Fanfic, Ya Know?

She/They, 24 FUCK AI, FUCK ICE, FREE PALESTINE Requests are closed, Masterlist

[fanfic-ya-know]

Masterlist

Requests are open for any of the following characters, unless otherwise noted

** indicates smut

The Pitt

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch 

You Love Me you wake up next to Robby, that's it, that's the fic

Bashert** your family wants you to marry a "Nice Jewish Boy"... instead, you meet Michael Robinavitch

Jack Abbot

Dennis Whitaker

Trinity Santos

Marvel

Steve Rogers

ILYSB  based on the song by LANY, super fluffy - this was one of my early fics, so be pls be kind

Collateral Loyalties pt.1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, (discontinued)  kinda slow burn, Steve is yearning

Bucky Barnes

My Age  when you have insecurities about your relationship, Bucky reassures you

Bob Reynolds

Did You Get the Feeling?  when you break up with your long term boyfriend, Yelena and the team attempt to cheer you up by going out to a bar I Guess You Got the Feeling** healing from your breakup is a process, and Bob is there for you every step of the way

Everything Ends soft and fluffy Bob, maybe with some angst if you squint really hard Not Everything Ends** after a mission, you and Bob take care of each other

Baby Fever** exactly what is sounds like

warm** things were easier when you were alone – it felt safer that way; now, you find yourself as one of the “New Avengers”

Top Gun: Maverick

Bob Floyd 

Juno** The team helps give you and Bob the final push you need

Clothes Off** you and Bob have been dating for a while, but your insecurities have gotten in the way of your taking things to the next level

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw 

Just In Case (maybe one day I will finish this) you and Bradley have a past, but you broke things off when he was sent overseas; now that you’re both back at Top Gun, will things reignite?

Star Wars 

Poe Dameron (no longer writing for this character)

Say it Again my first fic - it’s short and pure fluff

Misc.

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Todd Stevens (The Line)

greedy**, pt 2** Todd gets jealous when he sees someone flirting with you at his party, so he has to remind you who you belong to.

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range)

Tyler Owens (Twisters)

Clark Kent (Superman)

Carmen Berzatto (The Bear)

{I do not consent to any of my work being replicated, posted on other sites, translated, or used for AI adaptation purposes. Thanks <3}

[fanfic-ya-know]

I PROMISE a new chapter of NJB is coming soon. I've had family in town and have had a terrible case of writer's block.

I have written the beginning and the end of the next part, so I just have to figure out how we're getting from point A to point B... anyway, SORRY that it's taken so long. Thank you guys for your patience!

[fanfic-ya-know]

I just want to add on to that ask you received and let the other Anon know there is a huge Jewish community in Pittsburgh. In fact, there is a huge Slavic Jewish community of all types there... post fall of the Soviet Union and refugees coming to the US and settling in different places on the East Coast

Robinovich (a name so often mispronounced even Robbie doesn't actually say it correctly to most people except to that one lady) is in fact A Slavic Jewish name- when he talks about Simovar in season 2 it's not a Jewish thing. It's a Slavic thing that Jewish people of that region used because it was part of the culture in that part of the world. Considering he grew up with his grandmother who was likely a refugee after the USSR fell, he would 100% understand Russian. If not fluently speak it.

I don't think the show would ever get into it, but I'm sure the neighborhood he lives in if it's not close to the hospital out of obligation is likely a Slavic one. He probably has preferential grocery stores based off of language/culture etc. he's likely too busy to be a large part of it, but he definitely grew up in it if you know anything about Slavic Jewish grandmothers it's impossible for him not to have been ingrained (they don't give you a choice lmao)

Thank you so much for sharing this, Anon!

I really appreciated the inclusion of Yana (the patient from season 2 referenced above). I thought Robby had a great moment with her, and it was nice to see a patient (other than Duke, of course) sort of see through Robby's bs.

I've also seen that her story was very important to many in the Jewish community in Pittsburgh, given that she is a survivor of the Tree of Life shooting.

[fanfic-ya-know]

Because of the reader do people at work notice any changes in Robby and his behavior. How his behavior might change for the better and start working his scheduled time at the hospital instead of being there all the time. It was interesting seeing parts of the culture and them following it.

I have a question and I don’t want to be rude or offend you. Is there a large Jewish community in Pittsburgh? If there is are they part of the community. I kind of want Robby to have friends and people outside of the hospital and not have his life revolve around it.

Hi hi! I love these questions.

For the first part, I don't want to go into too much detail because I have plans for some future parts where I might talk about this some more. In short, I think coworkers might notice changes in Robby--like him leaving at a reasonable time, especially on Fridays now. I probably won't get into that sort of thing for a little while tbh. BUT I will say, I think the people around him start to notice a change in his mood. The question is, how will Robby react when that is pointed out to him 👀 ???

For your second question, I don't live in Pittsburgh and do not consider myself "practicing," so I'm not sure if I'm the best person to answer this. Based on the research I've done, there is a strong Jewish community in the city--specifically in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood, apparently!

Part two of that is that I think a big part of Robby's character right now is that he's sort of isolated. He focuses a lot on work and doesn't let people love and take care of him. That's sort of how I see him right now, at least for this fic. But eventually, I think we'll see that he's not as alone as he makes himself think he is.

I hope that answers your questions and thank you so much for asking 🫶

[fanfic-ya-know]

Nice Jewish Boy (Part 4)

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x afab!Jewish!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: not beta read, language, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart), 18+ (Minors DNI), SMUT – vaginal fingering, pinv sex

AN: This was supposed to be part of a larger chapter, but then it was getting too long... this could low-key be read as a one-shot if you don't gaf about the series lol

Reminder: consent is hot 🫶

Masterlist: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

Before you knew it, a month had come and gone. One month of Pittsburgh. One month of classes and labs. One month of Saturday mornings waking up with Robby in your bed.

“Mmmmmm,” you groaned sleepily at the sound of your alarm.

You rolled over, reluctantly turning away from the comfortable warmth of Robby’s chest to hit snooze on your phone. Ten more minutes wouldn’t kill you, so you allowed yourself to return to your previous position. 

The arm that had been lazily slung around you tightened, signaling that Robby was now awake as well. Still, you nuzzled into his chest, the hair there tickling your cheek, not quite ready to face the day.

His other hand came up to brush your hair away from your face. He cupped your jaw as he pressed a warm, slow kiss to your forehead.

“G’morning,” he rasped, chest rumbling beneath you.

Your eyes fluttered open, finally meeting his gaze. He was disheveled in that hot, manly way that you were quickly growing addicted to. It was part of his appeal—all soft lines and dark hair. Even like this, he was beautiful, if a little rough around the edges. He was exactly the kind of man you’d always wanted but never thought you could have. You just thought you’d have to marry someone and hope they turned out like this. You swallowed thickly, your nail scraping against the gold chain of his necklace as you traced it.

“Morning,” you greeted softly, your voice hoarse from the previous night’s activities. 

You shifted your hips at the thought, trying to relieve the ache that shot through you. Your thigh that was hooked around his left leg brushed his suddenly obvious erection through his boxers. A snort of a laugh burst from you before you help it.

“Really?” you teased.

“Hm,” he half chuckled in response. 

His right hand on your cheek pulled you up into a proper kiss, swallowing your sound of surprise. The other hand trailed down from its place on your back to grip your left thigh, right below your ass. He hauled you up further onto him so that you were practically straddling his waist.

“You only came twice last night,” he noted, lips still brushing yours. “Think you have time for another?”

You whimpered helplessly into his mouth, torn between the desperate need to have him right now and the reality that you seriously did not have time. Robby seemed to pick up on your inner turmoil.

“Promise I’ll be quick,” he assured, rolling his hips into yours as if it proved his point.

You weren’t sure about other situations, but when it came to sex, you didn’t know Robby to be quick. Sure, he could build you up to an orgasm rapidly, and he had no problem pounding into you with dizzying speed, but Robby liked to take his time. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of you. He enjoyed watching as he wrung climax after climax from you. And though it was true that last night he’d only made you cum twice, what he wasn’t saying was why. He didn’t bring up the fact that after your first peak, he edged you for what felt like hours, leaving you all but screaming his name when your second orgasm finally tore through you. You were certain you’d be hearing from your neighbors soon.

Now, you certainly weren’t complaining about the mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex you’d had the previous night, but you couldn’t be blamed for a little bit of skepticism over the promise of a “quickie.”

“What d’ya say, pretty girl?”

You’d learned quickly that Robby was big about consent—loud, enthusiastic consent. He’d check in with you periodically during sex, making sure you were comfortable with everything that was happening. It was reassuring knowing he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t 100% on-board with. It was also hot as fuck, the way he was so focused on your pleasure.

“Please,” you breathed.

Robby pulled you in for another kiss, his mouth moulding to yours seamlessly. You clung to him desperately, one hand clawing at his shoulder while the other lifted to grab at his messy hair. He moaned into your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you gave a sharp tug to his short locks.

Meanwhile, his hand that had been cradling your cheek moved down your body. It traced a line down your neck, to your side, brushing the soft fabric of your old, worn t-shirt. It idled briefly at your hip, toying with the waistband of your underwear, before it eventually found its destination at the bend of your knee, thumb swiping at the smooth skin.

Now that his right was holding you firmly in place, his left hand moved up to grab your ass in earnest, causing you to giggle into the fervent kiss you were sharing.

“What?” he mouthed against you, laughing too. “You have a nice ass. Can’t I spend a little time appreciating it?”

“This just feels like a lot of build-up for someone who promised to be quick,” you quipped. You could feel his smirk against your lips. 

He hummed in amusement, the only acknowledgement he seemed to give to your statement before the hand on your ass moved again. Suddenly, he was tugging your panties to the side, running the pads of two fingers through your folds. 

You gasped at the contact, and Robby took the opportunity to kiss you again, practically shoving his tongue down your throat. His thick fingers stroked your clit expertly, rubbing at it roughly before circling your entrance from behind.

“Fuck, so wet for me already, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“Mhm,” you agreed weakly, nodding frantically.

Both of his fingers sank into you, and you hissed at the stretch. You knew he was just doing as you asked, speedrunning foreplay to get to what you both really wanted. He curled his fingers, thrusting them in and out, prepping you for his cock.

After a minute or so of working you over, you’d had enough. You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, mouthing at the hinge of his jaw and working your way down to his collarbone. You nipped at the skin there, trying to pull a reaction from the man. You could tell he was equally worked up, involuntarily rutting his hips.

“Michael,” you tried. “Please just fuck me.”

That seemed to pull him out of whatever trance he was in.

“Right,” he nodded, briefly releasing your leg to reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table. He tore the packet open with his teeth, pushed down his boxers, and rolled the condom onto himself before finally looking down at you. “Ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you answered desperately. “Need you so bad.”

“Fuck, okay,” he panted, sliding the head of his throbbing cock through your folds.

You both did a sharp intake at that, feeling him catch against your entrance with each pass. Finally, he pushed in, stretching you in all the right ways. The feeling was overwhelming, your cunt still slightly sore from the night before, pulling an impetuous whine from you that you attempted to muffle by pressing your face further into him.

Robby fucked you at a frenzied pace, hips snapping up into yours relentlessly. His left hand found its way back to your asscheek, kneading the flesh and using it to pull you down harshly with each of his thrusts.

You could feel your climax building, the sharp twisting in your belly growing more and more insistent.

Then, because of course, your alarm went off. Loud ringing from somewhere just out of reach.

“Fucking, fuck–” you bit out, shakily pushing up onto the arm that was honestly going a bit numb underneath you. You shifted your weight, moving to fully straddle Robby. “Don’t fucking stop,” you instructed breathlessly.

Robby let out a short laugh at your frustration, but still nodded in agreement.

You reached blindly into the pile of unused pillows on your side of the bed, searching for where you had stupidly shoved your phone earlier. Eventually, you found it and shut off the blaring alarm.

Robby had slowed his pace ever so slightly, so he took that as his signal to start up again. He gripped your hips, using the new position to his advantage as he moved you up and down his dick as he pleased. Now that you were sitting up, he also had easier access to rub at your clit mercilessly.

You grasped at his chest to steady yourself as you rocked into him. Your palm flattened against his sternum, eyes flicking up to his. Unsurprisingly, he was already looking up at you, enraptured by your every move. You curled your fingers around his necklace, your fist tightening around the Magen David.

It was impossible to miss his reaction—his throat bobbing, his jaw ticking, his pupils dilating, and his thrusts faltering for just a moment.

You felt powerful. Here was this man, practically a Goliath, beneath you, and you were doing this to him, pulling this sort of reaction out of him. You took control of the movement of your hips, his hands there now more clinging rather than guiding, thumb still stroking dutifully at your clit.

“Oh god–” you breathed. “Michael, I’m gonna–”

“Me too,” he verified. 

Neither of you could look away. Eyes locked onto one another as you both fell over the edge, gasping expletives and broken versions of each other’s name. 

As you both stilled, you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your features, and Robby beautifully returned the expression, huffing as you both came down from your shared high.

“Okay, come on,” you said, breaking the momentary silence, pushing up and off of him. You climbed out of bed, not bothering to look back at him as you sauntered towards your bathroom. “Let’s go take a shower.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the loud crash you heard behind you, knowing Robby would be on you in an instant.

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Taglist: @kajjaka @abbotitts @snakesonastarship @bloodink94 @starstruckl @marley-sketches @thedamnqueenofhell @fortjackson @angelynn-nicole @thesandbeneathmytoes

[fanfic-ya-know]

Nice Jewish Boy is so good!! I can't wait for more

Thank you so much! I am having such a great time writing it 🥰

I have a full weekend of writing planned, so another chapter will hopefully be coming soon!

[fanfic-ya-know]

Nice Jewish Boy (Part 3)

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x afab!Jewish!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: not beta read (I did not even proofread this chapter tbh), language, pet names (baby, good girl, sweetheart, pretty girl), 18+ (Minors DNI), SMUT – lowkey dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, sir kink?, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering, pinv sex

AN: The reader is Jewish in this work. I do not think it is imperative to fully understand Judaism or identify as Jewish in order to enjoy this fic. I, the author, have Jewish heritage, but I was not raised in a practicing Jewish home. I did extensive research on the Jewish practices that are mentioned in this fic, but PLEASE let me know if there are any inaccuracies so that I can correct them!!

Woah, this escalated so quickly. I didn’t really know this was where I was taking this fic until I was already writing it.

Also idk how lab rotations work, so please don’t yell at me…

Masterlist: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

The sound of the doorbell stopped you in your tracks. You were in the middle of telling your aunt about your lab rotation, but the sound fully shut your brain down, stopping mid-sentence.

“That must be Michael,” Aunt Deb explained, taking your abrupt silence for confusion rather than what it really was—nerves or excitement, you weren’t quite sure. “Didn’t I tell you he was coming?”

“Oh, yeah,” you answered, wiping your hands on the towel by the sink. “Yes, um, you did. I– I should–”

Before you could even step in the direction of the front door, you heard it open. You could hear your uncle greeting Robby, the two men chatting as they walked through the house. 

“Well, I'm going to go say hello,” Aunt Deb said, picking up a couple of the plates of food that were ready to be taken to the table. “Keep an eye on the challah for me, would ya, dear? It should be almost done.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, turning back to face the oven.

You took the moment alone to compose yourself. You could do this. You could sit through a dinner with your aunt and uncle and pretend that you don’t want to climb the man who’d be sitting across from you like a tree. Easy.

The sudden weight of a hand on your lower back pulled you from your thoughts.

“Nice dress.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, amused that he’d caught you off guard. He was moving closer, coming to stand next to you and leaning in to speak directly into your ear. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

The question sent a chill down your spine.

The truth was, you’d hoped the dress you’d selected would get a reaction out of him. It wasn’t anything crazy—simple and black—but it was shorter than what you would typically wear for Shabbat dinner. The hem landed around mid-thigh, as opposed to the typical knee-length or longer skirts you wore. It was just barely on this side of appropriate, and you hadn’t missed the raised eyebrow from your aunt when you’d arrived. The neckline was modest, though, so she let you get away with it.

You felt Robby’s pinky twitch, itching to graze lower than it’s already inappropriate placement on the small of your back.

You stepped out of his hold, needing to create some distance if you were ever going to survive this night.

“Hi Robby,” you greeted sweetly, looking towards the dining room to make sure your family was out of earshot but still keeping your voice low as you spoke. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, thank you,” he chuckled. He was looking at your face now, warm brown eyes glinting with something dangerous. “I was told to come check on things in here and grab whatever’s ready to be moved to the table.”

“Right,” you smiled, chewing on your inner lip, reluctant to break eye contact. Nevertheless, you looked over to the last couple of dishes that sat on the counter. “You can take those. I’ll be right behind you—this is almost done.”

Before he could walk away, you turned back to the oven, bending over to peek inside and check on the challah. Robby cleared his throat, your dress barely lifting but still giving him a nice view of the curve of your ass.

“Right, well, I’ll just um–” he choked out. You heard him shuffling around behind you, grabbing the food from the counter. “I’ll, um, see you in there.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed nonchalantly.

You were back where you’d been exactly one week ago—sitting at your aunt and uncle’s dining room table, trying not to oggle Michael Robinavitch in front of them. You were not doing a very good job of it, either.

He looked even better this week, somehow, wearing a soft blue button-up that was perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, unbuttoned just enough that you could see the edge of the gold chain that’s been plaguing you every time you closed your eyes. His beard was trimmed neatly, and his hair was tousled, like it had once been styled but he’d run his hands through it several times.

It was all a part of the game the two of you were playing, you supposed. You were both putting in effort, toeing the line, without being obvious. It was sort of exhilarating—having a secret.

“Y/N?” Aunt Deb asked expectantly.

“Sorry,” you blushed, realizing you’d been caught zoning out while looking directly at Robby, specifically at his neck, enraptured by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Guess I’m a little tired,” you explained. “What did you ask?”

“That’s okay, dear,” your aunt assured, smiling. “I was just wondering if you could tell me more about the lab you’re working in. We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier.”

“Oh, sure,” you nodded. 

You proceeded to tell them all about the lab rotation you’d be working in for the next eight weeks. About how you were worried that your late decision to go to the University of Pittsburgh would force you to work in a lab that had nothing to do with what you were interested in, but that, instead, you’d been able to talk to an advisor to map out a rotational plan for the year that was pretty much exactly what you wanted. You’d talked to the Primary Investigators for the 4 labs you’d be rotating through in your first year of the program.

What you didn’t say was that your advisor and the PIs you’d spoken to were more than happy to help you. They’d been shocked to hear that you’d passed on Johns Hopkins and were interested to know why. Upon learning that your parents died earlier this year, labs opened up to you. It was something you loved about this program, that while things were competitive, there was no lack of compassion from peers and superiors. It was also something you were ashamed of. You felt like it diminished your work as a scientist. Because you were a great scientist. You had a master's degree in Epidemiology, your name was on several publications, you had excellent letters of recommendation, and still, you felt like you were getting a handout.

No. You were determined not to almost ruin another dinner with your drama, with your insecurities, and your dead parents. Instead, you smiled and answered your aunt's questions about your peers, and your uncle’s questions about the Primary Investigator, and even Robby’s questions about the research. He listened especially thoughtfully as you spoke, asking you about computational tools and data models.

You got lost in it. So consumed by Robby’s interest in you that before you knew it, dinner was over. Aunt Deb was clearing the table and packing up leftovers for both you and Robby. Uncle David was leading Robby into the den to get him a book that the two men had discussed for him to borrow. Left with nothing to do, you slipped away to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, you checked yourself out, making sure your makeup was still flawlessly intact. You ruffled your hair, trying to tame the extra volume that the humid August evening gave it. You wet your index finger under the faucet and scrubbed at your teeth with it, ridding your mouth of any trace of food that may have been left behind. 

When you emerged, the hallway was much more crowded. Your aunt and uncle stood with Robby near the front door, just a few feet away from the small guest bathroom you’d occupied.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “Were you waiting on me?”

Robby shook his head.

“All good,” he reassured with an easy smile. “I thought I’d walk you home again.”

“That’d be great,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

Outside, the night air was cool against your flushed face, most of the day’s heat disappearing with the sun. If you were actually planning on walking home, you’d probably worry about being cold, but you knew the comfort of Robby’s car was waiting for you just around the corner.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. The moment you were out of view from the house, you were tucked into Robby’s side, his arm slung over your shoulders and sheltering you from any potential cold. In his other arm, he carried the grocery bag full of Tupperware containers of leftovers.

You knew the gesture was meant to be flirtatious, possessive even, in the way he held you close, fingers toying with the sleeve of your dress, but you couldn’t help the thought that it was actually sort of sweet. It felt domestic and natural in a way that you hadn’t expected so soon—maybe even ever, given the nature of this relationship. Either way, it made you smile, still unable to rid yourself of the blush dusting your cheeks.

When you reached the car, he held the door open for you and steadied you as you climbed into the passenger seat. After putting the bag of food in the backseat, he made his way around to the driver’s side.

“You okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing across your cheek.

You realized that you’d zoned out, staring out into the night through the windshield. Your bottom lip was raw from where you’d worried it between your teeth, and your eyes struggled to refocus on Robby.

“Mhm,” you hummed, trying to find your voice as it also occurred to you that neither of you had spoken since you’d walked out the front door. “Yeah, sorry. I think I just got in my head for a second there.”

“S’okay,” he soothed, hand still cradling your face. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? I can just take you home, and that’s it. There is absolutely zero pressure.”

“I know,” you nodded, “but I want to.”

“Okay then,” he smiled. “But let me know if that changes.”

You nodded again, leaning into the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

“Yes, sir,” you teased, watching as his gaze hardened.

Robby’s jaw ticked, and his eyes flicked down to your lips before he lunged forward, leaning across the center console and pulling you into a heated kiss. Your lips parted immediately, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth expertly. You let out a soft whimper as his fingers curled into the back of your neck. Then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Robby was pulling away.

“Jesus,” he groaned. 

“Let’s get to my place before we end up fucking in the backseat of your car,” you suggested.

Robby laughed, shaking his head before he straightened in his seat, starting up the car. You didn’t miss the way he adjusted himself or the way he gripped the wheel like he was holding on for dear life. His right hand found its place on your knee, pinky tucked just below the hem of your skirt, and didn’t move for the entire drive.

You finally stepped into your apartment, Robby trailing behind, practically attached to you. He hadn’t stopped touching you the whole way up—first having interwined his fingers with yours for the walk from the car, then wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled your back flush to his front in the elevator while he rested his chin on the top of your head, and finally brushing your hair away from your neck so he could press kisses into the sensitive skin while you fumbled with your keys at the door.

You managed to detach from him for long enough to toe off your shoes and take the leftovers from him. Robby followed suit, leaving his shoes in a row with yours and following you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything?” you called, transferring the food from the bag into your refrigerator. 

“I wouldn’t mind some dessert,” he answered, much closer to you than you’d realized, as you finished putting everything away.

“I don’t think Aunt Deb gave us any—oop!” 

Suddenly, Robby was picking you up, and then you were sitting on the cold counter of your kitchen island.

“This okay?” he questioned, stepping into the space between your already parted knees.

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting back a smile at how insane this whole situation felt.

Then, Robby was kissing you again, left hand on your thigh, right hand holding the back of your head. You rolled your hips forward, trying to get closer and gain some friction.

“So needy,” he teased, grinning against your lips. “How many orgasms can you take?”

Holy shit. You leaned back, looking at him like a deer in headlights.

“I– I don’t know,” you stammered.

“Wanna find out?” The smug look on his face would be annoying if it wasn’t so hot.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, please.”

Robby hummed in approval. His thumb moved from where it rested gently on your cheek to press against your chin, holding your mouth open.

“Already so good for me,” he cooed. You let out a small noise at that. “You like that, baby? You wanna be my good girl?”

“Uh-huh,” you responded as best you could. You were basically panting at this point.

Robby leaned in again, capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licked greedily into your open, pliant mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as he pleased.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he rasped, resolve clearly slipping. “You’re gonna do exactly as I say, and you’re gonna tell me if there’s anything you don’t like. You say ‘stop,’ and I stop, no questions asked. You think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped. Then, thinking back to how he’d reacted earlier in the car, you amended. “Yes, sir.”

Robby let out a guttural moan.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now, lie back for me, baby.”

You followed his instructions, lowering yourself onto your elbows as he scooted you backward on the counter so that he was leaning forward between your legs. Robby ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your dress up until it was bunched around your waist.

“Such a nice dress,” he complimented. “Can’t believe your aunt let you get away with something so short, though.”

You whimpered as your ass made contact with the cold surface of the marble countertop. Robby was toying with the waistband of your panties, a black lacey pair that you’d picked out just for him, just to see the hungry look in his eyes that he was giving you now. All week, you’d fantasized about this moment, and it was turning out so much better than you imagined.

“Can I take these off of you, baby?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he made eye contact with you.

He ran the knuckle of his index finger up the center of your clothed core, providing the lightest pressure to your clit. Your whole body shook at the contact. He dipped the tip of his finger into the waistband, eyebrow arching further as he waited for your response.

“Please,” you whined.

Robby smiled, somehow both sweet and sinister. He took his time peeling the underwear from your body, then kissing his way back up your thighs. He maneuvered you so that your legs were hooked over his shoulders as he pressed you open, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place.

“So pretty,” he said, more to himself, at the sight of your pussy spread before him. He dove in, licking from your entrance to your clit in one swipe. “Fuck, you taste so good, baby. So wet for me. This all for me, sweetheart?”

He was looking back up at you, but you were struggling to stay up on your elbows. You were desperate to watch, but he was working you over so well already.

“Yes,” you mewled. “Yes, it’s all for you. Fuck, please, Robby. I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he corrected. “Just lemme take care of you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, and Robby made good on his promise. He lapped at you like a man starved, laving and circling your clit with his tongue, then suckling and nipping. Then he moved lower, his tongue tracing your folds to your entrance, skillfully thrusting and swirling at your weeping hole. Meanwhile, his nose nudged your bundle of nerves. It was all too much as he alternated his attention between the two.

And there was nothing you could do. You desperately wanted to grind against him, but his hold on you was too strong. The way his beard was scraping at you was deliciously painful. You imagined the purple bruises that would litter your hips and the red burn that would paint your inner thighs in the morning. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Robby,” you groaned, fully collapsing onto the counter. “I’m gonna—fuck—gonna cum.”

“Go ahead,” he growled into your cunt. “Cum for me, baby.”

The combination of his permission and the vibrations his words sent through you sent you over the edge. Back arching and toes curling, you wailed as you climaxed. Robby continued to lick and suck at your aching pussy. He shifted one arm, and you thought he would lift off of you. Instead, you felt his thick finger circle your entrance as you clenched around nothing. Slowly, he inserted the finger with an embarrassing squelching sound.

“Holy shit,” you croaked.

“That’s my good girl,” Robby urged. “You can take it.”

He continued to fuck one finger into you as the waves of your first orgasm crashed over you. Once you’d come down from the high of your climax, Robby was working a second finger into you, curling to press against the spoungey spot inside of you that made your hips buck.

Robby’s left arm wrapped tighter around your leg, pressing you down harder into the cold surface beneath you and bringing his hand closer to your core. Before you knew it, his thumb was rubbing harsh circles into your clit.

Your second orgasm built up faster than the first, your body still not fully recovered from the first high. You felt the coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. One of your hands found its way to his hair, gripping desperately at the strands, while the other splayed against the counter, trying to ground yourself.

“Robby, holy fucking shit–” you pleaded. You were running out of words, left with just a string of expletives and his name over and over again.

“I know, baby, I know,” he encouraged. “Be a good girl and cum for me again.”

“Uh-huh, gonna– gonna–” 

You came with a sharp whine as Robby’s fingers stilled inside of you and the thumb of his left hand switched to stroke slow and soft against your clit, coaxing you through your second orgasm of the night.

“Good girl,” he repeated. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”

Your whole body was buzzing, barely registering as Robby lifted away from you and pulled you by your legs back to the edge of the counter. You did notice, however, when he pulled you into a seated position. He was completely supporting you, feeling like you were made completely of jelly.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he crooned, brushing the hair out of your face. “You still with me?”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, he was beautiful. His dark, lovely eyes were looking at you like you were the whole world, his eyebrows were lifted expectantly, his beard was shining with your juices—you had never seen anyone look so good.

“I’m here,” you sighed contentedly. You tilted your chin forward, non-verbally requesting a kiss.

Robby obliged. His mouth moved languidly against your, allowing you to explore and taste yourself on his tongue. It was obscene.

“You done?” he questioned. “Or do you have another one in you?”

“Oh, Michael,” you flirted. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

He chuckled, arms locking around your lower back.

“I do my best,” he replied.

“Well, your best is very good,” you affirmed. “The thing is, it’s so good that I don’t think I can walk to the bedroom, which is where I would love for you to fuck me.”

This time, he laughed harder, throwing his head back. You loved the way the creases around his eyes deepened and his chest rumbled with it. You loved that you could still make him laugh, even after two mind-blowing orgasms.

“I think I can make that happen for you, baby,” he said, pecking your lips before hauling you up into his arms. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement.

Once in your room, Robby set you gently on the bed. You shifted onto your knees to get a better angle to work his belt off of him. Then you were yanking at his shirt, untucking it from his pants.

“Easy,” Robby soothed with an amused chuckle.

You watched as he removed his button-up and undershirt, your hands immediately running up the planes of his stomach and chest as soon as they were revealed. You scraped your nails lightly through the trails of hair that lined his body, marveling at his innate manliness. 

You sat up taller on your knees, reaching for the item that had been the object of several of your fantasies since you’d met Robby. The gold chain that hung around his neck, his Magen David, of course. You traced it with your finger, and Robby shuddered under your touch.

“Now you,” he instructed, helping you out of your dress fully. 

You reached behind yourself to release the clasp of your bra before chucking it to the side. Then, you reached forward to undo the button of his pants. Robby stopped you, replacing your hands with his own, dropping his pants and boxers in one go. 

Even his cock was beautiful. He was larger than anyone you’d been with before, but not so large that you’d worry whether he’d fit inside you. Again, you reached for him, and again, Robby pushed your hands away.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you insisted, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Next time, pretty girl,” he promised, bringing you in for a chaste kiss. “Need to be inside you now.”

You nodded obediently, moving backwards on the bed towards your pillows. Robby followed, crawling on top of you. Your legs parted to accommodate him.

“Condom?” he asked, already reaching toward your bedside table.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

He rolled it onto himself, then shifted to support himself on one arm, hand pressing into the mattress beside your head. His other hand traveled down your body, tracing the curve of your breasts, your hips, where bruises from his earlier grip were already blooming, and in between your legs. He parted your folds, dipping into your wet heat.

You gasped at the contact, still sensitive from your earlier orgasms.

Robby slowly inserted one finger, then another. He worked you open with two, scissoring his fingers, thrusting, and curling them into your G-spot. Eventually, he added a third, the stretch softened by all the build-up. Finally, he removed his fingers, reaching down to line up his erection with your entrance.

“You ready for me, Y/N?”

It was remarkably tender. The stern dominance from before wasn’t gone, just moved to the back burner. It seemed like both of you could tell this was important, this was a line that couldn’t be un-crossed.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Please, Michael.”

With that, he pushed into you. Slow, steady, burning deliciously low in your belly. Then, he was fully inside you. It felt like being remade—all of your atoms were rearranging themselves to accommodate him. Every inch of him that was pressed against you felt electric, stomachs and chests and legs, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to be closer. 

You clawed at his back. You pulled at him anyway you could. His arm supporting his weight, and you prayed for a moment that he would collapse into you.

“Y/N– hey!” His free hand swiped at your cheek, and you realized that you were crying. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yes– yes, I just–” a sob wracked through you.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, lowering further to hold you better, but, thankfully, not pulling out. “What do you need?”

“You,” you said weakly. With him this close, you could feel the Magen David pressing between your chests. “Need you close.”

“Okay, baby,” he reassured. 

He was holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, both hands under your head, cradling you, fingers threaded in your hair. He lifted slightly for just a moment to press a kiss to your forehead before lowering himself again. 

“I’m here,” he promised.

Robby rolled his hips into yours. Each thrust was deep and hard, his pace steady. He rested his forehead against yours, your noses nudging as you made out messily and panted into each other’s mouths the whole time he fucked you. The thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed perfectly at your clit, bringing you closer with each thrust of his hips.

“Such a good girl,” he reminded you. “Doing so good for me, sweetheart. Taking me so well. You were fucking made for me.”

You knew it was dirty talk. It was something people said. But for the first time, it felt real. It felt like you were made for Michael Robinavitch.

After he brought you to a third orgasm, after he’d climaxed as well, the condom catching all of his spend, after he’d promised that next time he’d get you to four, after he’d cleaned you up with a warm rag from your bathroom and returned to lie in bed with you, you whispered two words into the darkness. 

“Don’t leave.”

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Taglist: @kajjaka @abbotitts @snakesonastarship @bloodink94 @starstruckl @marleyindapitt

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

[fanfic-ya-know]

Update on Nice Jewish Boy

Hi loves! Part 3 of NJB is almost done! Just a heads up, it is far more vulgar and smutty than I had initially intended... I hope that's not a problem for anyone lol

Anyway, back to writing, and I'll hopefully have it out in the next few hours!

k thanks byeee 🫶

[fanfic-ya-know]

I LOVE NICE JEWISH BOY AHHHHHH

HOLY SHIT THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH

but like fr, thank you guys for all of the love that this fic has been getting! I thought this idea was gonna be too niche and entirely self-serving, so I am so glad that so many of you like it 🥰

[fanfic-ya-know]

Nice Jewish Boy (Part 2)

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x afab!Jewish!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: not beta read, language, alcohol consumption, age gap, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl), things get kinda heated

AN: The reader is Jewish in this work. I do not think it is imperative to fully understand Judaism or identify as Jewish in order to enjoy this fic. I, the author, have Jewish heritage, but I was not raised in a practicing Jewish home. I did extensive research on the Jewish practices that are mentioned in this fic, but PLEASE let me know if there are any inaccuracies so that I can correct them!!

I wanna climb that old man like a tree…

Masterlist: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

Hi, this is Michael Robinavitch. Your aunt gave me your number for matchmaking purposes.

You smiled down at the text that appeared on your phone. It had been less than 24 hours since you’d last seen Robby, and here he was texting you.

You’d replayed the events of last night on a loop in your head pretty much non-stop, worrying that you’d made things weird. It was weird if you thought about it too much. Robby was old enough to be your father. He’d make a good mentor, a good connection to have in town, but you couldn’t deny the feeling you had about him. It was a dull, persistent ache in the pit of your stomach.

Hey Robby

Found someone for me already? You work fast lol

You tried not to overthink the messages too much. Still, you reread them even after you’d hit send, hoping for a tone casual enough to seem innocent but with an underlying flirtiness that he could pick up on if he was also interested.

You’d been attracted to older men before—Robert Downey Jr., Javier Bardem, Keanu Reeves, Patrick Dempsey, the dad from ‘The Nanny,’ one of your professors from undergrad—but you had never acted on it, only dating age-appropriate matches, boys you met in your college’s Hillel program, or friends’ cousins that they’d try to set you up with. They all had a level of immaturity, of inexperience, that turned you off.

You knew flirting with Robby in any capacity was a bad idea. You knew it would end badly. He’d probably say something to your aunt and uncle about your inappropriate behavior, or at least reject you, leaving you to die of embarrassment. But you were feeling a little reckless, a little self-destructive.

Not quite… Just thought I’d text you so you have my number now as well.

You were trying to formulate a response, but Robby messaged again.

You can text me whenever.

I mean, if you ever need anything.

The immediate triple text made you smile, realizing that maybe you weren’t the only one overthinking this. The thought gave you the confidence to push a little further.

Know where I can get a decent drink?

Perfect. This way, he could just text you the name of his favorite spot, but it leaves the door open for–

Yeah, I was actually just thinking about going out. I can pick you up in 20, if you’d like to join.

About an hour later, you sat across from Robby, tucked into a booth near the back of the crowded bar. It’d taken exactly twenty minutes for Robby to send you the ‘here’ text, only ten to drive to the bar, but the same amount of time to find a place to park, and almost a full twenty more just to order your drinks and find a spot for the two of you to sit. You probably should’ve expected this. It was a Saturday night after all.

You swirled your straw around in your drink—a vodka cranberry that you’d regretted ordering as soon as the words left your mouth. You’d sort of panicked as soon as Robby insisted on buying you a drink, saying the first thing that came to mind. Now, you felt like the cocktail made you look childish.

“Missed you at temple this morning,” you teased. “Aunt Deb was beside herself.”

Robby laughed, taking a bitter swig of his beer. Placing the bottle back on the table, he swiped at the corner of his mouth to catch the drop that had escaped.

“I’m sure,” he ribbed back. “She should be happy I actually showed up to dinner last night.”

“She is,” you reassured earnestly. “I am too, by the way.”

You took a big sip of your drink, ducking to hide the blush that rose to your cheeks. You hoped the low lighting of the bar would help, too.

“Yeah?” Robby asked, looking like he was piecing something together before he took another drink of his beer. 

Your gaze lifted from the spot you’d been studying on the table to watch the way his large hand loosely gripped the neck of the bottle, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way the gold chain under his collar shifted as he moved.

“Yeah, I guess, me too.” His words drew you out of your trance.

Robby offered you a genuine smile that heated you from the inside. You looked back down at your drink, not much of the pink liquid remaining.

“Want another?” Robby hollered over the music that seemed to be getting louder by the second. You nodded, and he stood to head back to the bar with a shout of “Be right back!”

You turned to watch his retreating form until he disappeared into the throng of people surrounding the bar. He wore dark-wash jeans and a loose-fitting white tee that was cropped to just the right length to sit at the waistband of his pants, no need to tuck it in. He also had on a flannel, the sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows. You wondered briefly if he’d always had good style, effortless in a well-tailored way, or if an ex-girlfriend, maybe even an ex-wife, had helped him out somewhere along the way. 

Robby returned a few minutes later with another sweaty beer and your vodka cran, placing them on the table. You looked up at him, where he stood over you, briefly enjoying the vast height difference.

“Thanks!” you shouted, the music now making it almost impossible to hold a conversation. You supposed people didn’t really come here for a nice chat, though.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, taking his seat across from you. He took a slow swig of his fresh beer, his eyes staying trained on your face. You opted to glance around the bar that was rapidly filling with bodies. “When do classes start?” he asked, drawing your attention back to him.

“Monday,” you answered, struggling to get the word out over the blaring music.

Robby just nodded, now surveying the packed bar himself.

“Do you come here a lot?” you questioned, practically screaming at this point.

“What?” He leaned over the table, trying to get closer to hear you better. The collar of his t-shirt moved, giving you a glimpse of his collarbone and the gold chain that rested against it. God, you wanted that chain between your teeth—you salivated a little bit at the thought.

“Do you–” You held up a finger, reconsidering just yelling at him fruitlessly. Instead, you stood from your spot across from him, sliding into the booth next to him. Better. “I was just asking if you come here a lot.”

Robby laughed. Not his awkward, ‘I don’t know what to say’ chuckle, but a real laugh. It was addictive.

“Are you seriously hitting me with the ‘you come here often’ line?”

“No!” you panicked, worried that your flirting had finally crossed a line. “No, I just– this doesn’t really seem like your scene. The whole going out and partying on a Saturday night thing…”

“Are you calling me old?” he asked in mock offense. “If I remember correctly, you asked me to take you to a bar.”

“Actually,” you corrected, catching on to his playful tone, “I just asked you to tell me if you knew of a place I could get a drink. You made yourself my personal Uber driver all on your own.”

“Your Uber driver?” he chuckled. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Maybe a little more,” you pondered. “You did buy me a drink… or two.” 

You took the moment to swirl your drink with your straw before taking another sip. When you looked back over at Robby, you became very aware of his stare, of the way he watched your mouth as it moved around the thin black straw.

“Maybe more like an Uber driver with benefits,” you concluded. Robby huffed a laugh at your flirtatious joke.

“Benefits, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, looking you over in a way that made your blood boil under your skin. “And what benefits am I entitled to in this arrangement?”

“Anything you want,” you answered, trying to maintain the confidence that had gotten you this far.

Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of how close you were. You’d crowded Robby into the booth, and he’d had to turn his body to look at you properly. He was twisted towards you, one arm resting on the table, hand staying near his beer. His other arm was draped across the back of the booth, something you hadn’t considered until now—now that his thumb was ghosting over your bare shoulder, having opted to leave your light jacket in Robby’s car after feeling the warm August evening air. Now, you felt a chill run down your spine.

“We should, uh–” 

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“I’ll go close my tab.”

You scrambled backward out of the booth, probably resembling a baby deer, wide-eyed and clumsy. Robby placed a warm hand on your hip to steady you. Then, he hooked two fingers into the belt loop of your jeans to turn you towards the front of the bar. His hand slid to the small of your back, pressing gently to guide you through the crowd. When you reached your destination, he removed the hand, and you briefly mourned the loss before his whole body pressed into you.

You assumed Robby had somehow nonverbally communicated with the bartender over your head, because he came over shortly with the check for Robby to sign.

“Have a good night, man,” he said to Robby behind you, pushing the flimsy slip of paper across the bar and offering you a smile before turning to another customer.

Robby’s left arm curled around your waist as he leaned over your right shoulder to scribble down his signature. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning on the side of your neck.

“Let’s get out of here,” he husked into your ear.

Robby pressed you against the passenger side door the moment you reached the car. One hand holding your hip, the other came up to cup your jaw delicately, tilting your face upward towards him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. 

His rough thumb brushed across the soft skin of your cheek, stopping at your lips. He pressed down, parting them around the pad of his finger. You were basically panting at this point. 

“You sure about this?” He was still just looking at your mouth.

“Robby,” his name came out a little slurred from the hold he had on you. You were holding on for dear life, fists clenched in the fabric of his flannel.

“I mean—Jesus, sweetheart—I’m at least twice your age.” Technically, he was speaking to you, but you could tell from the glassy look in his eyes that he was somewhere else. He was lost in thought, and you needed to bring him back.

You sucked his thumb into your mouth, wetting the digit, swirling your tongue around it, and running your bottom teeth against the pad. You released the finger, letting it fall from your lips. Robby’s thumb dragged your bottom lip down towards your chin before releasing it to snap back into place.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight.

“Michael,” you cooed. That got his attention, his eyes snapping up to yours. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to god I’m–”

You couldn’t even finish the threat before he was surging forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

He kissed you with urgency—not desperate, but insistent. His hand that had been on your cheek moved to cradle the back of your head, keeping it from bumping uncomfortably into the window as his lips pressed forcefully against yours. His tongue swiped expertly at your bottom lip, and you opened immediately, granting him easy access to every inch of your mouth. You were putty in his hands.

It wasn’t until Robby pulled away from the kiss that you realized you’d been grinding upwards into him, his hand on your hip guiding you against his thigh—the evidence of his own arousal pressing into your stomach.

“Get in the car,” he groaned into your still-open mouth. You involuntarily followed him as he pulled away, back arching, your body magnetized to his. “Now.”

The drive back to your apartment was mostly silent; the only sounds you could hear were your heartbeat thumping in your ears and the long, labored breaths you were taking. Robby didn’t seem in much better shape, left hand white-knuckling the steering wheel while the right gripped your thigh. The warm weight of it was grounding, anchoring you.

The moment Robby shifted the car into park, having found a spot in the small lot outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and launched yourself at him. It seemed that he had the same idea, removing his own belt and tugging you into his lap, helping you climb over the center console.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he rasped, getting you settled over him, knees bracketing his hips.

Suddenly, you were moving against him again, your core dragging along his hardened length. The denim-on-denim contact was creating a delicious friction between the two of you. And Robby was kissing you again, licking hotly into your mouth. One of his hands was on your lower back, guiding your hips and keeping you from bumping the horn. The other hand was tangled in your hair, pulling and maneuvering you however he pleased.

He used that leverage to tug you away from the kiss once more, moving his lips to the hinge of your jaw before you could protest. He mouthed at the sensitive skin, a needy whimper ripping from your throat at the sensation of his soft lips and rough facial hair. He moved further down your throat, kissing and nipping, but never staying on a single spot for long enough to leave a mark. At worst, you’d have a little beard burn in the morning that would go away with some heavy moisturizer.

Your hands were running all over him, gripping and clawing at his biceps, his shoulders, his chest. Both eventually came to a stop in his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp and the nape of his neck.

“You wanna come up?” you panted, more intoxicated by the man beneath you than the two drinks you’d had back at the bar.

Robby lifted his head from your neck, stilling your hips with his hand on your back. You were pressed flush against him, both of you heaving from the lack of air in your lungs. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing his irises almost completely. He looked as thoroughly fucked as you felt.

“I–” he swallowed. “I can’t.”

“What?” you asked, pushing at his chest to move away from him slightly. “Why?”

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you replied, trying not to sound too disappointed. Obviously, he didn’t owe you anything, but you’d kind of hoped that this was going somewhere. “Right, of course. I–I’m sorry. I should–”

You made to climb off his lap, but his hands stayed put on your hips, not letting you go.

“Hey, hey, it’s not like that,” he soothed, one hand moving to cup your cheek again. “I really do have to work tomorrow, which means that I should already be asleep. And if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right. Wanna take my time with you.”

You tried to fight the smile that came to your lips at that, enjoying the thought of Robby taking his time, making you feel good. You allowed him to pull you into another kiss. This one was more soft and slow—an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your mouth. “I didn’t expect this to happen tonight.”

“Me either,” you admitted. 

“Right,” he chuckled. The hand on your cheek moved to your neck, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you away from the kiss. “So I work pretty much all week, and you’re about to start classes…” he trailed off for a moment, thinking. “...but if my invitation to Shabbat dinner is still valid–”

“You know that it is,” you cut in, a smile tugging at your lips with the knowledge of where he was going with this.

“–then I’ll see you then,” he said. “And I can walk you home again?”

You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a giddy smile. You still wanted to play this cool, to not seem like such a virgin. Not that you were, of course, but being with Robby sort of felt like it. He was so much older and clearly more experienced.

“Sounds good,” you agreed, leaning forward to peck him on the lips once more.

You reached over to the passenger seat, retrieving your jacket. Then you opened the driver’s side door and slid out of the car. Turning back to give him one last look, you smiled at the way he bit his lip as he watched you.

“Goodnight, Michael,” you said, just as sweetly as you had the night before.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @kajjaka @abbotitts @snakesonastarship @bloodink94 @starstruckl @marleyindapitt

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

[fanfic-ya-know]

nice jewish boy is absolutely phenomenal im dying for more

yayyyyy I'm so glad you like it!

I'm working on the next part rn, so I'm hoping to have that out in the next few days. I work full-time tho, so we'll see if that actually happens 😅

[fanfic-ya-know]

I really like the jealous Todd fic!!! Pushing his buttons bc what do you mean it’s been literal years and you’re trying to convince yourself it’s casual what do you meannnnn

Thank you so much!

I'll probably keep writing one-shots for some Lewis characters, but right now, my main focus is The Pitt. I have a whole notebook of ideas tho so we'll see <3

[fanfic-ya-know]

Nice Jewish Boy (Part 1)

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x afab!Jewish!Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: not beta read, language, mentions of close family member death, angst, religious themes (reader is mostly non-practicing tho)

AN: The reader is Jewish in this work. I do not think it is imperative to fully understand Judaism or identify as Jewish in order to enjoy this fic. I, the author, have Jewish heritage, but I was not raised in a practicing Jewish home. I did extensive research on the Jewish practices that are mentioned in this fic, but PLEASE let me know if there are any inaccuracies so that I can correct them!! This work came to me in a dream, and I simply had to write it.

And also to avoid any confusion: FUCK AI, FUCK ICE, and FREE PALASTINE. Thank you.

Masterlist: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

“Michael Robinavitch,” your Aunt Deb called loudly across the store, much to your embarrassment. 

The man she’d been shouting at returned to view, having passed by your aisle so quickly it was honestly impressive she’d spotted him at all. You watched as he drew closer, wary, obviously caught off guard. 

He was a large man, broad and tall. He wore a loose, dark blue hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, over a faded t-shirt and cargo pants. He looked like somebody’s dad. As he got closer, you could see beyond the well-groomed facial hair and dark eyes. You could see he was tired—something bone-deep and far beyond just one night of restless sleep. It was a kind of tired you knew all too well as of late.

It was clear that he recognized your aunt—he likely knew her well, based on how sheepishly he approached. It was almost comical to watch a fully grown man look so frightened of the small woman to your left. If you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might find it unwarranted, but with her temperament, he was right to be afraid.

“Michael,” she repeated once he stood before you, metaphorical tail between his legs. Her tone was scolding, but she wore a knowing grin. You’d been on the receiving end of this look before—it was terrifying. “Haven’t seen you at temple much recently.”

“Deb,” he sighed. He let out a sort of breathy chuckle, somehow both exasperated and fond, as he wiped the back of his neck with his palm, looking down at the supermarket floor. “You know how things are with work. It’s hard enough to get a day off, and when I do–”

“It’s okay,” she cut in, correcting her chiding tone with a gentler expression. “I understand. You’re still taking the sabbath, though, right?”

Michael’s eyes lifted from the floor, finally meeting her gaze, and he nodded. “Whenever I can.”

It was then that you realized he was handsome. Something in the way his forearm flexed just before he lowered it back to his side, in the sharp downward slope of his nose, and in the crinkles beside his eyes that indicated years of wide smiles, sent a strange sort of churning through you.

Aunt Deb gave Michael a warm smile, one that forced him to mirror it. She was like that: stern, authoritative, but always kind. She could see through a person to their core. The thought brought a small smile to your own lips.

“Good,” she affirmed. “Why don’t you come over for Shabbat dinner this week?”

You looked back over to Michael, curious as to what his response would be.

“Sure,” he said with a small huff, conceding to the fact that doing what she wanted would be easier on everyone. His eyes flicked over to yours, reminding you that you were here, in your body, standing in the supermarket with your aunt. You’d completely forgotten that you’d existed for a minute there. Michael held your gaze, a kind and curious look in his eyes, but he spoke again to your aunt. “And who’s this?”

“My niece, Y/N,” Aunt Deb answered. You awkwardly jumped into action, stepping forward and extending your hand for him to shake. “She just moved here, actually.”

Michael accepted your hand, his much larger one enveloping it easily. His palm was warm and rough against yours, sending heat through your body that had chilled significantly in the store’s air conditioning without you noticing. He raised his eyebrow at you, smiling.

“Really? Wha–”

“The two of you will have plenty of time to chat when you come over on Friday, Michael,” she cut him off once again. Michael dropped your hand, and you stepped back into place at Aunt Deb’s side. “But I’ve gotta get home and start working on dinner.”

You smiled at her, holding in a laugh at her sudden curtness. Everything ran on her schedule, and when she was done talking, she was done.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a fond smile, likely thinking the same as you.

Aunt Deb pushed the cart past him, patting him on the shoulder as she continued her way down the aisle towards the check-out lanes. Realizing that you hadn’t spoken once in the whole encounter, you paused briefly in front of him.

“It was nice to meet you, Michael,” you offered with a shy smile before following after your aunt, not waiting for his response.

The days passed quickly. You had a little less than a week left until your classes started, so you spent your days with your aunt. The two of you had always been close, but when your parents died earlier this year, you started leaning on her more than usual.

That’s what had driven you to Pittsburgh in the first place. You’d applied to the University of Pittsburgh’s doctoral program as your safety school, never intending to actually go there, but then your life took an unexpected turn, and you found yourself needing the emotional support of your favorite aunt and uncle.

They accepted you with open arms, helping you find an apartment that you could afford, conveniently situated between campus and their house. Your aunt helped you settle in, and her presence was largely comforting in the new space, reminding you of your mother. They had many of the same mannerisms, similar faces and voices, but there was a warmth that your mother had that was now missing. It left you feeling hollow.

Still, you let your aunt pull you along with her to the grocery store, helped her prepare meals, attended synagogue, and pretended like everything was fine.

Friday rolled around before you knew it, and unlike last week, it wouldn’t just be the three of you. Your aunt had given you the basics on your dinner guest. Your Uncle David had grown up with Michael here in Pittsburgh, and the two of them had been casual friends for most of their lives. Michael, who actually preferred to go by Robby, was a doctor in the Emergency Department of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He came around every so often when your aunt could convince him to let her cook for him, but for the most part, he was alone in the world.

“It’s sad, really,” Aunt Deb spoke over her shoulder from her place at the stove. You stood at the kitchen island in their cozy brownstone, idly tossing the salad as you listened to her. “He was raised by his grandmother, but other than her, I don’t think he has much family.”

“And she died back when we were in college,” your uncle added. He passed behind you as he entered the kitchen, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head, recognizing that the topic was likely to bring up some negative feelings for you. “It was very sad. She was a wonderful woman—everybody loved her.”

You thought of your own parents’ funeral just a few months ago. The pews of the synagogue you’d grown up in were filled with mourners. People came up to you as you stood alone by the door, telling you how wonderful they’d both been, how sad—no, how tragic—it all was.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I’ll get it,” you all but croaked, desperately trying to shove the emotion down.

You dropped the tongs into the salad bowl, practically bolting from the room to answer the door. You took a moment in the hallway, taking some steadying breaths. You looked at yourself in the large mirror that hung on the entryway wall, zhuzhing your hair and painting a charming smile on.

“Hi,” you sighed, trying to make your voice sound light, swinging the door open. “Come on in.”

Michael—no, Robby—stood just outside, his large frame taking up your entire view. He looked much more put together than when you had first met a few days prior—now in a crisp white button-up tucked into dark slacks. His left hand was shoved into his pocket, and the other was wrapped around the neck of a very expensive-looking bottle of wine. Your eyes drifted back up to his face. The porch light caught the grey in his beard just right, catching your attention on the shimmering patch just below his bottom lip. It suddenly occurred to you that you were staring, and at his mouth no less. What the fuck were you doing?

You flicked your gaze back up to his eyes. He was watching you intently, and your face burned at the realization. Robby stared back at you expectantly, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Shit, sorry,” you stammered, stepping back out of the way so that he could actually come in the door. “I mean–”

Robby chuckled good-naturedly, making you feel marginally better about your fumble.

“It’s okay,” he smiled. He turned to face you as you stepped behind him to shut and lock the door back into place. “You look nice.”

The truth was, you did look nice. You’d worn one of your favorite dresses and put real effort into doing your hair. You’d gone above and beyond to look nice, but you just couldn’t figure out why. You told yourself that it wasn’t because of Robby—at least not specifically—but that it was because there’d be a guest at dinner. You thought you’d put in an effort for any guest. And even if it was because of Robby, it was because he was a doctor. He was probably someone who knew people, someone who might be able to help you out professionally.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “You too.”

You led Robby further into the house, reaching the small dining room where Aunt Deb was setting the food that the two of you had spent the day preparing on the table. She grinned at Robby as he entered the room, pulling him into a big hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” you heard her whisper to him.

They parted, and she took the wine from him, shouting something like “you didn’t have to bring anything” over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen to uncork the bottle. Robby glanced over to you and let out one of his breathy laughs, which you’d started to recognize as his standard reply to just about everything.

“Robby,” your uncle greeted, shaking hands with the man, pulling him in to pat his back in a more ‘masculine’ hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he replied.

Aunt Deb came back into the room, the bottle of wine tucked under one arm and the last dish in her hands: the perfectly baked challah. You helped her place the final items on the table, and the four of you gathered to take your places.

The dinner was nice, blessings and conversations and wine flowing easily. Once, when Robby leaned forward over the table to reach something closer to your side, you caught a glimpse of a thin gold chain beneath his dress shirt. You had to force away the brief thought of it dangling over you that flashed into your head.

Instead, you asked Robby about his job at the ED, listening to his stories about the exciting department intently.

“You know,” your aunt chimed in as Robby finished telling you about one of his cases from the day, avoiding key details that would invoke a HIPAA violation. “Y/N’s going to be a doctor.”

“No,” you tried to correct.

“Yes,” she challenged.

You turned back to face Robby, trying to rectify the situation. He just looked at you with those kind, expectant eyes.

“I mean, yes, technically,” you started. “But not like you. I’m getting my PhD, not an MD.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Interesting, what are you studying?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. This was usually where you lost people.

“Microbiology and Immunology,” you stated. Robby’s eyebrows shot up, the lines on his forehead deepening. He looked… surprised? Amused? Impressed? You couldn’t quite place it. “With a specification in Epidemiology,” you added finally, biting your lip.

“Huh,” he voiced. Maybe baffled was the right word. “That’s, uh, wow…” He was blinking a lot. “And, uh, Pitt…” he continued. “They have a good program for that?”

“Pretty good,” you shrugged. “I was actually supposed to go to Johns Hopkins, but my, um,” you swallowed, “plans changed. Decided I wanted to be closer to family.”

“Well, we’re very proud of her,” Uncle David interjected, trying to lighten the mood before you could completely derail dinner. “And we’re so glad she’s here.”

He reached over and gave your arm a squeeze. You forced a tight smile in an effort to reassure him.

The rest of dinner went by quickly, as you stayed mostly quiet, listening as the others conversed. They fell into an easy conversation about mutual friends and your cousin’s engagement. It was not lost on you that now that her last son was soon to be married, your aunt would turn her match-making eye to you.

As you stood in the kitchen, helping to clean dishes and package leftovers for Robby to take home, it seemed the same idea occurred to Aunt Deb.

“Michael,” she started, looking over at him where he leaned against the kitchen island just waiting to be dismissed for the evening. “You meet a lot of people at the hospital.”

Robby opened his mouth to respond, probably to ask her what the hell she was getting at, maybe to shut down whatever she was going to ask next, but he couldn’t get a word in as she continued anyway.

“And I don’t mean patients,” she clarified. “I mean, it’s a teaching hospital, right? So you get a lot of young doctors coming in and out.”

“Sure,” he answered warily, not quite sure where this was going. 

But you knew. You saw her glance over at you when she set down the dish towel. Her smile was sweet—she wanted something, and she was determined to get it.

“Aunt Deb,” you warned, trying to put a stop to this train wreck. She ignored you.

“Great!” she beamed. “Then you can introduce Y/N to any nice Jewish boys you meet.”

“Oh, Deb, I don’t–” he argued.

“You really don’t need to do that,” you reassured before turning back to your clearly deranged aunt. “Aunt Deb, Robby doesn’t–”

“He doesn’t mind,” she retorted, swiftly shutting down any possible argument you could muster.

You turned back to face him, shooting him a pleading look with your eyes, begging him to talk some sense into her.

“Sure, fine,” Robby sighed. “I can’t say I meet many interns who fit that bill, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“That’s all I ask,” she concluded. “You staying over, honey?”

“What? No, I–” You’d completely forgotten about that: no driving on the sabbath. “I thought you could take me home, but…”

Your aunt and uncle were far more orthodox than your parents had been. Growing up, you could get away with driving on a Friday night, or at least taking public transit. And when you’d moved out of your parents’ house, you’d basically disregarded most of the standard Jewish laws. Now, you were having to relearn everything you’d forgotten from Hebrew school.

“I can walk you home.” Robby’s voice broke your contemplative silence. Before you could argue, he added, “I’d be happy to, really. It’s a nice night.”

The two of you made it out the door about 20 minutes later, after several rounds of hugs and “are you sure you don’t just want to stay over”s. Stepping out into the cool summer evening air felt nice. You fished your phone from your bag, intending to pull up the directions to your apartment, but Robby was already walking.

“This way,” he called. 

You trotted after him, curious as to how he was so sure he knew the way to go when you hadn’t told him where you lived. You rounded the corner at the end of the block. 

“How passionate are you about actually walking home?” he asked, but you weren’t quite sure what he meant. “Because…”

You watched as Robby pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket, clicking the button a couple of times. Just a few feet away, the lights of a nice-looking SUV flashed.

“Oh, thank god,” you thought aloud. Robby chuckled, taking that as answer enough to his previous question.

He opened the passenger door for you, offering his hand for you to use to steady yourself as you climbed in. The soft leather seats felt nice against the backs of your thighs, your dress riding up slightly. Robby closed the door once you were settled, and you watched as he circled the car to the driver’s side. Once inside, he passed you his phone as he started the engine.

“Put your address in there for me,” he instructed.

You did as he said, and the directions appeared on the large screen between the two of you. Wordlessly, he pulled away from the curb, starting your journey home. You set his phone on the center console. The quiet was nice, comfortable, which was strange for the circumstances. You hardly knew this man, and yet, you felt completely safe in his presence.

Robby broke the silence first. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I didn’t mean to trigger anything, asking about school and stuff…”

Oh, that.

“It was my fault, really,” you assured. “You had no way of knowing. It seems like you haven’t really seen my aunt and uncle in a while, so there probably hasn’t been much time to talk about my dead parents.”

You were trying to make a joke, trying to make it sound light as it came out of your mouth, but it seemed—like so many of your other attempts at humor—to fall flat.

“I–” Robby was struggling to find the right words. “I’m so sorry.”

That was, obviously, the standard reply.

“No, no, really,” you blurted, desperately trying to salvage the conversation. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It was just a few months ago, so it still gets to me sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That, uh—that might take a while. It might get to you sometimes for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, great,” you said. “So glad I have that to look forward to.”

That joke went a little better, you thought, as Robby let out a short snort and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. 

“Can I–” he paused, contemplating his next words. “Can I ask how they died?”

“Car accident,” you answered immediately. “Drunk driver. In the middle of the day on a fucking Wednesday. Just came out of nowhere.” You were staring straight ahead, your eyes getting a sort of faraway look as you talked about the incident that had dramatically changed the course of your life. “They both died on impact.”

“Right,” was all that Robby said, his voice sounding hoarse and almost muffled by your thoughts.

Silence fell over you both again—much heavier this time. When you came back into your body, you decided it was your turn to cut through it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Robby nodded, humming an affirmative response.

“Why Robby?” you questioned. “Like, why do you go by Robby and not Michael or Mikey or something?”

“Oh,” he faltered, not expecting that to be your inquiry. “It’s just what most people call me. I’ve been Robby most of my life—it was just the nickname that stuck, I guess. But when I became a doctor, I decided to be Doctor Robby. It’s a little easier to say than Robinavitch. Your aunt just likes to grind my gears.”

“So you prefer Robby?”

“With most people, yeah,” he said before adding, “but it’s nice to still be Michael sometimes.”

You hummed in response. You could understand that. The car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building, finally home. You turned to face Robby.

“Who are you right now?”

He took a moment to think, looking over at you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Michael,” he answered finally.

“Okay,” you said, offering him a small smile. 

You would think about what happened next for days, probably even weeks, to come. Possessed by a boldness you’d never had before, you leaned across the center console and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The skin was warm and soft against your lips, your bottom lip catching slightly on the stubbly edge of his beard. The moment stretched for what felt like an eternity, but eventually, you pulled away. You reached back, opening the car door behind you.

“Goodnight, Michael,” you whispered sweetly before climbing out of the car and walking away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @kajjaka @abbotitts @snakesonastarship @bloodink94 @starstruckl @marleyindapitt

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

[fanfic-ya-know]

Bashert Masterlist

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x afab!Jewish!Reader

Series warnings (updated with each chapter): not beta read, language, close family member death, angst, religious themes (reader is mostly non-practicing tho), alcohol consumption, age gap, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl), things get kinda heated

Author's note: The reader is Jewish in this work. I do not think it is imperative to fully understand Judaism or identify as Jewish in order to enjoy this fic. I, the author, have Jewish heritage, but I was not raised in a practicing Jewish home. I did extensive research on the Jewish practices that are mentioned in this fic, but PLEASE let me know if there are any inaccuracies so that I can correct them!! This work came to me in a dream, and I simply had to write it.

Bashert (pronounced bah-SHARE’T) is a Yiddish word that literally means “destiny.” Though it can be used to refer to any fortuitous event perceived to be divinely ordained, it is most commonly used in reference to finding one’s soulmate.

** indicates smut

Nice Jewish Boy

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3** Part 4**

{This work is also posted on AO3, but I do not consent to any of my work being replicated or used for AI adaptation purposes. Thanks <3}

Taglist: @kajjaka @abbotitts @snakesonastarship @bloodink94 @starstruckl @marley-sketches @thedamnqueenofhell @fortjackson @angelynn-nicole @thesandbeneathmytoes @mythology-dragon

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

[fanfic-ya-know]

You Love Me

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x gn!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: not beta read, not even proofread, no use of Y/N, basically nothing else, this is just fluff

AN: I tried to be as vague as possible when describing the reader, but they are described as smaller than Robby. Also, I wrote this instead of sleeping.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

The sun filtered in through the curtains, beams of light floating across the bedroom as the curtains swayed in the breeze that the ceiling fan created. It had been the light that’d woken you, a ray of blinding light perfectly hitting you in the eye. Usually, you’d be upset to be so rudely awoken on your day off, but today was different. 

Today, you didn’t wake up alone. The warm body next to yours was so rarely there when you woke up that you chose to appreciate this rare occurrence. Your days off only aligned unplanned every so often, usually reserved for days with a purpose. Not today. Today was a fluke. One that could only be accounted for by the sheer luck that your boyfriend was the one who made the schedule. And he’d planned this for no good reason. 

So here you were, awake before Robby, which didn’t even happen on the days you worked and he didn’t. It was a miracle he’d slept past the sunrise. You didn’t want to spoil it, trying to move as little as possible. 

You lifted your head from its place on his shoulder, your cheek sticking ever so slightly to him, the light sheen of sweat that sleep brought making your skin tacky. Turning, almost comically slow, you rested your chin where your left cheek had once lain. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, still in the throes of a deep sleep, lifting your chin with each breath. 

You were slowly becoming aware of your body, lying on your stomach, half on top of the fortus of a man you shared a bed with. One numb arm was tucked beneath you, knuckles pressing awkwardly into his armpit. Your right arm was draped across his torso, fingers curled, loosely gripping the supple flesh of your lover's side. You were almost straddling him, your left leg was stock straight, every inch flattened against his right, toe pointed downwards. The other was hooked across his hips, the heel of your foot pressing into the outside of his left thigh. 

You ached to stretch, the position suddenly feeling impossibly uncomfortable, so you decided you’d take it step by step. First, you moved your right leg, trying to relieve the overextended feeling in your hips. You settled for wedging it between Robby’s legs, now straddling just one of his thighs rather than his whole body. Next, you dislodged your left arm from beneath you. Pulling it free, you allowed just the tips of your fingers to brush the bicep of the arm he had wrapped around you. Amor fati. You lightly traced the words etched into his skin that you could not see, but you knew they were there. 

Satisfied with your new arrangement and seeing no change in his disposition, you grew bolder. Dipping your head slightly, chin digging into the meat of his shoulder, you pressed a kiss to his skin. You lifted your gaze again to watch his face. Still, no change, no indication that he’d awoken. You trailed your right hand across his body. His stomach muscles shuddered under your touch, but he still didn’t wake, his chest rising and deflating in the same steady pace as before. You held your palm to his chest, feeling the drumbeat of his heart. Your eyes never left his face, watching for any sort of tell.

You almost felt bad. Sure, Robby was always a deep sleeper, but he never got enough of it, and here you were, on the verge of disrupting it. Nevertheless, you couldn’t stop yourself. The urge to touch and admire was too strong. 

You lifted your hand to cup his jaw, fingernails gently scratching through his beard. You swiped your thumb across the apple of his cheek, relishing the feeling of the soft skin under the pad of your finger.

You’d always found Robby beautiful, even in the harsh light of the ER. It never ceased to amaze you how captivating this man that you loved was. But right now, in the golden hue of the early morning, shifting light glinting, catching the grey hairs in just the right way–this was the most beautiful you had ever seen him. 

You traced the wrinkles beside his eyes, first the left, then the right. They were softer now as he slept, but you could still see their faint outlines. The same was true of the crease between his eyebrows. You smoothed the skin with your pointer finger, then you dragged it down, mapping the slope of his nose. You loved Robby’s nose, maybe most of all. You repeated the action, starting between his brows and tracing downward, lifting off at the tip of his nose. Once more, you copied your previous movements. This time, you continued the line, brushing over his mustache, dipping into his cupid’s bow, and lightly catching against his bottom lip.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain, and you yanked your hand away. His eyes still closed, Robby’s mouth twisted into an amused smirk. It took a moment for it to register–he had bitten you.

You pushed yourself up onto your hands, your right hand shoving playfully at his chest.

“You asshole!” you exclaimed. “How long have you been awake?”

His arm that had been lazily draped across your back shifted lower, tightening around your waist and pulling you back into him. His eyes finally fluttered open, wrinkles surrounding them deepening as his smile widened, toothy and infuriating.

“Since before you,” he chuckled fondly.

“Ugh,” you whined dramatically, fighting your own smile, and losing. “I hate you.”

His left hand came to cradle the back of your head, dull fingernails lightly scratching into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Uh-uh,” he eloquently retorted, pulling you in until you were face to face, lips brushing with his next words. “I don’t believe you.”

He kissed you, closed-mouthed and chaste, but not lacking any amount of sweetness or affection.

“You’re the worst,” you murmured unconvincingly, going in for another kiss.

He allowed it for a short moment, but he pulled you back with a gentle tug using the grip he had on your hair.

“You love me,” he corrected, pecking your lips again.

You hummed in response–a high, whiny sound that left him dissatisfied. 

“Say it,” he instructed. Your eyes were still closed from the last kiss, expecting another. “Say you love me, or no more kisses.”

Your eyes shot open, and you gasped in mock offence.

“That sounds a lot like coercion.”

Before you could register what was happening, you were being flipped onto your back. Robby hovered over you, eyes shining with playful dominance, just daring you to challenge him. It was still early, though, and you were easy because he was right. You love him. You nodded up at him obediently, admitting defeat.

His strong arms bracketed your head, but he shifted his weight to hold himself up on the left one alone. His right hand came to your face, thumb stroking your cheek gingerly.

“Say it,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.” “I love you,” you said immediately, broken by his softness. “I love you,” you said again. “I love–”

Robby surged forward, collapsing into you. His kiss was the only thing in the world. It was all-encompassing, his large body shielding you from the outside world. His palms pressed into the sides of your face as the rest of him settled over you. He was stealing the air right from your lungs, but you didn’t mind. Who needs air? His teeth nipped at your bottom lip. His tongue dipped into your mouth, exploring the space like he had so many times before. He was everywhere and everything.

Eventually, he pulled away slightly, nudging his nose against yours. His beautiful, perfect nose that you loved. “I love you too,” he breathed into your mouth, and you realized you were panting.

Robby was fully lying on top of you, kissing all over your face. The delicious weight of him pressed you into the mattress. You love him.

“You’re crushing me,” you teased, wheezing dramatically. “I’m suffocating. I’m dying.”

Robby chuckled at your theatrics.

“Shut up,” he said against your lips. “You love me.”

[fanfic-ya-know]

Unfortunately, I've become addicted to The Pitt.

If I wrote a Robby x Reader fic would you guys even gaf? I'm probably gonna do it anyway, but lmk.

[fanfic-ya-know]

greedy pt. 2

Pairing: Todd Stevens x Reader 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: not beta read, reader is afab, reader is described as shorter than Todd, mentions of alcohol consumption, 18+ content, SMUT – dacrypilia if you squint, pet names (good girl, baby, pretty girl, princess), praise kink, pinv sex, mentions of bruising, softdom!Todd

AN: Ask and you shall receive! Here’s part 2 to this fic as I combat writer's block for the other fic I’ve been agonizing over for months… enjoy!

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

Todd’s kiss was all-consuming. It was like every time his lips met yours, the rest of the world was blotted out of existence, eclipsed by him. This one was no different, and far more intoxicating than the alcohol in your discarded solo cup, “forgotten” on the staircase for someone else to clean up later.

His left hand hadn’t moved from its place on your cheek, simultaneously cradling your face and curling his fingertips into the nape of your neck, pulling you into him. His other hand still gripped your hip. His thumb swiped soothingly at the supple skin, drawing your attention to the few tears that fell as you got lost in his kiss.

Todd pulled away, his palm warm and rough against your skin, holding you in place as you tried to chase his retreating mouth. He looked at you for a moment, eyes deep and stern, glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. Something between concern and fondness.

“Hey,” he said, voice more gentle than you’d ever heard from him. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m here,” you croaked, shaking your head, trying to dispel whatever had come over you.

Todd crooked an eyebrow, clearly not buying the shake off. He had always been too perceptive for your taste, picking up on things you tried to bury and latching on – you’d always chalked it up to his need for control.

You scoffed, the laugh coming out wet and bitter as you looked away from him, turning your head out of the comfort of his hand.

“C’mon, Todd,” you tried again, forcing your voice to even out. You swallowed, gaze hardening before meeting his once more. “You gonna fuck me or what?”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he confirmed, yanking your hips forward, flush with his own, forcing your back to arch against the wood of the door behind you. You could feel his bulge through his jeans, long and hard and perfect. His hand that had previously cradled your cheek tenderly now gripped your jaw harshly. Your chin slotted into the crook of his thumb and pointer as his fingertips pressed possessively. “But first, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on with you.”

It was no use fighting – you knew you would cave no matter what. He just had that effect on you.

“I–” you paused, considering your next words. You’d already admitted too much; whatever had been between you was going to be changed. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

He nodded. Still, he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. God, he wasn’t making this easy.

“I want this,” you confessed. “You. Me. All of it.”

Todd’s hold on your face loosened, his thumb reaching to collect the stray tear that fell to your cheek. His hand retracted, dipping the digit into his plush mouth to taste the salty drop.

“Good then,” he said once he’d finished assessing you. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You can have it.”

It sounded so matter-of-fact, like it was the easiest thing in the world to him, like this wasn’t some earth-shattering revelation. Todd’s smile deepened at the look on your face, likely one of shock or confusion or disbelief.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he mimicked your earlier words, but now it was laced with endearment. He moved you swiftly, his hand on your hip shifting around your middle, the other cupping behind your knee, wrapping your leg around his waist as he lifted you from the ground. “You should know by now that you can have whatever you want with me.”

You settled your arms against his shoulders as Todd carried you over to his bed with ease, laying you down on the comforter as he had so many times before. He pressed a kiss to your lips before lifting off you to tug his shirt over his head. Next, he popped the button of his jeans, shucking them off at the end of the bed. Left only in his boxers, Todd helped you out of your shoes, tossing them towards the door somewhere. He leaned back over you, fingers dipping into the waistband of your bottoms and underwear, glancing up at you for permission. You nodded, letting out a small noise that almost sounded like please. He peeled both garments from you, your legs naturally parting to accommodate him once they were gone.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, kissing and nipping his way up your body until you were face-to-face. “Always so pretty for me.”

“Mhmm,” you managed. His attention was far more intoxicating than anything you’d had to drink that night.

“That’s right, baby,” he smiled, brushing your hair back out of your face. “Gonna take care of you.”

He placed another chaste kiss to your slightly parted lips and lifted off you again, this time leaning to the side to reach into the drawer of his nightstand. He fished out one of the condoms he’d been given by some student org promoting ‘safe sex’ earlier that week. The gold foil tore easily, and he reached down, pushing off his boxers and sheathing himself with the rubber.

He found his place between your legs again, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, catching slightly at your weeping entrance.

“You ready, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you hissed at the contact. “Please, Todd.”

“Anything for you, princess,” he teased, winking at you before sinking into the welcoming heat of your cunt. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You weren’t any more articulate, moaning and whimpering as he pushed his impressive length into you – no matter how many times it’d been, it always felt like you were being split in half. 

Finally, his hips met yours, both of you panting into each other’s mouths. Todd rested his forehead against yours, taking a moment to just feel you as you adjusted around him.

“You can move,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Please.”

He nodded against you, and it was nice to see that he was just as affected by this as you. The slow roll of his hips was delicious, pulling a broken whine from you as he filled you again. Shifting his weight onto one arm, his left hand found its place on your cheek once more.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he cooed, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss.

Tood found a slow, steady rhythm, thrusting into you so good and so deep every time as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was languid, almost lazy, mostly tongues exploring each other’s mouths. The buildup of your orgasm was gradual, and still, it took you by surprise when you realized how close you were.

Typically, your hook-ups were frenzied, fueled by passion and a need to let off some steam. This was entirely different. This was lovemaking at its finest, but that realization wouldn’t hit you until later.

You broke the kiss, crashing back to the reality of your impending climax.

“Todd,” you breathed into his open mouth.

At some point, his hand had moved from your face to grip your hip. He was clinging to you so tight, you knew there’d be a bruise there tomorrow. His pubic bone was sliding deliciously against your clit. You knew you didn’t have long.

“I know, I know,” he panted. “Fuck – squeezin’ me so tight, baby. I’m right there. You can – Jesus – you can let go for me.”

So you did.

Todd didn’t let up, his cock spearing into you at the same pace as you rode out your orgasm, his name falling from your lips over and over. You clawed at his back, desperately trying to pull him further into you.

Just as he said, he wasn’t far behind you, spilling into the condom, hips finally stilling.

After a short moment, Todd kissed your forehead and pushed off of you. He stood on his knees between your still parted legs, pulling the condom off and tying the end. He chucked it into the trash beside his bed and collapsed into you.

You let out a soft chuckle at his dramatics, petting his hair as he pushed his face into the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just enjoying the post-coital bliss.

“So,” you said, nerves finally forcing you to break the silence. “Is this when we have the ‘what are we’ talk or…”

Todd groaned into your skin, the vibration tickling your neck, bringing a smile to your face. He lifted up onto his elbows, looking into your eyes with the utmost sincerity.

“I mean,” he started, “I think I made it pretty clear what I want us to be. And I think you want the same thing.” He wasn’t really asking, but you could hear the small twinge of insecurity in his voice. “But if you want to have a longer conversation about it, we can,” he said, and you smiled a little wider as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Tomorrow?” he offered with another kiss.

You nodded, replying with a soft “okay.”

“Great,” he said, kissing you again and wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you up with him. “Now, how ‘bout some shower sex?”