuffed animal from the couch. The moment she was out of earshot, he lowered his voice slightly. “I meant what I said the other day. The offer’s still open if—”

Before he could finish, Hannah came racing back, clutching her capybara tightly. “Daddy, can Mommy come with us to the beach? Please?”

Robby didn’t miss a beat. He looked straight at his daughter with an innocent expression that you knew was anything but. “You know what, Han? I was actually thinking about inviting Mommy too. What do you think? Would you like Mommy to come on the trip with us?”

Hannah’s entire face lit up like the Fourth of July. She spun toward you so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Mommy! You have to come! Please please please! We can build sandcastles together and swim and eat ice cream and watch the sunset and— and everything!”

You shot Robby a deadly look over Hannah’s head, the kind that promised a painful retribution the moment you two were alone. He simply raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was weaponizing the one person he knew you could never say no to. Hannah. She had always been your biggest weakness, your softest spot, and Robby knew it better than anyone. Those big, warm brown eyes were lethal. One pleading look from her, and your resolve crumbled like sand.

And right now, she was using every ounce of that power, blinking up at you with hope while clutching your hand like her entire happiness depended on your answer. It was unfair, completely unfair. Robby wasn’t just standing by and letting her beg, he was actively encouraging it, using your daughter as the ultimate emotional leverage. He knew you could resist him, he knew you could fight your own feelings, your own desires, your own stupid heart. But Hannah? Saying no to her when she looked at you like that felt almost cruel. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to hide how satisfied he was with himself, that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth said everything. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Hannah, baby…” You crouched down to her level, gently brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Mommy would love to, but I’m super busy with work right now. I have so many shifts and—”

Robby’s voice cut in smoothly from behind her. “Actually, you have a bunch of vacation days saved up. I checked it yesterday.”

You straightened up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him, silently warning him to stop this nonsense before it went too far. “Robby.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just stating facts. You shouldn’t lie to your daughter, you know?”

Hannah grabbed your hand with both of hers, swinging it dramatically. “Mommy, pleeease? Pretty, pretty please!” You opened your mouth to respond, but Hannah was already in full pleading mode, her big puppy-brown eyes, exactly like Robby’s, staring up at you with devastating effectiveness.

“I really can’t afford it right now, sweetheart,” you tried again. “Plane tickets and hotels are expensive, and Mommy—”

“If Mommy can’t pay,” Robby interrupted you. “Then Daddy will pay. I’ve got it covered. Flights, resort, activities, all of it. You wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Hannah tugged harder on your hand, bouncing on her toes. “See? Daddy’s paying! So you can come! Please, Mommy? I want all of us together. Pretty pleeeeease.”

You felt cornered, trying to come up with more excuses, but as you reached inside your head, you couldn’t think of any. Robby stood there looking far too pleased with himself, while your daughter continued her relentless assault with those lethal eyes and endless enthusiasm.

“Hannah…” you started, searching desperately for another excuse.

“But Mommy,” she whined, pressing her face against your leg, “I’ll miss you so much if you stay here.”

Robby, the absolute traitor, decided to join forces. “She’s got a point,” he said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual when they met yours. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. And like I said before, I can get us separate rooms. You can do your own thing the whole time if you want. But it would mean a lot to her… and to me.” 

The “and to me” was spoken so quietly you almost missed it. You looked between the two of them, your daughter with her hopeful, shining eyes and her father, the man you still stupidly loved,  with that steady and patient gaze that had always been able to wear you down. The silence stretched. Hannah’s lower lip started to tremble just slightly, the ultimate weapon in her arsenal.

With a long, defeated sigh, you finally gave in. “…Fine,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “I’ll go too.”

Hannah let out an ear-piercing squeal of pure delight and threw herself at your legs, hugging them tightly. “Yay! Mommy’s coming! We’re all going to the beach together!”

Robby’s smile was slow and satisfied, though he tried to keep it modest. “That’s great,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Really great.”

You pointed a finger at him over Hannah’s head. “You’re going to pay for this later, Robinavitch.”

His only response was a knowing chuckle. “Looking forward to it.”

Hannah continued dancing around the living room in celebration, already chattering about sandcastles, seashells, and swimming with dolphins. You stood there watching her, with your heart full of love for your daughter, loving every second of seeing her so happy, and equal parts dread and excitement about what you’d just agreed to, a family vacation in Mexico with Robby. God help you.

Hours later, the glow of your bedside lamp was the only light in the room. You were already tucked into bed, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt that had seen better days. Your phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand, making you glance at the screen, letting out a slow breath as soon as you noticed who was calling. A Facetime from Robby. 

You hesitated for two rings, it was almost midnight, and you didn’t feel like having any possibly agitating conversation right before your bedtime, but ultimately ended up accepting the call. Robby’s face filled the screen almost immediately, he was in his bedroom too, the light of his lamp illuminating his face. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his glasses were perched low on his nose, those fucking glasses… No, don’t even go there, you silently muttered to your brain

“Hey,” his voice sounded rougher, the way it always got late at night. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You already in bed?”

“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting the blanket over your lap, as if trying to cover yourself up. “It’s late, Robby.”

He hummed in agreement, slowly dragging his eyes over what he could see of you on the screen. “You look comfortable. Cute shirt.” There was a brief pause before he asked, almost casually, “So… have you started packing swimsuits yet?”

You stared at him for a moment, the irritation you’d been carrying for the past hours finally bubbled up. “Robby… we need to talk.”

Robby lifted his eyebrows slightly, but the lazy smile didn’t leave his face. “Alright. About what?”

“You manipulated me into agreeing to this trip.” 

Robby let out a low chuckle. “Manipulated? Damn, you’re using big words tonight.”

“It’s not funny,” you said sharply, though you kept your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake Hannah. “You used our daughter to convince me, and then you joined in. That was low, even for you.”

He tilted his head, still smiling like this was all some lighthearted game. “Anything else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. You guilt-tripped me. The whole ‘it would mean a lot to her… and to me’ line? That was manipulation.”

Robby leaned back against his headboard, resting one arm behind his head, giving you an even better view of his bare chest. He looked far too relaxed for someone being accused of emotional manipulation. “Jesus,” he muttered, still chuckling softly. “Oh-ho-ho, I’m so evil, I manipulated the mother of my child into letting me take her on a fully paid week at a luxury beach resort in Mexico.” He raised an eyebrow, mock-serious. “Am I gonna go to prison for that?”

“Robby.”

“Relax,” he said, softening his tone just a fraction, though the amusement was still there. “Hannah’s excited. You saw her. She wants all three of us there. I’m just trying to give her what she wants.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you shot back. “I know your real agenda behind all of this.”

He tilted his head again, looking curious now. “Oh yeah? And what’s my agenda, according to you?”

You sat up a little straighter in bed, clutching the blanket tighter. “You’re using this stupid trip as an excuse to try and get back with me. You think throwing money at a vacation and putting us in the same space for a whole week is going to magically fix everything. It’s not going to work.”

For a moment, Robby just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then that stupid smirk of his spread across his face again. “Have you seen me in swim trunks lately? I look real good. You might have to swallow your words when you see me.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, though you couldn’t stop the flush that crept up your neck. You hated the way he could still make you laugh when you were trying to be pissed. You hated the way your body still reacted to his words. “You’re impossible. Seriously, it’s impossible to have a serious conversation with you sometimes.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Sun, sand, good drinks, me looking like this… you never know.”

“I’ll go,” you said, cutting him off before he could keep going. “But don’t even think this means anything else. We’ll get separate rooms. We’ll make separate plans. I’m going for Hannah. That’s it. Don’t get any ideas.”

Robby ignored your warning completely. “You look so gorgeous right now,” he murmured. Suddenly, his voice went quieter, more intimate. Robby moved his eyes slowly over your face, down to the collar of your shirt and back up again. “All soft and sleepy in bed like that. Fuck… I wish I were lying there with you.”

Your stomach flipped despite yourself, the way he said it, so sincere and full of a hunger that never ceased but only grew stronger every day, made heat bloom in your belly. You wanted to scream at how easily he could still do that to you. “Robby…” you warned him.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I miss the way you feel under me. The way you breathe when you’re falling asleep next to me. I miss—”

“Goodbye, Robby.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, you ended the facetime call with a tap of your finger, plunging your screen into darkness. The room felt suddenly too quiet, too empty without his presence there. You dropped your phone onto the mattress beside you and stared up at the ceiling. Your skin felt warm, your mind was already replaying the way he’d looked at you, the tone of his voice when he said he wished he was lying there with you.

You pulled the blanket higher up to your chest, trying to ignore the storm of feelings Robby had just stirred up with nothing but his voice. It didn’t work, the ache was still there, as well as the flutter in your chest. The way your heart tripped over itself whenever he looked at you like that. Five years later, and Michael could still make your stupid heart race like you were that same fourth-year med student who used to sneak into his place late at night after shift. And now you had agreed to spend an entire week with him. A full week in Mexico. Seven days of Robby being Robby, charming, attentive, and far too good at reminding you exactly why you fell for him in the first place.

You had to force yourself to go back to one of the saddest days you could remember. Robby had come home from a brutal twelve-hour shift. You had just collapsed onto the couch after finally getting Hannah down, she’d been fussy all day, teething and crying restlessly. The moment he walked through the door, you could tell it had been a bad one. His eyes were glassy and distant, the lines on his face etched deeper than usual. Lately, every shift seemed to carve something out of him. He moved closer and pressed a quick, almost mechanical kiss to your forehead. No hello. No “how was your day.” Not even the ghost of a smile. Just autopilot, he was running on empty.

He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, far from you, shoulders slumped. “There’s some pasta in the fridge I made,” you whispered, hoping it would reach him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. He just stared at nothing, too drained to move.

Then Hannah let out a small cry from her crib. Before you could push yourself up, Robby was already on his feet. He scooped her up gently against his shoulder, swaying her in a soothing rhythm. “Are you okay, little angel?” he cooed softly, tender in a way it hadn’t been for you in weeks. “Yes, you’re okay. Yes, you are. Daddy’s here… shhh, go back to sleep.” That was the only moment you saw him smile genuine, and heartbreakingly soft as he held his daughter.

Tears burned in your eyes as you stood and walked closer to him. You had spent so many sleepless nights turning it over in your mind, and you couldn’t keep prolonging the inevitable. “Robby… we need to talk.”

“About us?” he replied, already sensing where this was going.

You nodded, feeling your throat tight. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be with me? That… you regret telling me to move in with you and being together?”

Robby sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like the weight of the world was pressing down on them. “It’s just work. You have no idea what it’s like trying to hold the whole fucking department together when everything is crumbling down and—”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. I understand your job is hard, that you’re stressed and exhausted, but… shit, Robby, all we do is ignore each other. The only time we actually speak is to argue about something stupid.” The tears slipped free then, there was no holding them back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I could do all of this, but I—” Tears welled in his eyes too, spilling over as he tried to hold it together. “I don’t know what to do. I—” A sob cut him off.

“Do you need space?” you asked, dreading the answer. “Is that it? You need us to take some time?”

He looked at you for a long moment, broken and defeated. “Yes.”

Two weeks had passed, and before you realized it, the suitcase lay now open on your bed, half-filled with the folded clothes you had carefully picked for the trip. You stood in front of it, folding another sundress, while Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by her own small pink suitcase and a pile of toys.

“Hannah, baby, do you have everything?” you asked for what felt like the tenth time. “Swimsuits? Sunscreen? The colouring books Daddy bought you for the plane?”

Hannah nodded enthusiastically, holding up her favorite ruffled swimsuit. “Yes, Mommy! And my water wings and the new sunglasses Daddy got me!” She beamed with uncontainable excitement. “Are we leaving soon? Is Daddy almost here?”

“Any minute now,” you replied, zipping up the main compartment of your suitcase with a sigh. Your stomach had been in knots all morning, this trip still felt like a terrible idea the more you thought about it, but Hannah’s joy made it impossible to back out now.

Right on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Hannah shot up like a rocket and ran toward it, yelling “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs.

You followed more slowly, pulling both suitcases behind you. When you opened the door, Robby stood there in a casual white linen shirt and shorts, looking annoyingly relaxed and handsome in the morning sunlight. His eyes immediately found yours, a small playing on his lips. “Hey,” he said softly. “You two ready?”

“Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him. Robby scooped her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, my little mermaid. You got all your stuff?” He glanced over her head at you. “Need help with the bags?"

“I’ve got them,” you said, a little more curtly than you intended. 

The drive to the airport was filled with Hannah’s nonstop chatter from the backseat. She pointed out every car, every cloud, every sign, asking a thousand questions about the plane, the ocean, and whether there would be dolphins. Robby answered every single one with patience, occasionally glancing at you in the passenger seat. You kept your eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard about how domestic this all felt. 

At the airport, Robby handled check-in, and when the agent handed over the boarding passes, you caught a glimpse of them and froze. Business class.

You turned to him slowly as they walked toward security. “Seriously, Robby? It’s a four-hour flight. We could’ve flown economy like normal people.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I had miles on my card for an upgrade. Didn’t cost anything extra.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Robby.”

He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so Hannah wouldn’t hear. “Forgive me. I just wanted to spoil my family a little.”

“We’re not a family,” you said firmly, glancing ahead at Hannah skipping between you two. Robby didn’t argue, he just gave you a look that said he disagreed but wasn’t going to push. 

The flight itself was smoother than you expected. In business class, the seats were wide and comfortable. You both let Hannah had the window seat, ans she spent most of the flight pressed against the glass, watching the clouds and looking at the ocean. Robby sat in the middle, keeping Hannah entertained with the in-flight entertainment and snacks.

You tried to read, but your mind kept wandering, every time Robby’s arm brushed yours, reaching for something, or when he laughed at one of Hannah’s excited comments, memories flooded your mind back, and you had to constantly remind yourself the only reason you were doing this was because Hannah had asked.

You landed in Cancun four hours later. A private transfer waited for you outside arrivals. The driver loaded your bags while Hannah bounced between you and Robby, holding both your hands. The drive to the resort took about forty-five minutes along the coast. You watched the palm trees that lined the road and the turquoise water on one side. Hannah pressed her face to the window the entire time, gasping at every new sight.

When the resort finally came into view, it was even more beautiful than the pictures. A luxurious property with white buildings, infinity pools cascading toward the ocean, and tropical gardens everywhere. 

The humid air of Cancun wrapped around you the moment you stepped out of the transfer van. The resort lobby was stunning with high ceilings, white marble floors and massive floral arrangements. Hannah’s hand was firmly in yours, her fingers squeezing with excitement as her eyes darted everywhere at once. “Mommy, look! There’s a fountain! And flowers! And the ocean is right there!”

Robby walked a few steps ahead, carrying Hannah’s pink suitcase in one hand and his own duffel in the other. He looked completely at ease, the fabric of his shirt slightly damp from the humidity and clinging just enough to show the lines of his shoulders. He glanced back at you with a reassuring smile before heading straight to the reception desk. You stayed back with Hannah, letting her point out every detail she noticed.

A few minutes later, Robby returned, twirling a key card between his fingers. “All set. We’re in the beachfront wing. Follow me.”

The walk to the room was beautiful but felt endless. Hannah skipped between you and Robby, holding both your hands and swinging them as she chattered nonstop about building the biggest sandcastle in the world. 

Robby finally stopped in front of a beautiful wooden door, he swiped the key card, and the door clicked open. The suite was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto a wide private balcony overlooking the ocean. The living area had elegant white furniture, and as you stepped further inside, your eyes landed on the bedroom area with two queen-size beds.

You stopped dead in the doorway. “Where’s the other room?” you asked slowly, worried you already knew the answer Robby was about to give you.

Robby set the suitcases down and scratched the back of his head, looking mildly sheepish. “Yeah… so there was a mix-up at the front desk. We only got one room.”

You stared at him with disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now?” The asshole had to be kidding. But then again, this was Robby, and this was exactly the kind of shenanigans he’d put you through. You should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise to let you do your own thing at the resort, to not act like you were a real family on a family holiday. You had been to hopeful to expect he’d at least wait a little longer before showing his real intentions.

Hannah, completely oblivious to the tension, let out a delighted squeal and immediately launched herself onto the nearest bed, jumping up and down with pure joy. “This one’s mine! No, this one! Look how bouncy it is, Mommy! Daddy, come jump with me!”

You barely heard her, your whole attention was locked on Robby. The family suite was gorgeous, in tasteful neutral tones, with fresh flowers on the nightstands, a bottle of champagne and fruit plate waiting on the table with a welcome note, but none of that mattered. What mattered now was that Robby had not only manipulated you to agree to this trip, but he’d also lied to you.

“Michael, do you think I was born yesterday? You totally did this on purpose. I know it.” 

He held up both hands in a placating gesture, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “There was a confusion with the booking. I swear. They had us down for a family suite with two queens instead of two separate rooms.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Go fix it. Right now.”

“I already tried,” he said calmly, stepping closer so Hannah wouldn’t overhear. “They’re completely booked. Peak season, a big wedding happening this week. No other rooms available in the whole resort.”

You let out a frustrated breath, rubbing your temple. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby. Separate rooms. That was the condition. I never would’ve come if—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But it’s just one week. I can take one bed, you and Hannah can take the other. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you hissed, keeping your voice down as Hannah continued bouncing happily, now unpacking her stuffed capybara and arranging it on the pillows. “This is exactly what I was worried about. You’re pushing boundaries.”

Meanwhile, Hannah had moved on to dragging her suitcase across the room, chattering excitedly. “Mommy, can we go to the beach now? The water is waiting! I want to find seashells and build a castle.”

Robby glanced at her with that fatherly smile that always made your chest ache, then looked back at you. “Look at her. She’s already so happy. One week, that’s all. We’re adults. We can handle sharing space for a few nights without it meaning anything.”

You stared at the two queen beds again. They were large, luxurious, with more pillows than necessary. The balcony doors were open, letting in the warm breeze and the constant, soothing sound of waves. It would have been perfect… if it weren’t for the man standing two feet away looking far too pleased with this “mix-up.”

Hannah suddenly ran over and grabbed your hand, then Robby’s. “Come on! Let’s go to the beach! I’m ready! I have my bucket and everything!”

You looked down at your daughter’s beaming face, then back at Robby. He raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting. You let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. But this changes nothing, Robby. Separate beds. No funny business. And the second a room opens up, we’re switching.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t worried at all.

He set his suitcase near one of the queen beds and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll go change first. Won’t be long.”

You nodded silently, still processing everything, but as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, you turned your attention to Hannah, who was already pulling things out of her pink suitcase with frantic excitement.

“Come here, baby,” you said softly, kneeling on the floor beside her bed. “Let’s get you ready for the beach.”

Hannah stood in front of you, wiggling with impatience as you helped her out of her travel clothes. You carefully slipped her into her favorite ruffled swimsuit, bright pink with little white flowers, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over her tummy. Then came the sunscreen. You squeezed a generous amount into your palm and rubbed it slowly over her arms, shoulders, back, legs, and face, making sure every inch was covred. Hannah giggled when you got to her nose, squirming because of how tickly it was.

“You have to stay safe from the sun, okay?” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going to have so much fun, but Mommy doesn’t want you to get burned like a toast.”

“I won’t!” she promised solemnly, then immediately went back to bouncing on her toes. “Can I wear my new sunglasses? And my hat with the flowers?”

The bathroom door opened, and Robby stepped out, for a moment, time seemed to slow. He wore dark swim trunks, paired with a simple white shirt that he hadn’t bothered to put on yet,  it was slung over his shoulder. You had seen his bare body no more than a month ago, you’d been under it, but it still felt, somehow, like seeing him again for the first time.

You stared at him longer than you should have. His soft but solid tummy that drove you insane, and that familiar trail of dark hair across his chest that you had always, always loved running your fingers through.

Your eyes traced the lines of his chest, the way the hair curled slightly, the soft give of his stomach. Heat flushed up your neck because God, you still loved every inch of him. 

Robby caught you looking and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What?” he asked teasingly. “I got something on my face?”

You blinked hard, tearing your gaze away. “No,” you muttered, grabbing your own beach bag a little too quickly. “I’m… going to change.”

You escaped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you. The mirror showed your flushed cheeks, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a week, you could handle this. Just a week of sleeping in the same room, just a week of seeing his body, just a week of him deliberately trying to break down our walls.

You changed into one of the bikinis you’d packed, a simple black two-piece that tied at the sides and back. You liked how it looked on you, it was flattering, but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt suddenly, acutely aware of how little it covered. Your body had changed since having Hannah, a few stretch marks here and there, breasts that were fuller but not as perky as before. Standing here in just this tiny bikini, knowing Robby was right outside… it felt vulnerable.

You adjusted the ties one more time, took another steadying breath, and stepped out of the bathroom. Hannah immediately squealed. “Mommy, you look so pretty!” She ran over and hugged your legs before darting into the bathroom herself to grab her sunglasses and sun hat. “I’ll be right back!”

You stood in the middle of the suite, adjusting the strap of your beach bag, when Robby stepped in from the balcony. He had been leaning on the railing, looking out at the ocean, but the moment he turned and saw you, he stopped dead. His eyes widened, and he dramatically clutched his chest with one hand, staggering back a step like he was having a heart attack.

 “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, the grin on his face pure mischief. “Warn a guy next time.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that wanted to break free. “You’re so not funny, Robinavitch.”

You wanted to slap that smug smile right off his face and kiss him senseless at the same time. The two urges warred inside you, because you hated how much his words mattered. How easily he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman who had ever stepped foot on this earth, and how completely you believed him when he said it. He wasn’t just mumbling the words because it felt like something he was supposed to say. No, Robby looked at you like he truly wanted you, like he was dying to get his hands back on your body, to pull you close and remind you exactly how good it used to feel. His gaze lingered, tracing over you in a way that made heat flood your stomach. God, you hated how much you still wanted him to.

He didn’t stop. He kept one hand pressed to his heart, shaking his head slowly as his gaze traveled over you, unashamed, appreciative, and far too warm. “You’re trying to kill me on day one, huh? That bikini… fuck. You look incredible.”

Heat flooded your face again, but you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly self-conscious. “Stop it. This is exactly what I was worried about.”

Robby took a slow step closer, still smiling, but his voice dropped. “Can’t help it. You’ve always looked good, but seeing you like this…” He let the sentence trail off, his sight lingering on the curve of your waist and the ties at your hips.

Before you could respond, Hannah burst back out of the bathroom wearing her oversized sunglasses and floppy sun hat, striking a dramatic pose. “I’m ready! Let’s go see the ocean!”

The sand was warm under your feet as the three of you made your way down the wooden boardwalk to the private stretch of beach reserved for resort guests. The sea stretched out in front of you, waves lapping against the shore, leaving behind lines of foam. Hannah’s excitement was infectious. She ran ahead a few steps, then back to you and Robby, her little sun hat flopping with every bounce. “The water is so blue! Can we go in right now? Please?”

Robby chuckled, adjusting the beach bag on his shoulder. “Let’s set up first, kiddo. Then we’ll swim.”

You chose three loungers under a large thatched umbrella near the water’s edge. You spread out towels while Robby helped Hannah with her water wings. The resort staff had placed a small cooler with chilled water and fruit beside the chairs, and soft music drifted from speakers along the beach. 

Once everything was settled, Robby stood and offered his hand to Hannah. “Ready, little mermaid?” 

She grabbed his hand with both of hers and tugged him toward the water. You watched them go, settling back into your lounger with the book you’d brought.  The sun felt incredible on your skin, you opened your book, but your eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages. Robby and Hannah waded into the shallow waves. Hannah squealed every time the water touched her legs, clinging to Robby’s hand. He lifted her high when a bigger wave came, spinning her around as she laughed uncontrollably. His swim trunks moved lower on his hips, and it made it impossible for you to focus on your book, every few minutes your gaze wandered back to them. 

After nearly an hour, Hannah came running back to you, dripping wet and beaming. “Mommy! Come build sandcastles with me! Daddy said he’ll watch our stuff.”

You set your book aside and took her hand, walking down to the firmer sand near the waterline. The two of you knelt together, digging with plastic shovels and buckets. Hannah chattered nonstop about her castle needing a moat and a tower for the princess. You helped her pat the walls smooth, adding seashells and bits of coral you found along the shore. The sun warmed your back, and for a while, everything felt simple and perfect,  just you and your daughter creating something together. But you felt Robby’s eyes on you the entire time, when you glanced up, he was sitting on the lounger, with his elbows on his knees, watching with an unreadable expression. 

He didn’t look away when your eyes met, the intensity in his gaze made heat bloom across your skin. Later, when the castle was tall and elaborate, Hannah got a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can we bury Daddy in the sand? Like a mummy?”

Robby, who had joined you, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see how it is. Ganging up on me already?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Sounds fair.”

The three of you worked together, slowly covering Robby as he lay back in the sand. Hannah patted sand over his legs with delight, while you worked on his arms and torso. The heavy sand molded around his body as he lay there patiently, occasionally joking with Hannah about becoming a “sand mummy.” Every time your hands brushed his skin while smoothing the sand, a spark jumped between you. He noticed, and you knew he did.

When you finally stepped back, Robby was almost completely buried, only his head and part of his neck visible. Hannah clapped her hands and danced around him. “He looks like a turtle!”

Robby chuckled, trying to move and finding himself well and truly stuck. “Alright, ladies. Fun’s over. Unbury me.”

You exchanged a look with Hannah, a smile spreading across your face. “You know what, Hannah? Don’t you want to go get some ice cream? I saw a stand right by the pools, and since this is all-inclusive, we can have all the ice cream we want.”

Hannah’s eyes lit up like stars. “Yes! Chocolate and strawberry and rainbow sprinkles!”

Robby snapped his head toward you, as much as he could with what little mobility he had left. “Ice cream sounds great. Why don’t you get me out of here and we go there together?”

You crouched down beside him, close enough that your shadow fell over his face. You leaned in until your faces were only inches apart. “This is for booking one room, Michael.”

His eyes widened with outrage. “You wouldn’t—”

You straightened up before he could finish, taking Hannah’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go find that ice cream. Daddy can wait a few more minutes.”

Hannah giggled conspiratorially and waved at Robby. “Bye, Daddy! We’ll bring you some… maybe!”

As the two of you walked away hand-in-hand toward the resort path, Robby’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-protesting. “This is unfair punishment! Hannah! Come back!”

You didn’t look back, but you couldn’t stop the satisfied smile on your face. For the first time since arriving, you felt like you might actually survive this week, but only if you kept winning the small battles.

The light of late afternoon had softened into the warm pinks and oranges by the time you and Hannah returned to the suite. The scent of ocean salt that clung to your skin and your hair was a wild mess. You both needed showers badly. You helped Hannah first, rinsing the sand from her hair and body. After drying her with one of the oversized white towels, you slipped her into her favorite purple dress and brushed her hair until it was smooth. Your turn came next, you took your time, letting the warm water wash away the salt, sand, and sunscreen. When you emerged wrapped in a towel, Hannah was sitting on one of the queen beds, flipping through a children’s book the resort had left. 

She looked up with a bright smile. “Mommy, I’m so hungry! Can we go eat now?”

“Soon, baby. Let’s wait and see if Daddy gets back so we can all go together.”

You were both dressed and ready when the door to the suite finally opened. Robby stepped inside, still covered head to toe in sand. It clung to his hair, dusted his shoulders and arms, and left visible trails down his legs. His swim trunks looked gritty, and there was sand stuck to the damp skin of his chest and stomach. He looked equal parts ridiculous and defeated. You and Hannah stared for half a second before bursting into laughter. 

Hannah pointed, doubling over on the bed. “Daddy! You’re a sand monster for real!”

Robby closed the door behind him with a dramatic sigh, brushing uselessly at his arms. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “That wasn’t cool at all.”

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand. “You deserved that, Michael.”

He shot you a look, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I have sand in places no person should ever have sand. I’m talking places, okay? You left me there all afernoon.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Really? The whole afternoon?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sending another shower of sand onto the floor. “Maybe a beach guard eventually helped dig me out. That’s not the point. The point is you two left me there.”

Hannah was still giggling uncontrollably. “Sorry, Daddy. I ate all the ice-cream.”

Robby shook his head, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Traitors, both of you.” He glanced down at himself again and sighed. “I need a shower. Give me ten minutes and we can head to dinner.”

While Robby disappeared into the bathroom, you and Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the water run. When Robby finally emerged, he looked refreshed, wearing a clean button-down shirt and shorts. “Ready?” he asked, offering Hannah his hand.

The buffet was everything a resort like this promised, long tables overflowing with fresh seafood, grilled meats, salads, tropical fruits, and many dessert stations. Hannah’s eyes were wide as saucers as she piled her plate high with pasta, shrimp, and fruit, while you and Robby chose more balanced meals. 

You ate slowly, savoring the flavors while Hannah chattered between bites about everything she’d seen that day, occasionally yawning as the long day caught up with her.

After dinner, the walk back to the suite was peaceful, the pathways were lit with lanterns, and the sound of waves grew louder again as you approached the beach wing. Hannah walked between you and Robby, holding both your hands, her steps slowing with tiredness.

Back in the room, the bedtime routine felt strangely intimate. You helped Hannah brush her teeth while Robby turned down the beds. Hannah chose to sleep with you tonight. You tucked her in on the bed closest to the balcony, reading her a short story while Robby dimmed the lights.

Soon, Hannah’s breathing evened out into sleep, her body curled against your side. You lay there in the semi-darkness while Robby settled into the other bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” Robby murmured, soft enough not to disturb Hannah’s peaceful sleep. “The three of us here like this… I had a great time today. Even if I spent three hours buried under sand.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your treacherous heart agreed with him. It did feel nice, dangerously nice. You’d had so much fun being with him, doing things together like a regular family: building sandcastles, chasing waves, watching Hannah’s delighted squeals. For a few stolen hours, it had felt real. “Tomorrow morning,” you said quietly, despite the ache in your chest, “you’re going to the reception and asking if they have any more rooms available.”

The next morning you woke slowly, Hannah was still curled against your side on the queen bed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, you slipped out of bed. You moved quietly around the room, brushing your teeth, splashing cool water on your face, and running a brush through your hair. You chose a red bikini today, tied the strings and slipped on a light white cover-up. Before leaving, you scribbled a short note and left it on the nightstand: Went for an early walk on the beach to watch the sunrise.

Robby woke later, he spotted the note immediately and read it with a smile. “Mommy went for an early beach walk,” he told Hannah, helping her sit up. “Let’s get ready and surprise her with breakfast on the beach. What do you think?”

Hannah’s face lit up. They took their time, Robby patiently helping her brush her teeth and wash her face. He changed into swim trunks and a loose linen shirt, applied sunscreen to Hannah’s face and arms, and they headed out hand-in-hand, making a quick stop at the breakfast buffet to grab some fresh fruit, croissants, yogurt, and cold water bottles to bring to the beach.

The ocean sparkled brilliantly as he scanned the loungers, looking for you. When he finally spotted you further down the beach, his steps slowed. You were standing near the water’s edge in just the red bikini, the morning light highlighting every curve of your body. You looked relaxed, confident, and breathtakingly beautiful. And you weren’t alone. A tall, ripped guy in his mid-to-late twenties stood close to you, shirtless, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders glistening slightly with sweat or water. He was laughing at something you said, leaning in with confidence, clearly flirting back with you. 

He looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover, young, with zero signs of the wear that came from decades of work. An ugly twist of jealousy hit Robby in the chest. But it wasn’t just jealousy, it was insecurity hiding right behind it. This guy was younger, fitter. Probably had endless stamina and no emotional baggage. Robby became acutely aware of his own softer stomach, the gray hairs scattered across his chest, and the wrinkles around his eyes from years of exhaustion. He felt every one of his fifty. years in that moment, standing there holding a plate of fruit and his daughter’s hand.

Hannah tugged excitedly on Robby’s hand. “There’s Mommy! Look, Daddy! She’s over there by the water. Can we go say hi? Please?”

Robby forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Let’s go.”

They started walking across the warm sand. Robby’s focus narrowed entirely on you and the man standing far too close. As they approached, he heard the guy’s easy laugh again. The young man was animated, gesturing toward the horizon with one muscular arm, clearly in the middle of some charming story. 

“Good morning” Robby said, trying not to sound bothered but doing a terrible job hiding his annoyance. “I see you found company.”

The guy’s gaze flicked from you to Robby, then back to you with mild confusion. “Is that… your father?”

The word landed like a punch, and Robby let out a short and dry laugh, though his jaw tightened painfully. “Her father,” he mumbled on the low. “Cute. No. I’m her husband, as a matter of fact.” His voice didn’t even hesitate over the blatant lie he’d just said.

You laughed, an uncomfortable and forced sound that made Robby’s chest twist. “He’s not my husband,” you corrected quickly. “He’s just… a guy I know from work.”

Robby turned to you slowly, raising one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “A guy you know from work? Excuse me?” The young guy shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly sensing the sudden thick tension crackling in the air. “I’m the father of her daughter. Michael Robinavitch, nice to meet you.”

The guy’s eyes darted between the three of you, with a confused look across his face as if he couldn’t quite process the sudden shift. Just a couple of minutes earlier he’d been leaning in close, flashing an easy smile and flirting with acute woman at the beach. Now here you were with a man standing possessively close and a little kid next to him. And as if he couldn’t quite believe that Robby, was somehow the father of that kid. “So… you have a daughter? With her?”

Robby kept his tone light for Hannah’s sake, ruffling her hair gently with one hand, but there was an edge underneath his words. “Yes. I got her pregnant. It was a wonderful experience, actually.”

The words came out with a possessive undertone he didn’t even try to hide. What a fucking little prick, Robby thought. He wishes he could pull a woman like you. Sure, the guy might have abs where Robby had a softer belly. Maybe his forehead was smooth, with no lines etched from the pass of time, and his head might still be free of silver hairs. But Robby had pulled you without any of that polished bullshit, and you had always looked at him like he was the most handsome man to ever exist. A little asshole like him wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like you.

You shot Robby a warning glare, a mix of anger and embarrassment. because now you had to explain your awkard family situation to this stranger. “It’s… complicated,” you told the guy, forcing a polite smile that felt brittle on your face. “Really complicated.”

The young man rubbed the back of his neck, his sculpted shoulders tensing visibly. He was clearly uncomfortable now, the easy flirtation from moments ago evaporating. “Yeah… uhh, I think my friends are calling me. Nice to meet you, though.” He gave you one last lingering, appreciative glance before turning and walking away toward a group of guys further down the beach.

The second he was out of earshot, you rounded on Robby, trying to keep your voice low and controlled so Hannah wouldn’t hear, but still with a furious undertone in it. “What the hell was that? You completely ruined it. He was flirting with me, and you had to march over here acting like some possessive caveman. And “her husband” What the hell was that?”

Robby set the beach bag down on the sand a little harder than necessary. “Oh please,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement highlighting the soft give of his stomach beneath his shirt. “He’s not even your type.”

You stared at him incredulously. “And how exactly would you know what my type is these days, Robby?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were dark with a potent mix of jealousy and insecurity. “Because I know you. That guy? All looks and no substance. Perfect abs and zero idea what real life looks like. You’d be bored in ten minutes.”

The words hung between you. Hannah, sensing the growing tension like children always do, tugged gently on your hand. “Mommy, can we eat breakfast now? I’m hungry.”

You forced a warm smile for her, pushing down the frustration and smoothing her messy brown hair with your fingers. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s sit down and eat. Daddy brought all your favorites.”

The rest of the morning on the beach passed in silence from your side. You didn’t speak one more word to Robby. Every time he tried to make conversation,offering you some mango, commenting on how beautiful the water looked, asking if you wanted more sunscreen, you answered with short nods or turned your attention to Hannah instead. Robby noticed, and after a while, he stood up slowly, brushing sand from his legs.

“I’m gonna take a walk around the resort for a bit. Give you some space.” He looked at Hannah with a soft smile. “You stay with Mommy, okay, angel? I’ll be back soon.”

Hannah nodded, already busy building another small tower on her sandcastle. Robby lingered for a second longer, resting his eyes on you with something regretful in them, before he turned and walked away down the beach path. You watched his back until he disappeared behind the palm trees.

The hours passed slowly, you played with Hannah in the shallow water, built more sandcastles, applied more sunscreen, and read a few chapters of your book while she napped under the umbrella. But your mind kept replaying the scene with the guy, Robby’s jealous interruption, his possessive words, the way he’d looked at you. It stirred up too many old feelings you didn’t want to examine.

 Part of you enjoyed the attention he gave you, the way Robby got possessive whenever another guy even stepped too close. It felt good to be wanted like that. To see him look at you like he still wanted you to be his and his only, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between you. It was dangerous, how much you liked it. Because it stirred up the same old feelings, the ones that made it so hard to remember why you kept pushing him away in the first place.

Robby returned a couple of hours later, carrying two fresh iced drinks. He approached cautiously and sat down on the edge of your lounger, close but not touching you. “I know you’re pissed,” he said. “And you have every right to be. I overstepped. I was an asshole back there. Jealous and… yeah. I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent for a long moment, staring out at the turquoise water. “You were. You ruined a nice, harmless conversation.”

Robby nodded, accepting it. “I did.” He paused, then offered one of the iced drinks. “I walked by the spa earlier. They have really good reviews. I thought of getting you a massage as an apology. You deserve to relax after everything… and after dealing with me being an idiot.”

You looked at him then, searching his face. His expression was sincere, the usual cocky edge softened by genuine regret. Part of you wanted to stay mad. The other part, the tired nd overworked resident and mother, desperately wanted that massage. “…Fine,” you said eventually. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed.”

“Understood.” He gave you a small smile.

You left Hannah at the resort’s supervised children’s activity center, a beautiful shaded area with crafts, games, and attentive staff. She was thrilled to join the other kids, waving goodbye without a second thought. 

The spa building was serene and even more luxurious than the rest of the resort. Robby stepped up to the elegant reception desk first. You watched him leaning slightly on the polished wood counter, and the woman on the desk checking the screen and nodding. 

After a couple of seconds, Robby came back to you. “Okay, it’s all settled. I’m gonna head back, maybe hit the pool with the bar. Enjoy your massage. You deserve it.”

Before Robby had any time to head to the door, a masseuse in a white uniform approached you both. She offered a welcoming smile. “Okay, beautiful couple, ready for your couple’s massage? We have the ocean-view room prepared with the full aromatherapy package you selected. It’s one of our most popular experiences.”

You froze right there and then, the word “couple” hitting you like cold water. Your stomach tightened instantly, a rush of irritation flooding through you. “Robby,” you said, turning to him. “What the hell did you do now?”

He looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he raised both hands in a surrender gesture. “I swear I don’t know,” he said quickly, sounding sincere for once. “I just booked a regular massage for you. I didn’t say anything about a couple’s anything. I was very clear, one person, one massage.”

The masseuse glanced between the two of you, still smiling politely, completely unfazed by the sudden tension. “It’s our signature couples experience, side-by-side tables, synchronized massage, and a glass of champagne afterward. Very romantic and relaxing. Perfect for reconnecting.”

Before you could refuse, clarify, or even form a full protest, the staff were already guiding you both forward with efficiency. They led you down a quiet, incense-scented hallway that opened into a treatment room. Two massage tables stood side by side in the center, candles flickering all around the room and towels folded neatly.

Your heart was racing now, a mix of irritation at Robby and anticipation because soon he would be shirtless again, lying only a few feet away while you were both having a “couple experience” when all you needed was to be as far away as possible from the concept of you and Robby being a couple. Your brain was already getting all these confused, dangerous feelings after spending so much time together, the laughter, the casual touches, the way the three of you looked like a real family from the outside. The last thing you needed right now was to keep doing couple activities. Every shared dinner, every walk along the beach, only made the line between co-parents. You were supposed to be keeping your distance.

You turned to him. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby.”

He looked almost sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I really did just ask for one massage. But… we’re here now. Might as well enjoy it?”

The masseuses were already moving, preparing the oils, laying out fresh towels, adjusting the temperature and lighting.

On of them smiled gently. “If you’d both like to remove your clothes to your comfort level and lie face down on the tables, we’ll begin with the back and shoulders. Take your time.”

Robby glanced at you, reading the hesitation in your posture. He gave a reassuring nod. “I’ll go first,” he said quietly, and stepped behind the simple privacy screen they had provided. 

You heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his shirt and trunks. You turned around quickly, facing the wall to avoid the sight of his fully naked body, one you knew far too well and that still had the exact same devastating effect on you. Definitely not the kind of reaction you needed when you were supposed to be relaxing. But even with your back to him, the knowledge that he was right there in the same room, completely bare, got your heart beating fast. 

When he emerged and lay face down on the right-hand table, he draped the sheet modestly over his lower half. You couldn’t help but notice the familiar lines of his back, his strong shoulders, the soft curve where his waist met his hips. Your turn came next, you stepped behind the screen, your fingers slightly unsteady as you untied the bikini top and stepped out of the bottoms. The cool air kissed your bare skin, you wrapped yourself quickly in one of the large, warmed towels and moved to the left table, lying face down.

You turned your head to the side, away from Robby, trying to steady your breathing. The masseuses worked in sync. Pouring warm oil first, spreading it with their fingers, starting at your shoulders and working downward in long strokes. The pressure was perfect — deep enough to melt the knots from endless shifts, gentle enough to feel indulgent. Beside you, Robby let out a low sound of relief as his own masseuse began. The sound sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine, you knew that voice too well, one you’d heard far too many times.

One of the masseuses, an older woman, spoke softly as she worked on your upper back. “You two make a lovely couple. Have you been together a long time?”

Robby answered before you could explain how you weren’t a couple, you two had ended here after a complicated series of events. “Five years.”

You opened your eyes, staring at the white sheet beneath you. “We’re not really together,” you corrected quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

Robby let out a soft chuckle from the next table. “It’s more like an on-and-off thing.”

You turned your head slightly toward him, the irritation mixing with the pleasure of the massage, an experience that was supposed to be relaxing, but now was irritating due to Robby’s presence. “It’s mostly off than on, really.”

The younger masseuse working on Robby smiled as she kneaded his shoulders. “Ah, but you are here together now. That counts for something, no?”

The older woman on your side pressed deeper into a knot between your shoulder blades, drawing a quiet sigh from you. “You make a good couple,” she said warmly. “I have seen many couples working here, but not many where the man looks at the woman the way he looks at you. It’s very special.”

You let out a small, skeptical laugh, the sound muffled against the face cradle. “I find that hard to believe.”

Robby’s voice came from beside you. “I look at her like she’s the second most precious thing in this entire world.”

The masseuses both made soft. The younger one asked curiously, “Why second?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Becuse the first one is the daughter she gave me five years ago.”

A soft chorus of “Awww” filled the room. You could practically feel the women melting at his words. The older masseuse patted your shoulder gently. “That is beautiful. A man who knows what he has.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, a confusing mix of embarrassment, irritation, and something warmer that his words always managed to make you feel. “He’s a flatterer,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice light. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s very good at saying the right things.”

Robby chuckled again. “Only when it’s true.”

The synchronized rhythm of the massage created an oddly intimate atmosphere. When your masseuse dug into a tight knot between your shoulder blades, Robby’s masseuse did the same at the exact same moment. The sensation of feeling your own body release tension while hearing his quiet groans of pleasure made the room feel smaller, more charged. Time stretched. You found yourself relaxing despite everything, the ocean view, the scent of the oils, the pressure, until the masseuse gently asked you to turn over. You hesitated for a second before complying, keeping the sheet carefully draped over your chest as you rolled onto your back. Robby turned at the same moment, and for a brief second, your eyes met across the small space between the tables. His gaze was dark, but you looked away quickly, focusing on the ceiling and the glow of the candles.

The front massage was somehow even more intimate, oil poured across your collarbones, your arms, your legs. The masseuse’s hands worked slowly up your thighs, careful and professional, but the proximity of Robby, who was lying there with his eyes sometimes closed, sometimes open and watching the ceiling, made every touch feel amplified. 

The older masseuse spoke again softly as she massaged your temples. “It is good to see a family taking time together. These moments are precious.”

You stayed silent this time, and Robby’s quiet reply came a moment later. “They are. It took me a while to realize there’s nothing more important than my family.”

When the massage ended, the masseuses quietly stepped out, leaving you and Robby alone in the treatment room. Robes had been provided, and two elegant flutes of champagne with fresh strawberries and raspberries waited on a small table between the two massage tables. You sat up slowly, wrapping the white robe tightly around yourself. Robby did the same on his table, the robe hanging open just enough to show his chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were the distant waves. Robby reached for the champagne glasses and handed one to you. He clinked his glass gently against yours.

“To surviving the rest of this trip,” he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Robby leaned back against the edge of his table, watching you. The robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of his chest. “No matter how much you try to pretend you hate spending time with me… I know you secretly enjoy it. We get along. We have fun together. You know there’s this… connection between us.”

You stared into your glass, watching the bubbles rise. You took a sip before answering. “You’re wrong. The only reason we keep spending time together is because you pull this shit all the time. This wasn’t what I agreed to. I asked for separate rooms, no couple activities. You keep lying to me and manipulating everything because you have this fantasy that I’ll magically get back with you just because you paid for some expensive vacation.”

Robby set his glass down slowly. He didn’t look defensive. Instead, his expression was open, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t get a couple’s massage. I swear. I asked for one massage for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, the champagne making your cheeks feel warmer. “What about the hotel room mix-up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe… I didn’t correct the receptionist when he gave me only one room.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Robby looked at you then. “I’m in love,” he said simply. “Crazy in love with you. And every single day, every second I spend with you it just gets bigger and bigger. I can’t help it.”

The confession hung between you. You wanted to push back, to stay angry, but the massage had stripped away too many defenses. You knew you could pack your suitcase right now. You knew you could call a taxi, get to the airport, and buy the fastest ticket back home. But part of you didn’t. Part of you longed to stay and see what the next thing Robby would do, how far he’d go to win you back, how much he was willing to risk this time, and whether he truly meant it. The worst part of it all was how little you actually wanted to run away from him.

“You can’t deny the massage was nice,” Robby added quietly.

You took another slow sip of champagne. The truth slipped out before you could stop it. “It felt good,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “Really good.”

The next day you woke to Hannah’s excited bouncing on the bed and Robby’s chuckle from the other side of the room. After a leisurely breakfast on the balcony while watching the ocean, the three of you headed to the resort’s massive water park, full of slides, lazy rivers, and splash zones. Hannah’s eyes were wide with wonder as she ran from one attraction to the next.

You spent hours in the shallow kids’ area first, where sprays of water misted over mushroom fountains. Hannah laughed uncontrollably as she darted through the sprays. Robby lifted her onto his shoulders so she could reach higher sprays, both of them soaked and beaming.

Later, you moved to the lazy river, the three of you floated together on a large raft, the current carrying you under bridges and past waterfalls. Hannah sat between you and Robby, chattering nonstop about the “big slides” she wanted to try next. Robby’s arm rested casually behind you on the raft, occasionally brushing his fingers over your shoulder. 

You braved a few bigger slides with Hannah while Robby waited at the bottom with open arms to catch her. He went down the steeper ones with her, their laughter echoing as they shot out into the splash pool. You watched from the side, smiling despite yourself at how good he was with her, patient and playful.

By late afternoon, you were all tired, but still decided to head to the open-air resort theater for the karaoke night. The tables were arranged in an arc around a central stage. You sat at a table near the front with Hannah comfortably settled on your lap. She wore her favorite sundress, her hair still slightly damp from the evening shower. In her small hands, she held a colorful fruity mocktail with a paper umbrella and a slice of pineapple on the rim. She watched performer after performer take the stage, clapping enthusiastically for every single one, whether they were hilariously off-key or surprisingly talented.

Robby sat right beside you, he had switched to margaritas after dinner and was now on his third or fourth. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink, and his smile came easier, the alcohol had softened the edges that usually existed between you, but you kept your guard firmly in place, hyper-aware of the weight of his arm behind you and the occasional brush of his fingers against your shoulder

The host, a charismatic man stepped up to the microphone scanning the crowd. “Alright, folks, next up we have Michael Robinavitch! Michael, the stage is all yours.”

Your stomach dropped instantly. You froze, asking yourself if you’d heard right, because karaoke was something Robby would never, ever, do. But then again, this wasn’t normal Robby, this was Robby after four margaritas that inhibited any level of self-awareness he had. “Robby… where are you going? What are you doing?”

He stood up with a bright, slightly tipsy smile that lit up his whole face. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Hannah’s head, then straightened. “You’ll see,” he said.

He walked toward the stage with confidence, the stage lights catching on the slight sway in his step from the margaritas. The crowd quieted with anticipation as he took the microphone. For a moment, he just stood there, looking out over the audience, until his eyes found yours across the tables. A heart-stopping smile spread across his face.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began. “My name is Michael Robinavitch.” He scanned the audience again until his gaze locked directly on you. “This song goes out to the love of my life.” He pointed straight at you, and heads turned. Dozens of eyes shifted your way all at once. Heat flooded your face in an instant, a deep and mortifying warmth that burned from your chest all the way to your ears. 

You wanted the sand beneath the theater to open up and swallow you whole. You sank lower in your seat, wishing you could disappear. Robby didn’t stop. “No, not only the love of my life. She’s the woman of my life. She’s the mother of my child. Look at them, aren’t they the most beautiful ladies in the world?”

The crowd let out a collective and heartfelt “Awww.” Some people clapped, a few whistled. Hannah waved happily at her dad from your lap, completely thrilled and oblivious to your embarrassment. “Daddy’s singing for us, Mommy!” she whispered excitedly, bouncing a little.

The opening notes of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing began playing, and Robby’s voice came through the speakers, rough around the edges from the margaritas, but surprisingly in tune despite being a terrible singer. He sang directly to you, keeping his eyes locked on yours the entire time, as if no one else existed.

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you’re far away and dreaming…”

Embarrassment burned through every inch of you. Your cheeks were on fire, and you covered your face with one hand, peeking through your fingers. 

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…”

Hannah bounced happily on your lap, clapping along. “Daddy sounds so good! He’s singing for you, Mommy!”

Robby poured everything into the chorus, his voice rising with emotion, and cracking slightly on the high notes but full of feeling.

“Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing…”

He pointed at you and Hannah again during the song, his gaze never wavering. The crowd was completely swept up, some singing along, others watching the three of you with fond, smiling faces. You felt painfully exposed, seen in a way that terrified you, and yet terrifyingly wanted and loved in front of all these strangers. 

When the final notes faded, the audience erupted in loud applause and cheers. He gave a small, humble bow, grinning widely. He didn’t step off the stage immediately, instead, he raised the microphone again. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at the crowd. “I just want to say one more thing before I go. I was an idiot. I did some things I regret. I let fear and work, and my own stubbornness get in the way of the best things in my life.” He looked straight at you. “But this woman right here… and our beautiful daughter… they are the best thing that ever happened to me. All I want is another chance to fix it. To do it right this time.”

The crowd reacted instantly, followed by scattered cheers and shouts of encouragement. Someone near the back yelled, “Give the man another chance!” More voices joined in, “Yeah, go for it!” until it became a playful chant rippling across the theater. 

Robby finally stepped off the stage, making his way back to your table amid the lingering applause. Hannah launched herself into his arms the moment he sat down. “Daddy! You sang so good for Mommy!”

You stared at him, your heart still racing from the public love declaration and the serenade. You leaned in close so only he could hear. “You’re an idiot, Robby.”

He turned to you, so close that the scent of tequila and his cologne wrapped around you again. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” 

You wanted to push him away, to stay angry about the public spectacle and the way he kept blurring every boundary. But with Hannah happily chattering between you two about how “Daddy is the best singer ever,” and the crowd still occasionally glancing your way with fond smiles, it was impossible to ignore the pull.

 “Every single word was true.” He brushed your shoulder gently. “I lost so many years, so much time, so many memories I let go because of how I felt, and now the thought of missing one single moment with you kills me. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

You had to blink back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. For the first time, you believed every single word that left his lips, no doubting, no second-guessing, no walls left to hide behind. After days of fighting him, of pushing back against every word and lingering touch, all you wanted was to pull him close, to bury your face in his chest and tell him you wanted the same thing. That every second you’d wasted fighting him was a second the two of you could have been together, laughing, touching. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” you swallowed. “When you’re not four margaritas in.”

The next morning, you woke before Hannah. You glanced at Robby in the other queen bed. He was still asleep, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach, the sheet low on his hips. You moved quietly and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. For a long moment you just watched him, the morning light highlighting the white hair on his jaw and the lines around his eyes. 

Then Robby stirred, fluttering his eyes open slowly, focusing on you with sleepy confusion that quickly shifted into something softer, almost disbelieving. “Am I dreaming?” he murmured as he blinked a few times, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Why are you in bed with me?”

You stayed seated on the edge with your hands in your lap. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

He rubbed his face with one hand, still half-asleep. “We went to the water park? Hannah loved the slides…”

“Not that, idiot,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Later. The karaoke.”

Robby froze. His eyes widened as the memories clearly flooded back. He let out a long groan and dropped back onto the pillow, covering his face with both hands. “Oh yeah… Jesus. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I bet you’re regretting it now.”

He lowered his hands slowly. “I might be deeply embarrassed. But I don’t regret it. I wanted to do something romantic for you. Something that showed you how I feel.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light even as your pulse quickened. “Yeah? Nothing more romantic than singing off-key Aerosmith in front of a hundred strangers.”

Robby chuckled and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. “Come on, it wasn’t that off-key.” His eyes met yours. “I meant every single word I said. About not wanting to miss another second without you. About you and Hannah being the best things that ever happened to me. About wanting another chance.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest, breaking down your defences more and more each day. “I heard you loud and clear, Robby.”

Hannah stirred slightly in the other bed but didn’t wake. You stood up slowly, smoothing your sleep shirt. “I’m gonna head to the pools for a bit before she wakes up.”

Robby sat up straighter. “You can’t.”

You turned back to him, raising your eyebrow. “Why not?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish again. “Yesterday I… booked us dancing lessons on the beach. Salsa. For this morning.”

You stared at him. “And why the hell did you do that? Why didn’t you ask me first? I don’t wanna go.”

He let out a helpless laugh. “I don’t know. I was drunk and thought dancing salsa with you on the beach sounded like a great idea at the time.”

You crossed your arms. “Well, I’m not going.”

“Please go with me,” he said wofter now, almost pleading. He looked at you with those warm brown eyes that had always been able to weaken your resolve. “I’ll behave. I promise. Otherwise I’m gonna have to dance with the teacher, and that would be even more embarrassing than last night.”

You stood there in the quiet morning light, part of you still wanted to say no, to keep the boundaries firm, to protect the distance you’d fought so hard to maintain. But you knew if it wasn’t this, then he’d simply come up with another way of putting the two of you together in another situation. Being with him for these days had softened you more than you cared to admit, it had all worn down your defenses. And after every honest word he’d laid bare last night, combined with the way he was looking at you now with that sheepish, boyish smile and those earnest eyes that always saw straight through you, it made it very hard to keep saying no.

After dropping Hannah off at the resort’s supervised kids’ activities center, where she immediately ran off with a group of children to do crafts and play games, you and Robby walked the shaded pathways toward the beach.

The beach dancing area was set up in a beautiful, semi-private cove framed by gently curving palm trees and large rocks. The instructor, a local man, welcomed you both with open arms. “Perfect timing!. Come, come, partners, face each other. We start with the basic steps.”

Robby was a terrible dancer. He tried, God, he tried so hard, but his movements were initially stiff and awkward, his hips resisting the rhythm. He settled his hands on your bare waist with visible hesitation at first, but that hesitation quickly melted into something much hungrier. 

The first time the instructor called for a basic side step and Robby pulled you in, he pressed his palm firmly against the small of your back, splaying his fingers wide as if he needed to feel as much of you as possible. 

The heat of his touch burned straight through your skin, sending a spark racing up your spine. “Like this?” Robby asked the instructor as he attempted the next step.

His thigh accidentally slid between your legs for balance during a turn, pressing close for a second longer than necessary. You felt the warmth of him, the subtle shift of his hips, and heat pooled in your belly.

The instructor laughed good-naturedly. “Looser hips, my friend! Feel the music. Let it move you.”

Robby tried again, pulling you closer on the next basic. He brushed his chest against yours with every step, the thin fabric of his shirt and your bikini top did nothing to hide the heat of his body.

“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered close to your ear, his breath warm against your neck. He slid his hand a little lower on your back, digging his fingers in with hunger. “But I like having an excuse to hold you like this.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the beat. “You’re terrible at this.”

He grinned as he dipped you slightly on the instructor’s cue. “But I’m trying. For you.” 

His body was pressed flush against yours, his hips rolling in what was supposed to be a salsa step but felt far more intimate. The subtle grind, the way his thigh stayed between yours for balance, the hungry way in which he dropped his to your mouth and lower, to the swell of your breasts, made your skin tingle everywhere he touched. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears, almost drowning out the music. Every turn, every close hold, every time his hands guided your hips, the tension built higher. He traced possessive circles on your lower back with his fingers. When the music slowed for a moment to practice a more sensual move, he looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, like he wanted to devour every inch of you right there on the sand in front of everyone.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You’d tried to fight every single advance he’d made since you both arrived. You’d tried to ignore the way he looked, more tan from the sun, those charming freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, his soft body on full display in nothing but swim trunks. You’d tried to pretend you weren’t affected by the flood of memories rushing back every time he got close, or by the fantasies of what life could look like if you finally let him in. And you were bone-tired of pretending you didn’t want the same thing. Exhausted from denying yourself what your body craved so much, his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing you down, the way only he could make you fel.

Mid-step, you grabbed Robby’s hand tightly and started walking, pulling him firmly away from the group and down the beach. The ocean breeze tried cooling the flush on your skin but did nothing to calm the fire in your belly.

Robby stumbled slightly to keep up, surprised but not resisting. “Where are we going?”

You didn’t slow down, already scanning the shoreline ahead. “We’re going to have sex.”

He let out a startled and deep laugh that sent another shiver racing through you. A second later the laugh faded into pure disbelief. “Wait… are you serious?”

You kept walking, your breath coming faster as the arousal intensified with every second that went by without feeling Robby’s touch. “Yes, Michael.”

Robby’s grip on your hand tightened. “Let’s go back to the room then. No risk of anyone seeing—”

“It’s too far,” you cut him off, your voice breathy with need. “And they’re probably cleaning it right now.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, half-aroused, half-amused. “So what? We’re doing it in the wild?”

You glanced back at him, the corner of your mouth twitching despite the heat flooding your body. “Michael, it’s the beach, not the wilderness.”

“Excuse me,” he said, still laughing softly but with clear hunger in his eyes, “But I really like this resort. I don’t want to get banned for life from this chain.”

You stopped for a second, turning to look at him fully. Your voice dropped to a more direct and impatient tone. “You wanna fuck or not?”

His expression shifted instantly, completely undone. “Yes please.”

“Good, then stop complaining.” You kept walking until you found a good spot: a small, semi-secluded cove partially shielded by large rocks and leaning palm trees. The sand here was softer, shaded in patches by the foliage, with a clear but private view of the ocean. You pulled him behind the largest rock formation and Robby followed without hesitation, his hands already sliding to your waist the moment you stopped. The hunger in his touch matched the fire burning in your veins. He pressed you back against the smooth, sun-warmed rock, his body crowding yours, mouth hovering just inches from yours, breath ragged. The tension that had been building since the massage, since the karaoke, since the entire trip finally snapped.

The moment you pulled Robby behind the large, sun-warmed rock, the rest of the world fell away, all that existed was the heat between you, the desperate need that had been simmering since the very beginning of this trip.

You surged forward and kissed him. Robby met you instantly, a hungry sound rumbling in his chest as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth was hot and demanding, and his fingers dug into your hips with desperation. He kissed you like a man who had been starving ever since the last night you shared together, sweeping his tongue into your mouth, claiming, while he slid one up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it.

He broke the kiss just enough to breathe against your lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Every single night since we got here. I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

You smiled against his mouth, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. “All your stupid tricks finally worked.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he roamed his hands restlessly over your body, down your sides, cupping your ass, pulling you harder against the growing hardness in his swim trunks. “All I did was to try and prove you how much I love you,” he murmured. “I want to be with you. Not just fuck you again. I want everything. You, Hannah, us as a family. That’s all it’s ever been about.”

Your hand slid down between you, palming the hard and thick outline of his cock through the fabric. He hissed sharply, jerking his hips forward into your touch. “It was torture,” he rasped, against your ear, “seeing you in that bikini every single day and not being able to touch you. Not being able to do this.”

You squeezed him gently, stroking the length of him through his trunks. “Maybe I wanted to touch your body too.”

He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan as you rubbed your thumb over the fat head. “I know. I could see the way you watched me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of Robby’s swim trunks and pushed them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, the thick vein along the underside pulsed visibly as you wrapped your hand around the base, your fingers barely able to close fully around his girth. You stroked him slowly from base to tip, savoring the way he throbbed powerfully in your grip. “It’s your fault for having this fucking body,” you whispered. “It’s just my type.”

Robby let his head fall back against the rock with a moan, bucking his hips into your fist. “I was right,” he managed to say. “That guy the other day at the beach… he wasn’t your type, was he?”

You swept your thumb over the head on every upstroke, spreading the leaking precum and making him even wetter. Robby groaned deeply, jerking forward into your fist as you twisted your wrist just the way he liked, squeezing a little tighter on the way back down. “Please. That guy lacked everything I love in you.”

“Fuck… your hand feels so good,” he rasped. “Been dying to feel you touch me again.” He cursed under his breath, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. 

You sank slowly to your knees in the sand, until Robby’s cock stood right in front of you, flushed a deep, needy red at the head and already leaking a steady bead of precum. You looked up at him through your lashes, taking in the sight of him towering above you. 

As you wrapped one hand around the thick base, the heat of him pulsed strongly against your palm, the weight and girth of him making your mouth water. You started slow, torturously slow. Leaning in, you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the leaking tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter bead of precum that had gathered there. Robby’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as a whimper escaped from his chest. You kissed it again, slower this time, letting your lips linger as you savored the skin stretched tight over the swollen head. 

Then you dragged your tongue in a wet circle around it, tracing every ridge and vein, feeling the way he twitched and throbbed against your tongue with every pass. “Fuck… baby,” he groaned, already wrecked and sounding hoarse. One of his hands came down to gently grab your hair, trembling slightly as his fingers carded through the strands. “Come on… please… Take a little more, baby.”

You smiled against the slick head, barely parting your lips to take just the tip into the wet heat of your mouth. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue lazily around him, giving him only the lightest, teasing pressure. Robby’s moan was loud and needy, his thighs were trembling as he fought the powerful urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to speak, brushing your lips still against the glistening tip, a thin string of saliva connecting you. “You’ve been thinking about this the whole trip, haven’t you?” 

Robby closed his eyes for a second and nodded, almost like he was in pain. Then you took him deeper, sucking more of his length into your mouth. You hollowed our cheeks as you worked him with deliberate bobs of your head, savoring every inch. The taste of him, the salty skin that was so uniquely Robby, made you moan around his cock. The vibration drew another loud, desperate whimper from deep in his throat. 

You remembered every little trick he used to love from years ago, the way he liked the flat of your tongue pressing firmly along the sensitive underside, followed immediately by soothing suction, the way you hollowed your cheeks on the upstroke to create that perfect tight pressure. You did them all, eagerly and hungrily, losing yourself in the heavy weight of him on your tongue and the broken, needy sounds he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried.

You slid your free hand between his spread legs, cupping and gently rolling his heavy balls, massaging them with careful pressure. Robby’s head fell back against the rock with a guttural groan that was almost too loud for the public setting. His hips stuttered forward, chasing the wet heat of your mouth as he fought for control.

“God… your mouth,” he panted, forcing his eyes to stay open. He couldn’t stop watching you, the way your lips stretched obscenely around his cock, the spit glistening on your chin and dripping down his shaft, the lust-drunk look in your eyes as you took him deeper with every bob of your head. “I can’t… fuck. You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me.”

You moaned again around him, and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing the dark, untrimmed hair at his base, holding him there for a long moment while your throat worked around him. You continued playing with his balls, gently tugging and rolling them, feeling them draw up tight as his pleasure built. 

Robby’s whimpers turned into full, unrestrained moans. He tightened his fingers almost painfully in your hair as he began rocking his hips shallowly, fucking your mouth with tiny movements. Spit dripped down your chin, coating your hand as you stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach, twisting your wrist on every upstroke just the way he liked.

You pulled off just enough to gasp for air, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing cock. “You gotta be quiet,” you whispered, “if you don’t want to attract an audience.”

Robby let out a shaky laugh that quickly dissolved into another deep moan as you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his cock, tongue pressing firmly against the thick vein there.

“I can’t… I can’t be quiet when I’m finally feeling your mouth again. Fuck, I’ve missed this so much. Missed you so fucking much.”

You took him back in without warning, sucking harder and faster now. Robby’s moans grew louder, more needy, his body trembling as he fought the edge, his thighs shaking beside your head. “Baby… I’m close,” he warned, stuttering his hips forward. “So fucking close—”

You kept going, eager to push him over the edge, dying to feel his thick load flooding your mouth, but Robby suddenly pulled you off with a desperate groan. He hauled you up to your feet with strength. His cock, slick and throbbing and coated in your spit, pressed against your stomach. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Not like this. I want more. I want all of you.”

With a growl, he spun you around, pressing your front firmly against the rock. Your cheek rested against the stone as he yanked the ties of your bikini bottoms loose with impatient fingers until the fabric slid down your legs and pooled at your ankles. You kicked it aside impatiently, leaving yourself completely bare from the waist down. 

One of Robby’s large hands slid up your body from behind, slipping under the fabric of your bikini top. His palm was hot as it cupped your breast fully, squeezing the soft flesh with blatant hunger. He found your already hard nipple and rolled it slowly between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight down to your dripping core. You gasped, arching your back and pressing your breast harder into his hand, craving more of that delicious sting.

At the same time, he dipped his other hand between your legs from behind, dragging two thick fingers teasingly through your soaked folds, parting them and spreading your slick arousal everywhere. The wetness coated his fingers as he explored you, rubbing up and down your slit before finally finding your puffy clit. He circled it with the pad of his middle finger, pressing it just right, making your thighs tremble and your knees threaten to buckle against the rock. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” his voice was rough with lust. “This pussy is dripping for me already. You’ve been aching for my cock, huh?”

You moaned loudly and pushed back against his hand desperately. “Robby… I can’t wait anymore,” you gasped. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

He pressed a wet kiss to the back of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth possessively. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.

You felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance, sliding through your slick folds once, twice, teasing you both. Then, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you.

The stretch was like something you never felt before, overwhelming and full, exactly what you’d been craving for days. Robby filled you completely, his cock dragged against every spot inside as he bottomed out with a satisfied groan. 

He stayed there for a long moment, buried to the hilt, both of you breathing hard together, his chest pressed flush against your back, one hand still massaging and kneading your breast, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

Then he started moving, he was slow at first, giving you deep and rolling thrusts that let you feel every single inch of him. Robby snapped his hips forward deliberately, driving his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. The wet sound of skin meeting skin mixed beautifully with the waves and your shared, breathy moans. 

Robby’s grip on your hip tightened as he gradually picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. “God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned right against your ear. One of his hands left your breast, sliding down your body until it reached your ass. He grabbed a full, greedy handful of the rounded flesh, squeezing hard enough to leave marks as he spread you open wider for him, pulling your cheeks apart so he could watch every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside your greedy pussy. Your arousal coated his shaft, strings of wetness connecting you every time he pulled back, only to slam in deeper. “So tight… so wet for me. Been thinking about this pussy every single day on this trip. You’re creaming all over me, baby. Can you feel how deep I am?”

You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every powerful thrust. The rock was warm against your front, your breasts kept rubbing against it with every movement. He leaned over you more, changing the angle so he could fuck you even deeper, snapping his hips forward with raw purpose now. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine. Say it.”

You could only moan in response at first, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. “Y-yours.”

He grabbed your hips with both hands, digging his fingers in hard as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. “Fuck, Robby… harder,” you gasped, still pushing back against him. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growled, slamming into you deeper. “Not gonna stop until you’re coming all over my cock.”

You moaned louder, unable to hold back. Robby’s hand left your hip and slid up your body, pressing two fingers firmly against your lips. “Suck on them,” he growled hotly against your skin. “Before someone hears how well I’m fucking you. Be a good girl for me.”

You parted your lips obediently, taking his fingers deep into your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, swirling your tongue around the digits just like you had around his cock earlier. Robby groaned deeply at the feeling of your muffled moans against his fingers, his hips slamming into you harder.

With his other hand, Robby found your swollen, aching clit. He pressed his digit firmly against the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles with exactly the pressure he knew drove you wild. He alternated between teasing strokes and faster, more insistent ones, never letting the rhythm become predictable. The dual sensation was devastating, not only his cock stretching and pounding into you from behind, but now his fingers working your clit relentlessly. 

“That’s it,” he rasped as he fucked you even deeper. “Suck my fingers while I ruin this pussy. You’re so fucking wet for me. Been thinking of it since the dance lesson, haven’t you? I could feel how soaked you were the whole time I was touching you.”

You moaned around his fingers, the sound vibrating against them as you sucked harder. Your legs shook uncontrollably. “Come for me,” he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “I want to feel you squeezing my cock when you cum. Let me feel how much you need this. How much you’ve been aching for me.”

The tension snapped, your orgasm crashing over you hard and suddenly. You cried out around his fingers, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick cock, fluttering and squeezing him tightly as waves of overwhelming pleasure rolled through your entire body. 

Robby’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck… you feel so good when you cum. So tight. I’m so close, baby.” He kept fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out with deep strokes, his fingers still rubbing your oversensitive clit in gentler circles. His voice was completely wrecked when he spoke again. “Can I finish inside? Please… I need to fill you up. I need to cum inside you.”

You pulled off his fingers just enough to gasp out. “Yes. Cum inside me. Fill me up, Robby. I want it so much.”

That was all he needed. Robby buried himself as deep as possible with a broken moan as he came. You felt every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting through it, as if he wanted to push every single drop of his fat load as far inside you as possible. His body trembled against yours as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck, breathing raggedly against your sweat-slicked skin.

Robby wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close as he softened inside you, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His cum slowly leaked down your thigh in sticky trails, mixing with your own wetness. 

Eventually, you shifted, feeling the pleasant ache between your legs and the reality of where you were. You reached down, picked up your discarded bikini bottoms from the sand, and slowly tied them back on with slightly shaky fingers. Robby stayed close, resting his hands on your hips, stroking circles with his thumbs as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“We should go pick up Hannah,” you said softly, still sounding a little hoarse.

Robby didn’t move right away, he turned you gently to face him, cupping your face with his hands. “Wait,” he murmured. “What does this mean? Just admit it and stop fooling yourself. Tell me you want this as much as I do. That you want to be with me too. That you never minded sharing a room, or getting a couple’s massage, or taking dancing lessons. Tell me you actually like spending time together like this.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache, and after an intense orgasm like the one he’d just given you, you couldn’t even fool yourself. You took a slow breath. “Yes… I do,” you admitted. “I like being with you, Robby. I like the sex. I like how you make me laugh. I like talking to you. I like… all of it.” His eyes lit up with hope, but you continued before he could speak. “But what happens with me? What happens with Hannah if you change your mind? If the charm wears off once we’re back home, dealing with real life.”

Robby’s expression turned serious, almost pained. He cupped your face more firmly, brushing your cheeks. “I wouldn’t go through all of this if I weren’t a hundred percent sure of what I feel and what I want. Hannah is the most important thing in my life. I’d die before hurting her. Or you. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

You searched his eyes, tears pricking at the corners of yours. “How can I believe you?”

He smiled softly, a little sheepish. “I sang in front of a crowd for you. That has to count for something.”

You laughed despite yourself. “This whole trip has been so nice… but real life isn’t a beach resort with massages and dancing lessons.”

Robby pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you when you’re tired from work. Sweaty, your hair a mess, exhausted. I want the long nights when we’re both too drained to speak, and the fights when we’re frustrated and still choose each other every single day. I want all of it.” He kissed you softly, then pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Please… I’ve missed so much already, don’t let me miss another thing.”

You smiled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. You leaned in and kissed him again, slow and deep, full of everything you’d been holding back. When you pulled away, he searched your face with hopeful eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You smiled wider. “It’s a maybe.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “Say yes.”

You laughed softly against his lips. “Maybe.”

Another kiss, sweeter. “Yes?”

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes.”

Your reblog doesn’t just support me as a writer, it also helps this reach the people who read the first part, so please consider taking 0.00001 second to click that button, it’s free!!💜

A/N: I feel like, the way it happens in a lot of media, second parts are never quite as good as the first one. But people wanted a second part, and I wanted to write one too, so here’s what I came up with. I hope it wasn’t too long or boring. I’m so thankful for all the love and support the first part got. It genuinely makes me so happy to see that people enjoyed it🥹

There’s honestly so much I could write about these two, but it already felt long as it is. I don’t think I’ll write a third part, to be honest.

@blacpiink @fallout-girl219 @tpwklizzie @tlc3802 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[loves-alibi]

kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Shared custody

 Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x reader

Robby Masterlist Updates account

Balancing your final year as a resident while raising a five-year-old is hard enough. Co-parenting with your ex Michael Robinavitch? That’s a whole different challenge.

warning/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but reader’s age isn’t disclosed) jealous!robby, co-parenting, Robby is sooo girl dad coded, attempt of slowburn, they're down bad for the other, inadequate medical terms, longing, unprotected piv, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, creampie, multiple orgasms

“Robby,” you repeated for the millionth time, staring at the way his focused eyes stayed glued to the computer screen. “Robby, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Your words went in one ear and straight out the other. His attention was completely locked on the patient charts, as if the world had temporarily ceased to exist. 

You let out a quiet sigh, then reached over the nurse station counter, fished a latex glove out of the open cardboard box, and with a quick movement, snapped it right against his back.

“Ouch!” Robby exclaimed, finally jerking his gaze away from the screen. He rubbed the spot where the glove had stung him, looking equal parts surprised and betrayed. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You fought to keep your voice from snapping, though the frustration was definitely leaking through. “Did you call the bouncy castle people already?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Yeah, already did. They’re charging me two hundred extra for switching from the unicorn castle to the capybara one with less than a week’s notice, by the way.” He tried to sound annoyed, but it didn’t quite land. Michael loved his daughter far too much for that. If he had to build a goddamn capybara bouncy castle with his own two hands so she could have whatever she wanted in the entire world, he would do it without hesitation. Instead of irritation, his expression softened into something almost endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile at her latest demand.

“And you’re paying for it without complaining because you’re a great father,” you said matter-of-factly, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at your own lips. “Remember, the party’s at three. You still good for setup?”

Robby exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh but not quite. "They're delivering the capybara monstrosity at one-thirty. Said they'd set it up in the backyard." He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if he was remembering what other arrangements he’d made. "Also confirmed the balloon guy with a helium tank, should be there by two."

You nodded, feeling the relief you always felt whenever Robby managed to take care of everything. Co-parenting with Robby has always been like this, efficient, practical, and competent. No missed pickups, no forgotten appointments. He'd never once let your daughter down, even when work tried to swallow him whole.

"And the cake?" you asked because you can't help it, even though you knew the answer.

He gave you a side-eye, the one that said do you even have to ask? "Chocolate with vanilla buttercream, extra sprinkles. Pickup at two-fifteen, I'll swing by after my shift ends, already talked to Shen and he’ll cover for me.”

Five years ago, you were a fourth-year med student rotating in this very department, terrified of screwing up in front of the mighty Dr. Robinavitch. Then Dr. Robinavitch slowly became Dr. Robby to you… and eventually he was just Michael when you were moaning his name under the weight of his body in his bed.

What you and Robby once had was simple, and you both liked it that way. It was the comfort of each other’s company after a brutal shift when neither of you wanted to be alone. No strings, no labels, no complications of being a real couple. No whispered rumors in the hospital about Robby seeing a med student outside of work. No pressure on Robby’s well-known inability to commit to anything more than passionate sex at night and coffee in the morning.

But simple things didn’t always stay simple, especially not when two adults knew exactly how risky it was to keep skipping protection, and neither of you ever felt much enthusiasm about pulling out. “Fuck, this is the last time, Michael,” you’d said more than once, breathless and frustrated. “Why are you nagging me?” he’d reply with a half-smirk, still catching his breath. “I had every intention of pulling out before you wrapped your legs around me like that.”

And that’s exactly how, six months after the first night you slept in Robby’s bed, you found yourself staring at the most terrifying sight you’d ever witnessed in your life: two pink lines on a plastic stick.

The conversation that followed was painfully awkward. You told Robby you were pregnant, and Robby, being who he was, decided it was time to put on his big boy pants and play his cards right. Life had handed him something he never thought he’d get, a baby, a real chance at a family. So he did what any traditional man would do in his position: he settled with you.

You’d moved into his house, and Robby and you had settled into a routine, not as two people who casually slept together on lonely nights, but as partners, and soon-to-be parents.

Robby took you to every single appointment. He insisted on every test to ensure his child’s safety, blended you the best prenatal smoothies, disgusting carrot-and-spinach concoctions that made you gag but that he swore were just what you needed, and even pushed hard for you to take early maternity leave. But of course, you refused, determined to finish your last year of med school before the baby arrived.

The day your daughter was born was the happiest day of Robby’s life. Even now, it still brought him to tears whenever he thought about it, the moment his entire life changed forever, the day he met his greatest love, his reason to keep going, to keep living, to try harder every single day.

But even as Robby put in his best effort to be a boyfriend, it didn’t take long for the fantasy to crumble.  It wasn’t all sunrays and paradise, and after endless long shifts in the ED, endless diapers, and all-night cries that never seemed to stop, you were both running on fumes. It became painfully clear, day after day, that the only reason Robby had decided to settle down with you was because he’d gotten you pregnant.

You could see how unhappy he was. He barely spoke a word to you when he got home from work. He’d just sit on the couch with distant, lost eyes staring at the wall like he was the most miserable person alive. The only times he laughed or smiled were in the presence of his daughter. You couldn’t help but feel crushing guilt for trapping him in a relationship he never truly wanted. Robby had longed for a family and for company, but once he had it, he didn’t know what to do with it.

That’s why, after five months of fights and desperate trying, you decided it was time to do the most noble thing you could: let him go. Set him free instead of keeping him trapped beside you in a pretend marriage he’d only started because he was too considerate to let you raise his daughter alone.

Hannah Robinavitch had never once envied her friends whose parents were still married. She never got sad or asked why the three of you couldn’t just be a normal family. Because she already knew you were one, a little different from the others, maybe, but still a family nonetheless. And having separate parents actually had its perks. It meant two houses, twice as many birthday presents, and two different vacation destinations every single year.

Sunlight slanted through the tall maple trees lining the backyard fence, painting patterns across the grass. Your yard was huge, the short green grass always perfectly maintained, and the swimming pool sparkled with crystal-clear water that seemed to catch every ray of light. It was the kind of house you could never have afforded on a resident’s salary in a million years. But Robby had made sure you and Hannah had it anyway the moment the two of you decided to part ways and break up. He’d never blinked at the money when it came to his daughter. If giving her (and you) the nicest possible place to live during your half of the week with her, in a safe, beautiful neighborhood full of every comfort meant making his baby girl happy, then he would do it without hesitation.

Because fuck, Robby was such a good father. The kind who puts his little girl first and everything else second. He finally had a real reason to take days off work and actually go on vacations. He finally had something to look forward to, a future worth living for: taking care of his daughter, watching her grow up, teaching her things, just being needed by this helpless little angel who still demanded he check under the bed for monsters every single night.

You’d read once that when it came to having children, women should look for a man who would make a good father, not necessarily a good husband. Because love could run out. People broke up. They got divorced. But a child was a lifelong commitment. And you’d won the lottery with Michael, even if sometimes you still wished he could have been as good a partner as he was a father.

The enormous capybara-themed bouncy castle Hannah insisted on dominated the grass as screams of delight and the rhythmic thump-thump of small feet echoed from inside it. All her kindergarten friends chased each other in circles as their parents clustered near the patio tables, drinking iced tea and making polite small talk about preschool and summer camps.

You were on snack duty, refilling the chip bowls, and right on cue, the side gate swung open. Robby stepped through, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, the sleeves catching on the muscles of his forearms, revealing Hannah’s name tattooed on his wrist.

He was carrying a large gift box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The second Hannah’d spotted him, the entire backyard might as well have disappeared.

“Daddy!” She launched herself down the slide so fast the inflatable nearly tipped. She was sprinting with her bare feet on the grass before she even landed properly.

Robby dropped to one knee just in time to catch her as she collided into his chest like a missile. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground for a second, even though she was getting too big for it. She squealed and buried her face in his neck.

“You came! You came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babygirl.” He set her down but kept one hand on her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

She was s already eyeing the box. “Is that for me?”

“Depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “You been good?”

“Super duper good! Ask Mommy! I only ate two cupcakes and I shared my shovel in the sandbox with the other kids!”

You caught his eye over her head, and Robby gave you the tiniest smirk, yeah, he knew “two cupcakes” was probably an undercount.

“Guess it’s yours then.” Robby set the box on the grass, and Hannah attacked the paper. A brand-new bike glints in the sunlight, purple with whitewall tires, training wheels already attached, and even a little bell shaped like a flower.

Hannah froze for half a second, then let out a shriek that made half the parents jump. “A BIKE! Daddy, a BIKE!”

She flung herself at him again, hugging him so hard he had to brace himself. He laughed again, softer this time, and rubbed a hand over her back. “Figured it was time for you to have some riding lessons.”

“I can ride it now? Right now?”

He glanced at you for a quick check-in, the way he always does when big decisions happen, and you nod once.

“Yeah, angel,” you said, walking over. “But helmet stays on, and daddy’ll hold your seat until you’re steady.”

Hannah was already trying to climb on, so Robby steadied the bike with one hand, using the other to guide her foot to the pedal. She wobbled the second her weight hit the seat, but she was grinning so wide it looked almost painful.

Robby shot you another look and then crouched beside Hannah again. “Ready?”

She nodded furiously, and Robby started walking her forward, keeping one hand on the seat, the other hovering near her shoulder to steady her in case she fell. She pedaled hard, poking her tongue out in concentration. The bike lurched, straightened, and lurched again. Robby kept pace easily as you watched from the patio steps. The man who once told you, half-asleep after a fifteen-hour shift, that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be anyone’s dad, was now the same man who walked backward in front of a wobbling five-year-old, talking her through every turn.

“Push harder with your right foot… there you go. Look where you want to go, not at the ground. Yeah, just like that.”

Hannah laughed when the bike finally held a straight line for more than three seconds, and Robby let go of the seat, just for a heartbeat, and then grabbed it again when she tipped.

“I did it! I almost did it!”

“You’re doing it,” he corrected her, encouraging like he’d read in so many parenting books. “Keep going.”

They made a loop around the bouncy castle. Parents pulled out phones to snap pictures of her, and someone even started clapping, making Hannah beam like she was crossing a finish line. You felt eyes on you, Robby’s, briefly. He didn’t say anything, but the look told enough: we made this kid. Look at her.

After another lap, he slowed her to a stop near the bouncy castle. She was flushed and sweaty, but utterly triumphant. “Can we take the training wheels off?” she asked immediately.

Robby exhaled a laugh. “Tomorrow, maybe. Today we celebrate the fact you didn’t eat pavement.”

He ruffled her hair, then stood, brushing grass off his jeans. Robby walked over to you, watching Hannah show off her new ride to anyone who’ll listen.

“You good?” He asked you. “You’ve been running this circus solo all afternoon.”

“I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.” You paused, then added softly, “She’s having the best day. Because you’re here.”

He looked at you then, and something about his eyes reminded you of the way he used to look at you when you were falling asleep on his couch with a newborn between you. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Hannah zoomed past again, ringing the little flower bell. “Five,” he muttered, almost to himself. “How the hell did that happen?”

You didn’t have an answer, you just stood there beside him, your shoulder almost brushing his, watching your daughter ride circles around the backyard.

Two hours later, you were cutting slices out of the chocolate cake while Robby stood right next to you, handing them out to the sugar-desperate kids swarming the table.

You passed another slice to Robby. He took it from your hands, brushing his fingers against yours for a brief second.

“You know, I didn’t see Vet Guy over here,” he said, pulling on a dramatically disappointed face. “Bummer. I was really hoping to finally meet the guy.” You decided to ignore the sarcastic, obviously ill-intended comment. Robby, never one to let silence win, kept going. “I suppose he was busy. Did he have a labradoodle to give a haircut?” He let out a loud, self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled into a deep “Ha!”

“That’s a pet esthetician, you know?” You mumbled, aggressively slicing the knife through the cake. “Vets don’t do haircuts.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he mock-apologized, not even pretending to drop the subject, not when he had weeks’ worth of jokes lined up. “Then I guess he had some high-risk procedure. Open-heart surgery on a hamster, maybe?”

“You’re hilarious, Michael,” you said with your biggest deadpan face. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

“Oh, I have plenty more where that came from,” he replied, grinning. “Do you even call him Doctor? I mean, vets aren’t even real doctors.”

“Of course they are!” you shot back with sudden, exaggerated respect for the veterinary profession, purely to piss him off.

Vet guy was nice. You’d met him at the hospital after he came in with a nasty dog bite on his leg. You’d tended to the wound while he respectfully flirted with you, not too hard, not desperate or aggressive, but just enough to make you feel seen. He asked genuine questions about you, shared funny stories from his own job, and somehow managed to pull real smiles out of you even after a brutal shift.

When he asked for your number, intending to take you to what he swore was the best Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, you’d hesitated. You didn’t need more distractions from residency and motherhood. But Dana had insisted you accept. She said you needed to spend time with adults outside the hospital, to do something just for yourself, and to let yourself be treated nicely for one night. Secretly, you knew she was cracking up at the way Robby’s jealousy flared every time Vet guy flirted with you, the way he clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes like a petulant child.

You’d gone out with him a couple of times. It was fun. He was a gentleman, smart, funny, handsome, the type of man most women would be thrilled to stumble upon. But then your stupid, stupid brain did that awful thing it always did whenever you started seeing someone new: it compared him to Robby. Robby would’ve ordered that. Robby would’ve said that. Robby would’ve done that. As if your brain had never gotten the memo that you and Robby had broken up. That it hadn’t worked. That you were supposed to be looking for a guy who wasn’t like him at all.

“Oh, please. WE are doctors. They’re frauds.” Robby scoffed. “What’s that guy’s biggest life achievement? Getting vomited on by a dog?”

“You’ve clearly thought a lot about a guy I’ve only gone out with like two times,” you offered him your fakest smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one dating him, not me.”

Robby’s expression, which up until that moment had been mocking and sleazy, changed completely. His smile flattened into a thin, straight line, and his eyes turned serious. “Funny,” he mumbled as he handed another slice of cake to a waiting kid.

“And to answer your question, no, I wasn’t gonna bring some random guy I had dinner with a couple of times to my daughter’s birthday. You know me better than that.”

He didn’t say anything else. Robby knew you were right, you weren’t the type of person who introduced someone new into Hannah’s life unless it was truly serious. But behind all the mockery and cheap jokes, there was something dangerously close to jealousy. The thought of you deciding another man was better than him, more worthy of your time and interest, the idea of Hannah ever having a stepdad, of him no longer being the only male figure in both your lives… it infuriated him.

Was he an asshole for wanting to keep you all to himself when he had no right to demand to be the only man in your life? Maybe. Was he stupid to pretend that a gorgeous, smart, and amazing woman like you would stay single forever, living on the memory of what you two once were, waiting for him to finally grow a pair of balls and give you what you deserved? The same thing he’d had every chance to give you years ago, but had been too scared to reach for, letting it slip away Definitely.

As the party came to an end, kids hugged, and parents collected backpacks and stray shoes, mumbling thank yous to you and Robby.

You stood by the gate, waving and promising playdates. Robby was on Hannah duty now, helping her say goodbye to each friend, crouching so he was eye-level, reminding her to say “thank you for coming.”

Most of the crowd thinned out quickly, a few stragglers lingered, one of them was Ethan, father of Mia, one of Hanna’s closest friends from the four-year-old room. Divorced last year, or so the gossip went. Nice enough guy. Tall, with an easy smile. He was hanging back near the patio table, helping stack chairs while his daughter ran one last lap around the bouncy castle.

You walked over to grab the last of the empty cups. “Great party,” he said, straightening up. “Hanna’s in heaven. That bike was a killer gift.”

“Thanks. Robby picked it out.” You smiled, tossing cups into the trash bag. “She’s been begging for one since she saw the big kids riding at the park.”

Ethan nodded, lingering his eyes on your face for a second. “Smart move.” He paused, then added, softer, “You pulled this off like a pro. Solo hosting a kindergarten party? Respect.”

You laughed lightly. “Not entirely solo. Robby’s been here all afternoon.”

“Yeah, I saw.” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity there, maybe appraisal. “You two seem… good. Co-parenting goals and all that.”

“We manage,” you said neutrally.

He stepped a little closer, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Listen, if you ever want a break from… all of this. I just… figured it might be nice to talk to someone who gets the single-parent thing.” He smiled warmly. “Mia talks about Hannah nonstop. Be good for them to have more playdates. And for us to… catch up. Maybe you could give me some tips for this whole co-parenting lifestyle.”

It wasn’t subtle at all. The way he held eye contact a beat too long, the slight lean, the casual brush of his hand against yours when he handed you a stray napkin. You felt heat creepong up your neck. It wasn’t interest, exactly, just the awkward awareness of being seen that way. 

You opened your mouth to deflect politely. But before you could, behind you, a voice cut in.

“Ethan, right?” Robby was there suddenly, casual as anything, holding Hannah’s new helmet in one hand. “Mia’s dad.”

Ethan straightened, his smile faltering only a fraction like he’d been caught red-handed. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you.”

Robby nodded once. “You too.” He flicked his gaze to you, then back to Ethan. “We’re starting to clean up over here. You need help finding her shoes? Think they’re by the slide.”

Ethan blinked, then laughed it off. “Nah, we’re good. Just saying goodbye.” He looked at you again. “Think about what I said, okay? No rush.” He waved, called for Mia, and headed toward the gate.

You exhaled slowly, but Robby didn’t move. He was quiet for a long minute, then: “Sooo. Ethan.”

You snorted as you started gathering stray plates from the patio table. “Yeah?”

Robby followed, picking up cups without being asked. “Seemed chatty.”

“He’s friendly.”

“Very friendly.” Robby stacked the cups. “Animated, even.”

You glanced at him. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, a sign of how secretly annoyed he was. “Robby.”

“What?” Innocent. It sounded too innocent.

“You’re being nosy. First with vet guy, and now again.”

“I’m making conversation.” He set the stack down. “Guy was all secretive talking in your ear. What’d he want?”

You laughed despite yourself. “None of your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Not bad. Just… standard divorced-dad. He wanted to organize some playdates. The usual.”

Robby nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “Huh.”

You waited, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up a stray balloon string, winding it around his fingers. “Guy’s got some nerve. Hitting on you in the middle of our kid’s birthday party.”

Our kid. He didn’t say it possessively, just as a fact. You turned to face him fully. “Jealous, Robinavitch?”

He met your eyes without flinching. “Curious,” he corrected. “Big difference.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t deny it. “Anyway,” he said, his voice back to normal without the edge of jealousy in it. “I’ll help deflate that monstrosity in the yard before it blows away. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

After Robby had helped the bouncy castle guys, he hauled the last of the folding chairs back to the garage and carried out three trash bags without being asked. He stepped back into the kitchen through the sliding door. “Hannah's out cold,” he said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake her. “Tried to get her to brush her teeth, but she rolled over and kept sleeping.”

You laughed under your breath. “She’ll be up at six tomorrow demanding to ride the bike again.”

“Good luck trying to talk her out of it.” You felt the weight of his gaze as he pushed off the counter. “Anyway, I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.”

You turned the faucet off, drying your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks for everything today. Seriously. She had a great time thanks to you.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Thanks to both of us. We’re a good team.”

You walked him toward the front door. At the door, he stopped, with one hand on the knob as he turned back to you. For a second, he just looked, not at your face, but at all of you.

His eyes started at your bare shoulders where the thin straps of your sundress sat, tracing the line of your collarbone, then they dropped deliberately down the front of the dress. You felt suddenly aware of every inch it covered, and of every inch it didn’t. Robby lingered his gaze on your waist, the flare of your hips, and the hem brushing just above your knees. Then lower, to your legs, and back up again, slower this time, until he met your eyes.

There was heat in the way he looked at you, nothing subtle about the way his eyes roamed your body. It was the look of a man who was remembering exactly what you feel like under his hands, what you tasted like, what sounds you used to make when he was inside you. The kind of look that said he wanted to back you against the nearest wall, hike that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until the only thing either of you could hear was your own breathing and the wet sound of skin against skin.

He didn’t say anything, there was no need for words. Your mouth went dry as the heat coiled in your lower belly, the same way it had many nights before. Five years since you stopped sleeping together. Five years of boundaries, separate beds, separate lives. And still one look was enough to make your body remember. 

He exhaled through his nose, almost an incredulous laugh, “Happy birthday to her,” he said quietly, nodding toward the living room. “We made something good.”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to. “We did.”

The weeks slid by in the same rhythm you’d grown accustomed to: long shifts at the hospital, trying to be a present mom whenever you weren’t buried in charts, and the handoffs with Robby at your house.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the day of Hannah’s ballet recital. You arrived a little early because she had been buzzing about it for weeks, her first real performance after long months of practice. Plus, you appreciated every rare opportunity life gave you to wear something that wasn’t scrubs. You’d gotten your hair done, put on soft makeup, slipped into a nice dress and high heels, and for once you felt like a whole different person. Someone confident. Someone who could take on the world.

You loved Hannah. You loved being a mom. But sometimes you missed the person you used to be before all of this. You missed being seen as more than just “Mom.” You missed conversations with adults that didn’t revolve around kindergarten, tantrums, or pediatric appointments. You were still young, and even though you’d always been mature for your age, you’d had to grow up fast the moment you became a mother. You had never imagined yourself with a child before you even became a doctor. You certainly hadn’t pictured managing residency at the same time you were raising a tiny human being.

But even if life hadn’t turned out the way you’d once planned, you didn’t regret any of the decisions that had brought you here in this auditorium, about to watch your daughter’s ballet recital.

You spotted Robby near the front row, saving seats for the two of you. When he saw you, he stood, waving you over with a half-smile.  “Hey,” he said as you slid into the seat beside him. “She’s backstage, losing her mind. Kept asking if both of us were coming.”

You laughed softly, settling your purse on the floor. “Wouldn’t miss it. Was she nervous?”

“Not one bit. She made me practice clapping in the car.” He glanced at you, his eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. “You look nice.”

You couldn’t avoid feeling the heat creeping up your neck, but you brushed it off. “Thanks. You cleaned up nice, too.”

Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the ballet instructor, a woman in her sixties, welcomed everyone, and then the curtain slowly parted.

There she was. Hannah stood front and center in her pink leotard and tutu, her hair,the same brown shade as Robby’s, pulled into a slightly lopsided bun secured with a sparkly clip. She immediately scanned the audience, spotted the two of you sitting side by side, and her whole face lit up like sunrise. Forgetting every rule about staying still, she waved at you both with both hands.

The routine was equal parts adorable and chaotic, little arms waving with enthusiasm, a few spins that turned into giggles, and tiny dancers bumping into one another. But when it came time for her part in the middle, Hannah nailed it,  twirling with maximum concentration, poking out her tongue slightly the way it always did when she was trying her hardest.

You were grinning so hard your cheeks ached as you recorded the whole thing on your phone, careful not to miss a single moment. Beside you, Robby was doing the same, leaning forward in his seat like he was afraid to miss even one second of his little girl shining under the stage lights.

When it ended, the room erupted in applause. You and Robby were on your feet first, clapping loud enough to drown out half the parents. Hannah beamed, blowing kisses at the audience, then bolting offstage the second she was allowed.

Backstage, Hannah launched herself at you both at once, her arms around your legs and Robby’s in a group hug.

“Did you see me twirl, Mommy? Daddy, did you see?”

“We saw everything,” Robby said, scooping her up in his arms. “You were the best one up there, angel. Hands down.”

“You were perfect,” you whispered, leaning to place a big and loud kiss into her hair. “So proud of you, baby.”

Hannah tugged at your hand. “Can we get ice cream? To celebrate?”

Robby raised an eyebrow at you as if awaiting to see what your answer would be, and silently hoping it’d be a yes.

You smiled. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

He set Hannah down on the floor, then crouched so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her little arms and legs around him tightly, her favorite perch. With a soft grunt and an easy smile, Robby straightened up, carrying her like she weighed nothing.

The three of you headed for the exit together. You walked beside Robby, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his every few steps, but neither of you pulled away. There was something about the way the three of you looked, almost like a picture-perfect family to anyone glancing from the outside. It made your mind loosen the reins on old fantasies: how different life would have been if the three of you had managed to make it work. If being together had been a choice made out of love instead of obligation, the only option he felt he had at the time.

God, how much you still wished things had worked with Robby. What wouldn’t you give to see him truly happy to be with you, instead of miserable the way he looked every time the two of you came home from a long shift.

The ice cream shop had a neon sign flickering “OPEN” in red letters, sticky vinyl booths, and the widest variety of ice cream flavors you’d ever seen. Hannah insisted on extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce on her cone. She was perched between you and Robby on the bench seat, swinging her legs and recounting her ballet routine for the third time.

“I did the spin and everyone clapped SO loud! Did you hear it, Daddy?”

“Loudest ovation in the room,” Robby said, wiping a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. “You owned that stage, babygirl.”

You watched them as you ate your strawberry ice cream cone drizzled with hot fudge. It was uncanny how much Hannah looked like Robby,  like he had been cloned into a tiny, feminine version of himself. The same soft brown hair, the same big, puppy-brown eyes that were easily the warmest you’d ever seen in your life. Eyes you could never say no to, because one single look from them melted your heart every time.

She was already slowing down, the adrenaline from the recital and the sugar rush from the ice cream finally catching up with her. Her head rested heavily against Robby’s shoulder as she munched the last bites of her ice-cream, her little eyelids starting to flutter.

The walk home was only ten minutes, but Hannah's steps turned sluggish halfway there. Robby scooped her up without a word, and she curled against his shoulder as she’d always belonged there, tucking her head under his chin as she fisted her little hand on his shirt.

At your front door, Hannah was completely out, her rosy cheek smooshed against Robby’s collarbone, with her mouth slightly open. You unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside. 

Robby carried her upstairs like she weighed nothing. You followed, watching the careful way he lowered her to the bed, tugged off her ballet slippers and pink tutu, and pulled the covers up. 

Downstairs again, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the house was without her chatter filling it. He stopped a few feet away. “She’s wiped..”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She had a big day today.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you… in that dress. You’re punishing me. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Robby.”

He didn’t back off. Just looked at you in the same way he did the night of the birthday party. Tracing his eyes over the neckline of the dress, the way it hugs your waist, the bare skin of your breasts. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, but your voice came out quieter than you intended. As if part of you didn’t really want him to stop. You longed for the validation, for knowing you were still the woman who drove him insane, the one who made him feel things no one else could, his soft spot, his weakness. 

And for Robby, you still were. Until this day, you were the only one who could bring out the most vulnerable side of him. It wasn’t just the physical part, though God, your body drove him insane. He could still feel the ghost of your skin against his every night when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t the sex either, though in fifty-four years of life he’d never found anyone who felt quite like you did, anyone who made him feel so many things, who woke up the most primitive, most virile part of him.

It was simply you. Your strength when you carried a pregnancy and still worked your ass off for your career. Your quick mind and the way you could deliver a witty comeback that put him in his place when he deserved it. Your competence, something he found extremely attractive, both at work and as a mom. And watching you raise his daughter with a patience and love only you could give, loving her so fiercely with every bone in your body… it made him feel things he’d never felt before.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive.”

He huffed a half-laugh as he stepped closer. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”

You swallowed, using all the self-restraint you had in your body to stop yourself from jumping into his arms. “Every time we’re close like this, I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.”

He tilted his head. He knew you too well, he could see how much you were trying to be strong and how much you wanted it too. “And why’s that, exactly?”

“Because we tried. We crashed. We hurt each other. We’ve got a kid now, it’s not just us we gotta think of, but her. And we’ve got a good thing going on, we’re good at this.” You gestured between you. “At being her parents. At not screwing it up. Adding… whatever this is… risks that.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Don’t think. Just do what you want.”

You stared at him. “Is that your new motto? ‘Don’t think, just do it?’”

He took another half-step, close enough you could smell the mint from his ice-cream on his breath. “One night,” he said. “Doesn’t have to mean more. Doesn’t have to change anything tomorrow. We used to be so good together. You remember that? Because I do, I remember it every single night.”

Your pulse hammered in your throat, a rhythm that matched the sudden heat blooming in your belly. You remembered it too, every vivid and overwhelming detail.

The kind of chemistry you and Robby had in bed had been like nothing you’d ever experienced before. The way your bodies responded to each other was like they were made for it, instinctive, almost frightening in its intensity. Every single touch felt magnetic and electrifying, sending sparks racing across your skin even from the lightest brush of his fingers. The way he knew exactly how to unravel you, and how you could do the same to him. You had both cried out in pleasure every single time, sounds that echoed in the dark of his bedroom, your bodies slick and trembling, chasing that peak until the world narrowed down to nothing but the two of you.

It was the kind of fire you only find once in a lifetime. But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t risk setting that fire loose again and burning down the delicate, carefully manufactured system you had built together. For Hannah’s sake, you needed to keep Robby exactly where he was: your co-parent, your reliable partner in raising your daughter, not your lover anymore. One wrong move, one night of giving in to the pull that still crackled between you, and everything could crumble,  the peaceful handoffs, the shared birthdays, the stability Hannah thrived on. You refused to gamble with her sense of security just because your body still remembered how perfectly he once fit against you, how his voice sounded when he fell apart because of you.

 “Of course you’re horny. You just want a quick fuck. I should’ve known.”

His expression flickered, showing a little of something that looked like hurt in his eyes. “Come on. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do want sex,” Robby admitted, “but come on, don’t pretend you don’t want it too. You remember how much fun we used to have.”

He found your waist, pulling you gently against him. You gasped softly as he slid his palms lower, cupping your ass through the fabric, possessive squeezes that send sparks straight through you. He massaged your flesh deliberately, pressing his thumbs in just the right spots, drawing you closer until you were flush against his chest.

“God, I want you,” he murmured against your ear. “So fucking much. Always have. Always will, probably.”

He dug his fingers a little harder into the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with confidence. You were so close that you could already feel the hard outline of his cock pressing insistently against your lower stomach. He was hard for you, just from being this close, just from a few lingering touches. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to give in, not to reach down and palm him over his pants until he groaned into your mouth the way he used to.

“Keep your hands where I can see them, Robinavitch,” you warned, trying to sound threatening. It came out breathy and weak instead. You couldn’t fool anyone, least of all him. You wanted this, maybe even more than he did.

“You don’t want my hands where you can see them,” he replied with that stupid, cocky tone he always slipped into when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “You want them in places you can’t see. You haven’t forgotten how good I am with them, have you? Nah… some things these hands did to you are impossible to forget.”

You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from smiling. Cocky motherfucker.

Finally, with the last scrap of self-control you could muster, you pushed him away. “You had your fun. Time for you to leave.”

“I was barely starting to have fun,” he said with a wicked smile as he took a step back, rubbing one hand over his face. “You, cruel, cruel woman.”

“You’ll live,” you muttered. “Go chase some nurses. They love you. Well… the ones who don’t actually work with you do.”

“You hurt me,” he exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I don’t have any nurse to chase. And even if I did, nobody could compare to us. You know that.”

“You broke things off with the last one?” you asked in mock surprise, playing dumb. “What was her name? Nora? N… Natalie?”

You knew Robby had had his fair share of affairs throughout the years, nothing too serious, nothing that ever deserved a real conversation, and definitely nothing meaningful enough to introduce to Hannah. Still, it stung. You couldn’t exactly throw it in his face, you’d gone out with people too. But you wished the asshole would keep his flings away from the hospital, away from the place where you had to watch him flash those stupid little smiles and do his little shoe-lace trick for whatever nurse had caught his eye this month. The same way he’d once done it for you.

“I won’t answer to those accusations against me,” he said, shaking his head with a low chuckle. Robby stepped closer again and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Have a good night. I’ll see myself out.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips as you watched him walk toward the door and finally leave the house. Five years later, and your body still caught fire whenever his hands were on you. Five years later, and you still loved your silly arguments and the way he could make you laugh even when you were pretending to be mad at him. Five years later… and you were still deeply enamored with Michael Robinavitch.

The clock on your nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m. when the first cry cut through the dark.

It wasn’t not the usual sleepy whimper or the “I had a bad dream” whine. It was a sharp sound, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor.

You were out of bed before your brain fully registered it, rushing down the hall. Hannah’s room light was already on, and she was sitting up in bed, with the bedsheets twisted around her legs, her face shiny with sweat, and her eyes glassy because of the tears. There was a small puddle of bile on the rug beside her, and another streak down the front of her pajama top.

“Mommy—”

“I’m here, baby.” You dropped to your knees beside the bed, lifting your hand to her forehead. She was burning, her skin hot enough to make your palm sting. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She leaned heavily into you, her body trembling as another wave hit her. This time it was dry heaves because there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. You lunged for the small trash can under her desk just in time, holding it steady beneath her chin while your other hand gathered her soft brown hair back from her face. With gentleness, you rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back, murmuring the same comforting nonsense you always did in moments like this.

“It’s okay, baby… you’re okay. Mommy’s got you. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

Your voice stayed calm and steady for her sake, but inside, your mind had flipped into full doctor mode, racing through the mental checklist at lightning speed. Fever. Persistent vomiting. She had been fine at bedtime, tired from her long ballet practice, a little sniffly maybe, but nothing that had raised any red flags. 

“Mommy… tummy aches,” Hannah mumbled weakly.

Your heart clenched so hard it hurt. You scooped her up immediately, blanket and all, and carried her to the bathroom. You ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to the back of her neck, hoping the chill would bring some relief. Then you offered her a small sip of water from the cup on the sink. She took it obediently, but almost instantly spat it back out, coughing and whimpering.

Reaching out for the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, you grabbed it and slipped it under her tongue, holding her close while you waited for the beep. 103.8. You managed to get a dose of Tylenol into her, but she could barely keep it down, her whole body shuddered as she fought the nausea, and her teeth chattered from the fever chills as she curled into you even tighter, shaking hard.

Helpless, that’s how you felt, completely helpless. And as a mother, feeling helpless was the worst torture imaginable. You were a doctor, and yet here in your own house, with your own child, there was only so much you could do. The cold washcloths weren’t bringing her temperature down fast enough. The medicine wasn’t staying in her long enough to work. Nothing seemed to help.

You couldn’t stand seeing your baby like this: so pale, so tired, her usual bright energy drained away, her little body trembling in your arms.. In this moment, more than anything, you wished Robby were here. Robby would know exactly what to do. He always did. He’d take one look at her, assess the situation and figure out what was wrong with Hannah right away. He’d fix it the same way he fixed dozens of people every single day in the pitt.

You sat on the edge of the tub with her in your lap, rocking her slowly, trying to keep her calm while you dialed Robby.

He picked up on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but instantly alert when he realized you wouldn’t be calling this late at night if there wasn’t something really urgent going on. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Hannah’s sick. Fever’s 103.8, she’s been vomiting for the last twenty minutes. Won’t keep anything down. She’s shaking.”

There was the rustle of sheets and the immediate creak of a bedframe on Robby’s end. He was already moving, even half-asleep. You could practically see him sitting up in the dark.

“Okay,” his voice came through the phone. “Did you give her Tylenol?”

“Yes.”

“Motrin too? You should alternate if the fever’s that high.”

“I only have children’s Tylenol here,” you answered. “Motrin’s at your place.”

There was a brief pause, then a quiet “Okay… okay. Alright.” You heard him exhale slowly, the sound of fabric shifting as he moved. “Cool clothes? Cold washcloth on her neck or forehead?”

“I’m trying the cloth right now, but I’m not seeing any changes. The fever won’t come down at all.”

“Are you hydrating her? Give her small sips of water, tiny amounts so she doesn’t throw it right back up.”

“I am,” you said, glancing at the half-empty cup on the bathroom counter. “She’s spitting most of it back up. She can’t keep anything down.”

Another pause stretched between you. Even for a man who could keep ice-cold composure during the most chaotic live-or-die codes in the ED, something in Robby’s voice betrayed how uneasy he really was. You heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on quickly, then the unmistakable jingle of keys.

“So, fever’s still not budging?” he asked.

“Not yet. She’s miserable, Robby. Keeps saying her tummy hurts, and the dry heaves are getting worse. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.”

You heard loud, hurried footsteps crossing his floorboards, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing with a firm sound. 

“Take her to the ER. Now.” There was no hesitation left in his words. “I’ll meet you there.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think it’s that bad?”

“I think 103.8 in a five-year-old who can’t keep meds or fluids down is worth getting checked. Could be viral, could be something else. Better be safe.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay. I’ll get her dressed. We’re leaving in five.”

“I’m already in the car. Text me when you’re on the road.”

He hung up, and you moved fast, changing Hannah into fresh pajamas, wiping her face, and wrapping her in the softest blanket she owned. She was listless now, her soft head lolling against your shoulder as small whimpers left her lips every time the nausea rolled through her again. You grabbed her insurance card, your wallet, a spare change of clothes for her, and the little stuffed unicorn she’d been sleeping with every night.

You placed Hannah in her car seat, with her blanket tucked around her. You buckled her in carefully, kissing her hot forehead. “We’re going to see the doctors, okay? Daddy’s meeting us there. You’re gonna feel better soon.”

She just nodded with her eyes half-closed. The drive to the hospital was only fifteen minutes at this hour through the dark and empty streets. You kept one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching back to hold hers. She was quiet except for the occasional gags into the bowl you’d wedged beside her seat.

You pulled into the ambulance bay lot, killed the engine and unbuckled Hannah. She was burning up, her usually light body now felt heavy and limp because of the fever. You wrapped the blanket tighter around her and lifted her carefully into your arms as you hurried toward the sliding glass doors.

They whooshed open, and Lena, the night-shift charge nurse, looked up from the desk. Her face immediately softened with concern the moment she recognized you.

“Hey… oh, honey.” Her voice dropped gently. “Is that Hannah?”

“Fever hit 103.8 at home,” you rattled off, shifting your daughter’s weight higher on your hip, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you were presenting a case, not describing your daughter’s symptoms. “Persistent vomiting, abdominal pain. I gave her Tylenol twenty minutes ago, but no improvement at all.”

Lena nodded briskly, already waving you over. “Bay six. We’ll get vitals right away.”

“Who’s on tonight?” you asked, walking fast down the familiar hallway. “Shen?”

“Dr. Abbot. I’ll send him your way as soon as he’s free.”

“Oh, thank God,” you exhaled, the relief hitting you so hard it made your shoulders sag for a moment. If there was anyone in this entire hospital you’d trust with Hannah besides Robby, it was Jack, Hannah’s godfather. You still remembered the day Robby had asked him to be his daughter’s godfather. The way Jack’s eyes had filled with tears, the two men pulling each other into a tight hug like brothers, like two men who were the only ones who truly understood the weight of this life, the long shifts, the losses, and the rare moments of hope like that one. Abbot had promised right then that he’d always have her back, no matter what.

You were halfway down the hall when Robby rounded the corner. The second his eyes landed on Hannah in your arms, his entire expression shifted to fatherly fear.

“Hey, angel,” he said softly, stepping close. He brushed a gentle hand over her back. “Mom said you’re not feeling good, huh?”

Hannah managed a weak, cracked little “Daddy…” before turning her face back into your neck, hiding from the bright lights and the unfamiliar sounds.

Robby flicked his gaze up to yours, doing that assessing scan he always did, checking not just Hannah, but how you were holding up. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you whispered, though your voice trembled as the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Just… scared. I hate seeing her like this. She’s never been this sick.”

He nodded once. “I’ve got her.”

You handed her over without hesitation. Hannah clung to him immediately, wrapping her small arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder like he was her safe place. Robby carried her the rest of the way into the bay. He laid her down gently on the hospital bed, keeping one hand resting protectively on her stomach while the other smoothed damp strands of hair off her forehead with tenderness.

One of the night-shift nurses stepped in right away and rechecked her temperature. “It’s up to 104.1 now.” Her oxygen saturation was still holding steady, but she was clearly dehydrated, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes a little sunken, her usually rosy cheeks pale.

A couple of seconds later, Abbot strode into the bay, sweeping his eyes over the scene: little Hannah lying on the bed, Robby standing guard on one side, you on the other.

“Hey,” Abbot said, pulling Robby into a quick, one-armed brotherly hug, clapping his back once, and giving you a nod. “Heard our girl was here. Sorry, I was tied up with a gunshot wound, perforated lung. It’s chaos tonight.”

“She’s been throwing up everything, couldn’t even keep the Tylenol down,” Robby reported, giving the facts the way two attendings would, except this time his voice carried an edge of helplessness he rarely showed. He wasn’t the doctor tonight. He was the father. “Fever’s up to 104.1. We should get an IV going, more Tylenol, Zofr—”

“I’ve got this,” Abbot interrupted gently but firmly, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he stepped closer to the bed. He looked down at Hannah with the softest smile, dropping his voice into that sweet, playful tone he saved only for kids. “Hey, Hannah Banana… we’re gonna get you feeling brand new before you even realize, okay?” He offered her a warm smile and the gentlest pinch on her cheek.

“Uncle Jack…” she mumbled, her voice cracking pitifully as another wave of nausea rolled through her.

The nurse started the IV in her tiny hand. Hannah cried out at the poke, a heartbreaking whimper that twisted something deep in your chest. Robby was right there, holding her other hand tightly, talking her through it in that calm voice he used with every scared kid who came through these doors. “Just a little pinch, angel. You’re being so brave. Almost done… that’s my good girl. Daddy’s right here.”

You stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding her foot gently in both hands and rubbing soothing circles over her ankle with your thumb, as if your touch alone could somehow absorb her pain and make it yours instead.

“We’ll keep her under observation for a while, wait for the fever to come down,” Abbot told you both. “I’ll come back in fifteen to check on her again, but she’s in the best hands tonight with the two of you right here.”

“Thank you, Jack,” you said quietly with gratitude. He gave your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

“Thanks, brother,” Robby added right after you, his hand never leaving Hannah’s hair.

Robby didn’t leave her side for even a second. He didn’t glance at his phone, didn’t step out to grab coffee, didn’t let himself get distracted by anything else. He stayed right there, anchored to the bed, resting one large hand gently on Hannah’s forehead, occasionally stroking her damp hair back from her skin. Every few minutes he’d lean in and murmur soft, ridiculous nonsense to her sleeping body, telling her she was tougher than any superhero, that the doctors here were the absolute best because they all knew her dad, and that meant she was getting the royal treatment, the best care in the house. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Even after everything, this was still who he was when it mattered most: steady, devoted, completely focused on the tiny human you’d made together.

The hours dragged, and eventually, after the second round of meds, Hannah’s fever finally started trending down. It had dropped to 100.7, and for the first time all night, some color began creeping back into her pale cheeks as her chest rose and fell more peacefully under the blanket.

You and Robby were slumped in the two chairs pulled up beside her bed. Robby broke the silence first. “I know what you’re thinking. You did everything right.”

You let out a shaky breath, staring at Hannah’s sleeping face. “Maybe I should’ve brought her sooner. She would’ve gotten better faster.”

He shook his head slowly. “You waited until it was warranted. You’re a doctor. You know the signs.” He reached over without hesitation, covering your hand with his on the shared armrest. His palm was warm and grounding in a way that made your throat tighten. “It’s just viral. She’s gonna be okay.”

Without thinking, you turned your hand over beneath his and laced your fingers through his, holding on tightly. For a moment, you didn’t care what it meant, or what anyone walking past the bay might think if they glanced in and saw the two of you like this, exes, co-parents, sitting together holding hands. The exhaustion of the night had stripped everything down, and right now, all that mattered was that Hannah was improving and Robby was here.

“Thanks for coming,” you whispered, even though you knew the words weren’t really necessary. Robby would drop everything and be anywhere either of you needed him, that had never been in question.

“Always.” He brushed his thumb slowly over your knuckles, a gentle motion. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

By the 6 a.m. check, Hannah’s fever had already dropped to 99.8. The IV fluids had done their job, and she hadn’t vomited anymore, even managed a few sips of apple juice without it coming right back up.

She shifted under the blanket, blinking up at you both. “Mommy? Daddy?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” you whispered, leaning forward to brush her hair back. “How’s your tummy?”

“Better,” she mumbled. “Did uncle Jack cure me?”

“He did.” You smiled, feeling a wave of relief flood through you. “You’re doing great now.”

Robby reached over, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Morning, angel. You scared us.”

She managed a tiny smile, then winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He kissed her temple, lingering there for an extra second. “Just glad you’re feeling better.”

Jack came back a moment later for a quick exam and a review of vitals and labs, thankfully nothing alarming. Viral gastroenteritis, most likely, with a febrile response. 

“Thanks for curing me, Uncle Jack,” Hannah said softly with that radiant smile that could melt absolutely anyone in seconds. “You’re the best doctor ever.”

Abbot grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her. “Well, thank you, Hannah Banana. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

Robby cleared his throat dramatically from the other side of the bay, crossing his arms. “Second best,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.

“Second best,” Hannah agreed immediately, turning that same sweet, dimpled smile toward Robby now, like she was bestowing him with the highest honor.

“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I won’t tell your dad that you actually think I’m the better doctor.” He glanced sideways at his best friend with a mischievous glint. “A man with a fragile ego like him couldn’t take it.”

Robby let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head. “Is she clear to go back home?” he asked, his tone shifting into something more serious, though the corner of his mouth still twitched. “See? I’m asking for your professional opinion and everything.”

Jack nodded, glancing once more at the monitor readings before looking back at both of you. “I’d say she can go home. Fever’s trending nicely downward, and she’s keeping fluids down now. Just keep checking her temperature regularly to make sure it stays down. If she starts vomiting again or the fever spikes back up, bring her straight back, but you two already know that better than most.”

Robby stood, stretching his back with a low groan. “I should head out,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Shift starts in thirty. Gotta change, grab coffee, pretend I’m human.”

You looked up at him, still holding Hannah’s hand. “You’re going in?”

He shrugged, like it was obvious. “Someone’s gotta run this place. You—” He nodded toward Hannah, then you. “—should take the day. Go home with her. Get some sleep, keep an eye on her. She’s fine now, but she’s still wiped. And you’ve been up all night.”

You opened your mouth to argue, out of pure habit, mostly. The words were already forming on your tongue, something about not wanting to burden the team, about pulling your weight like everyone else. But they died the instant your eyes landed on Hannah.

She was curled up small on her side in the hospital bed, the blanket tucked around her shoulders. You couldn’t stay away from her, not today. The thought of leaving her for twelve long hours, of being stuck in the ED while she was at home, possibly starting to feel worse again without you to notice the fever creeping back up made your stomach drop. You wouldn’t be able to focus. You wouldn’t feel at ease for even a second. Every patient you saw would be overshadowed by the constant fear that Hannah might need you and you wouldn’t be there to catch it, to bring her right back in.

And honestly… part of you simply wanted the day off. You wanted to take her home, wrap her up in her favorite blanket, and spend the whole day curled together on the couch. Just the two of you. A Disney marathon playing in the background while she rested her head on your chest and you stroked her hair.

So instead of arguing, you closed your mouth and let the silence settle. The decision had already been made the moment you looked at her.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Okay.”

Robby nodded, satisfied. He leaned down to kiss Hannah’s forehead again. “I’ll come by after shift to see how you’re doing.” He straightened and hesitated for half a second, then reached out and squeezed your shoulder, brushing the side of your neck, just once, before he pulled back. “Text me updates. I’ll turn off silent mode.”

“Will do.”

He lingered for another beat, like he didn’t quite want to leave the room, then turned toward the door. “See you later, angel,” he called softly to Hannah, who was already drifting again.

“Bye, Daddy,” she mumbled, half-asleep.

He gave you one last look, longer than necessary, before slipping out into the hallway. You exhaled slowly, while Robby and Jack handled the last few details with the nurse, you gathered Hannah’s things. 

Home sounded like the best idea you’d had in hours. If there was one thing you truly hated about this life, it was how little time work left you to be the kind of mom you desperately wished you could be. Residency had already demanded so much, and motherhood had taken the rest. Every free moment you managed to carve out, you longed to spend it with Hannah. You didn’t want her to grow up one day and feel like you had missed it,  like you weren’t there for the special moments. You didn’t want her to remember a childhood where her mom was always rushing, always tired, always halfway out the door. 

By the time you pulled into your driveway, Hannah was already dozing in her car seat again. You carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. The house felt wonderfully quiet after the night chaos of the ED. You changed into new pajamas, made her a nest of pillows and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then crawled in beside her, pulling her body against your chest. She stirred just enough to wrap one arm around your waist and mumble, “Mommy, will you stay today?”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Today is just us.”

The rest of the day unfolded slowly. You started with her favorite movie, Encanto, because she never got tired of singing along to every song, no matter if she was just recovering. Hannah curled up with her head in your lap, as you gently played with her hair while she hummed to the songs.

When the movie ended, you made a simple lunch together, something easy on her stomach, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and strawberries. She only ate half, but she kept it down, earning praises from you. After lunch, you moved on to Moana. She sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, occasionally lifting her head to point at the screen and say, “Look, Mommy, the ocean! Can we go to the beach too?” You laughed softly and pulled her closer, letting her rest her cheek against your shoulder.

Robby’s shift ended late, as usual, and by the time he signed out, he was bone-tired, but the pull to check on Hannah overrode everything else. He texted you: Just got off. Coming by to check on her. You home?

Your reply wasquick: Yeah. She’s asleep. Door’s unlocked.

He let himself in quietly, finding you on the couch where you were curled up with a blanket. “Hey,” you whispered. “She crashed about an hour ago. Fever stayed down all day, no more vomiting.”

Robby exhaled, shrugging out of his jacket and walking over. “Good. That’s good.”

You nodded toward the hallway. “You want to peek in on her?”

He did, already heading to Hannah’s room. She was sprawled on her stomach, with one arm flung out and her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Her breathing was deep and even, Robby stood in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her chest rise and fall.

When he came back to the living room, you’d poured two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched, far enough to keep the boundary.

“She looks so much better,” he said quietly. “Color’s back.”

“Yeah.” You tucked your legs under you, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. “I was terrified last night. Thought… I don’t know. Worst-case scenarios kept running through my head.”

He nodded. “Me too. When you called, my heart stopped for a second.”

You took a breath, then another. “You’re a great dad, Robby. You know that, right?”

He glanced at you, surprised by the sudden moment of honesty. “Trying to be.”

“No. You are.” You met his eyes so he could see how much you meant every word that left your lips. “I always knew you would be. Even back when… everything was a mess. When we were still figuring out how to be parents instead of just two people who accidentally made a kid. I saw it in the way you held her the first time. You stepped up. Every single time.”

He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a callus on his palm, like he didn’t know how to take the compliment.

“We might not have planned her. But Hannah got the best possible dad out of the deal.”

Robby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement of his throat. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that. For giving me her. For making me a dad when I didn’t even know I could be one. When I didn’t even know if I wanted to be alive.” He exhaled, sounding almost like a laugh without humor. “I look at her sometimes and think… how the hell did I get this lucky? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s fearless. And half of that’s you. But the other half… I get to be part of it. Every day. Because of you.”

The air between you thickened, it was full of years of shared history, good, bad, messy, beautiful. “I still love you for that,” he said quietly. “Not like… not trying to cross lines. Just… I’ll always have love for you. Because you gave me the best thing in my life. And you trusted me with her. That means more than I could ever express.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” You rolled your head to the side, trying to loosen the knot that’d been building since last night. The motion made your neck crack loudly, and it pulled a wince out of you.

Robby lifted his brow. “You okay?”

“Just the couch napping. My neck’s killing me.”

He didn’t hesitate, standing up right away. “Come here.”

You did hesitate for half a heartbeat, long enough to consider the offer. You were too tired to argue, and you knew how good Robby’s hands were, so you stood up from the couch, then turned so your back was to him. He stepped in behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of him before his hands even touched you.

He settled his fingers on your shoulders first, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along the tops of your traps, working in slow circles. You couldn’t help dropping your head forward on a soft exhale, closing your eyes as the pressure hit exactly where you needed it.

“God,” you murmured. “You’re still really good at that.”

He huffsed a quiet laugh against your hair. “Muscle memory.”

Robby moved his hands, working down the column of your neck, tracing the tense line on either side of your spine, then out across your shoulders again. You melt into it without meaning to, dropping your shoulders and slowing your breath as the ache unwound thread by thread.

For a minute, it was just that: his hands on your shoulders. Then he slid his palms lower, intentionally, until they settled at your waist. He pulled you back gently, just enough that he had your back pressed against his chest. 

He brushed his lips along the side of your neck, teasingly soft at first. Then, firmer in a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.

Your pulse jumped immediately at the contact of his lips against your skin. “Robby.”

He didn’t stop. Another kiss, lower this time, along the curve where neck meets shoulder. He tightened his hands on your waist, slipping his thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing your bare skin.

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered but it came out unsteady. 

Robby moved his mouth over your skin. “Then why does it feel so good?”

You didn’t have an answer, you couldn’t think of one that made sense. He kept going, trailing kisses along the side of your throat, sliding one hand up your side, splaying his fingers across your ribs, the other staying firm at your hip, holding you against him. 

You tipped your head back against his shoulder in instinct, and he took the invitation, kissing the exposed line of your throat. Robby drifted his hand higher, brushing the underside of your breast through the fabric. Your hands came up in response, half to stop him, half to hold on, and they landed on his forearms, gripping them.

He murmured against your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t stop it. Not one single part of you wanted to. Maybe if you weren’t so bone-deep tired, physically drained from years of resisting him, of constantly convincing yourself that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t aching for this every time he got too close, you might have found the strength to push him away again. To remind yourself of all the careful boundaries you’d built for Hannah’s sake. To remember why this was dangerous.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now you needed Robby. You needed his warmth, you needed his touch, those large, capable hands that knew every inch of your body better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. You needed the intoxicating pleasure only he could ever give you, the rumble of his voice in your ear, and the way he could make you forget every careful reason you’d built to keep him at arm’s length.

The resistance you’d been carrying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold anymore. In this quiet moment all you wanted was to let go. To stop fighting the pull that had never really gone away. To let Robby remind you, just for tonight, how good it felt to be wanted like this.

Under your shirt, one of Robby’s hands cupped the swell of your breast through the fabric of your bra. He traced slow circles over the peak, teasing the nipple into a tight point, making you arch without meaning to, and he rewarded you with a soft bite at the curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you whispered, the curse slipping out before you could stop it.

Robby exhaled a rough laugh against your throat. “There she is.” He sounded proud of getting this reaction out of you, of remembering your body even if it’d been years since the last time he’d touched you.

He palmed your other breast now, both hands working in tandem to knead your flesh, brushing his fingers back and forth until the friction through your bra was almost too much. Your nipples ached, already feeling oversensitive, and every pass of his fingers sent heat straight between your legs. You could feel him behind you, his thick cock rigid, pressing against the small of your back through his jeans. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he rocked forward just enough to let you feel every inch, made your thighs clench.

You should stop this. You knew you should. But your hands were already reaching back, curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hips, holding him closer instead of pushing him away.

He growled with approval, leaving one of your breasts to slide his hand down the front of your body. He was slow, giving you every second to say no.

“When was the last time someone fucked you the way you deserve?” he murmured against your neck, slightly tightening his fingers once he reached your thigh, dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts.

You stayed silent, like part of you didn’t want to admit the truth. Robby didn’t pull back, he kissed your neck again. “Tell me, baby. When was the last time you were properly fucked? Deep and hard like I used to… Until you couldn’t think straight?”

You swallowed once, then answered honestly, barely above a whisper. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the last time we were together. About four years ago.”

Robby stilled completely. He lifted his mouth from your neck like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

He stared at you for a moment, processing the new information. Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath. “What about those guys you’ve dated? The vet? That other guy a year ago, what was he? An engineer? What about him?”

“Two dates, maybe three at most with any of them,” you said quietly. “Never went further. Never slept with any of them. Being a mom and a resident… there’s no time. Between Hannah’s schedule, shifts, studying, and trying to keep everything together, sex just wasn’t a priority.”

Robby tightened his jaw, and a fix of emotions flashed through his face, surprise, heat, and a fierce kind of possessiveness. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You can’t just tell me you haven’t been fucked in four years and expect me to act like it’s nothing.”

Before you could respond, he dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, then under the elastic of your panties. “Four years. Four fucking years without anyone touching you the way you need. Without anyone filling this perfect pussy. I’m gonna leave you so fucking wet and satisfied when I’m done with you tonight. You’re gonna be ruined for anyone else after this.”

There was no hesitation now. He parted your pussy with two fingers, finding you already slick with arousal, your lips swollen, and he dragged his digits up through your folds in one long stroke, making your knees nearly buckle.

“Jesus,” he whispered against your ear, already sounding wrecked. “So fucking wet for me.”

Robby circled your clit, it was light at first, his touch feather-soft, just enough to make your hips jerk. Then it turned firmer, pressing down in tight circles the way he always knew you liked. The exact pressure, the exact rhythm. Muscle memory for him too, apparently.

You tipped your head back against Robby’s broad shoulder, fluttering your eyes shut so you could focus entirely on the intense pleasure flooding through your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his fingers worked you open with precision.

He kept his other hand on your breast, tugging your bra down roughly so he could give your nipples the attention they craved. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging in perfect time with the slick strokes between your legs. The dual sensation was devastating in the best way, making your pussy clench and flutter around nothing.

He slid one thick finger inside you, stretching you carefully, opening you up with a patience that drove you insane. When you pushed your hips back greedily, silently begging for more, he added a second finger, sinking them deeper. You were so tight, clenching hard around the intrusion, and Robby let out a guttural groan against your ear, like the feel of you was almost painful for him too.

“Still so fucking perfect,” he rasped with want. “Fuck… the way you grip me. Like you never want to let go.”

He curled his fingers deliberately, hooking them forward until he found that spongy spot inside you that made your vision flash white for a second. A broken moan tore from your throat as he started stroking your g-spot with every thrust. The sound was loud enough that you both froze for half a heartbeat, listening for any noise from upstairs. The house stayed quiet. Hannah was still fast asleep. Robby didn’t waste another second, he resumed his movements, going deeper now, fucking you steadily with his fingers while his thumb kept the pressure on your clit. 

Robby alternated the pace just to torment you, slow and deep, then faster and harder, then dragging it back to that torturous slow rhythm again. Teasing you right up to the edge without ever letting you fall over it.

You rocked back against his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing him. Every curl of his fingers and every swipe of his thumb made your clit throb and your walls flutter around him. You were soaking his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping pussy filling the quiet room.

Your breathing turned ragged. Small and desperate sounds slipping out despite your best efforts, whimpers, half-moans, his name once or twice when he hit the spot just right.

He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly and then soothing with his tongue. Robby couldn’t stop his hips from rocking against your ass in shallow thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers, allowing you to feel how hard he was, painfully so.

Your thighs started to tremble. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. You were close, so close, and he knew it, still remembered how your body shook, how your pussy pulsed and clenched when you were about to let go.

“Come on,” he murmured against your ear. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed his thumb harder on your clit, and crooked his fingers again, stroking that spot in quick pulses. “Let me feel you cum. Please, baby, I want it so bad.”

It hit you like a wave. As you orgasmed around his fingers, your back arched, throwing your head back against his shoulder, opening your mouth on a silent cry that turned into a choked moan when the pleasure finally broke. You came hard, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you upright when wave after wave of pleasure hit you, until your legs felt like liquid.

Robby’s arms stayed locked around you for a long moment after you came down. Slowly, he turned you in his arms until you were facing him. Your legs felt unsteady, so he steadied you with his hands on your waist.

When he lifted the hand that was inside you, the one still slick and shining with you, he brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with you.

Robby licked his fingers slowly, first one, then the other, dragging his tongue flat and thorough, tasting every bit of you. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, humming as if the taste of your slickness pleasured him. “Still taste the same. Sweet. So goddamn good.”

Heat flooded your face, your chest, everywhere. You couldn’tlook away, the sight of him, with his lips wet and his eyes locked on yours, while he savored you like that, made your core clench again. It felt so aching and empty without him inside you, and you desperately needed to be filled again, to feel the stretch of his cock impaled inside you, to have his weight over you while he made you feel owned. 

The words slipped out before you could think them through. “Fuck me, Robby.”

His mouth curved almost predatory. The words he’d longed to hear for so long. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your lips. “Ask nicely.”

You narrowed your eyes with defiance even through the haze of want. “Go to hell.”

He laughed, the same laugh he used to give you in stolen moments years ago, when you’d push back just to watch him unravel. “Still stubborn,” he said, almost fond. “Good to know some things don’t change.”

Robby didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nd your arms around his neck, as he carried you up the stairs. His mouth found your neck again on the way, kissing and nipping while he navigated the familiar hallway in the dark. 

He pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him, and turning the lock with a click. Robby set you down on the edge of the bed but didn’t step back. He stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with an expression that made your stomach flip.

“Fuck… I feel like I’m dreaming,” he cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheeks. “You, here, letting me touch you again after all this time. After everything.”

Then he was on you, Robby climbed onto the bed, his knees bracketing your hips, and pressing you back into the mattress with his weight. He crashed his mouth down on yours in a desperate kiss while he ran his hands over your body.

He groaned like a man starved, staring at your chest. “These tits… God, I missed them.” His mouth descended immediately, devouring you with almost frantic need. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly around the peak before he sucked it hard, hollowing your cheeks. He kneaded the other breast, digging his fingers in, flicking and pinching the neglected nipple until you arched off the bed with a loud moan. He switched sides, licking and biting, sucking marks into the flesh like he wanted to claim every inch. His stubble was scraping deliciously against your skin, making you whimper and thread your fingers through his brown hair, holding him to you.

He was almost desperate in the way he worshiped your body, groaning against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh so you could feel how painfully hard he was. “So fucking perfect,” he mumbled between sucks and bites. “These tits were made for my mouth. Look at how pretty they look. I love sucking on them… fuck, baby.”

You were panting, pushing your chest further into his face as pleasure shot straight to your cunt. Robby spent long minutes there, alternating between teasing licks and rough hungry suction, until your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his spit.

Then he started moving lower. His mouth trailed wet kisses down your sternum, over your stomach, pausing to nip at the soft curve just below your navel. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing your shorts the rest of the way down to bunch around your ankles. For a moment, he just stared at the damp spot on your panties with eyes full of lust.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his hot breath right against your dripping pussy. “You’re making such a big mess for me. You ruined your panties… so fucking soaked.”

He leaned in and mouthed at your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing kisses along your slit, dragging his tongue slowly from your entrance up to your clit through the soaked cotton. He sucked gently on your clit through the material, making your hips jerk. Then he pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the damp spot before diving in again, licking broad stripes, nipping at your folds, mouthing at you like he was trying to taste every drop of your arousal through the barrier.

You moaned louder, with your thighs trembling around his head and your hands fisting the sheets as he teased you mercilessly. Robby hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you open while he continued the torturous worship of his mouth. Every time you tried to grind harder against his mouth, he pulls back slightly, keeping you right on the edge, whimpering and desperate.

“Robby… please…” you gasped, but he only groaned against your pussy and keept teasing, determined to drive you insane before he finally gave you what you both needed.

He looked up at you from between your thighs, gleaming with satisfaction. Robby hooked two fingers into the thin cotton at your hip and ripped. The sound of fabric tearing filled the quiet room. You only had a second for the cool air to hit your bare, dripping pussy, because right away Robby’s mouth was on you, aggressive and devastatingly skilled.

He devoured you like a man who’d been starving for years. There’s no gentle buildup or teasing licks. He buried his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on feral. He drags his tongue broadly, giving you flat strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

He groaned deeply into your pussy, the sound was filthy. “Fuck, baby… you taste even better than I remembered,” he said against your folds before diving back in.

He ate you out with aggression, swallowing your clit into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves before releasing it with a filthy pop. The sudden loss of suction made you whimper, only for him to immediately flick the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit as his stubble scraped against your inner thighs with every movement of his head.

Robby alternated between deep licks that plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in slow strokes that had you dripping down his chin, and tight suction on your clit that made you curl your toes hard.

Every time you tried to muffle your moans, he only doubled down, sucking harder, licking deeper, devouring you like he’d been dreaming about this exact taste for years. He gripped your ass, spreading you wider for his mouth, holding you firmly in place so you couldn’t escape the assault of his tongue.

“Oh my God… Robby—” Your voice cracked as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

He ate it like he loved it. Like he needed it. His hands weren’t idle either. One arm banded across your lower stomach, holding you down when your hips started bucking too wildly. The other hand reached up to palm and squeeze your bare breasts, making you moan louder.

You pushed up onto your elbows, desperate to watch him. The sight was both obscene and intoxicating, Robby’s head buried between your thighs, his shoulders flexing as he worked, eyes closed in pure bliss while his mouth devoured your cunt. His jaw was moving with every lick and every suck, his lips and chin already shiny with your wetness. When he glanced up and caught you watching, his eyes darkened even more.

He pulled back just enough to spit directly onto your swollen pussy, a thick glob of saliva landing right on your clit. The warm sensation made you gasp, asd he watched it drip down your folds for half a second before he drove back in, spreading the spit with his tongue, mixing it with your own slick until everything was messy and glistening.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” the words came out muffled against you. “So fucking wet for me. Been waiting four years to taste you again.”

He continued his relentless assault on your clit, and you couldn’t look away. The sight of this strong man, completely lost between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal, was almost too much.

“You’re so fucking good at this… shit, your mouth—” A broken moan escaped you when he sucked hard on your clit again. “I’m gonna… I can’t!  Robby, I’m close already…”

Your second orgasm built fast, and it crushed over you without mercy, making you bow your back off the bed, tearing a broken cry from your throat as the pleasure peaked. Robby didn’t let up for a second, he sucked your nub harder, drawing the orgasm out until it felt endless.

Your vision whited out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the pleasure rolled through you while he kept licking you through it greedily.

You sobbed his name, “Robby… fuck—oh god,” as your body shook uncontrollably, clamping his thighs around his head when the intensity bordered on too much. 

He finally eased off only when your cries turned into overwhelmed whimpers, your body limp and trembling on the bed. But even then, he didn’t pull away completely. Robby continued placing soft kisses to your folds, licking up every drop of your release like he couldn’t bear to waste any of it. His hands soothed your thighs, rubbing circles while you came down.

Robby lifted his head, letting you admire his lips and chin glistening with your cum between your spread thighs. “Four years… and you still taste like heaven.”

When he finally started kissing his way up your body, his mouth was soft, reaching your mouth and kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back, hovering his face above yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked with an edge of worry in his tone, cupping your cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear. “Talk to me. Was that too much?”

You managed a shaky nod, still catching your breath. “I’m… fine. Just… holy shit, Robby.”

He chuckled softly, pleased with himself after seeing the effect his mouth had on you. “You’ve got the most perfect pussy in the world, you know that? So fucking pretty when you cum. And look at the mess you made…” He glanced down between your bodies at the soaked sheets, a proud and filthy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You still soak everything when I eat you out. God, I love how wet you get for me.”

Your voice came out breathy, needy, honest in a way you haven’t been with him in years.You were finally embracing what you truly wanted. “I need you, Robby. All of you. Please.”

Something possessive flashed in his eyes. He didn’t make you ask twice this time, just sat back on his heels and stripped in a rush, yanking his shirt over his head, then shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, looking every bit as thick as you remembered it, with the head already flushed in a dark red, leaking precum. 

He was rock-hard, with the veins standing out along the shaft, curving slightly upward the way you loved, because it hit your g-spot so easily. He knelt between your spread thighs, pressing his into the mattress, and looked down at you with hunger. “Stroke it a little,” he asked you. “Let me feel your hand on me first.”

You sat up just enough to reach him, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. He felt hot in your palm as you gave him a firm stroke from the base to the tip, swirling your thumb over the leaking head to spread the precum. Your touch made Robby groan deeply, twitching his hips forward into your touch.

“Fuck… It’s so big,” you whispered, locking your eyes on the way your hand looked around him. “I need it so much, Robby. I’ve missed this cock. Missed how full you make me.”

He watched your hand move, his breathing growing increasingly ragged with every stroke. “Slow, baby. Just like that. Real slow.” His voice was strained, like he was already fighting not to cum from your touch alone. “Shit, I’m close already. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… your hand feels too fucking good.”

You kept stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just the way he’d always liked. Robby's head fell back for a moment, a moan rumbling in his chest, before he looked down again, watching your tits move with each stroke, watching your slick pussy still glistening from his mouth, waiting for him.

He reached down and gently took your wrist, stilling your hand. Then he shifted forward, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the thick head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you whimper.

Robby leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other still holding his cock against your entrance. He locked his eyes onto yours. “Should we.. uh… grab a condom?”

You didn’t even hesitate, spreading your legs wider for him, sliding your hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered. “Go raw. I want to feel all of you.”

A deep groan escaped him as he notches the head of his cock right against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch without pushing inside yet. He cupped your face with his free hand, brushing your lower lip while he held himself right there, waiting for the moment he finally sank into you after four long years.

When he finally pushed forward, you felt the blunt pressure increasing, letting you feel every inch as he sank into you. You both moaned at the same time, he was thicker than you remembered in the haze of memory, and the stretch was intense, bordering on overwhelming after so long without anyone inside you. Your walls parted around him, fluttering and clenching as he slid deeper, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush against yours and he was buried to the hilt inside you.

The fullness was perfect, almost too much, pressing against that deep spot that made you curl your toes instantly. “Fuck… baby,” Robby groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for a second. “You feel… Jesus Christ. So tight. So fucking wet and warm. I missed this pussy so much.”

He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, both of you just breathing each other in after four long years. Then he started to move. The first thrust was slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet sound. The second was a little harder. By the third, he’d found a steady rhythm, long and powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The drag and stretch were incredible, every time he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissed that deep place that made sparks explode behind your eyes.

“Oh my God… Robby,” you moaned, already trembling, and he’d just started. “You’re so fucking deep.”

It felt amazing for both of you. For you, it was like waking up after years of numbness, every nerve lighting up, pleasure flooding your body in waves with every thrust. For Robby, the groan that left him is guttural, almost pained with how good it felt to finally be inside the only place that’d ever made sense in his life.

His hips snapped forward harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom as he fucked you with measured strokes. You were trying so hard to stay quiet, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on the side of it, muffling the moans that kept trying to spill out. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, then fluttered them open again. Robby was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flicking his gaze between your face, your lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure, to your tits bouncing with every thrust, and down to where your pussy was stretched wide around his cock. 

He watched himself disappear inside you, the shiny wetness coating his shaft every time he pulled back, your folds clinging to him greedily. “Fuck, look at that. Your pretty pussy taking me so well after all this time. Stretched so tight around my cock… making such a mess on me.”

You bit harder into your hand as a particularly deep thrust made you whimper loudly. Robby’s rhythm started to pick up, snapping his hips with more force, the perfect angle to hit your spot inside you over and over, making you clench around his length.

“Shit… right there,” you whimpered. “That spot… fuck! I can feel every inch. God, I’m so full.”

“Stop squeezing like that,” he groaned, almost pleading, tightening his grip on your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum already if you keep clenching around me like that. This pussy is too perfect… so fucking good. Feels like heaven. I’ve dreamed about this for years… being buried inside you again.”

He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your muffled moans, before he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and the next thrust punched the air out of your lungs as he bottomed out completely, pressed his hips tightly against your ass, grinding his cock against that deepest spot.

“Oh my god—Robby!” You gasped against your hand, rolling your eyes back. “Like that! Like that… Please don’t stop.”

He fucked you harder now, making the bed creak softly beneath you. “So perfect,” he panted between thrusts. “You feel so fucking perfect. This body… these tits… this tight little pussy squeezing me. I missed you so much. Missed fucking you like this.”

He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his thumb and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was pushing you toward the edge fast.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled. “I want to feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel it.”

When the pleasure started cresting, your words turned into fragmented, needy whimpers. 

“Yes… yes… right there, oh fuck, I’m cumming. Michael, I’m cumming—”

The combination of his deep strokes, the pressure on your clit, and the overwhelming fullness after four years was too much. Your third orgasm of the night crashed over you even harder than the other two. Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat despite your teeth sinking into your hand. Your pussy clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering rhythmically as waves of intense pleasure ripped through you.

Robby groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impeding orgasm approaching. “That’s it—fuck, yes—milk me, baby. I’m cumming—”

He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, and finally allowed himself to cum. You felt the thick pulses of his seed as he filled you up, rope after rope of cum flooding deep inside you, so much that you could feel it spilling out around his cock where you were stretched around him. Robby kept grinding his hips against you through his orgasm, drawing it out, making sure every drop stayed inside you as long as possible.

He stayed buried deep while you both came down, breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your pussy still gently fluttering around his softening cock. 

“Four years,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips. “And you’re still mine.”

An incredulous chuckle rumbled out of his chest, utterly satisfied. His brown eyes were in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t believe he just got to be inside you again after all this time. The lines around his eyes crinkled deeply as he smiled. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, sounding a little husky fro  the exertion. “I can’t believe I just got to be inside you again. That was… fuck. That was the best fuck of my life. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.”

He stayed there a moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally pulled out of you. You both groaned at the loss, a thick of his cum leaking out of you onto the already-soaked sheets. Robby rolled off you and onto his back beside you, reaching out with one arm to pull you against his side

He turned his head to look at you, brushing damp strands of hair off your forehead with gentle fingers. “How was that for you, baby?” he asked softly. “Tell me. Was it okay? Did I hurt you at all?”

You huffed a small, tired laugh against his collarbone. “You already know the answer.”

He hummed, but didn’t let it drop. “Say it anyway.”

“Robby.” You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You already know exactly how good it felt. It was amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even have words for it. I came so hard I— God, I needed that.”

He smiled again with a satisfied grin, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s all I wanted, to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

As the afterglow started to fade, and reality started to creep back in… the sleeping five-year-old down the hall, the careful co-parenting boundaries you’ve both worked so hard to maintain. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.

“You should get going now. It’s late. Hannah will be up early, and I don’t want her to wake up and find you here. It might make things weird or confusing for her.”

Robby let out a genuine laugh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You use me to break your four-year celibacy, three orgasms, mind you, and now you’re kicking me out?” His eyes sparkled with humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Cold, woman . Real cold. I give you the best, and only, dick you’ve had in years, and this is the thanks I get? Straight to the door?”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him, swatting lightly at his chest. “I’m serious. You know how she is. If she comes in here looking for me in the morning and sees you in my bed, she’ll have a million questions. Or she’ll think we’re back together and get her hopes up. We can’t do that to her.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, too, mirroring your position, still grinning that cocky grin that made him look ten years younger. “Three orgasms,” he repeate, holding up three fingers like he was making a point. “I ate that pussy until you were crying and shaking, then fucked you so deep you saw stars, and now I’m being evicted? Harsh, really harsh. I feel so used right now.”

“Robby,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing as another laugh bubbled up. “Come on. You know I’m right.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t want to go. Not yet. I want to stay here and cuddle you. Just hold you for a while. I promise I’ll leave early tomorrow morning, before Hannah wakes up. I’ll set an alarm, sneak out. She’ll never know I was here. Please, baby. Let me stay. I missed this. Missed holding you after.”

You hesitated, chewing your lip. The warmth of his body against yours, the beat of his heart under your palm, the way he kept tracing circles with his  fingers on your lower back… it all feels dangerously good. 

He sensed your wavering and leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses. “So fucking perfect. The way you took me tonight, the way you came for me… You made me feel whole again. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this. You and Hannah… you two are the best things that ever happened to me. Being inside you again, hearing you moan my name… it reminded me how much I still need you. How much I’ve always needed you.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you fully against his chest so you were tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Robby slid one of his legs between yours, tangling you together under the messy sheets. He kept kissing you, your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, then back to your mouth in lingering presses. 

“I mean it,” he whispered against your hair. “You made me the happiest man alive when you gave me Hannah, but nights like this… being with you like this… it completes something in me. I feel alive. Whole. Like the missing piece finally clicked back into place. No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one else ever could.”

You melted into him despite yourself, and the night passed in fragments of deep sleep, the kind you haven’t had in years. Robby’s arm stayed across your waist the whole time, with his fingers splayed over your stomach like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell against your back in an even rhythm, and the snoring… God, the stupid snoring you’d missed so much.

You woke slowly, first to the weight of him, then to the ache between your legs, the reminder of last night still dried on your inner thighs. You felt him stir behind you as consciousness returned. You could practically hear the smile before you even turned your head.

When you did roll over, he was already looking at you with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, and crinkled at the corners. And yeah, there it was, that stupid and contented grin spreading across his face like he’d just won the lottery.

“Stop smiling,” you muttered. “You’re creeping me out.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, didn’t even try to dial it back. If anything, it got wider. “Can’t help it,” he said. “Woke up next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Kinda hard not to smile about that.”

Heat climbed up your neck despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Flattery at six a.m. is a cheap move, Robinavitch.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, roaming his eyes over your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Look at you.”

He dropped his gaze appreciatively, taking in the messy hair spilling across the pillow, the sheet tangled around your bare hips, the faint marks his mouth left on your collarbone last night. He reached out, tracing one with his thumb, gently.

“Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you warned him. You’d had your fun last night. It had been amazing, even better than you remembered sex with Robby ever being. But it had been one time. One stupid lapse of judgment, one moment of weakness that couldn’t repeat itself again. You couldn’t let it. Not when the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain for Hannah was so stable. You refused to risk your daughter’s sense of security just because your body still craved the man who used to know every inch of you better than anyone else.

Robby snapped his eyes back to yours, looking equal parts hungry and amused. “You know how I get when you call me Michael.”

“Last night was a relapse. I was tired, and… Emotional. Not happening again today. Not happening again ever, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah?” He laughed before he shifted, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. His body came down over yours, caging you under his weight. Robby braced his forearms on either side of your head, his knees bracketing your hips. “You sure about that?”

You pushed at his shoulder. “Robby… get off.”

He stirred above you, lifting his head. For a moment, he didn’t move, but you kept pushing, gentle but insistent, until he finally rolled off you with a sigh and propped himself up on one elbow.

“All of this… It was a mistake,” you sat up and pulling the sheet up over your bare chest, suddenly too aware of your nakedness.

Robby reached for you instinctively, but you shifted away, scooting back against the headboard. “Why?” he asked. “It felt fucking amazing for both of us. You know it did. We’re good at this, we’ve always been good at this.”

You shook your head, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies still fit together like they remembered every single time before… it made your resolve weaken. “You know why not. I can’t just think about ourselves anymore. We have to think about Hannah. We can’t hurt her. We already crashed once, and I’m not putting her through big changes, through the uncertainty, the chance that everything falls apart all over again.” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I know you, Michael. In a month you’re going to regret this. You’re going to need space, and your head won’t be in the right place for commitment. I won’t do that to her. I won’t do that to any of us.”

Robby sat up fully now, the playful morning haze completely gone from his face. “It’s different this time. The first time… everything was happening all at once. You know how fucked up I was… After Covid, after… everything that happened. Having to take care of the whole ED… I was drowning. I couldn’t be what you needed. But I’m not that man anymore. You know I’ve changed. You’ve seen how much being a father changed me.” He leaned forward slightly. “I want you. I want this. I want the family. I want the commitment.”

You swallowed hard, and for one dangerous moment, you let yourself imagine it, waking up like this every morning with his warmth beside you, the three of you as a real family, lazy weekends and shared dinners and Hannah running between you both. The picture was so beautiful it hurt, but reality settled back in fast.

“You should go,” you whispered, looking away toward the window so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in your eyes. “We shouldn’t keep talking about this anymore.”

Robby exhaled, running a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. “It’s not fair.”

You let out a bitter little laugh. “A lot in life isn’t fair, Robby. You know that better than anyone else.”

He watched you for a long moment. The silence stretched between you until he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. You stayed under the sheet, trying not to watch the familiar way his muscles moved as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, turning back to you with that half-smirk that you knew meant trouble. “You can try, but I know you can’t stay away from all of this for too long. I’m a real catch.”

You couldn’t help the tired laugh that escaped you. “Goodbye, Michael.”

He gave you one last long look full of affection before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The sheets still smelled like him, your skin still remembered his hands, nd you were left alone with the echo of everything you wanted but couldn’t let yourself have. 

A/N: Oh my god, I finally wrote something!!!😭 I’d had this idea sitting in my brain for so long, and the other day I finally felt the urge to start it. After about a week, and using all the free time I have between work and college, I actually managed to finish it. Finally something with a bit of plot, lol.

I really hope you enjoyed this idea! I’d love to write a second part, but with my schedule… that could be anywhere from two weeks to a year from now. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so it’d be really nice to hear your thoughts, if you liked it, your favorite parts, anything really🫶🏻

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[gxtitobxby]

Clenching down and refusing to lift off of robby when you’re riding him, ignoring his warnings that you need to get off of him because he’s about to cum. The warning just makes you bear down on him deeper, deeper than he even knew he could be inside you. Realistically robby knows he could easily overpower you and lift you off of him, but he doesn’t seem to remember how to right now…

sick to my stomach because this is exactly what I was imagining :((( hands on his shoulders holding him down, hips going up n down and grindin' you're just chasing the feelings of his dick deep inside u. it feels so good and you want him to get you pregnant you want to carry his babies you wanna be so full of him that it leaks out of you :(

and he's just squeezing at your ass, trynna keep his hips down but he can't help but buck into you - "jesus fuck, gotta get off, honey. i'm so fucking close i'm gonna—"

"do it," you whine, grinding down harder, "do it inside, please. want you to fill me up, wanna be so full." you moan and lean over to pant and lick into his mouth. "wanna carry your babies, wanna get all b-big with your babies, daddy, please."

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

something something garcia being distant with trinity, so she asks you over for a girls night. it ends with your legs slotted between each other as you both bounce on a double ended dildo. it is short enough that your clits bump each time you push your hips forward, hands groping each others tits, kissing desperately.

yk… maybe garcia comes over and uses the spare key only to find the two of you fucking each other (maybe she joins…. idk….)

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

can i say something amongst friends here… i find something so hot about younger!reader giving robby a baby. like he wanted to be a dad so badly but assumed it wasn’t in the cards, but then you come along all youthful and fertile and give him exactly what he’s always wanted 🙂‍↕️

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

alternatively robby being so used to fucking women his own age (too old to get pregnant, tubes tied bc they already have kids etc), that when he meets you and starts fucking you it stupidly doesn’t cross his mind to slip on a condom when your begging so beautifully for him that he cums inside you. he gets a tearful phone call a few weeks later where you tell him your late, he comes over with a pregnancy test which ends up very positive🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[dr-abbotsbulletproof-vest]

can i say something amongst friends here… i find something so hot about younger!reader giving robby a baby. like he wanted to be a dad so badly but assumed it wasn’t in the cards, but then you come along all youthful and fertile and give him exactly what he’s always wanted 🙂‍↕️