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AH I BROKE THE GADDAMN WHEEL

[gaultiano]

.☘︎ ݁˖ ₐbₒᵤₜ ₘₑ ! ⋆.˚

hi , i'm althea , or ali ! ✶ she/her , taurus , cabin 20 , 9teen , filipina 🐞

— pittpilled, carol hathaway's curls, marvel fan, DC enjoyer, trekkie, (wishful) artist, loser virgin (by choice), part-time letterboxd / serializd user, full-time michael robinavitch's wifey, ellipsis lover, rock & dance pop listener, MLP kayou card connoisseur, comic & PJO reader, b99 rewatcher, & DVD / CD collector ...

୭˚. ᵎᵎ interests , and other things

💿 : fiona apple, liz phair, adrianne lenker, she & him, charli xcx, kevin atwater, elliott smith, chris cornell, john mayer, glee cast, belle & sebastian, david bowie, jeff buckley, djo ...

🎬 : v for vendetta, amelie, the half of it, bones & all, the perks of being a wallflower, 13 going on 30, you've got mail, scott pilgrim vs the world, dead poets society, the fundamentals of caring, stand by me, ready player one, back to the future ...

📼 : brooklyn nine-nine, star trek voyager, derry girls, glee, ER, the pitt, MLP: FIM, skins, blue eye samurai, crashing, moon knight, star trek TAS ...

🎮 : finished — tlou pt.1, silent hill: shattered memories, MGS: peace walker (technically), NFS: most wanted

unfinished — rdr2, tlou pt.2, cyberpunk 2077

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ER screencaps ! 🍎

2x22 3x01 3x07 s4 randoms 5x05 5x05 pt. 2 5x07 5x08 5x17 5x20 ⋆˚࿔ vids -> 2x09 2x13 2x17 3x07

[robbyscoffee]

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ I’D DO WHATEVER I COULD DO | 𝓜 ❝ robby ❞ robinavitch

lynnie's coffee shop ☕︎⋆.˚ request guidelines ☕︎⋆.˚

SUMMARY ⋮ ⌗ ┆Your father calls you mid-shift to make you feel how he always does: Like he couldn’t care less about his only daughter. You try to push through and keep your head up, be the lovergirl everyone knows you as, but you can’t help but crumble, because all you want is to be enough for your father. Special to him.

Who’d show you just how special you really are but the day shift attending?

PAIRING ⋮ ⌗ ┆grumpy!michael robinavitch x sunshine!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ ⌗ ┆18+ SMUT AHEAD. MDNI. age gap (r! is in her 20’s, robby’s in his 40’s), r! is heavily implied to have anxiety. panic attacks. hurt comfort. r! is sort of a social worker but also a doctor. medical inaccuracies. other pitt characters featured. #alsomadeupcharactersfortheplot. small description of patient fall and sustained head injury. brief mention of blood. r’s father’s a deadbeat. briefly established backstory ⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ dom!robby. sub!reader. afab!reader. quick escalation. big dick robby. . .unprotected piv sex. tummy bulge. praise. cunnilingus (r!receiving). fingering (r!receiving). major daddy kink. two uses of little girl. slight fauxcest? (if you want to read it that way). pussydrunk!robby. use of pet names (kiddo, kid, sweetheart, babygirl, and honey are all used). palming. brief handjob. kissing. creampie. slight breeding kink.

WORD COUNT ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 6.7k

LYNNIE'S TEA ⋮ ⌗ ┆☕︎ started this on a plane ride and did not expect it to go as far as it did. . .everybody thank my own paternal issues for this one. . .i’m also not 100% i like this buuut hopefully someone else does ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ I'D RUN AWAY .ᐟ ꒱

AND HIDE WITH YOU.

“I NEED EXTRA HANDS in Trauma 2,” boomed the unmistakable sound of Dana’s voice across the ER. “Where the fuck’s our lovergirl?”

That was usually your cue, but you didn’t catch it at first. If you had, you’d’ve probably bolted the other way, extending your already too long break that’d went from a five minute call to a fifteen minute panic attack. One more stressor and you’d be down for fucking the count.

“Right here,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, approaching the center desk. Too late to back out now. “What’s the case?”

“Six-year-old fell from her treehouse. Robby’s already in there,” said Dana. She gave you a quick once over, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Y’okay, hun?”

You blinked back tears at the genuineness of her tone. “Yeah. Fine. I’m on the case,” you said with a nod and a tight smile. Not too obvious, nor too shallow. 

This was your poker face. This, you had to be good at. Because with even half the things you went through on the daily, it’d be foolish not to have mastered it.

You felt like an idiot for letting your father make you feel this way. For giving him so much leverage over your outlook on life. The people around you thought you loved wholeheartedly because you’d learned it from someone else, but the reality was far more complicated than that.

You loved the way you did not because of someone you knew, but someone you wanted to. Someone who loved like the word had no limits, like the way you did.

Your father was incapable of such treatment. When you left Boston for Pittsburgh years prior, he barely bat an eye. Just wished you well and asked you come back for the holidays, but never complained when you didn’t. Never cared that you didn’t. The man hardly cared about you, period.

And so he calls sometimes. Tries to be a father. Tells you he’s thinking of you, but it always feels like you’re a check on a to-do list. An afterthought. Like talking to you is an obligation, a thing he does because he has to, not because he wants to.

He’d called you in the breakroom the minute you got the door closed. You’d forgotten about the juice you were about to indulge in before answering the phone, wondering what he wanted. The man had promptly asked for help with the bills, and you being the angel you were, unable to ignore someone in need, no matter how salty, sent it without complaints. He hadn’t even told you he loved you when he hung up. Just told you this is what your responsibility was as a daughter now. He’d taken care of you, nurtured you after your mother had left. So you should be thanking him.

Man, you thought. Your old man had a twisted sense of family.

That call had you questioning your own validity. What had you done to deserve the loneliness you’d accumulated? To have a father who used you like an ATM? Friends who knew you but didn’t see you? It felt like the world was on your shoulders, too heavy for one person to carry, especially for someone so young. 

The last place you wanted to be carrying all these feelings was the PTMC. But life didn’t stop just because you were having a go at it. So neither could you.

You all but sprinted to Trauma 2, not ready to get back to work, but at least able. Eleven in the morning was early for a fall out of a treehouse, and you’d hate to be the little girl who’d taken the damage, so you made quick work of your feet, willing them ahead until you arrived.

At the bedside were Doctors Santos and Garcia, as well as Langdon, Javadi, and your attending, Doctor Robby. Behind Santos and Garcia were the parents of the children who were in inconsolable tears, being comforted to no avail by Doctor Javadi.

“Still no consciousness,” said Santos with her lip between her teeth, her hands working quickly at the bleeding gash across the little girl’s forehead.

“How high’s this fucking treehouse?” said Garcia, ever the blunt one. You shook your head.

“Garcia,” you chided, because that was often your role. Keeping the flow of empathy in a room at any given time alive. Especially when that room contained people in dire need of it.

“Am I happy to see you,” said Robby. He excused himself from the bedside while the other doctors worked, handing you a chart. “Talk to the family before you jump on. Girl’s named Hailey, mom and dad are Janet and Carl Atkins. You know the drill, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Robby,” you said with a nod. You tapped your fingers against the cardboard of the chart as you read its contents, like that’d somehow snap you back into doctor mode.

It’s the thought that counts, right?

“You’re an angel,” Robby said.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins,” you said when you approached the parents, introducing yourself. “Why don’t we take a step outside?”

“We’re not leaving our daughter,” said Mrs. Atkins, who was still in tears.

“I understand your pain, Mrs. Atkins, but these doctors are doing everything to care for your little girl. Soon, that’ll mean lots of blood and sights you won’t want to remember of her. I promise you can come back in as soon as they’re finished.”

Mrs. Atkins, Janet, looked at her husband with teary eyes. He nodded and turned to you. You took that as your cue to lead them out of the room. Robby nodded as you made your exit with the parents.

“What happened this morning?” you asked gently, keeping any accusation out of your voice. You knew from experience that families of patients never responded well to that.

“H- Hailey wanted to play outside. It was beautiful out. We went into our backyard after breakfast, a- and Carl and I were having a bit of coffee after helping her into her treehouse. She’s a smart girl, so I thought—“ Janet stopped her sentence short to heave a sob. Carl rubbed her back.

“You thought you could trust her, like all parents do,” you finished. “She’s six. Still small, but she’s learning about the world in her own way, and you want to let her. There isn’t anything wrong with that. Then, what?”

“We didn’t even see her get out. Usually she stays inside and calls for one of us when she’s ready to come down. But this time, I guess she thought she could do it on her own,” Carl said. “She’d just hit the ground when we ran over. And we called 911.”

“I see. It’s to my understanding that Hailey’s very lucky,” you said after taking a good look at the chart. “No noticeable fractures, minimal chance of long-term brain damage. The worst she should walk away with is a concussion and a sprained ankle, but apart from that and her visible wounds, she should be back to health in no time,” you said.

“Then why is she not waking up?” said Janet.

“Her age and nature of the impact are likely to blame for her unconsciousness. Falling hard on your back is generally more dangerous, especially for teenagers and children. That doesn’t mean her injuries are severe,” you said calmly. “Hailey’s your only child?”

Janet nodded. “She’s the best little girl in the world. She was everything we prayed for.”

“Your love for her is palpable. You’re first time parents who are navigating the ups and downs of what it takes to raise a child. Mistakes don’t negate your progress. There’s no benefit in being hard on yourselves,” you said. “This wasn’t your fault. Children are naturally curious and occasionally unpredictable. That doesn’t mean you’re to blame for what happened today. The most you can do now is be there for Hailey. That’s all you can do.”

Janet sniffled, moved by your words. That was just the effect you had on people. 

Most people, anyway. 

It was your job at the PTMC to provide comfort to families in time of need, as well as finding balance in being a good doctor all the same. But it occurred to you more often than not that you had yet to acquire that same balance in your personal life. 

As per usual, that wasn’t the matter at hand right now.

The other woman took your hand in hers and squeezed. You squeezed back.

“Thank you. You’re a great doctor,” she said.

You smiled. “No, thank you. Now, why don’t you two take a seat over here? I’ll come back out with any updates on Hailey.”

After the parents sat on a bench outside Trauma 2, you braced yourself and went back in. Robby eyed you as you returned.

“Worked your magic out there, kiddo?”

You gave that same fabricated smile you’d offered Dina not too long prior and nodded, grabbing a pair of sterile gloves. “Sure did.”

He didn’t have to know that was just more of your magic.

After half an hour or so, Garcia finally threw her hands up, exhaling a sigh of relief. “My services are no longer required.”

You’d been helping keep the Hailey stabilized beside Robby, while Santos had been next to Garcia. Javadi and Langdon had since left to handle another case. You checked the monitor to view the girl’s heart rate and blood pressure and nodded your agreement.

“All set. Thanks for your help,” you saod.

“Sure thing. Call if you need the jazz hands again,” Garcia said before heading off.

“Good work, you two. Couple hours and she should be waking up,” said Robby.

“Great. I’ll give the parents the good news,” you said.

You discarded your gloves and put some hand sanitizer on before turning to face the parents who were still seated outside Trauma 2. They both stood up with urgency, looking frantic at your return.

“How is she?” said Janet.

You smiled. “Little Hailey’s going to pull through. She’s still unconscious, but we’ve completely stabilized her and she should incur no lasting brain damage from this incident. She’ll wake in a few hours.”

Janet threw her arms around you, and you responded with a little “Oh!” before reciprocating the hug.

“Thank you so much,” Janet said.

“Can we see her?” said Carl.

“Of course. Right this way.”

You led the way back into the room, where Robby was still standing opposite Santos. The latter backed away to allow the parents room to see their child.

“Thank you, Dr. Robby,” said Carl.

“You’re very welcome,” said Robby.

The two of them sat at their daughter’s bedside. Carl instantly grabbed Hailey’s hand, squeezing gently.

“We’re so sorry, honey,” Janet whispered in a quiet sob.

“Daddy loves you so much, Hailey,” Carl sniffled beside his wife. “We’ll never let anything like this happen again. I promise.”

I promise.

At the little declaration, you felt your throat tighten with a weird feeling. It felt like plain sadness at first, salt on the wound after your interaction with your own father. But it was more than that. Deeper.

It felt like fucking jealousy.

Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill at the scene as Carl whispered all the ways he loved his daughter. The promises to take care of her. The dedication to doing better. All things you wish your father could do for you.

It was too much.

“Um, if you’ll excuse me,” you said with your fake smile, though you weren’t sure how convincing it was now that it was paired with teary eyes and a broken voice. You practically sprinted out of there and didn’t stop until you reached the breakroom.

You slammed the door closed behind you and went for the sink. Everybody was busy with their own cases—it was just one of those kinds of shifts—so there was no one around to see you break down for a second time that shift. While it didn’t necessarily feel good to be alone, you weren’t sure you wanted anyone to see you like this.

Splashing water on your face was futile for your nerves. The sobs you heaved that came from the innermost parts of you were so much more than tears. It felt like all the things your father had said to you since he created you, the words or lack thereof that you’d tried and now failed to suppress, were bubbling to the goddamn surface.

You were in the middle of pressing your thumb to your palm, a trick for anxiety you’d heard from Dr. Collins, when the sound of the break room door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You took a large breath and didn’t immediately turn around, because you couldn’t give yourself away, couldn’t be vulnerable. Not on a day like this. Maybe not fucking ever.

You thought so, anyway, until the sound of Robby softly saying your name made your resolve crack in two.

“Y- Yeah?” you said without facing him.

“You alright? You kind of ran out of there,” he said. You could hear him coming closer.

“Oh, yeah, j- just needed a glass of water. Dehydrated,” you lied.

“Hydration is important,” he humored you. Yet his tone of voice gave way to the fact that you were a terrible liar. “But I’m not convinced that’s what this is.”

Fuck.

Tears spilled from your eyes. You still didn’t turn around, but when you felt your throat constricting again, your breath picking up speed, you realized it didn’t matter if Robby could see you or not. Your body language was going to betray you.

“I just need a m- minute,” you said, and that did him in. Your body started to shake with a familiar force, one nobody knew you dealt with on a daily basis.

A panic attack.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Robby said as your legs started to fail you. He didn’t say anything about the mascara that was probably coming down your cheeks, or the blatant redness in your eyes when you finally turned around. Instead, he sat you down in one of the chairs in the breakroom, rubbing your back. “Head between your legs.”

You did as told. This tactic did sometimes work for you. But it wasn’t enough to stop your heaving sobs or uncontrollable breathing.

“Come on, s’okay, in through your nose, out through your mouth,” Robby said. “It’s not forever. S’all temporary, s’all temporary. Come on, kiddo, breathe with me.”

Robby’s words felt like honey. But even the sweetest of candies can’t overpower the taste of salt.

It wasn’t Robby’s fault. Robby didn’t know. He didn’t know much about your life beyond the city you’d come from or who you are now. No one did. 

But that was just the thing. Even without truly, truly knowing you, Robby still wanted to help. That was more than your own father could ever say.

“It’s going to be okay,” Robby said finally. “Breathe with me.”

Every word had your nervous system slowly regulating again, and you tried to listen to the sound of his voice. After a few minutes of crying and shaky breaths, the world started to come back into focus.

“That’s a girl, just breathe. Breathe with me,” Robby hummed. “Let me get you some water.”

You felt the aftermath of your panic attack starting to hit the moment Robby returned with a glass of water. You drank it down in one quick gulp as your breath finally slowed back to normal pace.

“I’m. . .sorry you had to see that, I—“

“Don’t apologize. It happens to the best of us,” Robby said. You’d never seen the older man look so concerned. His eyebrows were wrinkled with worry, and there was a frown pasted on his lips.

After a beat, Robby spoke up again. “Did you. . .wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged, looking away. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”

You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh. You’d tell anyone else the same thing, but you felt stupid for feeling the way you did about a man you’d known for a long time would never change. The stupid thing was holding out hope that he would.

“My dad called me. Just before I hopped on that case,” you said shakily. “He didn’t even ask how I was or what I was doing. He. . .he needed money f- for his bills. So I just sent it without thinking twice. He didn’t even tell me he loved me or anything before he hung up. Just told me this was my responsibility now. So that little girl. . .her father caring so much,” you sniffled. “Just felt like salt to the wound.”

You looked away from Robby completely now, turning your head to the side. “It’s dumb, right? I’m in my mid twenties and I’m still getting hurt by the man when he’s always been this way. Anyone else would have given up by now, but not me.”

“Now, that’s not entirely true,” Robby said sharply. “You need your father today as much as you did when you were born. Your age doesn’t have anything to do with it, kid. And if he can’t show up like he’s supposed to, that’s on him.”

Robby tilted your face to meet his and caught your eyes. “He has no idea what he’s missing.”

You sniffled at the sweet reassurance, leaning your cheek into his palm.

“You’re sure you’re fit to stay?” Robby asked, stroking your cheek.

You almost thought you’d misheard him. There was a loudly spoken rule about all hands on deck at this hospital. Confusedly, you returned,  “It’s been crazy in here today. Don’t you guys need me?”

Robby shrugged. “We have the staff, for once. If you’re not 100%, we’ll be okay if you need to leave. Seems like you need to relax, and this place is definitely not helping with that.”

You giggled at that. “Yeah, probably not,” you agreed. Your smile then faded. “But it’s alright. I took the bus here and with midday traffic, who knows how long I’ll be waiting, anyway,” you sniffled.

“That’s true. And you can stay if you want,” Robby said as he stood up. “Or I can bring you home.”

You looked up at him confusedly. “Bring me home? But, Robby, you—“

“—Jack wanted to come in early,” Robby said. “S’no problem.”

The offer made your heart ache. “You’re sure?”

Robby gave you a small smile. “Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

That’s what wound you in the passenger seat of Robby’s truck the second Jack walked into the ER. He opened the door for you and buckled you in before getting into the driver’s side, putting the keys into the ignition.

“I’m sorry I’m making you do this,” you said with a small voice, leaning your head against the window. Even after his reassurance, you still felt guilty for pulling him away from work. “You have a job to do.”

“You’re not making me do anything. And Jack’s a good doctor. He’s got it under control,” Robby said. “How far are you?”

“I’m a little far. It’s about a half hour commute,” you replied. “You really don’t have to bring me, Robby.”

“How about we go to my place instead? It’s closer. You’ll want to decompress sooner rather than later, I imagine.”

You nod. “Okay,” you replied. Robby did the same and began to drive.

Your hands were still restless from the aftermath of your attacks. You leaned your head back against the leather seat, closing your eyes while shaky breaths left your lips. Robby didn’t say anything until he heard you hiccup another sob. He’d stopped at a red light and turned to look at you.

“Sweetheart? You okay?”

You cringed at the whimper that left your lips. “I don’t know.”

“Hey,” Robby said. He reached over and looped his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand to reassure you. “Don’t think about him. It’s not doing you any good. Put the window down, kiddo. That’ll help.”

You did as told, putting the window down ever so slightly. You used Robby’s hand like a lifeline while he drove, and not once did he let go.

Leaving the Pitt made you realize instantly how drastically it was affecting you. You had your anxiety under control most days, but it was easy for anybody to snap in a place like that. Now that you were here, you didn’t feel so frenzied. How Robby could run the show on a daily basis like he did, you had no idea.

The drive was mostly silent, save for the wind from your window and the low hum of the radio. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, not with Robby’s hand in your lap and intertwined with your own, grounding you throughout the trip.

He pulled up to a family home about fifteen minutes later. It was a beautiful place with flowers out front and two stories. Robby opened your door for you as you got out, and smiled when you immediately slotted your hand through his again.

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you inside,” Robby said.

You followed behind him and watched him unlock the door, letting you inside before following. You took the place in, shockingly neat for your sarcastic attending, while he slipped his shoes off at the door.

“You can shower upstairs if you want. I can give you some clothes to change into,” Robby said. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to eat yet. But thank you, Robby. A shower would be nice,” you said.

“Okay, sweetheart. Come on, you can have your pick of my closet.”

You followed Robby upstairs, taking in the various picture frames that lined the walls of the staircase. Most were with Jack or your other coworkers in group pictures. You were even in some of these.

Robby opened the door to his large room, his bed messy with strewn pillows and scattered books on the nightstand. There were some clothes on the floor and Robby grimaced as he retrieved them.

“Sorry about the mess. Don’t ever have company,” Robby said. “You can look through my dresser.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said as you approached it. You went through his drawers and picked out an old band tee and baggy sweatpants. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll get you a towel.”

After Robby did so, you took the shower you’d been in desperate need of, hoping the cold water would cleanse your nerves. They still felt incredibly frayed even after leaving work, and part of you was still in panic mode. 

Most of it was just plain sadness.

When you came out of the bathroom, Robby was sitting on the edge of the bed, which was now neatly made. He perked up when he saw you, standing up and pulling the covers back. “You didn’t like the sweatpants?”

You shook your head. The tee was long enough to cover the bareness underneath it, and your body temperature wasn’t regulated enough for pants yet. “No. I’m hot,” you said, folding the pants neatly back into the dresser.

“I see,” Robby said. “Feeling better?”

You shrugged, approaching the bed and settling in. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you said meekly.

“I don’t. But I want to,” Robby said. He tucked you in and turned the TV in the room on, handing you the remote. “I’ve got a few streaming platforms. Watch whatever you’d like. Let me know when you’re ready to eat.”

With that, Robby turned to leave the room, evidently wanting to give you your space, but before he could, you sat back up in bed. “Robby?”

Robby turned to look at you with a foot out of the door. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“Stay? Please, don’t. . .don’t go.”

Robby looked slightly startled by the request, but his expression shifted back into a smile just as quickly. He closed the door and joined you in bed, laying down over the covers. “Whatever you need.”

You turned the TV on and pretended to be interested in the channels, but even entertainment couldn’t do its part in distracting you. You flipped a random movie on before turning to Robby, laying on your side.

Robby rubbed your forehead, then stroked your hair with such care that you thought you might cry all over again. Maybe you would. “Comfortable, kiddo?” he asked.

You nuzzled into his touch, scooting closer. “Mhm. Thank you, Robby.”

“You’re welcome,” Robby said. “You let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

That simple comment worked you right up again, tears brimming in your eyes. All this sweetness from your somewhat gruff attending, the one who’d tucked you in after taking you home and giving you his clothes, no less, had you wondering how hard it really was for your father to do the same.

“Oh, honey,” Robby said as you broke down all over again. “Come here, baby.”

You followed the instruction of Robby patting his lap, sitting up and settling into it. You buried your face into his neck while he held you, cradling you like you were a baby. The gesture made you sob harder as he soothed you, rubbing your back tenderly while he shushed away your tears.

“Your father doesn’t deserve you. You’re too sweet to feel so neglected by him,” Robby said.

“Wh- What’s wrong with me? I just want him to care and somehow I feel like an asshole, because all I do is beg for the man to love me.”

“That doesn’t make you an asshole. It’s normal to want your father. Even more normal when he’s mostly absent.”

“I just want to be enough.”

“You are enough. More than enough,” Robby reassured you.

You pulled back to look at Robby, tears swimming in your eyes. “You’d. . .you’d take care of me, right?” you said without thinking. “If I was your daughter? You wouldn’t let me go?”

Robby smoothed his thumb over your cheek. “No, baby. I wouldn't ever let you go.”

You moved impossibly closer to Robby at the reassurance, now sitting up with your thighs on either side of his legs. He had a hand on your waist, the other coming up to cradle your cheek as he watched you stare.

“What is it, kiddo?” he said softly.

“I. . .I want. . .” you whimpered, bottom lip between your teeth. You of all people knew how unprofessional this position alone was, with your attending, no less, but you were craving more. Comfort. Touch. Love. All things Robby was willing to give you. All things your father never had.

Before you could overthink it, and before your brain could even process what you were doing, for that matter, you leaned slightly forward in Robby’s lap so that your lips ghosted over his. You pressed your hands to his chest in a silent plea, hitting him with those sweet eyes he’d known and admired since you joined PTMC.

But it was different now.

“Please?” you whispered.

“Sweetheart,” Robby huffed. He held his hand on the small of your back and left it there, making no effort to pull you closer or push you away. “We shouldn’t. Hell, I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t even be holding you like this.”

“I know, Robby, but. . .please, I won’t say anything. No one will ever know, I just. . .” you trailed off. 

Too late to back out now.

“Make me forget. Forget him, forget everything,” you said. Your fingers dug into his shirt, another wordless beg for more. “Please.”

Robby stared at you for a few long seconds, the silence louder than the sobs you’d heaved earlier in the breakroom. Your head was spinning from said tears, and it occurred to you that you should go home, lay in bed, pretend this never happened—

Until Robby cupped your cheek with a gentleness you’d hardly known he possessed, and pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss was electric despite its initial slowness. He was soft with you like he was afraid to break you, as if you needed to be handled with fragility. Except when aggression is all you know, it’s natural to exert—which is why you push your tongue past his lips and wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Robby understands instantly and settles a hand on your hip, the other finding its way to your neck. He holds but doesn’t squeeze, again, like you’re too soft to be handled in such a fashion, and works his lips against yours ravenously. You can already feel the hardness of his cock below you and it has you embarrassingly soaked.

“That what you needed, baby?” Robby said with a small smile, cupping your face as he said it. You shook your head, to which he replied, “Oh, no? Then, what?”

You let your hand drift downwards before you could think twice about it, rubbing the aching bulge in his pants with shaking fingers.

“Fuck, honey,” Robby groaned. “Big girl words.”

“I. . .I want your cock, Robby,” you whined.

“That right?”

“M- Mhm, please,” you managed through a few more rubs. Then, the cherry on top to completely seal the deal—

“Please, Daddy.”

He’d said to use your words, right?

“Shit,” was all Robby said. His pupils were completely blown at the name, but the disgust you half expected to see when you looked at him wasn’t there. No, when you looked at him, he held a different expression entirely.

And it looked a lot like lust.

“Y’want me to be your daddy, huh? Guess you really meant you wanted to forget,” Robby hummed like it was a normal Tuesday, and you hadn’t just asked your attending of all the people to play the part. Luckily, for you, Robby was happy to oblige—evidently so, as he yanked you closer by the waist, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I can be his replacement.”

With that, Robby flipped you onto your back and pinned you underneath him with his body, using a hand to prop himself up. You continued to rub at the bulge in his scrubs, only now, you’d begun to tug them down, already ready for more.

Robby followed your lead and released his hardened cock from his jeans, the tip aching and bright. You tried not to think too hard about how the hell that’d fit inside you as you started to stroke him carefully.

“Let me take care of you, Daddy,” you said. “After everything you did today.”

“You’re such a sweet girl, honey,” Robby said through a grunt. “But I’m afraid that’s your Daddy’s job, now, isn’t it?”

The sentiment made your cheeks flare, and you simply nodded.

“Good girl,” Robby cooed. He slowly tucked his dick back into his pants. Confusion filled your face until he started to lift your shirt—his shirt—up so that your skin was exposed to him. He smirked at the sight of you without panties on.

“Someone was ready,” he teased. He tucked his dick back into his pants and pressed featherlight pecks to your belly, then started his descent down your body, starting with your inner thighs. He kissed and sucked at the skin there which had you squirming instantaneously, watching your every move to gauge how you were feeling.

“This okay?” he asked. You nodded.

Robby did the same and continued his ministrations. When he finally locked eyes with your pussy, a little sigh left his lips at the sight of your wetness. “Fuck, honey. You’re soaked.”

“Couldn’t h- help it, Robby. Need you.”

“Ah-ah, that’s not my name,” Robby chided with a sharp bite to your inner thigh. “You wanna try again?”

“I need you, Daddy,” you corrected.

“Much better, sweetheart,” Robby said. With that, he finally licked his first stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you. He started slowly to watch your reactions, tonguing your puffy clit in steady circles while his fingers joined the ministrations, entering your aching hole.

Robby alternated between licking your clit and diving between your folds, but whether that was more for you or him was unclear. He was completely drunk on your pussy, and paired with the sound of your pleasured noises, he was eating you up like a man starved.

“Fuck, babygirl, your pussy’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Robby grunted, driving his fingers inside you. You arched back with a particularly loud moan, the new nickname making you dizzy.

“F- Feels so g- good, Daddy,” you moaned. Robby smirked.

“Yeah? S’your Daddy making you feel good, kiddo?” he grunted between your folds, though it felt like he was talking more to your pussy then to you. “You deserve it, honey. My girl deserves to feel so good.”

He lifted your legs above his shoulders so he could dive deeper into your cunt, and you gasped at the change in position, his face almost completely blocked by your own body.

“D- Daddy, can you even breathe like that?” you asked worriedly.

Robby chuckled against your cunt, the sound vibrating between your legs. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Just focus on feeling good.”

With that, he started to eat you out again, only this time, it felt completely different. This time, with his hands wrapped around your thighs and your knees hooked over his shoulders, there was no limit to what Robby could do to you. His tongue entered your hole this time while his big nose rubbed against your clit, and you were convinced you were seeing stars.

“Fuck, D- Daddy, m’gonna—!” you moaned loudly, bucking your hips into the heat of his mouth. You were grinding against his face shamelessly now. Thankfully for you, Robby didn’t seem to mind.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go, Daddy’s got you,” Robby cooed before flicking his tongue against your clit, and not letting up until you were practically exploding against his face, coming with a loud cry.

Robby eased you through your orgasm with small licks against your sensitive clit. When the feeling became overstimulating, he switched gears and pressed kisses to your inner thighs, peppering them in a gentle path up your abdomen soon afterwards. He continued until he was hovering you again, and you took the opportunity to press your lips against his.

You tasted yourself on his mouth and felt your wetness from his beard, both facts working you up even so soon after your last orgasm. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he immediately caught on.

“Needy little girl. So eager to cum again, huh?” Robby said, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You nodded, to which Robby chided, “None of that, babygirl. You tell Daddy what you want.”

“Want you inside me, Daddy. Want your cock,” you managed through shaky breaths, bucking your hips against his for emphasis. “Please.”

“You sound so sweet when you use your words, honey,” Robby cooed. For the second time, he freed himself, only this time he was visibly more hard. The tip of his cock was an angry red and dribbling bouts of pre-cum, and, fuck, did he look so much fuller than before. You gasped as he ran his head between your folds.

“You’re sure you want this, sweetheart? Absolutely positive?”

“Yes, Daddy, m’sure. I want you so bad. Please.”

Robby didn’t need another word before he was thrusting inside you completely, filling you to the brim.

You’d thought he was big before, but this stretch was completely different. There was a visible bulge where your bodies were conjoined which became more prominent with every little thrust into your pussy. Robby watched, utterly transfixed, at the sight of his large cock causing such an imprint on your skin.

“Y’okay?” Robby grunted. He had one hand on your belly and the other next to your head.

“M- Mhm. You’re so big,” you huffed.

Robby chuckled. “Hope that’s a good thing, sweetheart.”

“I- It is, I—oh!” you were cut off by the feeling of Robby’s hips snapping against yours, trying to find his pace. His stamina isn’t exactly what it used to be, but he’ll be damned if he leaves this room without making you feel good.

“Too much, kiddo?”

“N- No, not at all.”

“Good,” Robby said. He kept a steady albeit rough pace, reaching the deepest parts of you. It wasn’t your first time having sex, but it was with a man who was set on really taking care of you and not chasing his own pleasure. The thought made it feel all the more better.

You pulled Robby in for a kiss he answered gladly. As your tongues pushed against each other, his hips rocked even harder, driving his thick cock into your spongy walls. He was starting to hit the part of you that made you see stars, and you weren’t doing a good job of hiding it.

“That’s it, babygirl. That feel good?” Robby grunted against your lips.

“M- Mhm, y- you’re s- so good, Robby. Feel so good,” you said.

Robby chuckled and decided to let the use of his name slide, deciding you were probably too fucked-out to even remember your own right now. “You feel good, too, sweetheart. You’re so pretty like this,” he praised.

It was only a few minutes before Robby’s steady pace was replaced with a stronger one, as much faster as it was rougher. At the blown look of your pupils, he figured as much that this was what you wanted, what you needed, and he was right.

His cock was driving so far into you that it felt like he was in your throat. Every push had your back arching off the bed, unable to make any noise beyond a few broken whimpers and moans.

“That’s it, sweet girl. I got you, I got you,” Robby said gently, a stark contrast to the way his dick was bullying into your pussy.

“You—fuck—you promise, Daddy?” 

“I promise, honey. M’never letting you go, alright? Never,” Robby assured. Despite the pace, his words had your heart lurching, and you almost got emotional all over again.

“Robby,” you gasped. “I’m g- getting there again. Close.”

“S’okay, kiddo. Your Daddy wants you to feel good,” he groaned. He wasn’t so much looking for his pleasure as he was trying to give you yours. “What do you need?”

Easy. 

“Just don’t stop,” you said.

And Robby didn’t. He pressed kisses down your neck and sucked hickeys into your skin while he fucked you hard and fast, setting an absolutely lethal pace. The same pressure from earlier when you’d cum in his mouth was starting to return, and you were seconds away from your second orgasm.

“Cum with me, Daddy, please, please, I wanna feel you,” you begged, framing his cheeks with your hands. Robby had his on either side of your head while he smirked down at you.

“Yeah, you want my cum, baby? Want me filling your pretty pussy with my load?”

You nodded quickly, pulling him in for another kiss. “Yes, please. S’all I want.”

“That’s what you’ll get,” Robby said.

He didn’t stop until you were right on the edge, and when you were, he kissed you through it, rocking his hips into your pelvis and driving his dick hard into your cunt while your second orgasm crashed over you. You clenched hard around his cock as he spilled into you, securing your legs even tighter around his waist so that every drop stayed inside.

Robby got the message and gave a few last thrusts that stirred his cum deep inside you. When he pulled out, small ropes of white dribbled out of your hole and stained the bed, while the rest of it remained nestled within you.

“Who knew my little girl could be so dirty?” Robby teased, kissing your cheek.

You giggled. “It takes two, you know.”

“Fair enough,” Robby chuckled. “I’m going to get a towel, honey. Get you cleaned up.”

As he made his move to leave, however, you tugged his arm. Robby was at the edge of the bed. “Robby, w- wait.”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Did you. . .mean it? When you said you’d. . .never let me go?” you asked. “That you’d be his replacement?”

Robby smiled at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, nodding. “Yeah, sweetheart. I meant every word.”

[grimgasm]

☁️ shawn hatosy characters' fave sex positions ☁️

✶ pairing | andrew pope cody x f!reader, titus danforth x f!reader, jack abbot x f!reader ✶ word count | 1.1k ✶ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, praise kink, begging, overstimulation, squirting, orgasm control, desperate, soft dom!jack abbot, rough, teasing, breeding kink, pet names, choking, prone bone, spooning, mating press, multiple orgasms, size kink ✶ notes | for anon 🩷 follow up of this fic.

masterlist | ao3 | inbox | requests, taglist, submissions: open

prone bone | titus danforth fucks you fast and rough. rippling strength and punishing thrusts as he forces you to take what he gives; a starving bloodhound unmuzzled and set free with greedy hands and a hungry mouth. bullies your pussy into submission as he claims the softness of your body, hammering into you until you're slick and stupid, soaking his cock in sticky gushes of cum over and over and over again as he drives himself to exhaustion. leaves you shaky and half aware as he keeps you pinned beneath his weight, chest plastered to your back as dense thighs wedge between your legs to keep you spread open and wide. and when you claw at silken pillows for purchase, he chuckles. locks a forearm around your throat like a collar, the thick muscles squeezing down on your voice box as he tugs you harder into the crushing weight of his chest. suffocating, surrounding as your thoughts scatter like confetti. head floating and fuzzy as your vision glazes over, pulse pounding in your ears as all your focus narrows in on the burning heat of him behind you. the sweat slick catch of his skin over yours, the heady scent of his cologne clogging your nose as he grunts rough and exhales harsh, riding you hard. helpless and at his mercy while liquid fire coils low in your belly, your poor clit aching for attention he won't give until you're overstimulated and sobbing. when you whine - a choked, reedy little noise - and drool, he rewards you with a filthy drag of his tongue over your fluttering pulse point. you voice cracks when you beg him to cum, pump you so full you'll be leaking for days, "please, please, please." he responds by slamming his fat cockhead into your cervix, little kisses of pain-pleasure dancing along your nerves as you moan low and pitiful. then his chin hooks over your shoulder, stubble rubbing your neck raw from friction, growling into your ear, "that's it, fuckin' take it like a good girl. i'm not done with you yet."

spooning | jack abbot fucks you slow and leisurely. nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, his breath puffing across your skin shivery and warm as he rocks his hips into yours. tender as he takes his time mapping out your body. one arm is supporting your head like a pillow, stretched out under you across the bed while the other drapes down along your flank. brackets you in his embrace while a calloused palm massages the outside of your thigh. grinds close to hear you moan softly, feel the way your pussy clamps down on his fat cock, squelching. stuffed full and spread wide as silken walls struggle to squeeze around the girth of his shaft. all while you beg him to press in deeper, thrust faster, use you harder. he just hums in response to your whining as he follows the path of your curves, touches unhurried and caressing. questing and questioning. noting what makes your pretty mouth drop open in a gasp. cataloging what patterns on your aching little clit make you jolt in his arms. learning what touches make your brain short circuit and your pussy drool, thighs sticky and trembling. he cups the underside of your breast, the pad of his thumb circling your areola in meandering, teasing patterns. plays and plucks the tender bud until you arch and whine his name, head lolling back over his shoulder. sheathed inside you, his cock pulses once, twice. a solid weight that drags along the sensitive front wall of your pussy, kisses your g-spot. you twitch, nerves on fire, your bones threatening to rattle out of your skin. “please, jack - ooh fuh… ck - ‘m so close. it feels so good, just wanna cum, please let me cum.” he shushes you, low and authoritative. drops a string of kisses up the slope of your neck until he reaches your ear lobe where he rolls the fat between his teeth. kicks his hips forward to sheath his cock inside of you to the hilt, groaning at the silken squish of your gummy walls as you tremble around him. pets a hand over the soft swell of your lower belly, right over where he’s seated inside you, and murmurs, “sh, there’s no need to rush. we’ve got plenty of time, sweetheart. let me make you feel good.” his jaw rubs against your cheek affectionately, his stubble coarse and electrifying on your skin. “besides, i wanna see how messy you can get.”

mating press | andrew pope cody fucks you close and intimate. deep and desperate as he folds you in half so far your tits nearly touch your knees, your ankles dangling around his shoulders as your feet bounce with the short, heavy momentum of his thrusts. keeps you pinned open and vulnerable with his biceps as a low throated curse of your name escapes his slack mouth, your sopping pussy spread wide around the fat girth of his cock. the blunt head scrapes over sensitive walls, grinding deep to massage your cervix. every time his pelvis slaps into your throbbing clit, you sob, toes flexing and tears gathering along your lash line as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over you in pulsing waves of heat that fizz and pop across your skin like champagne. “yeah,” he breathes, “that’s it, just like that.” sweat gathers, baby hairs sticking to your forehead as every in-stroke punches little moans out of you. “s’full,” you slur, eyes glazed and pupils blown, cock drunk and drooling. “a-andy, please…” you’re so full you can barely breathe, lower belly bulging with the push-pull of his cock. he refuses to pull out too far, keeps himself buried nice and snug inside you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. “just a lil more…” he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smothering his pants and groans. damp curls tickle your ear as lips kiss up and down the slope of your shoulder, hot and messy. a flicker of tongue and a hint of teeth. you arch into the crush of his chest, nipples pebbled and dragging over his pecs. the forearms he wrapped around your back flex, the hands anchored on your ass tightening. the plush fat spills between his kneading fingers, and he uses his grip to guide you up to meet him thrust for thrust, grind for grind. keening, your hands squeeze his sides, nails digging into his ribs, the muscles rippling with the movement of his body. he pauses to feel the clutch of your walls, the wet squelch of your needy pussy as slick gushes out to soak his balls where they rest against your ass, “y’feel so - hhah - so good. i can’t… fuck, wanna cum inside. please let me.”

feedback is always appreciated

[piiledrivers]

self indulgent carol hathaway textposts (+ bonus carol/susan :3333)

[rusticfurnace]

HUCKLEROBBY MINICOMIC!! (testing out if i still got it)

[rusticfurnace]

fifty-something...

[rusticfurnace]

oh, my sweet summer child

[se7entyrell]

50 ways to leave your lover. (6k followers celebration fic!)

(michael 'robby' robinavitch x ex-wife!reader)

The four times Robby tries to win you back after your divorce, and the one time he finally manages to lock it all down.

warnings: 18+, mdni! explicit sexual content, ex-husband!robby, robby's done some work pre-sabbatical in this universe, doesn't follow pitt s2 timelines, age gap (34/52), robby sleeps with his medical student (what's new?) oral (f receiving), protected sex, ditching dates for your ex-husband w/c: 5k

main masterlist // robby masterlist

Number one. Eighteen months post-divorce. The Abbot-Mohan wedding.

Stupid Jack Abbot.

Were it not his wedding day today, you'd seriously consider wringing his neck. The only thing stopping you is the prospect of widowing Samira after three hours of marriage.

Your first encounter had been right at the front door, where Robby and Jack were positioned to greet the guests.

This, you were prepared for.

Jack's his best friend. There was no way he wasn't going to be at this wedding. So, you plaster a smile across your face, and put on the show of a lifetime.

Jack's easy. You've always liked him. He was Best Man at your own wedding to Robby.

It becomes more of a struggle when your eyes land on the man you thought you'd be with for the rest of your life. "Michael," You nod curtly, decidedly not going in for the hug you had with Jack.

He holds a hand to his chest in faux-offence. "You wound me, sweetheart. I thought we put the animosity to bed with the divorce settlement."

There hadn't been much to settle. No children, and Robby let you keep the house. The only thing he let you give him was your engagement ring.

The sight of it made you sick. A reminder of all the ways you failed each other.

At the time, it felt like an attack - like he was trying to one-up you, prove that he could be the bigger person. Eighteen months on, you're endlessly glad you didn't have to try and find another place to live while your world was crumbling around you.

"You look good," he continues, and when your gaze meets his, you know he's being sincere.

"I should get inside," is your reply. "I promised Dana I'd grab seats for her and Benji."

And with that, your first interaction with Robby in twelve months comes to a close.

*****

Glancing quickly at the seating chart, your heart sinks when you see your name scrawled next to Michael Robinavitch. Normally Best Man is up beside the couple, but the Mohan-Abbots had opted for a sweetheart table.

Meaning you're doomed to four hours of your ex-husband's company. And what's worse: you're enjoying it.

Robby's always looked good in a tux, but the charm offensive is at its highest today - pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting, dealing out the compliments in spades, and refilling your glass each time it starts to get low.

"Remember ours?" He asks, voice quiet as he leans over to you during the first dance.

"Of course I do. We danced to Roy Orbison and then my heel snapped halfway through, so I had to go barefoot for the rest of the night."

"That was a good day," He muses, expression unreadable as he watches Jack and Samira. He looks almost... wistful?

"Yeah, it was. Pity they weren't all like that."

Against all the odds, COVID had been one of the better times for you and Robby. Freshly married, where the work had been absolute hell, you'd found solace in each other.

Things were good, until they weren't. Until Robby couldn't outrun his demons anymore, and then stopped trying entirely.

"Yeah, uhm, about that..." He says softly. "I wanted to apologise."

This you weren't expecting. Arching an eyebrow, you turn towards him. "For what?"

"For everything," Robby murmurs, his gaze finally dropping from Jack and Samira to his own hands. He swallows hard, his jaw tight as he traces the line of his thumb. "For checking out. Giving up on us."

Your hand tightens around your wine glass, as you search his expression - looking for the catch, the deflection. You find none. "It's in the past now, anyway." Your voice is barely above a whisper. "We just... weren't meant to be. And that's fine."

"Mhm," is his only response. As if unconvinced.

You're not even sure you've convinced yourself, much less him, and against your better judgement, he talks you into a dance.

Were it not a wedding, you're positive you'd be able to resist him. But when it feels like everybody around you is perfectly happy and coupled up, you find it incredibly easy to slip back into Robby's embrace.

You still have some sense.

Keeping his hand firmly on your waist, rather than slipping downwards to where it used to settle, you try and think of anything but the man in front of you.

The potential melanoma that you saw in clinic last week.

Not the wrinkle lines that crease at Robby's eyes.

Your shopping list for next week.

Not how warm he feels against you.

The fact that you're running out of Black Honey.

Not anything to do with Michael Robinavitch.

You tap out after a ballad, unable to take the proximity to him anymore, and excuse yourself to go mingle with Dana and Perlah.

The rest of the night is spent willing yourself not to look back over at him.

*****

"You know, it'll be us next," Robby says, voice low as he watches you say goodbye to Samira.

"By us, do you mean your ex-wife?" Jack asks, eyebrow arched. "Because I hate to break it to you, brother, but you've already done that. And it went up in fuckin' flames."

"It would be different this time," Robby shakes his head.

"Yeah? How?"

"You'll see." Robby pats Jack on the back, and gets to his feet, moving to intercept you as you make for the door. The stairs down from the venue are pretty steep, and he clocked your Louboutins during dinner.

He bought you that pair on your honeymoon. He wonders if you remember.

"Need a hand?"

He can see that you're about to decline, before taking a sample step, and letting out a sigh. "Yes, please."

Robby tries not to let the contact get to his head too quickly as he slips an arm through yours. He hadn't even realised until tonight just how much he's missed you.

Truly.

The days after he moved out of your shared house had been some of the worst of his entire life. After about six months of no-contact, he'd finally decided that he needed to get his life together, and move on with things.

Get back on the horse, as Jack put it.

Except now it's eighteen months on from the divorce, he's been on exactly zero dates, and all he can think about is winning you back.

"This is purely because I can't walk in these shoes," You warn. "Nothing more."

Robby's jolted from his daydream and back to reality. Right. You don't want him back at all.

He's gotta find a way to change that.

Number two. Nineteen months post-divorce. A persistence.

After Jack and Samira's wedding, you're not expecting to see Robby again until they start having kids and you're invited to the baby shower.

That doesn't appear to be the case when you watch his motorcycle pull into the parking lot of your clinic exactly one week later.

A notch appears between your brows immediately, but you're still in the middle of a consultation - you have a feeling that your patient wouldn't be too thrilled with you leaping up to investigate.

Instead, you assure her that her mole has not, in fact, grown three centimetres since you saw her last week. It takes multiple pictures and two rulers before she'll even consider that it may be stress-related.

By the time you're finished, the last person you want to deal with is your ex-husband.

At least it's a paeds clinic after lunch. The children tend to be much easier to handle, and usually have straight-forward presentations. Eczema, contact dermatitis, or psoriasis for the teens.

All things you can do in your sleep.

But first, lunch. And getting Michael Robinavitch to leave.

He's leaning over the desk at reception, one of his more charming smiles plastered across his face as he talks to Pippa at reception. “I was just wondering if you knew when she'd be finish– oh, there she is. No need. Thanks for all your help.”

You've known Pippa for two years, and you've never once seen her crack a smile out in the lobby. She's practically grinning at Robby.

Uh oh.

This is bad.

Still scowling at him, you reach for the collar of his shirt and tug sharply, forcing him to fall into step behind you as you head for your office.

You don't need to air all your dirty laundry in the middle of your practice.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you're spinning on your heel. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Robby just shrugs. “You said you work Fridays usually. Thought you might like some company for lunch.”

“You know - ex-husbands don't usually just hang out with their ex-wives.”

“When have we ever been ordinary though?” He's exhaustingly chipper today - a far cry from his demeanour during the latter years of your marriage.

You take him in, trying to work out if this is all some big practical joke. After trying to tell yourself that the Abbot-Mohan wedding was a fluke, you grudgingly have to admit to yourself that Robby does look good.

He's got exactly the right amount of scruff going for him right now, he's lost the alcohol bloat, and he seems like there's less of the world's weight on his shoulders.

“I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Lunch is always a good idea,” He replies easily. “Three meals a day, and all that.”

There's no way out of this. Once Robby sets his mind to something, he's going to get it. Sighing heavily, you reach for your bag and jacket. “Only if you're paying.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

You fight the urge to remind him that your salary exceeds his by about 40k a year these days, with all the private work.

Even when you were married, you were still the official breadwinner of the family. Skin pays more than emergencies.

“And don't call me sweetheart.”

You're expecting some kind of quip, or snarky remark, but he just nods, and offers you his hand. “Got it.”

“We're not holding hands.”

Another nod, and he follows you out of the clinic and onto the street. You pretend to miss the looks exchanged between your staff.

A few of them know Robby already, and you're betting the ones that don't are wondering why you've been keeping him a secret.

“Noted. Hand-holding's more of a date two activity then?”

The expression on your face is nothing short of murderous. “This is not a date. It's lunch.”

“With somebody you've slept with many, many times before.”

Whatever illusions you'd managed to conjure of Robby after the wedding are completely shattered.

Because Michael Robinavitch is many things, but cool and suave are not amongst them. He's annoying and persistent, and a bad husband.

“I'm going back inside and ordering from Uber Eats-”

“No, no, no - wait!” A hand curls round your wrist, and you think that there might be a hint of desperation in his tone. “M'sorry, shit - just, don't go.”

“Why not?” Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you cross them both over your chest, and do your best to stare him down.

He swallows heavily, voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. “I miss you.”

"Robby," You sigh, but he cuts you off.

"We were in each other's lives for almost a decade - don't you think it's a little unnatural for that to have all disappeared? Surely we can be friends."

You have to bite back a scream. "If I remember correctly, it was you who didn't want to be friends."

"I didn't want us to break up in the first place!"

It slips out without thought, and you're suddenly regretting taking a lunch break at all. "I'm not doing this here," You start, but he beats you to the draw.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He scratches the back of his neck, and glances around the sidewalk before his chin drops to his chest. "I've been doing the work. Going to therapy, no more alcohol, you name it. M'even taking some time off work to really get into it all."

The Robby you were married to would never have considered taking the blame for his actions.

"Can't undo the last decade, Michael," you reply softly.

"I know," he insists. "I know. Believe me. It's a well-discussed topic in therapy. I just... I'm trying to be better. And I want to try and make things right with you. One hundred percent platonically."

"You literally just called this a date," you deadpan.

He scoffs. "I didn't say I was perfect."

Number three. Twenty months post-divorce. Another man.

Apparently, you and Robby text now.

You're as surprised as anybody else, but in the time you've been separated, Robby's persistence appears to have intensified greatly.

Each Thursday, he meets you at the clinic for lunch, having bribed newly-qualified attending Frank to cover for him.

He offers to pick you up after nights out, which you accept more often than not (you hate getting Ubers when you're drunk).

Currently?

He's fixing your busted boiler.

You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't dropped it into a text because you knew that he would drop everything to come and fix it for you. Even with a sabbatical looming in just a week, his reply had been instantaneous.

Now, you're perched on the washing machine while you watch a sweaty Robby tinker around in the washroom.

He's already been warned that you have a date tonight, and therefore has to be finished by seven - complete honesty is the main policy of this tentatively developing friendship.

All you'd received in response had been a thumbs up.

That means he's furious.

Really, it had been a little mean on your part. But he doesn't have a claim to you anymore, and you need him to know that if he's going to still be in your life.

When you excuse yourself to the bathroom, you're not expecting your phone to be in Robby's hand when you return. "Roger from Hinge said he's going to be late tonight."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Your phone vibrated. Thought it might have been an emergency."

You snatch it out of his grasp and scowl. "Why would an emergency text and not call?"

You both go to step at once, awkwardly colliding chest-to-chest. "Can I see a picture of him?"

"What? No!"

"Why not? Thought we were being honest."

It amazes you that Robby manages to somehow be the most serious man you've ever met, and also emulate a toddler with his petulance. You reach for your phone, and don't even notice Robby dipping his head.

His lips are on yours, and suddenly you're twenty-six again and making out with your attending for the first time after the worst shift of your life.

You'd already decided that Emergency Medicine was not for you, but that Michael Robinavitch absolutely was.

In your head, it was going to be a fling. Something sexy and secret for your final year of med school.

The wedding had been a surprise - you never thought that Robby was the type.

The 3 carat emerald cut bezel had told you otherwise. You'd never been able to build up the courage to ask him exactly how much money he spent on it.

The divorce had been an even bigger surprise.

Not to you, by the end. The last eighteen months of your seven-year-marriage had been decidedly less-than-stellar, to the point where couples counselling couldn't even make a dent.

After COVID and Pittfest, you didn't even recognise your husband anymore. You didn't recognise yourself.

While your mind might be surprised by the contact, your body certainly isn't, and you gasp into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere, hauling you closer to him, and you can feel your carefully-applied lipstick smudging across his cheek.

It's only after two minutes of kissing that you finally pull back, and surface to catch your breath. "Robby, I have to go - I have plans."

He's not quite so easily deterred, though. "Yeah, with a guy who looks just like me." You didn't even make it to showing Robby his photo, and yet he's right. Tall, dark, and broody - you've very clearly got a type. He leans in to kiss you again, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure when you melt into his touch. "You could have the real thing, baby. I'm right here."

That's the problem. Ever since you reconnected with him at Jack and Samira's wedding, it's like Robby has been everywhere.

He's practically inescapable.

He moves to suck a mark onto your collarbone, and you make the feeblest of attempts to push him off. "This is a bad idea."

"It's only a bad idea if we make it one," Robby hums, crowding you up against the kitchen counter, as you feel your willpower start to seep away. You have plans with Roger in thirty minutes.

But when Robby sinks to his knees in front of you, hiking one leg over his shoulder, you forget he even exists. “Say the word, and I will,” He mumbles.

There are many words that would end this right now.

Stop. No. Don't.

And yet, your lips can't seem to conjure any of them. You try and form each of the letters, but the only one that forms is an R.

Then an O.

Two B's.

And a Y.

He doesn't need to move your underwear to get you where you need to go. Kissing and nipping, licking and sucking - your grip on the doorframe tightens with every passing second.

Suddenly, you're struck with a vision of a morning with Robby, a week before you filed for divorce. A vision of what your future could be like if you let him in again.

The television hums in the background, something neither of you is watching. Dinner's been sitting in the oven on low for almost half an hour. The chicken is drying out.

You hear him sigh before he even rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey." His voice is flat. Tired.

You look up from the sink. "Hey."

He drops his keys into the bowl by the door. Misses. Doesn't bother picking them up.

"Long day?"

"Mhm."

You wait for something more. Anything. But it doesn't come.

"You want me to plate up dinner?"

"If you want."

It's always 'if you want' these days. It's a Herculean effort to bite your tongue. "My brother called - asked if we wanted to come round next weekend."

"M'working." It's barely more than a grunt.

"You've worked the last six Saturdays - surely someone else could cover. Jack would cover. You could tell them no for once."

"I can't."

"You mean you won't."

"Stop!"

Your voice is the firmest it's been all night. Chest heaving, it's all you can manage to scramble away from Robby. He kneels where he is, hands hesitating where you were just a second ago.

"W-What's wrong? Did I do something?"

Your lip is trembling. “I don't think I can do this again. You hurt me so much, Michael. I-I mean, you're fucking leaving in a week-”

Robby's face falls.

“M'going on sabbatical, not leaving. I'm really trying to work the rest of my shit out. Let me do that, and then let me win you back. Please. I haven't done any of this solely to get you back. But I can't imagine being with anyone else.”

He folds his hands together.

"I spent a long time thinking providing was enough. That if I worked harder, put in more hours, kept the lights on, paid the mortgage..." He shrugs. "That was love."

"You stopped talking to me."

"I know."

"You stopped letting me in."

"I know."

Finally, you summon the courage to ask the million dollar question. "Would it be different this time? If we did it again?"

"Yes." He sounds so sure of his answer that you're almost envious.

But you're still not quite ready. "I hope you're not expecting me to sit at home for three months and wait for you."

"Never," he replies immediately, and you genuinely believe him. "I just want to be in the running again. And earn it. Properly."

Number four. Two years post-divorce. A date.

Robby. 22:01. Just got back to town What are you up to?

You hate your heart for doing a little flip as soon as it sees Robby's name flash on your phone.

Two years ago, the same sight made you sick to your stomach.

He had told you that he'd be in touch when he was finished with his sabbatical, but you assumed that meant you'd get a call a week after he was home. Not the same night.

Maybe Michael Robinavitch has had some character growth. Maybe he could be a good husband this time round-

No. You can't let yourself think like that.

You and Robby got divorced for a reason. Many reasons. More reasons than you got married in the first place.

He was married to his work, first and foremost. Never once did he stray, and he barely even glanced at the nurses and interns who would look at him with stars in their eyes, and yet you were still the other woman within your own marriage.

Then there were the self-destructive tendencies. The times when he'd hit the alcohol a little too hard after a long shift, and be almost unresponsive for hours as he slept it off.

Mostly, you think it was the refusal to try and help himself.

To try therapy. Properly. Not just a few meetings before calling it quits, but really making some efforts towards self-improvement. He couldn't do it for himself, and he wouldn't do it for you.

You couldn't handle the stress long-term. Of not knowing when he'd be home that night, or whether you were getting sweet, romantic Michael, or sour-faced Robby.

It had been the hardest decision of your life, serving him with divorce papers.

But it clearly all worked out for the better. You're both healthier apart, though happier is probably debatable. You like the peace that being single affords you.

So why are you considering letting him back in, after all the therapy and work to get over him?

"Is everything okay?" Mark's voice cuts through your spiral, and your gaze snaps up to him.

"Hm?"

"You get bad news or something? You've been staring at your phone for like two minutes."

Shit.

Your fingers start moving before you can consider your response. If Robby's matured so much, he'll be perfectly alright with this.

You. 22:04. I'm on a date, actually

"Sorry, it was just work. Asking for a consult." Your smile is tight, and you're hoping he doesn't see through the very obvious lie.

If he does, he doesn't comment on it, and you return to your conversation about shares, or stocks, or something equally boring.

Robby had handled all the investment stuff while you were married, and now you pay someone to do it for you.

Finally, he heads up to the bar to get more drinks, and you slip your phone out again.

Robby. 22:05. When will you be done? I'll come and pick you up. Miss my girl.

A text like that from anybody other than Robby would have earned an instant block. Unfortunately, despite his three months away, you're still not immune to the Robinavitch charm.

You never have been.

Besides - you'd already decided you weren't going to sleep with Mark tonight. He's a nice enough guy, but the deal had been sealed when you'd been discussing music, and he hadn't known who Patti Smith was. This man is not your soulmate. But going home alone would mean a date with your vibrator, and one orgasm at most.

Robby would double that, at least.

You. 22:21. ...Not your girl But you can pick me up around 11.

You shoot him the address of the bar, and consider how you're definitely going to hell for this.

The rest of the date passes in half-time, so painfully slowly that you figure you must have a few new wrinkles than you did at the start. Finally, it's time to make your escape. To ease the impending blow, you throw down your half of the cheque in notes, along with a sizeable tip. "You know, I'm really sorry, but there actually was a work emergency. Thought it would be okay, but they need me in."

"A... dermatology emergency?"

"They're more common than you'd think - my colleague is coming to pick me up," You lie through your teeth. "But I had a really nice night."

Another lie.

You try to dart out so that Mark won't see you leave with Robby, but no luck. The motorcycle is pulled up to the curb with Robby leaning against it, a second helmet in his hands.

“I thought you were going to bring the car!” You hiss, throwing Mark an apologetic glance over your shoulder.

"Bike was what I was riding, and I missed my girl. Mark have a problem with that?"

"If he knew you were my ex, probably."

Maybe you and Robby do deserve each other. God, you're awful. Robby clips the helmet under your chin, and you pretend to not notice your date's gaze staring at you both while he waits for his car to be brought round.

"You ready?"

You nod, though you feel anything but. You've never liked the bike, much to Robby's chagrin. One of his favourite things is having you wrap your arms around his waist while he drives.

*****

Fuck, he knows you too well. It's almost unfair, that even after over a year of separation that he still knows you better than anybody in the world.

There are no pleasantries. No discussions. Just a beeline for the house, before clothes are discarded in a haphazard manner as you try and make it to the bedroom in one piece.

You don't quite make it there before Robby gives you orgasm number one. Torso on the top landing, he gets carried away on the staircase, leaving you totally seeing stars.

Thankfully, he's more than familiar with the house layout, and carries you the rest of the way.

“W-Wait - condom," You interrupt. Last thing you need is a baby to complicate matters. He reaches for the bedside table, complete muscle memory, but you shake your head. “Down one.”

He huffs a little, obviously put out at the change in what he still considers to be his home.

Of course, the fact that you have these at all makes his blood boil a little.

Not that you can't have seen other people.

You've been separated for almost two years, and were growing apart long before that, but god is he so glad to have you like this again. In the home that you both shared - on the bed that he paid for.

Like nothing ever went wrong.

Determined to put the memory of all other men to shame, Robby takes you around his cock, before giving you his fingers and tongue again. By the time you come down, you're more spent than he's ever seen you before.

You're barely awake as you curl into his side. "How was the trip?"

"Really great," he answers honestly. "Did me a lot of good, but I'm glad to be back. Missed you too much."

"Shouldn't be telling you this," you hum slightly, eyes fluttering closed. "But I missed you too."

Number five. Three years post-divorce. Forever.

“You have some white coming in,” You hum, fingers carding through Robby's hair where his head rests in your lap. The windows are cracked open just enough to let a breeze in, and you can hear the faint sounds of a lawn mower down the street.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You separate a few strands between your fingers, tilting his head toward the light. "Right here. My favourite old man."

Robby scoffs. "That feels excessive."

"Well, you did marry a woman eighteen years younger than you. Feels like something you brought on yourself."

You think back to the man who used to come home after twelve-hour shifts, kiss you on the forehead, tell you he was just tired, then carry the weight of the world around in silence until it crushed everything else.

This version of Robby still has bad days.

Still wakes up anxious sometimes. Annoyed. Still gets overwhelmed by work. Still occasionally retreats to the garage or the backyard for half an hour when his head gets too loud.

The difference is that he always comes back.

And he lets you help.

Sure, it had been a little embarrassing announcing that you were back with your ex-husband - especially after all the shit that had gone down between you both.

But Robby had been right.

There's no one else you could ever imagine being with.

Despite all this, you're still shocked when the next words fall from his lips. "Marry me."

"What?" Your fingers freeze mid-motion, and you try to gage from his upside-down expression whether he's joking or not. You don't think he is.

"Marry me. Again."

"Holy shit," You breathe, head spinning. "What? Are you joking?"

He sits up, turning to take your hands in his. "Deadly serious, sweetheart. I uh, didn't really know what the etiquette was for this kind of thing - I know you liked your first ring, but that felt sort of like bad karma. So I was thinking, if you say yes, we could go shopping for a new one together."

A few years ago, you would have been making the biggest mistake of your life. Now, you don't feel a shred of hesitation. "Yes."

His face breaks into a smile. "Yeah?"

You nod, lip between your teeth as you fight back tears. "Fuck it. Let's get married again."

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[thatgayoctopus]

Appreciation for The Data Stance

[lesleymanville]

Laura Innes as Kerry Weaver ER — 9.12 "A Saint in the City"

[evilrry]

like sugar on my tongue

pairing: michael robinavich x reader

word count: 4.5k

content warnings: age gap, unprotected p in v, miscommunication + light angst, awkward workplace moments, allusions to sugar daddy robby, several l-bombs, reader & robby are in an ltr and live together

please read the content warnings above, i am not responsible for you choosing to read smut that you don't like even though you were warned what was going to be in it

hiii me again this one is a little slower w a lot of buildup but i love her & i hope you do too 💖😇

You and Michael had been seeing each other for almost two years now. It’s not that you had meant to keep it a secret, but neither of you had many people you cared to tell.

You had recently moved into his house and he gave you free reign to redecorate, slowly piecing your home together. The early mornings didn’t bother you, you started work around the same time as him and were up getting ready as well. The late nights however, were definitely starting to get to you.

You understood what you were getting into when you decided to start dating the chief attending of the craziest emergency department in the city, but selfishly you just wanted more time with him. You never told him and were trying to get over it (you SWEAR) but on bad days you wanted to come home to him like he comes home to you.

Despite you not sharing your feelings on this, Michael knows, of course he does. Every time he’s home later than usual he walks in with flowers or dinner or simply an apologetic look on his face and kisses all over yours.

The pair of you began to settle into a routine, make enough dinner so you both had left overs to take to work the next day. Extra chargers just for work bags. Learning to share the bathroom mirror in the morning. It wasn’t something you had ever experienced before and you were coming to love it.

When you woke up Saturday morning, Michael was already gone. You went about your morning routine and when you went downstairs you noticed Michael’s phone on the console table near the door. Sighing, you turned back around to get fully dressed so you could run his phone over to him.

You had never been to the ED before and Robby liked it that way. You were safe and healthy and he didn’t really want you around all that chaos. You had however, met Jack & Dana and were thankfully able to message Dana to let her know you were stopping by.

“Hey D, Michael left his phone at home, I’m gonna stop by and drop it off for him. Could you let him know?”

Dana texted you back within a few minutes, “That man would lose his head without you, call me when you get here and I’ll let you in.”

You gathered your things and made your way to your car. Thankfully you didn’t live too far from the hospital so you got there rather quickly. You called Dana and she told you where to meet her.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dana greeted you with a hug. “I’ll take you to our break room and let Robby know you’re here.” You followed her inside, keeping your head down (you were squeamish ok). Dana opened the door for you, “I don’t want to jinx it but it has been pretty c-a-l-m today so hopefully we can get you out of here fast.

“Thanks Dana, I brought a book with me if you can’t peel Robby away from his work,” you said with a chuckle. Dana smiled at you again and turned to leave.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door opening back up, turning your head to see Michael walking in. He greeted you with a soft smile, “Hey sweetheart,” he kissed the top of your head and sat down next to you.

You smiled back at him and reached into your bag to grab his phone. “Did you leave this at home on purpose or somethin’?” You cracked a smile as you held the phone out for him.

“I could’ve sworn it was in my pocket when I left, but now I’m glad I got to see you earlier than I thought.” Michael had that dopey grin he always got with you, “Seriously though, thank you for bringing this and for checking with Dana before you stopped in.”

“Of course,” you moved closer to him and placed your hand on his leg, “I brought you food too, I figured you didn’t grab anything for yourself this morning.”

“What would I do without you,” he said with a sigh.

You giggled at him, “Is it inappropriate to kiss you in here?”

Michael smiled at you, “As long as no one comes in and you keep those hands of yours to yourself, I think we’ll be okay.”

Your grin got bigger and you leaned in to kiss him softly. “Promise to keep my hands to myself right now.”

He laughed and pulled you in for a proper kiss, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting his hand cup your cheek. Michael pulled away and laughed as you pouted, “I need to get back out there.”

You just nodded, obviously you knew he couldn’t be away for long but you missed him. Maybe seeing him in the middle of the day wasn’t a great idea. You stood up from your chair and moved to put the container of food you brought into the fridge.

“I’m running to the store after this,” you said, turning to face him, “Do you want anything special for dinner this week?”

Michael walked over to you, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. “Just you,” he said, smiling down at you. He leaned down to kiss you again, and you fisted your hands in his scrub top. Michael pulled away suddenly, “What did I say about keeping your hands to yourself baby?”

You squeaked out a “Sorry” and he pulled you back in. Unfortunately and predictably you were interrupted by the door opening.

“Hey, Doctor Robby could you — oh sorry I didn’t know you were in here with someone.”

“It’s okay Whitaker,” he said turning around, “This is my girlfriend, I may have mentioned her to you before.”

Whitaker shook his head, eyes still wide. You stuck out your hand for a handshake, “Robby’s told me all about your antics here,” you said laughing, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You shook hands with the boy and felt a protective hand clamp down on your shoulder. “She was actually just heading out, I’m going to walk her to her car and then I’ll be back to help with what you need.”

The boy nodded, watching as the pair of you walked away. “I think we scared him,” you mumbled. Michael laughed and squeezed your hand.

“He’ll be fine, these guys just aren’t used to seeing me be soft with someone,” He smiled at you and you leaned into his side. Michael walked you outside to the ambulance bay and pulled you in for one more kiss. “I’ll see you in a few hours alright?” You smiled and nodded, giggling as he pressed a final kiss to your forehead.

You went about the rest of your day, getting some errands done and cleaning up the house. You got a text from Michael midafternoon, “Didn’t realize Whitaker was such a gossip, the entire department keeps asking me about you. One of them even said that Whitaker told them I have a hot young girlfriend! Which is true but only I can say that.”

Laughing to yourself you typed out a reply, “Well, I’m okay with them knowing as long as you are, I don’t plan on being back there anytime soon though so the air of mystery will remain. Also obviously I'm your hot young girlfriend, what they don’t know is that you’re a big softie at home. My lips are sealed, I promise.”

You locked your phone and slipped it into the pocket of your shorts, you weren’t expecting a reply since Michael rarely texts you during the workday. You finally got a chance to sit down and relax after you finished most of the list you had put together this morning. Stretching out on the couch, you put on a movie for noise and scrolled on your phone for a bit.

When you checked the time again it was 6:30, you would’ve heard by now if Michael was staying later than normal so you decided to get dinner started.

You were just finishing up as you heard the front door open, “I’m in the kitchen!”, you shouted.

Michael wrapped his arms around you and kissed the side of your head, “I’m gonna go change real quick and then we can eat, yeah?”

Spinning around in his arms you smiled at him, “Of course, everything needs a minute to cool down a bit anyway.” You stood on your tip toes to kiss him before he went upstairs.

The two of you ate while Michael regaled you with stories from today’s patients. He stopped talking and smiled at you, “You really were the talk of the town today.”

You laughed at him and shook your head, “They can’t be that bored that I was all there was to talk about.”

He smiled at you, “I don’t know…I'm quite stern and can get a little mean at times at work. I really think seeing me soften up with you threw them for a loop.” Michael stood up and grabbed both of your plates, you followed him so you could pack up the leftovers.

“Well, if that was enough to throw them, I think they’d go into cardiac arrest if they ever saw how sweet you are with me at home.”

Michael laughed at that, “Yeah, I think they may think that they were hallucinating or something. But thankfully they’ll never see that, it’s just for you.”

You finished putting the containers into the fridge and turned to lean on the counter. The smile on Michael’s face seemed to be reserved for you, eyes soft and sleepy. He grabbed you again, “Let’s go lay in bed,” he whispered. You nodded and followed him upstairs.

Close at his heels, you finally made it up to the bedroom. “Did you want to shower first?” you asked.

He turned and smiled at you, “Hmmm no showers yet.” Michael picked you up and carried you bridal style to the bed, setting you down gently.

You leaned back onto your elbows, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Have something planned I don’t know about?”

“Something like that,” he said with a laugh. “Move up, put your head on the pillows.” You obeyed, shifting yourself upwards a few inches. He looked at you fondly, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand lightly along your calf. “I know you’re getting sick of me coming home late.”

It was blunt, and not something you expected him to say. You opened your mouth to protest, because he was right but also wrong at the same time somehow. Michael raised his hand to silence you and continued talking.

“I know what you’re going to say, that you know what you signed up for and that it doesn’t really matter if I’m a few hours late. But I know it upsets you, and I really wish there was something I could do about it.” Michael looked at you sadly, you didn’t want him to feel guilty about this.

“Can I talk now?” you said sharply. Michael simply nodded and you continued. “You’re right, I’m not going to sit here and try to lie about that. But also, I was well aware of what I was getting myself into when we started dating. You’re the fucking chief attending of a trauma emergency department of course your hours are going to get messed up. Both things can be true though, and sometimes I do wish that I could come home to you instead of an empty house. But at the end of the day I feel so lucky that I get to share this with you at all, so it just doesn’t matter.”

He smiled at you and grabbed your hand, “One day when I retire I’m gonna be home so much that you’ll be sick of me.”

“I could never get sick of you old man,” you laughed and sat up to kiss him.

“Old man huh?” he said as he pulled away.

You laughed, “Well yeah, didn’t you hear? I’m your hot, young girlfriend.”

Michael moved further back on the bed and pulled you into his lap, “How could I forget?” His hand settled on the back of your neck, pulling you back in for another kiss.

He pulled away again and you whined, “Don’t stop, I want you.” The truth was, you always wanted him, but his age and his job sometimes kept you from actually having him.

He smiled at you, “You’ll get what you want, don't worry honey, wanna make up for all the late nights.” He brushed his nose along your neck, nipping slightly at your earlobe before kissing you again.

You draped your arms over his shoulders, one hand coming up to play with the short strands of hair on the back of his neck. Michael’s hands found their way to your hips squeezing gently, you moaned into his mouth and he pulled away to laugh. “Someone’s eager tonight,” he teased.

“It’s been too long.”

He laughed, “It’s been like a week.”

“Exactly!” You leaned in to kiss him again not caring how whiny you were being. You knew he liked it, he loved taking care of you, the amount of times he’s tried to get you to quit your job was insane. You liked it too though, maybe it was a little fucked up but who cares.

Michael pulled away again and quickly attached his lips to your neck, marking you up completely. “Gonna take you back to work with me so they’ll all know who you belong to,” he growled into our ear.

Your head dropped back and you moaned loudly, “I’m yours, only yours.”

He slid his hand up the back of your head and gripped your hair tightly, “That’s right sweetheart, you love fuckin on your old man don’t you.”

You nodded quickly, “Love it so fucking much.” You tried to roll your hips against his but he held you in place. You were basically panting at this point and you looked at him like he had just slapped you.

Michael just laughed, “I already told you you’d get what you wanted, you gotta be patient honey. You understand?”

His grip on your hair got tighter. “Yes.” you whimpered.

He smiled at you, “Good girl.” He went back to kissing you, you couldn’t remember the last time you two really took your time together. Maybe he was onto something.

You let your hands drift to trace along his collarbones, down his arms, coaxing them away from your body so you could intertwine your fingers. His hands were massive and they were always warm, it was grounding for you to hold onto him.

It was you who pulled away this time, “Mikey,” you whispered, “Have I ever told you how safe you make me feel?”

He looked at you, a fondness in his eyes that you only ever see at home. He let go of one of your hands so he could brush it against your cheek, “You haven’t, but I’m glad you feel that way honey.”

You smiled at him, suddenly overcome with emotion. You wrapped your arms around his neck again, this time in a hug, shoving your face into his neck. “Just love you so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he whispered into your hair. He coaxed your face from its spot on his neck so he could kiss you again. Hands sliding up under your (his) t-shirt, splaying out on the expanse of your back. His thumbs rubbed softly against you as you fisted a hand into his shirt like your life depended on it.

Michael pulled back again, “Can I take this off?” You nodded and moved your arms to help him pull your top off. He smiled at you softly, “Lie back for me honey.” You crawled off of his lap and laid in the center of your shared bed, Michael sat and looked at you lovingly for a moment.

You reached a hand out for him and he made his way over to you, spreading your legs and taking his place between them. He sat back on his heels and rubbed your thighs, brushing close to your center but not touching just yet.

He leaned down to kiss you again, pulling away briefly when you tugged at his shirt. You pulled him closer so your chests were flush together, the warmth of him drawing a moan from you. Michael smiled at you, “How do you want this tonight?”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled, “Told you I just want you, however you want to give yourself today.”

Michael started kissing all over your face, “Okay baby, I’m gonna take my time with you though so you gotta promise you’ll be patient with me.” He laughed when he saw you roll your eyes.

“I’ll be patient, I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“PINKY promise,” you laughed holding out a pinky. He wrapped his around yours and kissed your hand.

You laid your head back on the pillows and let out a sigh when he started kissing down your neck again, nipping new bruises next to the ones from a few moments ago. He made his way to your chest, softly scraping his teeth against your collarbone, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, hands coming up to cup your breasts.

Your eyelids were heavy but you tried your best to keep them open, you just loved watching him. He moved to your other breast, giving that one the same treatment, and you brought a hand up to play with his hair. He groaned when you tugged on it a little; the vibrations from his mouth sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulled away and smiled at you again before making his way down the rest of your body, settling himself between your legs. Michael kissed along your thighs, letting his hands roam everywhere but where you needed them to. You watched a smile appear on his face, he was resting you and you were going to keep your promise damnit.

Finally, Michael dipped his fingers into your sleep shorts to tug them down & you gasped as the cool air hit your core. Michael hummed in delight, “All this for me huh?” He didn’t wait for your response before flattening his tongue and slowly dragging it up your pussy.

He kept one arm wrapped around your thigh as the other moved between your legs, his hand coming up to spread your lips and give him full access to your clit. You threw your head back and moaned loudly when he latched on his hand drifting down so his fingers could tease your hole.

Your grip on his hair tightened as his tongue worked your clit and you cried out when he slid his middle finger inside of you. He was going slowly on purpose you knew that, but you were practically panting like a fucking dog at how bad you needed him to do more.

“Michael please,” you gasped, trying to make eye contact with the man. He slid a second finger inside of you, continuing his slow pace. He pulled his mouth away from you to watch his fingers moving inside of you, locking eyes with yours and smirking.

“You think she’s ready for me?”

You nodded your head fast, “Yes!” you practically shouted. “pleasepleasepleasepleaseeeee,” you felt a tear slip from your eyes from all the sensations and you tried to steady your breathing.

“You’re dripping down my fuckin arm so I think you’re right honey.” Michael pulled his fingers from you, situating himself on his knees before shoving his own fingers into his mouth.

You watched, jaw dropped, as he licked himself clean of your wetness. You whimpered when he moaned at the taste and tried to squeeze your legs together, forgetting that he was in the way.

He just chuckled, “I distracted you so much you forgot where you were huh?” You just blushed and turned your head to look away. Michael repositioned himself so he was closer, cock resting along the seam of your pussy. He leaned down to kiss you, “You’re still alright pretty?” He sat back up when you responded in the affirmative, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the head on your clit.

Your back arched at the contact, a moan escaping your lips, and your breath hitched when he rubbed his entire cock between your pussy lips. When he decided he was wet enough, he looked you in the eye, “I’m gonna push in okay?” You nodded your head, crying out as he stretched you open.

Once he was fully inside of you he paused, letting you both adjust and calm down a bit, not wanting things to end faster than intended. He lowered himself down so he was inches away from your face. one arm next to your head while the other stayed at your hip. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss, as you slid your tongue into his mouth he began moving his hips making you gasp. Michael pressed a wet kiss to your cheek before burying his head into your neck.

“Need you closer,” you whined, trying to pull him down so his body was flush with yours.

He laughed, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, “Honey I’m literally inside of you, I don’t think we can get any closer than that.”

You shook your head, tugging at his waist again, “Please, just, ugh. Want you on top of me.”

He slowed his thrusts so he could look at you properly, “Baby, I’m gonna crush you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “No you’re not and if you do I don't care.”

Michael shook his head and chuckled, letting his body rest fully on yours before moving his hips again. You don’t know if he’d ever felt this deep inside of you before, it was all so intense this time. Your nails dug into his back and you gasped as the hair on his body brushed against your clit.

You weren’t going to last long after all that teasing so you were trying to just feel. It wasn’t long before the heat in your belly started back up. “Mikey,” you gasped out, “‘m so close please…please.”

He moved his head so he could kiss your mouth again, only pulling away to mumble that he was close as well. His pace quickened and he brought a hand down to rub circles into your clit. Your orgasm hit you like a train, back arched off of the bed, nails digging into Michael’s back. His followed mere moments later, his lips latched onto your shoulder as you felt his cum inside of you.

Your hands rubbed his arms softly as the two of you came down from your highs, “Thank you baby.”

He pulled his head from your neck, “For what?”

You just shrugged, “This, everything, you.” You smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him again.

The pair of you stayed like this for a moment, but as always his Doctor came out and he informed you that if you didn’t go to the bathroom now you WOULD get a UTI. You rolled your eyes at his comment and whined when he pulled out of you. He kept his hand on your knee to keep you lying back so he could watch you push his cum from your pussy.

“So fuckin beautiful,” he said shaking his head.

Michael got off of the bed and reached his hands out to help you up as well. You thanked the stars that he had an en suite so you didn’t have to walk too far. He started a bath while you cleaned up, making sure the water was a temperature you could both stand and adding some epsom salts. He got in first, helping you settle against him.

You sighed contentedly, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Now I know why you said no showers yet earlier.”

He laughed, “Yeah, it would’ve been pretty counter productive.”

You two relaxed in the bath until the water went cold, finally standing up to wash up. You loved when he washed your hair, he had a gentle but firm touch that he perfected after years of practicing medicine and always massaged your scalp perfectly. Once you were both finished, he changed the bedsheets as you brushed your hair and did your skincare.

“Michael,” you called from the bathroom. “How the fuck do you expect me to go into work on Monday with my neck looking like this.”

He appeared in the doorway laughing, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you. “I don’t, you should quit. You know I can take care of you and I know you hate that job.”

You locked eyes with him in the mirror and opened your mouth to respond, but he interrupted you. “We can talk about it in the morning but I’m serious. I make more than enough money, there’s no reason you should keep torturing yourself with that job.”

He kissed you on the cheek while you nodded, “I’ll think about it,” you whispered.

Michael smiled at you in the mirror, “Good, now let’s go get dressed, I'm freezing.”

You followed him into your shared bedroom putting both of your towels on the hooks in the bathroom before changing back into one of his t-shirts. You sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed his hand, he looked at you quite confused before you smiled at him. “I thought about it, you’re right, I’ll email Monday morning telling them I’m finished effective immediately.”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him smile so big, he squeezed your hand gently before responding. “Thank god, you’re too good for that shit.”

You laughed as he pulled you down next to him, shimmying under the covers and cuddling up to him. You settled under his arm and leaned over to kiss where his heart was on his chest, “I love you Michael.”

“I love you too honey,” he responded, kissing you on the forehead. “First order of business tomorrow is making you an authorized user on my AmEx, now you’ll have time to decorate this place to your hearts content.”

You giggled and rubbed your feet together. Michael kissed you on the top of your head again before whispering goodnight. You knew you were going to get used to this very quickly, and you couldn’t be happier.

[80sfilmclub]

♡ɞ✦ ┆・ DOLL'S CORNER.

summary. After Jack treats you at the emergency department, he learns that you're a camgirl — a very popular camgirl with a public SFW account. Curiosity has him subscribing and he finds himself falling into a very addicting trap of you. word count. 16.5k (this got away from me) content warnings. nsfw content, excessive use of 'bunny', medical inaccuracies (of literally almost everything, big shout out to healthline and mayoclinic for iud info), mentions of vaginal bleeding and pain, easter eggs/cameos of other readers from a previous robby fic (👀) notes. so this was the most absolute fun to write !! i've got a few easter-eggs in here (including other readers from a previous robby fic (👀) and some of my lovely mutuals mentioned) so i hope you like it, my inbox is open for more blurb requests or ideas you have for the dolls-verse! photos above are from pinterest and @deathreverse made the amazing website mock up i included below! (thankyouthankyouiloveyourmassivebrain)

As someone who's made a living off of exposing every inch of your body to the world, you feel horribly exposed sitting on an exam table in just a hospital gown that you had changed into from the cliche trench coat and lacy negligee you had on earlier.

Despite the late hour, the waiting room had been packed and any glance your way felt like something intrusive and prodding. You had been fully ready to wait the whole night before you could be seen but after your vitals had been taken and triaged, the doctor had pushed you to the front of the line and into the next available room.

So here you sit, the paper beneath you crinkling every time you squirm and try to find a far more comfortable position before giving in entirely and leaning over to your side. You support yourself with your elbow and try to ignore the prodding pain in your backside.

"Good evening, I'm Dr. Abbot, what seems to be the problem?"

Your stomach drops; just your luck that the doctor assigned to help you fish out your newest toy is panty-dropping handsome. A silver fox through and through, he looks downright delectable with those large freckled arms that seem to be bursting through those black scrubs. If it had been any other day, you might've turned on the charm, flirt your way to a dinner date or more.

But it's 1:37 AM, you have a fuzzy, bunnytail plug stuck inside you and you're desperate to just get home without your asshole gaping.

"Um." You glance at the iPad in his hand, hoping that whoever saw you first recorded it in your chart so you wouldn't have to repeat yourself. But the handsome doctor is waiting patiently. "I have something… stuck inside me."

"Ah. I'll see what I can do. Roll over for me, sweetheart."

The night shift always brings on the weirdest cases that after all his years of working, nothing could phase him at this point. Seeing you, looking so uncomfortable and startled on the exam table, ranks so low on said weird cases that he misses the note Crus had left on your chart and went right in on the usual greeting.

"… what seems to be the problem—?"

Butt plug lodged in anus, patient reports mild pain and heavy discomfort.

Jack rereads the sentence a few times before he looks up at you. Pretty albeit shy, your cheeks flushed and your gaze seemingly land anywhere but him. When you listen and roll over onto your stomach, he swallows the instinctive 'good girl' that threatens to spill from his lips.

He tugs on a fresh pair of gloves, strengthening his spine and fortifying the usual mask of professionalism he wears. You're laid out on your stomach now, the blankets of the exam table tugged down to right below your ass. Before he could ask you to lift your hips, you do so on your own, knees spread apart.

Face down, ass up.

He swallows thickly as he gently nudges the seam of the hospital gown apart at your spine. What greets him has heat boiling in his gut: a fuzzy pink, bunny cottontail buttplug nestled right in between your asscheeks.

"Alright, I'm gonna touch you back here, see how deep it's in there before we try extraction," he murmurs. You whimper when he gives an experimental but gentle tug. "Is there any stinging sensation?"

"Nuh-uh," you mumble into the pillow.

Jack swallows again as the cottontail plug gives beneath his grip, his other hand pushing your left asscheek aside. "Let me know if I pull too hard, alright?"

You nod and he sees the way your moves against the pillow.

"Words, please."

Your thighs clench as you fight off the simmering heat that your frustratingly hot doctor starts with those two simple words. "Yes, I will." An honorific sits behind your teeth (daddy? sir? whichever, it seems to fit him regardless of what you use) but you swallow it down.

Meanwhile, Jack tries to ignore the tell-tale sheen between your thighs, keeps his gloved hands where they need to be. His mind races through horrific, bloody accidents of the week prior to keep his other head from wandering. "Good," he mutters.

Silence falls between you two as Jack gently adds medical-grade lubricant, apologizing at the cool temperature of it against your heated skin. After a few rotations of the plug, you clamp your teeth around the hospital gown to stifle any wayward moans.

"Mm—" You whimper anyways and Jack stills. "I'm okay—! Just, uh— is it almost out?"

Jack clears his throat; he's grateful you can't see him or the creeping blush up his neck. "Almost. I gotta take it slow to avoid any possible injuries."

The thought makes you lightheaded but you ground yourself back into reality before your mind can start jumping to worst case scenarios. "That makes sense."

He twists the plug and a flare of arousal blooms in your core, more pleasure than pain now. "So," he clears his throat again, an attempt at normalcy. "What do you do for work?" He mentally pats himself on the back at the inane question, hoping it'll be enough to distract you as he attempts at another tug.

You squeak anyways as your ring of muscles expand at the widest part of the plug. Jack adds more lubricant. "This," you manage to say.

Jack's dick gives a willfull throb but he forces it down with the degloving case from the night before. "O-Oh?"

"I… stream? I'm an adult streamer, oh fuck—!"

Your ass is gaping slightly as Jack inadvertently tugs the whole plug out with little warning, an involuntary reaction from your reveal. "Shit— sorry, sweetheart. Don't move—"

The silicone toy hits the metal tray beside you in a dull thud, the fluffy end of it peeking above the lip of the tray, while you feel his gloved digits gently probe around the ring. "Just making sure there aren't any abrasions, any cuts or irritation before we finish up here." He sees your head nod against the pillows so he continues on with his examination.

Your ass is firm beneath his touch. Pilates, maybe. Or strength training. His jaw clenches as he forces his mind to the present again, resumes the exam before carefully covering you up with the hospital gown again. "You're all good, sweetheart, you can turn onto your back now."

A part of him feels a sick sense of satisfaction at the way you squirm from the easy use of petnames. He's always been a natural flirt, that roguish charm that calms patients enough for him to diagnose, but it's a touch more fun when it works on someone as pretty as you.

"Thank you, Dr. Abbot."

But the gentle cadence of your voice cuts through him and shame trickles in like molasses. When did he turn out to be such a perv? Maybe the night shift is getting to him. He clears his throat, assuming his professional stance, but your smile turns wicked and there's something mischievous in your gaze that he can't quite place.

"Really, I can't thank you enough," you say as you carefully roll over to settle in an upright position. "But, um… is it possible if I can keep the toy?"

He lets out a little laugh and nods. With his hands still gloved, he retrieves a plastic bag from one of the cabinets and places the toy in before handing it to you. "'course you can. Just make sure you prep yourself better next time."

Jack nearly winces at the crass statement but you reward him with a bemused giggle. "Don't worry, I learned my lesson. It's a good thing I'm testing it out first before a stream. It'd be so embarrassing if I got it stuck inside me while I was live," you share and he tries not to look too eager as you share more about your unorthodox occupation.

"Do you… do that often?" The question falls flat and he makes up for it with an embarrassed chuckle, discarding his gloves in the nearby waste basket. "Jesus, tell me if I'm overstepping here."

You laugh again and Jack's positive he isn't as funny as you make him to be but he'd gladly make a fool of himself if he got to hear that sound again. "You're fine. Trust me, I've heard worse."

"What if I want to be the best you've heard?"

Your brow rises up in mild surprise. "Was that a line, Dr. Abbot?"

"Maybe."

"It's not very good."

"It's also 2 AM, sweetheart."

You cross your arms, tilt yout head to the side and it feels like he's being taken apart. "Do you make it a habit to flirt with your patients?"

"Just the pretty ones— oh, yikes. Yeah, that one was bad," he concedes with a light laugh. "I may be a flirt, but you're trouble. Now… think you can behave while I go grab your discharge papers?"

Your smile is saccharine sweet. "Of course."

He chuckles and shakes his head, nudging the door open with his hip before he exits. The rest of the evening goes by routinely: you sign off on a few papers before changing back into your clothes. Dr. Abbot is nowhere to be seen until you're walking towards the exit, your gait a tad bit crooked, and he's leaning against the counter by the nurses' station.

"Thanks again, doctor."

The wink you give him nearly stops his heart, your easy demeanor returning now that you aren't battling the embarrassment of having a butt plug stuck inside you. When the door shuts behind you and the chaos of the emergency department resumes around him, Crus Henderson cackles behind his chart.

"What?" Jack frowns.

The smile Henderson gives him is downright sinister. "You're not slick, old man."

"It's fine." Shen materializes beside him with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his perpetually full iced coffee. "Technically, she isn't your patient anymore. And Crus and I won't tell."

"There's nothing to tell—!"

The two share knowing grins before walking off. "Sure, Abbot. Sure. Wait 'til you're off to look her up though."

Jack splutters. "I'm not going to look her up—"

In the quiet of his bedroom, Jack looks you up.

The sun's already filtering through his window blinds and it feels like some social transgression to be searching up porn during the day. But he's showered and clean with his prosthetic off, tucked under his covers and leaned against his headboard. The cursor's blinking up at him, taunting him. He doesn't even know where to begin but he's got your full name, wonders if it's enough to even catch a trace of you on social media.

He types your name in anyway on instagram and his breath leaves him in a rush when your profile sits at the top of the search results. Your profile pic is innocent enough, smiling brightly, but upon further inspection, your shoulders and collarbone is exposed right where the photo is cut off; an implication that you've got nothing on below the edge of your profile. Once he manages to tear his gaze away, his eyes snag onto the amount of followers you have. Four million. An impressed whistle escapes him as he starts to scroll.

Your photos are still pretty tame, nothing more risque than a bikini shot of you at the beach. To anyone that isn't regularly watching adult streamers, you look like any other influencer of the modern age. Wholesome photos of you are attached as well, displaying your interests and hobbies that has Jack falling deeper and deeper into your orbit.

It's nearly noon when he realized he may have spent the previous hours just looking up your social media sites. One thing that did stick out like a sore thumb (aside from your jaw-dropping photos) had been the lack of use of your real name. He understands the reasoning, knows its for safety especially with the kind of career you're in, but the affectionate nickname you use for yourself and what your subscribers use has a lick of jealousy flaring in his chest.

Dollface. Doll. Dolly.

He scrolls back up before the little monster in his chest grows and a nondescript url catches his eye, the hyperlink sitting pretty beneath your bio. Before he could secondguess himself, he taps it and his phone brings him out of instagram and into his browser app where your website loads on his screen.

While Jack isn't some tech-savvy genius, he's confident enough to say that your page must've been done by a professional. Summer pastels greet him, a variation of your profile pic on instagram (more skin, more sultry—) sitting on the top left of the screen with 'DOLL'S CORNER' splashed on the top of the page and a drop down menu that he decides to explore later.

It's arranged like some sort of blog, your most recent status marked as eight hours ago where you're complaining about some ache. He bites back a smirk before he scrolls down your older posts. There's many videos, ranging from 'get ready with me!'s and 'shopping hauls' with pretty thumbnails, but the one that steals his attention are the ones that are grayed out — almost pixelated with a pink heart-lock graphic in the center.

[ UPGRADE YOUR TIER LEVEL TO ACCESS THIS VIDEO! ♡ ]

His thumb hovers over the lock-graphic before he gives in.

The screen loads and he's taken to a new page, marked by different tiers and different price points.

BESTIES — free! access includes: - get ready with me - weekly vlogs - shopping hauls SWEETHEARTS — weekly subscription. ($) - everything besties has to offer! - short-form lewd content - locked photos from the vault - audios LOVERS — monthly subscription. ($$$) - everything sweethearts and besties has to offer! - midnight live-streams - personalized short-form videos - personalized audios

Jack blinks twice. He continues to scroll before he catches a three-day free trial for all the paid tiers. He bypasses it and taps a single month purchase for access to the LOVERS' vault (after creating a profile and naming it simply with his initials). His dick stirs in his pajamas as the screen loads before it confirms his payment.

All the grayed-out videos are unlocked but rather than an aesthetic thumbnail with pretty collages like your free content, they're blurred out images of you within the video — enough to imply exactly what's going on in each one.

He scrolls on to see another video of you trying on outfits, specifically lingerie. Figuring this is as close as it'll get to dipping his toes in the metaphorical pond of your NSFW content for now, he hits play.

The video starts off with your pretty face adjusting the camera before you settle back on a white rug, surrounded by opened boxes. You greet the camera and it feels like a blow to the gut to see you in your element. If he thought you were pretty in the emergency room, under the garish lighting of the bright fluorescents, you're a goddamn bombshell with perfect makeup and flattering lighting.

As you address the camera, he begins to wonder how exactly you could be an adult streamer when you have content like this until you bring out the haul for the video. White ivory boxes detailed with cream ribbons, baby pink boxes wrapped nicely with ebony lace and tulle. He catches a name on one of the boxes: La Perla.

Jack shifts in his seat, bats away the creeping guilt of watching a young woman try on lingerie, but the charge was confirmed on his card already; it's too late for regret.

(He fears there isn't any regret in the first place.)

Fortunately for his heart (or unfortunately for his twitching cock), you had edited the videos to cut through the actual process of changing into them and rather just show off the full sets.

You didn't seem to have a preference for color, each piece ranging from a monochromatic black to butter yellow lace. Either way, you look gorgeous in all of them and Jack isn't ashamed to admit he's about to blow in his boxers, untouched, at just the sight of you in lingerie.

When the video ends, he replays it but makes it a point to keep his hands out of his pants for now. Instead, he drops a like and a simple comment:

@.swatdoc. — You're magnificent.

Confident in the anonymity of his profile, he puts his phone away to finally catch up on sleep.

Across the city, your phone buzzes with a new notification as you have breakfast on your island counter. Despite the waves of engagement you get on your content, you still keep the notifications on and the newest one brings forth a flutter in your stomach. Compliments are a nickel apiece when it comes to your career but the simplicity of this one and the lack of crudeness that follows steals your attention.

You take a bite of your food as you tap the notif, bringing on the new account profile. While most are kept blank, this man has a profile pic of his back facing a gorgeous sunset. Despite the fact his face is unseen, you recognize those salt and pepper curls.

In the following days, Jack begins to make it a habit to check on your daily statuses. You don't post daily on instagram but you post stories and he enjoys your little activities, likes how everyone seems to be so kind to you. It makes him wonder if your followers are aware of your evening activities, of your content tucked safely away behind a paywall.

Even in the comments section in both the SFW and NSFW side of your content, he realizes you've amassed a loyal following comprised of women that it nearly hides the lewd and desperate remarks from your male subscribers.

@deathreverse : that top is gorggggg!!! ♡

@pearlessance : your makeup is stunning, drop a routine next babes!!

@enam3l: absolutely obsessed w you!! ♡

@mariasont: that shade of pink suits you BEAUTIFULLY

In your last NSFW video, it's you in bed, a thin blanket draped loosely along your frame. There isn't an intro like your lingerie haul, just getting right into it as if the viewer catches you in the middle of the act: your hand sliding beneath the fabric, the camera shaking slightly as you rearrange your position to lay back against the mountain of pillows.

Jack's mimicking the position on his day off, his own back cushioned against his headboard as he watches in rapt attention. His readers are sliding off his nose but he adjusts them as he hits the volume increase button twice. He wants to hear you, addicted to the way you sound so sweet whimpering around your fingers.

Obsessed with the way your moans can sound so goddamn endearing.

He doesn't let the video play on, his hand still sitting obediently above the waist band of his sweatpants as he tries to catch his breath. He scrolls onward instead, stops at a tamer video of you shopping at a boutique.

@.swatdoc. — Gorgeous as always, bunny.

The cursor blinks as he secondguesses the petname. No one's called you anything other than 'doll' or 'dolly' or some iteration of baby or babe. Bunny's innocuous enough, Jack decides, and taps 'comment'. It'll be an inside joke for himself, for the evening you may as well tipped his world upside down when you'd come into the pitt for a stuck bunny buttplug. You get thousands of comments a day, the likelihood of you recognizing him is abysmally low.

The little pep talk he gives himself soothe the minor anxiety spike as he continues to scroll on, amusing himself with the way your bright personality seems to shine through even with the nasty videos that has his cock twitching to life.

He distracts himself with the comments section instead of exiting the video.

@.deathreverse — jesuuus christ, ur so fucking hot

@.deathreverse — let me rip that gorgeous top off you plsplspls

@.pearlessance — let me make your moans my ringtone and i'll never miss a call

The women commenting are far more entertaining to read through, the creativity of it all always taking him aback, despite the usual stab of jealousy. At this point, his parasocial streak of possessiveness is something he's learned to ignore, to let sit beneath a layer of faux indifference.

He's just a fan now among millions, he'll bask in the anonymity your popularity affords him.

You might be obsessed with your most latest subscriber. A Mr. Swatdoc with the silver curls.

Realistically, it may be the hot doctor that had seen you through the most mortifying ordeal of taking out a buttplug at two in the morning but the profile pic doesn't give you much and his profile is blank aside from his chosen screen name (swatdoc) and his age (48).

Regardless, your heart does a funny little twist whenever he appears in your notifications (only on your SFW posts, interestingly enough) whether it's a like or an extra tip but your stomach drops when his newest comment adds a new petname.

Bunny.

You sit up in bed when the notification comes through. Gorgeous as always, bunny. The fucking bunny, cotton-tail buttplug. The same one that Dr. Abbot had all but talked you through it as he gently removed it from your asshole. You glance up to see the damned toy sitting on your dresser right across from your bed, mocking you.

The bed dips beneath as you shift your weight, rolling around in bed as you reread that goddamn nickname over and over again. Bunny.

As your eyes bore into your screen, your phone buzzes.

[@.swatdoc liked your vlog!]

[@.swatdoc commented: Can't get enough of you, bunny.]

A sudden wave of confidence (or perhaps impulsiveness) washes through you and you tap his comment. And in quick succession, you like his comment and tap on his profile. Then his inbox. And finally:

doll : doctor abbot???

Jack drops his phone like it burned him. He sits up, nearly kicks off his blankets in his chaos as his heart falls right out of his ass. He didn't even know there was a messaging system on your website but there it is, that red notification bubble on the top right. He taps it and there's the chatbox.

He contemplates on lying, on playing dumb but he respects you far too much to lie to you. A heavy sigh escapes him as he resettles back into his bed and his cock sheepishly sits limp against his inner thigh.

swatdoc : How did you know it was me?

doll : i'd recognize those silver curls anywhere ♡

Huh. The little heart emoticon blinks up at him, maybe even glows. His cock gives a hopeful twitch.

swatdoc : Let me get this right. You aren't weirded out by me finding your website?

doll : you pulled my buttplug out of my ass, doctor. i think we're even.

swatdoc : Sounds fair.

doll : i do want to ask, strictly as a survey yknow, just to make sure i'm reaching subscriber satisfaction expectations. but is my nsfw stuff not hot enough?

swatdoc : I don't know how to answer that.

doll : you aren't liking any of my nsfw videos…….. am i not your type?

He can imagine it, that wry little grin when you tease the camera, makes him want to fuck it out of you—

swatdoc : Just trying to be respectful. Or as respectful as I can be given the circumstances, sweetheart.

doll : i think you're super respectful, i see the tips you've been leaving….. thank you btw ♡

swatdoc : You're welcome, bunny. doll liked your message!

The activity light near your name goes off and he figures you might've logged off. His thumb drags up the screen to exit the page, sets his phone down and attempt at sleeping. But in the midst of his dark bedroom, there's a stirring in his gut that he can't seem to shake. An itch he needs scratching.

Time fluctuates, slips through his fingers as he finds himself on a popular porn website, the light of his phone illuminating his hazel eyes. He scrolls and scrolls past countless videos, the thumbnails made to entice anyone in his position, and yet frustration starts to grow larger than the lust that's been simmering beneath his heated skin.

None of the actresses look like you.

The thought floors him and he pauses when he finds a woman with a similar body type as you, wears her hair the same way you do. Her moans are a bit too pitchy but he punches the volume down and when his hand slides beneath his sweatpants, he doesn't feel guilt. And when he cums, it's your name spilling from his lips.

"You seeing anyone?"

Jack doesn't look up from the iPad as Robby settles in beside him, ready to take over for day shift as night shift starts to filter out. "What are you talking about?"

"Y'know. Dating? Getting out there? 'cuz Peaches has someone—"

"Not interested, brother, but I thank you for your service." Jack smiles but it's forced, halfway towards a grimace, and places the iPad down with a little too much force. He stomps off to the locker room. Robby and Dana watch his retreating back before they share a look.

"What's his problem?" Dana mutters, her glasses sitting low on the slope of her nose.

Robby chuckles and shakes his head. "No idea."

The truth is— Jack does have a problem. That problem is you.

He thought he'd been good, kept his hands to himself when he gets to his usual routine of stalking your website, and lets his fantasies run wild when he switches over to another porn site to find an actress that looks like you.

But then you had kept texting him, messaging him on your website that the line he's drawn between staying respectful and admiring you from afar against his baseless desire of wanting to fuck you 'til you cry is starting to blur. Of course you have no idea of this line, no clue of the existence of the boundaries Jack's made for himself.

You have no idea that Jack wants more than a physical interaction with you and he has no idea how to ask you out without coming off like a complete pervert.

doll: dr abbot?? swatdoc: You know you can call me Jack, sweetheart. doll: take me out first then i'll feel comfortable enough to call you whatever you want.

Jack nearly shortcircuits at your reply and he fights the urge to hide his phone, shove it in his pocket to deal with later. It'd just look too suspicious and with Shen's eyes on him, he knows he'd blab straight to Lena who'd definitely gossip with Dana. While Dana's known to keep a secret, anything involving him and a potential partner is a surefire way for her to tell Robby.

swatdoc: You mean it, bunny? doll: spending time with you? of course ♡

Jack chuckles and swipes his palm across his stubbly mouth, absolutely incredulous at your gumption.

swatdoc: I meant a date. Not just one night. This old man isn't built for casual. doll: okay old man. take me out to dinner then ♡ it'd give me a chance to redo the first impression you have of me swatdoc: I think it was a perfect first impression, bunny. doll: you saw my ass, of course you thought so!!! swatdoc: I was actually enamored by your charming personality. Your ass was a bonus. doll: … flirt. you're smooth dr abbot. doll: so when's our date? swatdoc: My next day off is in a couple days. How's saturday night looking for you? doll: i'm free !!! gonna come pick me up? swatdoc: If you're comfortable with it, I'd love to. So, saturday at 7? doll: i trust you ♡ and yes, i'll see you then.

He gets a text from you the following day (you'd admitted filching his number from the profile he's made on your website) and after a brief facetime call to prove your identity, he receives your address with a playful tag of: don't be late, dr. abbot.

Saturday's only a couple days away and yet he's fidgeting. He's got a night shift to get his mind off things but even Lena can see he's distracted. While he managed to wave away his colleagues' concerns, he wonders if he's the only one this anxious or nervous for the date.

[ Doll updated her status! ] — 2 secs ago. — Butterflies. ♡

A wave of notifications flood your phone despite the simple status update but you couldn't care less— not when you've got every possible combination of a date outfit laid out on your bed and nothing looks good. You have time, of course, there's nothing stopping you from going out shopping but the extra options might just exacerbate your indecision.

A pitiful whine escapes you as the paralysis of all your options land you flat on your back atop your mattress, clothing wrinkles be damned.

Whether or not the both of you are ready, Saturday evening arrives quickly.

The only information Jack had given you about the date aside from taking you out for a nice, classic dinner was to 'look nice'. As charming and handsome as he is, you resent the fact that he's like every other man his age: allergic to details. Somehow you manage to put on something simple but flattering, a black cocktail dress with a hemline that skims above your knee and a sweetheart neckline that teases your cleavage along with a bold, red pair of stilettos. Pairing it with a matching clutch, you deem yourself ready after a final swipe of lip gloss across your pouty lips.

"Here we go…" you murmur to yourself. Just as you dab at your lower lip with the pad of your ring finger, your doorbell rings. Seven on the dot.

Your heels click against the floor as you open your door to be greeted with Jack in slacks and a navy blue button down… as well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You gasp first, greetings momentarily forgotten in favor of taking the offered bouquet for a sweet sniff. Jack's compliments die on his tongue when he truly sees you, nose buried in the petals.

"How'd you know these were my favorite?" You ask as you step back, head tipping to wordlessly invite him in as you seek out a vase.

"I watched your vlogs," he shrugs with a shameless little smile. "I picked up a few details."

Maybe he shouldn't be as stunned as he is now — he's seen you in various states of dressed and undressed at this point — but you've truly left him speechless when you had opened the door, wearing that little black dress that hugs your body perfectly.

He's grateful that you notice the flowers first, cooing and gasping at the curated arrangement rather than noticing his thunderstruck stupor. It gives him a moment to clear his throat, admire the way you smile at the bouquet.

"You look divine," he murmurs as he follows you inside, watches you putter around your open space kitchen to place the flowers in water. And maybe it's his ego that's got him this taken by you; knowing that perhaps only he alone gets to see this side of you, bashful and charming. When you blush at his compliment, he feels like the king of the world.

"You don't look so bad yourself," you tease with a playful wink, taking his offered hand as he leads you out the door.

Jack's a gentleman when he helps you into his car, glancing aside momentarily when your dress rides up upon seating. He's a gentleman when you make it to the fine-dining restaurant ("Heard the new executive chef just received two Michelin stars!" you share excitedly), opening doors for you and keeping a respecful hand at the small of your back. He pulls your chair out for you, too. Perhaps the bar is in hell but you're undoubtedly impressed and giddy, basking in his undivided attention as you wear your heart on your sleeve for the rest of the evening.

"… and they all looked at it like it was something alien. It was a fax machine—!" Jack laughs, regaling you with the infamous July 4 analog nightmare from hell at the pitt. Dessert is lain between you two, half-eaten and momentarily forgotten as the two of you had been lost in conversation. He'd been worried that he might gross you out or bore you with his job as an ER physician but you had asked and prodded for more gory details, nose scrunching adorably when he explained what a degloving was.

"Okay, fax machines are basically obsolete," you counter with a giggle, lips parting as he feeds you a bite of cake. He waits patiently for you to chew before you continue on. "No one uses them anymore!"

Jack shakes his head in mock disappointment before you return the favor and feed him a bite from your own fork. "Sweetheart, these are vital skills!" Something warm flutters in his chest when you reach up to absentmindedly wipe away a bit of frosting from the corner of his lips, your painted nail skimming across his skin with the movement.

"How about this, I'll call you on the off chance I'll ever need to use a fax machine," you say dryly. A chuckle escapes Jack, low and grumbly that it has your thighs clenching together beneath the table.

"Sure. Or call me whenever, I'll always answer."

The ease of his flirting never fails to make you flustered and Jack capitalizes on it whenever he gets the chance. Like clockwork, you giggle and glance aside, a pretty blush on your cheeks as you look anywhere but his eyes. It's a wonderful side of you that he's steadily growing obsessed with. Yes, your online persona in your SFW space is charming and enchanting while you're essentially a succubus — sex incarnate — when the sun drops low.

But this is you, unabashedly you, and Jack can't get enough of it. He wants more than what you probably expect from him, a warm body to occupy his bed (judging from the stories you've shared about past experiences), and he's ready to go above and beyond to prove to you that he's willing to do whatever it takes so that he could call all of you his.

"Hey, how are we doing? Dessert's good?" The head-of-house manager of the restaurant cuts in seamlessly; he seems to have a good sense of when to enter a conversation.

You smile brightly and Jack nods. "It's delicious, thank you. Every dish has been fantastic," you gush.

"Wonderful, that's what I like to hear," the manager crows before he straightens out his tie. "You two are a beautiful couple. Are we celebrating an anniversary?"

Now it's Jack's turn to get bashful. "Uh, no, a first date, actually."

The manager looks taken aback but he bounces back with a low chuckle, two hands on his chest in subtle apology. "If it helps, the chemistry you two have is undeniable. Truly. But anyways, I came by to ask if you two would like to join us in the garden party out back or maybe a nice little kitchen tour?"

Your eyes shimmer with excitement and Jack gives a yes, offering his hand for you to take. The manager smiles and claps once. "Perfect, let me take you to where the magic happens."

After meeting the famed head chefs and even sampling a few of the desserts at the pastry station, you're positively glowing as the two of you step out to where a small get together of other guests mingle by picnic tables. A few guys that may be the line cooks are handing out beer and soda, giving off a more relaxed vibe than the one inside. It's pleasant and when you feel a chill, Jack's draping his jacket along your shoulders without a word.

"Thanks," you hum, eyes fluttering as you take in his warm and musky cologne that seeps in from the collar. He chuckles and places a hand on the bottom of your spine.

"Of course," he murmurs then tips his head to wear the drinks are being passed around. "Did you want any—?"

"No, I think I'm stuffed. Did you…?"

Jack shakes his head and the nerves from before the date nearly come back in full force. You aren't naive, you know what kind of expectations your job gives people whenever you go on dates. While Jack's been a gentleman the entire evening, you can't deny the fact that him being a subscriber to your NSFW content does skew the way he must see you.

The drive back to your place is quiet and calm, your hand folded delicately in his as he drives. He walks you to your door but much to your surprise, he doesn't step past the threshold.

"I had an amazing time," he says first, his lined eyes crinkling as he gives you a warm smile. "I'd really like to see you again."

You nod, leaning against your doorway as you realize his hand has found yours again. Your joined fingers sway slightly. "Me too. I… I really liked tonight."

He smiles wider as if you've erased any doubts he's had. "Good. I'll, um. I'll let you get some rest. I'll call you when I get my next day off, alright?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Great." And with a smooth and unhurried motion, he leans in for a kiss to your cheek, chaste and sweet. "By the way, I want you to know I'm all in. I'm not trying to waste your time or make you think I'm here for the physical aspect. I like you, sweetheart. Truly."

And with a final pinch of your chin, he steps away and bids you good night before walking off. Later that night, you realize you haven't stopped smiling until you climb into bed, alone but completely content.

When morning comes, Jack sends you a good morning text before he cleans up around the house, settle in before his shift later that evening. He doesn't check his phone 'til noon and when he does, he sees a text back from you and a notification from your website.

[Doll just posted a video!] — 3 hours ago.

His stomach drops. While he truly has no issue with you continuing your camgirl career, something twists inside him at the thought of you getting off the night before without him. Is it that feeling of missing out or is it the fact that he hadn't been there to fulfill that need of yours?

Regardless, his heart is pounding when he taps the notification. The video loads and a breath of relief leaves him in a rush.

[New video!] Get un-ready with me! — Skincare Routine.

He chuckles and leans against the kitchen counter, turns his phone sideways to see you fill his screen in the same dress from the night before. You must be in your bathroom, he notes, as you relay your steps carefully to your audience.

"I know everyone will be asking but I just came back from a wonderful dinner. Food was absolutely divine, I'm already considering going back soon. But…" A bashful smile curls onto your lips and Jack's beaming. "The company was even better. Anyways— moving onto the foam cleanser…"

Your routine ends after you apply your serums and creams, signing off on the camera. The comments section pop up immediately.

@.mariasont — your skin looks so good but you look GLOWINGGG

@.pearlessance — were you on a date?? that dress is fantastic!!

Jack chuckles when he sees that you've dropped a like on that commenter about a date but nothing more. Fan the rumors without confirming anything, looks like you're a tease in more ways than one.

Unable to help himself, he scrolls down his contacts and taps yours. The phone rings once, twice, then—

"Jack?"

"Hey, sweetheart. Is this a bad time?"

You sound a tad bit out of breath but you reassure him nonetheless. "No, no, you're fine. What's up?"

"Well, I—" He interrupts himself with a shy laugh. "I don't know if it's too soon but I'd like to take you out again. My next day off is next week on Friday."

"Oh!" You sound positively pleased and Jack can picture you biting your lower lip to hide that smile he's obsessed with. "Yeah, I can make that happen. Are we doing dinner?"

"No, I was thinking of visiting the aquarium this time around."

"The aquarium…"

He bites back a grin, can picture the excitement simmering beneath the slight trepidation of your words. "That's right. Unless there's something else—"

"No, it's perfect!" You cut in with a little giggle. "Jack, did you watch all my vlogs?"

"Of course I did. And it truly can't be that much of a hardship to learn how much you love the place when you've got vlogs of you there nearly every month," he teases. "But if it's something you like to do on your own—"

"No, no, it's fine, Jack, I'd love to." He can hear the way your voice softens. "I can't wait."

"Alright, it's a date. I'll see you next Friday, sweetheart."

Friday doesn't come fast enough this time around. You've got an outfit bought and ready to go, a simple skirt with a blouse that you might've picked to match his eyes. Jack's on time yet again, two PM on the dot, and while he still keeps his hands to himself, he basks in the way your hand constantly seeks out the crook of his elbow.

You regale him with fish facts throughout each wing of the aquarium and he watches with besotted eyes when you basically glow at the sight of the jellyfish. Conversation ebbs and flows and he's pressing soft kisses into your hair like he can't quite help himself.

By the time you've both made it back to his car, he helps you in while placing the massive jellyfish plushy he bought you at the gift shop onto your lap. It's silly and absolutely wholesome.

It's made you undeniably horny for him.

You appreciate it though, you see how he's gone above and beyond to show you that he wants a relationship out of this. He doesn't expect you to be 'easier' because of your job as a camgirl nor does he think he's entitled to anything more than a kiss on the cheek because of what you show online.

And it's making you want him so bad that you feel like the pervert in this situation.

At your doorway, he's got a hand on your waist this time and your arms are draped loosely around his neck while still holding onto the jellyfish plush that's dangling behind his back.

"Today was lots of fun," you say first, nearly chest to chest with him. He nods, feeling the way you shiver when his thumb rubs circles against your hip bones. Above the fabric of your shirt.

"It was," he agrees as he basks in the sweet scent of your perfume. This close, you're practically intoxicating. "I enjoyed the little fish facts too, didn't know my date was a lovely encyclopedia—"

Your eyes roll playfully at the teasing jab, exaggerating your movements as you unwind your arms to step out of his embrace. "If you hate me, just say so—"

"Now hold on, I never said it was a bad thing," he chuckles and you let out a quiet squeal when his grip tightens, pulling you back into his arms. "Thought it was cute."

"Sure you do," you tease back and you realize he's pulled you even closer now. His voice is a rumble, low and gravelly as the distance between your lips is beginning to diminish.

"I do." He murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. "This okay?"

You nod, throat bobbing. "More than okay," you whisper.

His gaze drops from your eyes, back to your lips, before they close the distance. Your heart thunders in your chest as your arms tighten around his neck to pull him lower. He goes easily, smiling against your lips. He doesn't deepen it, though, just steals a handful of more feather-light kisses that elicits a string of giggles from you, your foot popping up and your back bending slightly backwards as he dips you and showers you in affection.

Eventually, he reluctantly pulls away but not without giving you one more kiss. "Have a good rest of your evening, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Make sure you lock the door behind you, yeah?"

You nod, sighing dramatically as you lean against the back of your door as he steps out to the hallway. "I will. Can I see you again soon, Jack?"

His poor little heart thunders wildly at your adorable expression, half-pleading and half-fond. "Of course, princess. Maybe we can do something like this again, maybe a museum or that fair?"

You perk up with a nod. "That sounds like fun."

"Good. I'll see you soon, darling."

You sigh dreamily and blow him a kiss before shutting the door. You lean against the paneling and groan into your hands.

In the silence of your apartment, you wail— "Why won't he fuck me?!"

The time between your last date to the aquarium to your next one at the museum, you and Jack continue to text. Whether it's you giving him advice for a dish he's making or asking his opinion on which top would look well for a brunch you're attending with your girlfriends, the conversations never slow nor do they ever bore.

And in between those texts, Jack is happily gorging himself on your content while only getting off on actresses that hold resemblance to you. It's twisted and he knows it's wrong but he pictures your face in the shower sometimes, thinks of the way your teeth sink in your plush lower lip as his hand tugs at his cock.

You, however, hold no qualms as you drive the dildo deep in your cunt on late evenings, whimpering for the camera you've got set up. You always make it a habit to just plead, whine and beg more than you might naturally would with a partner, but when Jack's on your mind, you have nothing to exaggerate; you just get way more vocal as you think of his strong hands on your waist. The way he had commanded that kiss without being overbearing.

That kiss alone had wrung out three orgasms from you without the camera on.

Maybe it should've been enough to tide you over but as you start your usual midnight livestream the evening before your next date with Jack, a new title spills past your lips in the throes of your first climax. It shouldn't be a surprise at how easily the name comes to you, especially with how natural it seemed for Jack to take care of you—

"'m cumming, daddy—!"

The pings on your laptop nearby that you use for monitoring the chats go wild, the bell ringing that signified the amount of tips that just flooded your inbox from the title alone. You slump over as you catch your breath from where you've been riding your suction dildo, whining softly to yourself as the toy slides out of you. Your inner thighs are quivering as you lift your gaze to the laptop screen.

"Thanks for stopping by," you croon to the camera before shutting off the stream.

Across the city, Jack palms at his bulge, mouth slightly agape as he tries not to cum in his sweatpants like a teenager. "Fuck."

"I didn't really take you to be a museum kind of guy."

"I'm not. Not really… My friend's fiancée recommended it to us, thought we might like the new exhibit," Jack shrugs as he keeps you near with a hand around your waist. The new exhibit had garnered a sizable crowd and the last thing he wants is to lose you. Especially since you seem preoccupied with the information pamplet, both hands holding it open to read while relying heavily on Jack's firm hand. He likes it, the thought of you trusting him so readily.

You hum in acknowledgment before peering above the page. "The map says the new Caravaggio exhibit is that way… I think." Jack chuckles and peers over your shoulder, both of his hands firmly on your waist. You hold the pamphlet up higher for him.

"You aren't wrong," he muses as he reads over the map. You swallow nervously, you can feel the heat of his body seep against your backless top, the way his voice gets all low and gravelly when he's talking just to you. "It's past the abstract wing. Can you fold that up for me, sweetheart? I wouldn't want you to trip over your feet if you can't see where you're going."

You nod instinctively. "Yes—" You swallow back that title that sits at the back of your throat whenever Jack gets so… passively dominant. "Yeah, of course."

He chuckles and lets his arm fall along your lower back, a hand at the dip of your waist as he leads you towards the exhibit. The entire time as you two parade around the wing, Jack keeps you close. It sparks a light in your core, your inner thighs clenching with need when he unwittingly turns on your desire to be taken care of. But he seems so unbothered by it, humming to himself as his thumb slips beneath your blouse to rub your skin while he reads the information beside the painting.

The two of you are admiring Caravaggio's Narcissus when something comes to mind. "Why'd you call me 'bunny'? In my comments?"

He glances down at you, taken aback by the sudden question. "I… thought it'd be nice to have a nickname of my own for you. It reminded me of our first meeting."

A fond smile curls upon your lips. "Why haven't you called me that since we started dating?"

Something fond crosses over Jack's face, leaves as quickly as it came. His hand squeezes your side. "I didn't think it was appropriate. Thought it might make you uncomfortable if I called you that in public."

"I liked it. Like it. I still do," you trip over your words with a flustered smile. "It's like our own little inside thing. Um—no pun intended."

Jack chuckles and that wide smile he gives you has you pushing against your toes to press your lips to his. He hums fondly, nips at your lower lip. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind, bunny."

You kiss him again.

For the next couple of months, you start to see Jack regularly. Dinner dates (whether it's at the first restaurant he's taken you to or he cooks for you at his place) or movie nights, or even him just coming over to unwind after a long shift. Your posting schedule doesn't shift, only rearranges itself to make room for Jack.

A month in, you'd sat him down and tentatively but firmly told him that you wouldn't be stopping just because of your dates. Jack had accepted it without question, took it as if it was what he expected in the first place.

So you continue your usual schedule. Vlogs and short-form content for your SFW socials and full streams for your NSFW audience. Suggestive photos to tide your subscribers over 'til the next full video.

Jack, on the other hand, looks positively giddy with himself. Sure, he's cumming in his fist nearly every night but he's determined to make sure you know that he wants more with you. Fuck. He sounds like a broken record but he's obsessed; the last thing he wants is his dick to ruin this for his heart.

But his good mood is translated into his night shifts, cracking jokes even with angry patients. It has Shen watching over in confused concern, always taking a double-take when he has the chance. Parker and Crus decide that it's just Jack going through a new wave, a new fixation that's probably tiding him over.

Or a girl— but that's Robby's problem to mull over, not theirs.

They get their chance when Jack's scheduled for a double (something he makes up to you with another extravagant VIP dinner the day before), dropping a hint to their chief that their night-shift attending's been weird all week.

The ambulance bay doors slide open in a 'whoosh' for Dr. Robinavitch, passing by Javadi who's talking to Trinity about making mutuals with some big-shot on her Tiktok and Dennis catching up with Perlah about his weekend, to get to Jack in the locker room.

"So. Shen's said you've been weird."

Jack chuckles lightly, throws his stethescope around his neck, and shuts his locker. "I'm seeing someone."

Robby startles. "Oh. That's— brother, that's great."

"What, didn't think I'd admit it so quickly?" Jack grins and pats his shoulder as he steps around his friend.

"No, not really." Robby follows him out, tugging on both ends of his stethoscope. "I'm happy for you. What's her name?"

"Nah, that's all you're getting out of me, Robinavitch."

The sun's setting as Jack turns the page on the novel he's been reading to you. You're sitting between his legs and your back against his warm chest, stretching out on the gingham blanket you've brought as the two of you find cover beneath the large tree.

Today's date had been completely spontaneous. When his schedule had been unwittingly cleared up, he had driven straight to you to take you out for a late lunch picnic at the small fair that's set up for the weekend. With the sandwiches finished off and you'd run off to buy cotton candy for the both of you to share, Jack had fished out a novel in his back seat to pass the time and enjoy the nice weather.

His hand is absentmindedly rubbing your exposed thigh, the skirt of your sundress riding up just enough for him to explore the smooth skin. His cheek is pressed against the top of your hair while you absentmindedly trace shapes atop his jean-clad thighs.

"Feelin' restless, bunny?"

"Hm?" Jack's question draws you out of your stupor, so content in his arms that it takes him a few attempts to get your attention. "No, just… really cozy."

"Yeah?" He presses a line of kisses down your jaw and neck, eliciting a soft squeal from you. Jack would've continued showering you in kisses but he grunts, reluctantly pulling away to rub at his aching prosthesis.

You frown. He's mentioned losing a limb before, knows that he wears a prosthetic leg, but you've never seen him this uncomfortable. "Jack, we could head home if it's hurting—"

"I'm fine—"

"Jack." He pauses and turns his attention to you, your brows furrowed and your lips in a line. "Come on, we can just take it easy at your place. You said you're more comfortable in your crutches, right?"

"Yeah." You can see when he finally gives in, his shoulders rounding out as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

Once the both of you get to your feet, you hold out your hand. "Gimme the keys, I'll drive to give your leg a break."

"I don't think so."

"Jack."

"Bunny."

It takes a second but he concedes there too, pulling you in by the shoulders for a swift kiss to your lips. "You're lucky you're cute, sweetheart."

Jack's place is almost as familiar as yours now. He watches you saunter around his place, dropping his keys into the dish bowl on the table by the door, place your things on the loveseat before rummaging through his fridge for a beer.

When you reach him where he's seated on his couch, prosthesis set aside to hand him a beer, he gently tugs you onto his lap before popping the tab open for your can first. "Thanks," you hum, taking a sip while he opens his. His arm is strong around your waist and the easy strength he holds for you, the possessive touch he's got whenever you're near... it sparks a flicker of heat inside you and as you turn, straddling his lap to kiss along his jaw. His scruff is rough against your glossy lips but it only has you mewling.

"Bunny…" he groans as his large hand splays along the expanse of your back, supporting your weight while you tip back just enough for him to place his beer behind you on the coffee table. His eyes flutter shut, basking in your sweet kisses, as temptation guides his hand lower to cup your perky ass. It's your moan, drawn out and desperate, that pulls him out of the heat that's settling thick in his head. Reluctantly, his hands rise back up and an indignant whine spills from your throat—

"Jack, why won't you fuck me?"

He nearly chokes on his spit at your question and when he looks up, you look adorably put out, lower lip jutting out. Your gaze is glassy, lips kiss-swollen. His thumb comes up, presses against your mouth to drag down your lip slowly. "Bunny, why do you think I won't fuck you?"

"You— you've only ever kissed me. You've only liked my non-sexual content. You—"

"Baby," he shushes you gently, releases your lip to cradle your jaw. "It's not that I'm uninterested in you. Trust me— I am. I just didn't want you to think this was all some ploy to just get you in bed with me."

Another whine rises up within you. "But it's been months, Jack."

"Sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you know I was serious. It wasn't just for you, but for me, too. Had to make it known to you that I'm here for the long haul," he murmurs and when you nod in understanding, his lips find yours for a kiss that's got you clenching your thighs. Your back arches back when he leans further in, lips parting to let his tongue probe against yours.

"Gonna… mm— fuck me now?" You pant against his mouth, lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks when his lips drag down your neck to mark your collarbone with marks.

His chuckle is raspy against your skin. "I'm gonna make love to you, bunny. Come on—"

"Why not here?" You whimper, giving your hips a slow roll against his. You can feel his bulge, stiff through his jeans, against your panties.

"I'm not having you on my couch, darling. Not for our first time. We can defile the rest of my house later."

You giggle as you reluctantly get to your feet, knees nearly knocking together while Jack goes for his crutches. "Do you promise?"

"I promise," he chuckles, following you into his bedroom. His mouth goes dry, easy dominance deflating momentarily when he watches you crawl onto the center of his bed, your sundress hemline rucked up to reveal the pretty white lace panties you've got on beneath. His eyes follow the fabric, disappearing in between your ass cheeks, before they flit back up when you turn and lean against his headboard.

You're in your doll mindset now, your hands dancing across your body to give him a show. But while your videos are choreographed, almost clinical to a certain degree to entertain an audience, Jack sees the way your hand trembles just before you drag the neckline of your dress down, tempting him to just rip the fabric off you.

But he's a patient man, understands that this is just as much for you as it is for him. He can see the way your arousal heightens with each teasing touch. "Take it off for me, bunny, just for me."

He must've said the right thing because a broken moan spills from your lips, nodding as you cross your arms and drag the hem of your dress up to reveal a matching bralette to your panties. The bed dips beneath his weight when he joins you, settling down onto the mattress just as you toss a leg over to straddle his waist again.

"Ah, shit," he hisses when he glances down, sees the way the fabric of your panties are nearly translucent with your slick. His hand creeps down to rub your swollen clit through the damp fabric, tilting his head back up to watch your reaction. He doesn't shut his eyes when your open mouth drags along his cheek, a poor approximation of a kiss as you shut your eyes to savor the way his fingers deftly tug the panties aside to dip within your folds. A pathetic moan escapes you. "This all for me, bunny?"

"Mhm, yes—"

"She's drippin' just for me, fuck," he chuckles as his middle finger teases your entrance, enamored by the way your hips rock clumsily against your palm. "Mm, look at that."

It's filthy, the way Jack leans back against the headboard with his head ducked down to watch your cunt practically suck in his fingers, his other hand keeping your panties tugged aside for his viewing. "Please, I wanna feel you," you beg, voice hitching high in a way he's never heard before.

"You sound so sweet for me, bunny," he murmurs as he redraws his fingers from you, tasting you with a voracity that makes you even wetter. "You've been so good for me, pretty girl, don't worry… I'll give you what you want."

And while Jack sounds so benevolent, your lips finding his in a grateful kiss before you're scrambling off to lay on your back under his guidance while he undresses next, it's all a facade to conceal the way he's barely able to hold it together now that he's got you: heart, soul, and now body.

He settles on top of you, lips finding your shoulder for a brief moment of sweet affection despite the filth that's fallen from his lips from earlier, and makes a home between your thighs. You might've teased him for picking missionary as your first time, giggle at how insistent he is on keeping things old fashioned despite your unorthodox relationship, but then the tip of his cock prods against your entrance, mouth dropping slightly as your head falls back against the pillows— he's huge.

"Ngh— Jack…" you whimper as the stretch leans more towards pain than pleasure at first, eyes shut as you feel Jack's lips skim across the side of your neck. "S'too big…"

His chest rumbling, he chuckles in your ear, nips at your jugular. "Don't worry, bunny. I can make it fit."

Lust and adoration intertwine in your core as he pushes deeper, your walls adjusting for his girth while your nails dig into his freckled shoulders. After what feels like an eternity, Jack's fully sheathed in you, pressing kisses along your brow and temple.

"So fuckin' tight—" he grunts, attempting a shallow thrust that has you two moaning in unison. "You ready for me, bunny? Gonna start movin'."

You feel absolutely full, can feel Jack in your gut, but you nod, legs hooking around his waist. "Ready," you manage to say, releasing one shoulder to cradle his jaw for a searing kiss. He pulls out and thrusts in without hesitation, his lips parting for his tongue to taste yours. The two of you make out like teenagers, sloppy and uncoordinated, while his cock drives into you slowly, your body shifting higher up the bed until his hand comes up to cradle the top of your head before it hits the headboard.

He swallows your moans with a grunt of his own, tasting your desperation with each rock of his hips. But when his lungs start to burn for oxygen, he reluctantly pulls back only to be rewarded with your vocal cries for more. He's heard your noises before, almost four million people have, but he's never witnessed you like this, so gorgeously needy on his cock, your moans more like broken whimpers and hiccups interlaced with his name. So unbelievably vulnerable, laid out just for him.

It has him driving his cock even deeper into you, eager to hear the way your mouth sounds around his name whenever he hits that specific spot.

"No, no, no— don't get shy on me now, bunny," he coos, dropping a hand to cup your cheek to guide your eyes on him. "You sound so sweet for me, let me hear you…"

His words elicit another gasp of his name as one particular thrust has you seeing stars, the coil in your core tightening as his hand comes down to rub your clit in time with each rock of his hips. He can feel his own climax but he keeps it at bay, laser focused on your own pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck… Jack—!" You wail as the coil snaps, his cock buried to the hilt before he fucks you slow and deep to carry you through your climax. With you taken care of, he chases after his pleasure next, hips snapping against yours in a brutal pace that has your toes curling in sweet ecstasy.

His forehead drops to rest on yours, breaths mingling while his own moans pitch into a needier grunt, veering into whimpers while he talks you through it. "Feels so fuckin' good, bunny… s'like your pretty cunt was made just for me… oh fuck— she's just sucking me in," he pants.

The string of dirty talk kickstarts something inside you and you feel that familiar tightness in your core, hiccuping moans bubbling past your kiss-swollen lips as he drives his cock deeper. "Jack— 'm… hah— gonna cum—!"

"Yeah?" He huffs, a cocky half-grin in his lips as he drags his scruffy jaw along your cheek. "Gonna give me another, bunny? Come on… gimme one more," he coos while his pace starts to falter, losing its steady rhythm as he gets closer and closer to his own edge.

When you cum for the second time, he's quick to follow right after, your convulsing walls eliciting his own release right into your waiting cunt. A part of him panics — he didn't wear a condom nor did you say anything about being on any kind of contraceptive — but he feels your heels dig into his lower spine to keep him from moving. The concern still sits at the back of his mind but he lets himself get lost in the sensation of finishing inside you, his thrusts slowing to a halt before carefully laying on you.

"Holy shit," you breathe out, a blissful smile on your lips with your eyes fluttering shut. When Jack pulls out, you offer a slight wince but curl onto his chest as he rolls over onto his back. Your head nestles onto his pec, his arm winding around your bare shoulders. When you turn your head to kiss his freckled collarbone, he chuckles and squeezes you gently.

Jack hums wordlessly. Basking in the moment, he lets himself sink into the warmth of you beside him. There really isn't any need to talk for now and the both of you would've been content to let the moment settle in…

Had it not been for your growling stomach.

His laughter cuts through your embarrased whine, rolling over to hide your face into his chest completely. "Don't laugh—" you pout but he just jostles you gently, gets you to look up at him where he can kiss your nose.

"Stay here, I'll clean you up first," he promises and rolls out of bed. Grabbing his crutches, he heads over to his attached bathroom for a warm, dampened towelette. He cleans you between the thighs, gentle and careful as he drops a kiss to your knee. "About earlier—"

"I'm clean," you interject. "I don't have any partners and I'm on the pill."

He nods, relieved as he tosses the towelette into his laundry basket. "I'm clean, too. I haven't… not since my late wife."

Your smile is heartachingly tender. He's spoken about his late wife before, wears the ring on a chain close to his heart, and how he and his therapist have decided that he's in the right place to move on.

"We can both get tested if you want," you offer. "I don't want anyone else but you."

It's an invitation to a conversation he's been waiting on for a month now and he dives right in. The bed dips as he sits at the edge, a warm and calloused hand on your thigh. "I only want you, bunny. That's not ever gonna change." He cups your jaw, warm and possessive in a way that'll never fail to light a fire in your heart. "Can I be yours, sweetheart?"

You nod with a giggle bursting past your lips. "Yes—! Of course, yes," you swoon with your arms around his neck, his hand releasing your jaw in favor to hug you 'round the waist.

"Yeah?" His pretty crows' feet deepen when he smiles at you, chuckling when you nod again with an eager bob of your head as you gently scratch at his scruffy jaw. "Gonna go steady with me, bunny?"

A laugh escapes you, nose scrunching up at his dated language. "Always and forever, old man."

Although the months you've spent with Jack before the both of you made it official had you feeling like cloud nine, the next following weeks could only be properly labeled as the honeymoon phase now that you're officially his girlfriend. With Jack's night shift schedule and your unorthodox posting timelines, the two of you manage to make it work.

Speaking of work, you had been adamant that because he's your boyfriend, you had no plans on stopping the camgirl site and told him so the morning after. Jack had blinked and nodded as if it'd been something he had already expected. His only caveat was that you'd at least make your new relationship status public knowledge to your subscribers whether it's as simple as a status post on your website. You went above and beyond by posting a selfie with Jack's arm around your neck, his bicep smushing your cheeks while you grinned dopily at the camera.

While your followers had fawned over your new man, occasionally posting faceless boyfriend pics of Jack, you made sure to keep his identity secret as your highest priority whenever he'd make some sort of cameo in your SFW videos.

"Babe, you gotta stop jumping in the frame, I'll have to edit you out—!" You laugh in your most current video, holding out the camera high and up just enough to capture your hand crooked around Jack's arm as the two of you walk the aisles of the farmer's market.

He chuckles and dutifully stops ducking his head. "Just move the camera when I kiss your cheek, bunny. And even if my face shows, I thought you could just slap on an emoji or something on my face when your assistant edits them."

The camera captures the way you look up, a playfully deadpan expression on your features. "You wanna put more work on Francine?"

"You're right, I'll behave."

The clip ends there and the views skyrocket, nearly matching your most infamous videos on your NSFW side. It's gotten so popular that Victoria's talking about it during work hours, in awe of the fact that she's mutuals with you despite the fact that she's gone viral on Tiktok herself.

For once the pitt has a handle on chairs and triage, allowing Victoria to show Dennis her newest editing style, inspired by Doll's Corner. He perks up, recognizes the voice through the walls of the apartment he shares with Trinity.

"Oh, I think Santos is also subscribed to her," he grins.

Victoria frowns. "Subscribed…? Her website's free, Dennis."

Trinity walks past before circling back. "What's free?"

"Oh, um— Doll's corner." Victoria holds out her phone, displaying your instagram profile. "She has her own website but Dennis mentioned that you're subscribed to her…?"

"She avoids her SFW content, probably because it'd feed the parasocialism since Doll seems to be exactly her type," he grins, always eager to have something over his lovable but prickly roommate.

"She's not my type, she's just hot—"

"Hold on, what do you mean SFW content? Isn't all her stuff SFW…?" Victoria cuts in, eyes wide as she scrolls up and down the webpage. Trinity snatches the phone and taps the top right menu button of the page, scrolls towards the 'PRICING' tab before offering the phone back.

Dennis interrupts. "She doesn't really advertise her adult content, it's more of a… if-you-know-you-know situation. You're cool with that, right?"

Victoria swallows, goes through the 'free' content of your camgirl side while her mind races with the blurred and suggestive content, before nodding with a wide-eyed grin. "'Course I'm cool with it. Just— I didn't expect it. Yeah, I'm cool. Dennis, are you subscribed—?"

"No, no—" Dennis startles with a flustered laugh. "It's not really my thing, but I know Dr. Ellis had found her account too. She's popular."

The youngest MS4 merely nods and wanders off, looking very scandalized. Dennis and Trinity watch her go before shrugging, unaware that the true reason why Victoria's so shocked is that she had suspected Doll's newest boyfriend might be Dr. Jack Abbot.

Your SFW content views continue to skyrocket (especially the shortform video where you had Jack flex his bicep for the camera before placing a piece of dessert on top, eating right off his freckled arm before he's pulling you out of frame for a kiss).

There's already been a few questions asking if your boyfriend (lovingly dubbed as Mr. Doll by your subscribers) would ever participate in your content. You haven't gotten around to answering them, leaving them untouched as you post your usual photos and videos for your loyal subscribers.

The truth is, you aren't even sure how to bring up the topic to Jack nor would you know how to figure out the logistics of including your boyfriend without jeopardizing his identity. But the problem is solved a week later where you're in your bedroom, filming a toy haul with a new PR package from a sex toy company.

You're in the throes of your orgasm, nothing on but a bunny tail plug nestled in your ass while you ride a massive silicone pink dildo with some device that literally creampies you. You've got your back to the camera, the cute plug front and center, when your knees drop and you bottom out on the toy with a final moan.

You'd been so lost in your 'review' that you didn't realize Jack had come by early, leaning against the doorway with a dark little grin that you've come to associate with 'playtime'.

"Havin' fun, bunny?" he asks, the camera picking up on his voice sounding like velvet over gravel.

Your giggle is breathy and sweet. The camera captures the way your neck arches, looking over your shoulder to meet Jack's eyes who stays firmly out of the shot. "Mhm, I am."

"Did that thing… finish in you?" When you give him another resounding giggle and nod, he shakes his head with a fond chuckle. "I'll give you five minutes to catch your breath before it's my turn, sweetheart."

When you'd given the video to Francine, your assistant, to edit, she had sent over the last clip where Jack had come in and asked if you wanted it out. Deciding that it seems safe enough to keep since he's not even within the frame and that people have heard his voice before, you told Francine to keep it in.

Later that night, you receive an tsunami of positive comments, most of them fawning over the way Mr. Doll seems to adore you even while making content for the rest of your depraved audience.

@.pearlessance: holy shit HIS VOICE???

@.deathreverse: i bet he talks you through it omfg

@.mariasont: i just KNOW your man is fine

@.enam3l: give us one audio file of him cumming PLEASE

You're wrapped up in Jack's arms later that evening, your back settled against his chest as you read over the comments with him. He's got his strong arms around your middle, lazy kisses pressed to your bare shoulder as the cold edge of his readers bump along your jaw.

"You're stealing my fans, Jack."

"No, they like the way I make you flustered, bunny. There's a difference."

"Maybe," you hum as you swap apps to your instagram, scrolling mindlessly before you pause. "Jack?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Would you… want to be in my cam videos? Just as your voice," you clarify with a shy smile. The curve of his smile is pressed against your neck.

"I'd be honored," he croons. "Maybe you could play with yourself for the camera, let me talk you through your orgasms."

Your cheeks burn, thighs clenching as you rub them together. "Mhm."

"Use your words, bunny."

"I'd like that a lot, sir."

That had been a new revelation. You've called Jack 'daddy' jokingly outside of the bedroom before, just something to steal his attention whenever you're particularly needy (whether it's for something sexual or not). And while he liked it, judging by the fond and flustered grin on his lips, he had sat you down and told you what title actually does it for him.

Sir.

It never did anything for you, thought it might've been too simple or even too formal to ever be used in bed, but it fits Jack perfectly. An older man with his experience and status along with a natural inclination to dominance doesn't need something as desperate as 'daddy' to insert control in the bedroom.

"Good girl," he rasps and takes your chin to turn your head, planting a heated kiss onto your lips. "How about we pick a day for it, hm? Put it on your calendar."

When you nod again, he chuckles and nips at your lower lip. "Can we do it now?"

Despite your eagerness, you and Jack had decided on a Sunday evening the following week, opting for a pre-recorded video rather than a live show.

Like always, you've got your tripod set up at the foot of your bed with you front and center. You have mood lighting set up, nothing too garish and bright and classically 'porno' but rather something warm to get you comfortable. The only difference is Jack seated behind the camera, manspreading like it's his fucking job in those grey sweats you've moaned about a week ago.

"You ready, baby?" Jack's voice is caramel sweet but you know it'll dip lower when he hits the record button. When you give a nod, he reaches up to press the button.

The red light blinks at you but Jack clears his throat. "Eyes on me, bunny."

Your gaze is magnetized to your boyfriend's, feeling deliciously exposed with the way his eyes drink you in. Tonight, you've got on a lingerie set he had bought just for you: a babydoll pink bralette with a matching thong and garters. In the hollow of your neck is a delicate, cursive 'j' on a chain.

"You look gorgeous, sit up for me, sweetheart. Let the camera see your new outfit," he drawls lazily and your eyes drop down to his large hand, gripping his bulge through the sweats.

The camera captures the way you look behind it, your gaze unfocused and your cheeks flustered, but you never disobey sir's words as you sit up on your knees. Your hands dance along the lacy straps, brushing across the sheer panels that hold up your tits. Jack's attention is fixed on you, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he strokes himself through his sweatpants.

"That's it, bunny. Play with those pretty titties for the camera," Jack murmurs.

He continues to take the lead and it's almost alarming at how good he is, how easy it is for you to completely forget you're still filming. He eventually has you propped up against your mountain of pillows, knees bent and thighs spread out.

"Add another finger for me, bunny."

You've already got two in, your middle and your ring finger, while your other hand is groping at your exposed tit. "Sir, I can't—"

"Sure you can, pretty girl. You've taken my cock, haven't you?" Jack chuckles meanly, his hand tugging at his cock now. Your eyes are locked on his length and he capitalizes on it, rubbing his thumb across his tip.

"Yes, but—"

"Come on, bunny, one more. You can do it."

The camera captures the way you whimper, gasping around nothing when you add your index finger into your sopping cunt. Even the lighting catches the shine of your slick against your inner thighs; Jack's got you edging yourself and you're ready to beg.

The stretch burns in the best way, not in the same breadth as Jack's cock, but enough that it has you plunging your fingers so fast that it sounds lewd against the camera.

"Can I cum, sir, please—" You choke out, hand beginning to cramp from the speed and angle you have that Jack notices it immediately. If you've been a bit less preoccupied with your own impending orgasm, you would've noticed that your boyfriend had been staving off his own climax, gripping the base of his length until he's finally given you permission.

Behind the camera, he continues to talk you through it but his voice isn't as measured, it's strained and a tad bit pitchy — his tell-tale sign that he's about to cum soon.

"Cum for me, bunny, let me see you make a mess on yourself," he coaxes and once you take the final fall, he's quick to follow, white ropes of his release painting his thighs and the floor beneath. "So fuckin' hot, Jesus Christ—"

Your cramping hand drops from between your legs as you slump against the pillows completely, legs splayed out for the camera to watch the way your clit throbs from the overstimulation. Jack tucks himself back in and takes the camera, detaches it from the tripod mount to approach your bedside.

"Let's see the mess you made, gorgeous," he murmurs, his voice wrecked as he props a knee up to hover above your overstimulated frame. You giggle up at the camera, taking his free hand (the same one that had been wrapped around his cock moments ago) and gently lick the traces of his release clean off his fingers. He curses under his breath before he affectionately pinches your chin. It elicits a soft laugh from you and the look you give him beyond the camera does something to his chest, a word that tastes something sticky sweet (and maybe starts with the letter 'L'), that he suddenly wishes this part is just for him.

But he moves lower, the camera panning down to where your panties are tugged loosely aside where your puffy, slick cunt is on display. It's lewd and nasty, the way his free hand strokes through your folds before he's bringing up his fingers for a taste. The satisfactory moan he lets out sends a thrill up your spine.

His hand travels to the swell of your thigh, to your hip where he tugs your panties off. The camera jostles as he shoves the soiled, lacy fabric into the back pocket of his pants, before he pulls away.

"I think your fans earned enough of you. Say goodbye, bunny, it's my turn for a taste."

The last thing the camera sees is a wave of your hand before it's set aside roughly, filming your ceiling and capturing the way your giggle melts into a breathy moan before the video and audio cuts.

—

"So when are we meeting the lucky lady?"

The sun sits high as Jack lounges on the roof on a chair that he's brought up a few months back. Robby had brought his own chair a week later, pleased to see his best friend behind the railing this time. The two are relaxing, stealing a few moments of solitude before handoffs are completed.

"Not yet," Jack grunts as he takes a sip of the pressed juice you've packed for him. You've been given a massive PR package of some health brand and he'd been willing to take half of the crate off your hands. "Soon."

Robby gives him a sidelong glance. "Are you ashamed of her or somethin'?"

"No. No, definitely not. I just want to keep her to myself a bit longer before you and Peaches poach her off me." Jack chuckles. "Relax, brother. I'll bring her around soon."

"Alright, I'm holding you to that," Robby chortles before he gets to his feet, back cracking while he stretches. "Go home, Abbot."

Before, Jack would've kneedled, maybe dragged his feet a bit longer to keep from returning to an empty house. He's always craved company, even moreso at the passing of his late wife. But this time, he grabs his backpack and rucks it over his shoulder, offering a casual wave of his hand.

"Ain't gotta tell me twice. I got a pretty girl waiting for me at home."

—

Later that evening, Victoria Javadi's sitting outside on the benches with the rest of day shift, drinking a beer she hopes would taste better after every sip. After turning twenty one, she still didn't see the appeal of drinking beer but after her sneaking suspicion that her night shift attending might be dating the influencer she's admired for so long, she realizes she might need it.

Her thumb punches the 'low' volume button on the side of her phone as she pulls up your tiktok account. Your account has only grown since you've started including your mystery man; the tiktok trends that center around playful pranks or cute videos snipped from longer vlogs with your partner are the ones that hit a million views first.

She takes a deep breath and taps your most recent one, a clip that looks like it had been cut from your last get-ready-with-me vlog, judging by the outfit you have on. You greet the camera as usual, holding out two different purses before leaning this way and that to get all angles of your outfit. Your attention is stolen, however, when the voice of 'Mr. Doll' cuts in from behind the camera.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

You pout, your gaze looking beyond the camera. "I don't know which bag to bring."

"What do you need a bag for?"

"My lip gloss…" you reply sheepishly and a throaty chuckle from Mr. Doll follows, soft and fond.

"The second one, bunny. Come on, let's go."

The video loops and Victoria lets it play before her thumb rewinds the video back herself, listening to that voice before her gasp gets caught in her throat.

Mr. Doll is Jack Abbot.

—

In another apartment across the city, Trinity takes advantage of the empty home and hunkers down in bed. It's a guilty pleasure, she knows, but with the stress of residency along with Garcia's emotional unavailability, she figures a bit of her wage going to one of the most hottest camgirls couldn't be the worst vice in the world.

She scrolls through the paid content of yours with a soft sigh, sinking deeper into her mattress before opting for one of the newer POV content. It's a new series you've started, something that kicked up in popularity from a couple weeks ago when your partner had taken the camera to film you himself after he talked you through your orgasm.

Trinity hasn't had the chance to check it out herself, a bit hesitant considering the POV shots may ick her out if she actually sees a penis when she's been thinking of inserting herself as the viewer on top of you. But curiosity kicks in as she plays the most recent one, heat simmering low in her core as it starts out with you undressing as always, straddling your partner this time as he films you from below.

"I can feel you—" you gasp, your hands braced on the stomach beneath you as it pushes your tits together. Your hips roll, sinfully smooth while the strap of your sheer tanktop drops off one shoulder. It keeps falling, revealing a single breast, but you pay it no mind, too busy dry-humping the body beneath you.

"You're soaked for me, bunny… am I gonna feel you through my boxers?" The man grunts and something tugs at the back of Trinity's mind, a sick sense of deja vu or familiarity. She ignores it, eyes straining to try and focus only on you.

You giggle. "Maybe… can't help it, daddy gets me so wet—" You pause, eyes wide at your little slip.

"'Daddy'?" The familiar male voice repeats and the camera catches the man's hands travel up, sliding between the valley of your breasts to curl around your throat possessively. A ditzy grin spreads across your lips, eyes nearly rolling back as you lean your neck forwards into his palm.. "Is that my name now, bunny? Want me to be your daddy?"

The video plays on but Trinity couldn't focus, not when horror sets in alongside disgust and mortification when her brain finally places where she's heard that voice before. Once it clicks, she gags and pauses the video, tosses her phone across the room as full-body shudders wrack her whole frame.

When Dennis comes home late, it's to find Trinity on the couch, spacing out with a security blanket swaddling her prone frame. Panic sets in and he rushes forward, his fist rubbing her chest out of habit tp see if there's any response to pain—

"Ow, fuckin' quit it—!" Trinity snaps, smacking his hand away as she glares up at him.

He lets out a sigh of relief before crossing his arms. "What the hell happened to you? Was it Garcia—"

"No." A haunted look passes over his roommate's eyes. "Worse. I think I found Dr. Abbot's girlfriend."

—

With your six-month-iversary fast approaching, you and Jack are running out of excuses to keep putting off the inevitable 'meeting of the friends' ceremony. Your own friends are eager to meet the older man that's been starring in most of your content and Robby's starting to threaten break-ins and impromptu dinners if he doesn't get to meet the woman that's made his best friend so happy.

It isn't that you're scared Jack's friends and colleagues won't like you or that he's ashamed of you— it's just the fact that the two of you are becoming grossly codependent, refusing to let the other one out of each other's sight for too long. Inviting friends into your circle would only lessen the amount of time you two have for each other and the two of you would much rather prefer extending your honeymoon period first.

Unfortunately, the decision is taken out of yours and Jack's hands when you wake in the morning to an abnormal amount of bleeding. Your period's supposed to start soon but with the sudden heavy flow and the sharp pain in your abdominal, fear licks up your spine.

Something isn't right.

You carefully bring yourself out of Jack's bed, whimpering at the massive stain you've left, before hobbling over to your phone. What awful timing— your actual doctor boyfriend isn't in to check you out himself but rather he's stuck at the ER working a double.

With the amount of time you've spent with Jack, he's ingrained it into you to always listen to your body, to get help rather than attempting to self-diagnose or to undermine your pain level, so you call 9-1-1 with a shaky voice.

When the operator confirms that an ambulance is on the way, you remember to add one final thing: "Can you take me to PTMC, please?"

—

"Female, mid to late 20s, heavy vaginal bleeding and sharp abdominal pain. Reports of nausea and vomiting with a fever of 102 degrees," the EMT barks out, pushing your gurney through the ambulance bay as the cacophany of the emergency department greets you. When the ambulance had arrived at Jack's place, you'd been barely able to stand upright, chills racking your frame.

Your mind is fuzzy, the fluorescent lights above you spinning like soup while you're pushed into an available room. A couple of nurses trail after a doctor, a penlight flashing in your eyes as said doctor introduces herself.

"Hi, I'm Dr. King, are you taking any kind of birth control or—"

"My IUD," you whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you try to fight through the pain that seems to steadily increase with each passing moment. "Is it—I heard it can be displaced?"

Fast paced conversation erupts around you, swapping differentials and possible diagnoses before scissors are cutting through your pajamas to reveal your bloody panties. A hand presses against your upper abdomen, a gentle palpating movement that tears out a cry of pain from you.

"Order a CT," a doctor barks. "Can't do much until we see what's going on in there."

Dr. King nods and promises to take care of you after you've been pushed some painkillers to tide you over until it's your turn. As you get wheeled off, she notices a delicate cursive 'j' tattooed right above your hip bone.

—

After some time, you're dressed in a hospital gown, waiting for your CT results as the painkillers they've given you keep the pain at bay for the meantime. Your phone sits in your lap, screen on to your text thread with Jack. You know he's somewhere in the department, most likely saving lives, but your texts are unread and it's gnawing at the pit of your stomach.

"Hi," a voice calls out and it's a sweet looking young man, around your age as he rubs in the hand sanitizer. "I'm Dr. Whitaker. We have your CT results and it looks like a displaced IUD. Did anything happen recently or…?"

Your cheeks burn bright red. "Um. Rough sex, I guess?"

Dr. Whitaker's face colors red as well. "Oh—! Um, well, yeah. That'll do it. The CT scans revealed some slight perforation in your uterine lining so we'll go ahead and get that out for you, it'd be a minor procedure so you'll be up and walking in just a few hours."

"Great, thank you," you sigh in quiet relief but as you ponder something, Whitaker sticks around, like he knows you've got a request. "Um, is there a Dr. Abbot in?"

He nods. "Yeah, he's one of my attendings. Has he treated you before?"

"No, actually—"

"Bunny—?!" The curtains slide open and Jack rushes in, concern choking up his syllables when he sees you looking slightly gaunt and exhausted in a hospital gown. Dennis' eyes widen as he steps aside; he's never seen his attending look so disheveled and unkempt. "What happened?"

"Jack, I'm fine, it was my IUD," you explain, looking up while he checks over your vitals. "It… got displaced. I wonder whose fault is that." Your dry tone has Jack looking sheepish and Whitaker looking everywhere but the both of you. It's already taken all of his professionalism to keep from reacting when he recognized you as Trinity's past obsession. She still wouldn't say why she unsubscribed until he realizes the secret boyfriend is Dr. Abbot.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Jack murmurs into your hair as he kisses your forehead. "I'll make sure they'll bump you forward so you can get out of here faster."

You nod and your lower lip juts out, slipping into that sweet mindset that Jack can't get enough of; cotton candy delicate and adorably delectable. "Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise, bunny." His voice takes on that gravelly tone that you've become obsessed with and when you tip your head up, he closes the distance and kisses you briefly.

At that moment, the curtain slides open again. "Whoa— sorry for interrupting, folks." You pull away, fiery cheeks on display, to see another taller doctor enter. "Dr. Whitaker, can you go help Dr. Santos in Central 13? I'm Dr. Robinavitch, you can call me Dr. Robby. You must be the infamous 'Bunny'."

Jack groans and playfully hides his face into the top of your hair as the name registers as your boyfriend's best friend. You smile prettily and offer your hand to shake when Dr. Robby approaches, giving your name instead. The man seems nice but only Jack has the privilege of calling you 'bunny'. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Robby."

"Just Robby," he insists before he flips through your chart. "Looks like you're up next for the laparascopy. Do I wanna know what happened?"

Your blush deepens. "No, not really. This is an awful first impression."

Robby chuckles, scratches the back of his head. "It's not so bad, all things considered. But now that I finally have both of you here, what do you say to dinner with my partner and I? She's been eager to meet you."

You give Jack a sidelong glance. "Who else did you tell about me?"

"Nearly everyone," Robby cuts in while Jack gives a shrug.

"I didn't give details. I just liked talking about you, sweetheart. That so bad?"

A pleased smile curves upon your lips. "Not at all. I love how obsessed you are with me," you tease. Your boyfriend's eyes roll before patting his friend's chest.

"Alright, come on. Let's get her rolled into the OR so I can take my girl home."

—

As promised, recovery goes by swiftly and a new IUD is put in place. Discharge is expedited when you're dating one of the attendings and soon, Jack's coming into your room with a fresh set of clothes from his locker.

"I liked those panties," you huff as you step into Jack's black sweatpants, leaning against the bed as he kneels down to roll the legs up for you.

When he stands to full height, he helps you into the faded 'ARMY' sweater. "I'll buy you more, bunny." He tugs you in by the waist to steal a few more kisses. "Just glad you're okay. You almost gave me a heart attack when I saw your name on the board."

"Sorry," you pout as Jack sweeps a thumb across your cheekbone. "I tried texting but I—"

"No, baby, you're fine." He hushes you with another soft kiss. "It's good you came in when you did. Come on, I'll take you home."

His arm is thrown around your shoulder as he guides you out through the ambulance bay. The both of you are lost in your own little world, exchanging soft laughter and playful kisses, that you don't see the haunted look in Santos' eyes as she scurries out of the way or Javadi watching in the way someone can't look away from a car crash.

When the ambulance doors shut, Dana leans over the counter to address Robby.

"That the girlfriend?"

"Sure is."

An amused grin curls onto the nurse's lips. "I think I remember her. I see where the nickname 'bunny' comes from."

"What's it mean?"

"I'm not saying a damn thing, Robinavitch."

thank you so much for reading! likes / reblogs / comments are highly appreciated! if you guys want to see more of bunny!reader in this dolly-verse, my inbox is open for blurb requests and ideas! ♡

[sammy-bryant]

SHAWN HATOSY as SAMMY BRYANT Southland S04E03 "Community"

[genekellyluv]

Mr. Right (2015)

Set 3 of (?)

[robinavitchgf]

look at my doctor dawg im gonna get cuteness aggression

[iheartshawn]

🎁 special order from @romantic-insomniac ♪ : we need more jack abbot tummy appreciation featured in smut fics!!!!

𓊆 cw: SMUT, tummy worship, dadbod jack to the next level !, dirty talk, oral sex, deepthroating, unprotected piv, slight feederism but reader just really loves to cook and bake for him, tummy humping, cumming all over the tummy, cum eating 𓊇 ‧₊˚ ┊ 1.5k words

“i think i need bigger scrubs now, sweetheart.” 

“what was that?” you turned your attention from your vanity to see jack looking at himself in the full-length mirror. you watched him shift his body side to side, analysing — he looked fine to you. you had no idea what he was talking about until you followed his gaze down to his belly.

he ran his hands down his gut, cupped the softness beneath it. he gave it a little jiggle then released it, the recoil made you bite your lip. 

it was mainly your fault — your damn cooking and baking were to blame. jack used to live off of subscribing to a meal delivery service. it was ‘okay’ but it was nothing like home-cooked food. apparently he’d rather dedicate his time for yoga and going out for a run.

even jack had gotten a little lazy for those. you insisted on staying in bed for a bit longer to cuddle, or a quickie. you always made too much food, and you always press him to finish his plate. it was a mindset that’s been passed on to you by your grandparents, to ‘clean up your plate’ because ‘someone had taken precious effort to make it for you.’ 

and there was also a sense of satisfaction to see jack enjoy your cooking. you already felt ‘full’ watching him eat. 

you set your brush down and rose from your seat, making your way behind him. you pressed yourself against his back and wrapped your arms around him, your hands barely meeting at his belly. then you rested your cheek against the beef of his arm. 

you looked at him seriously through the mirror. “jack–” you started before he interrupted you, “i’m not complaining, just noticing.” 

he continued, “it’s just. . .not exactly comfortable, especially when we move around a lot. we’re in the emergency department — it’s like a medical survival show.” 

you laughed softly, you agreed. you were ready to admonish him for talking down to himself, you were happy that was not the case. he would be always attractive and sexy in your eyes. 

his growing belly excited you so much you didn’t realise you’d started running your hands languidly up and down, kneading and squeezing the fat.

jack looked down to your hands, raising a curious eyebrow. he felt your chest release heavy breaths, he turned his attention back to the mirror. there was a distant look in your eyes, glazed over. your mouth slightly agape. huh. 

“uhh, hon? should we head out?”

you snapped out of it at the sound of his deep voice. when you came to, you saw him sporting a tiny smirk. you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. 

jack started to connect the dots throughout the night — the way you stared at his stomach when he clasps his hands behind his back during handovers, the gentle pats of praise for his good calls, and, again. . .the containers of food you brought that could be shared between three people, all somehow ending up all for him.

it never occurred to him until now, you’d completely conditioned him into eating more than he usually did. oh well, you wormed your way to his heart through his stomach.

as soon as you locked the door after you got home, jack pulled you into a tight embrace. he’d done it on purpose, holding you against him until you felt his soft belly getting squished between you. you tried really hard to stop the small whimper that escaped you, but he heard it. cat’s out of the bag now. 

“anything you wanna tell me, sweetheart?” 

“umm. . .” you could sense blood rush to your face with humiliation again. how could you possibly confess the dirty stuff you want to do to his belly? you stood there quiet and frozen in place. you wanted to separate yourself from his grasp, run to the bedroom you share with him, and lock yourself in. 

but jack had voiced it out for you. “i saw you eyeing my stomach.” he ran his palms slowly over the exposed skin of your arms, trying to soothe you. “it’s okay. you like it that much?”

“you like that it’s getting bigger? you like seeing the result of your care and how much you love me?” he continued talking, “fuck, baby. . . now that i’m thinking about it, the way you take care of me is making me sooo fucking hard.” 

you gasped at his crudity. he suddenly held one of your wrists and placed your hand on the top of the fat, then he led it downwards to his raging hard on. the sound of your whiny moan made his hips buck up. 

he rested his forehead against yours, you could feel his heavy pants fan on your lips. jesus, he’s really horny. 

“s-show me. fuck—” he didn’t stop thrusting into your hand, he just kept going. “please, baby. please— show me what you wanna do to me.” he sounded absolutely pathetic begging you, and you fucking love it. you could feel yourself soak through your underwear and pants. 

“use me.” 

you instantly dropped to your knees, you bunched his scrub top and undershirt up until his tummy was revealed to you. you peppered it with open-mouthed kisses, licked it, bit it, sucked a hickey on it — all the while keeping your eye on jack completely losing his mind. 

you were never good with talking dirty, instead you showed it through your actions.

you tugged his pants and boxers down, the heaviness of his cock slapping against the plush of his belly. it was, by far, the sexiest sight you’d ever seen. 

you gave him one last kiss on the side of his gut before you enveloped the tip of his cock with your mouth. there was no teasing or patience — you pushed yourself towards the base until you could feel your lips kissing his mound. 

jack never pressured you into taking all of him, he could cum just by licking on his tip alone. but you wanted to make him feel good and hear him praise you for being such a good girl.

most of all, you wanted to feel the fat of his stomach pressing against your forehead. you squeezed the flesh with your hands, so you could get closer to him as much as possible. if you could choose a way to go, this was it — death by suffocation due to his growing belly. maybe next time you could ask him to fuck your mouth like a fleshlight whilst you lie on the bed.

you pulled away before ramming his dick inside your mouth again a couple more times. your top had darkened because it was drenched with your spit. at some point, you involuntarily started to hump the air. you could reach your orgasm just by sucking him off. 

jack had to forcefully pull away, stumbling back, and would’ve fallen on his ass if you hadn’t help stabilise himself. he didn’t want to shoot his load yet, he badly wanted to see what else you’d do to him. 

you two had stripped down to nothing along the way. you were sitting on the meat of jack’s thighs and started bouncing on his cock. you placed your hands on his belly, in awe of the way the movement of your hips caused it to ripple. 

jack held on to your waist, watching you stare at his abdomen. something awakened inside of him, he adjusted the position of his lower limbs, bended his knees, and rested the soles of his feet on the mattress. he started to pound himself into you, meeting you halfway. the ripples turned into stronger waves, making you moan out loud and sinking your nails into the flesh. 

he brought one of his hands to his mouth — biting the back of it as he groaned at the combination of pleasure and pain. his voice was muffled when he grunted, “i’m cumming, baby. shit–! i’m– cumming!”

he was surprised when you pulled yourself out because he’d always cum inside of you. he didn’t have the opportunity to question you as he could not stop his release, making a mess all over his tummy. 

you were almost at your peak as well, you rolled your hips against his belly — your wetness mixed with jack’s seed were used as lubricant to easily rub your clit on him. 

“jesus fucking christ.” jack quietly muttered to himself, the scene was making his flaccid dick harden again. “yeah. . . make it messier, baby. make yourself cum on it.”

your body jolted, convulsing in shockwaves. jack could feel your hole clenching and more of your juices leaking out of you. the real thing was even better than you could ever imagine, you’d been humping your pillow wishing it was jack instead. 

you dismounted from jack’s body to position yourself at his side, you bent forward to start gently lapping on your mixed fluids saturating his skin. you took your time cleaning him up while he watched, adoring. today, you made him feel more loved and cherished. ♡

🐑 : ask and you shall receive, my love ! tysm for nominating me to write this for you & everyone else who is a proud member of tummy nation ! 🩷

[gaultiano]

there WAS a jack abbot x portal pussy fic … right???? i’m not hallucinating this????

[inkdippedquills]

paper planes: chapter four [finale]

[Prev. Part | Masterlist ]

Pairing: Rabbot x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: Jumping in, not giving into the fear.

Series Summary: So what the fuck are you meant to do if you hate one of your soulmates after falling in love with the other? Hate-fucking him was probably not the best call. (Soulmate AU)

Word Count: 7.4k

Tags: Smut, happy ending, angst, phone sex, Robby being a little shit, paper planes as a motif, mid-smut (fyi)

Being back at your apartment was nice, but as you wandered around your space it didn’t feel as homey as you remembered it. The fridge hum sounded familiar, the creak of your couch didn’t sound too-plastic-y and the art on the wall didn’t feel like a bargain hunter find at TJ Maxx. Despite the space being catered exactly for you, it didn’t feel right. Something was missing.

(You didn’t want to admit what was missing and no one could make you).

The first night back in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel the echoes of Jack and Robby’s lips against your skin. Even in your memory the touch felt so real. If you closed your eyes and focused, it almost felt like they were in the room with you, holding you between them.

Their touch was haunting; you’d never experienced anything like it. Did it feel so intense because of soulmate connections or because it had been years and years of emotional build up? You were hard pressed to say, all you knew is that laying in your bed hours away from them the only thing you were sure of was how intensely you craved their touch.

You glanced at your alarm clock next your bed. Should you call them? Is that crazy?

Toggling to your text chain on your phone, you found the photo Jack sent of their schedule; he started sending it not long after you reconnected, all but insisting you schedule yourself in whenever they were both free. Neither Jack nor Robby were at work tonight…your finger toggled over the call button for Robby’s phone (he was slightly more reliable in answering a phone call).

You all were something, more than friends, but nothing was defined. The only real conversation you all had about everything was a not-long talk with Jack about how he felt about everything. There was still so much unsaid between all of you.

Before you could second guess yourself, you hit call.

After the third ring you contemplated hanging up, but then a warm, raspy voiced answered:

“Hey, how was your drive?”

It was Jack.

“Bland,” you said curling up in under your covers. “What do you do on nights you and Robby aren’t working?”

“He sleeps and I don’t,” Jack said simply. You could hear him puttering around in the kitchen based on the sound a closing drawer. “My sleep schedule never went back to normal after I lost my leg.”

“Why not, do you think?”

“Phatom limb pain for the first few years, but now it’s mainly age and stress.”

You hummed and tried to readjust your pillow.

“You good over there?” He asked, amusement in his voice.

“I can’t get comfortable. I’ve missed my bed so much, but no matter which way I lay, nothing feels right.”

“What do you normally do when you get restless?”

The automatic answer, the one you defaulted to, was masturbating but you couldn’t say that could you?

“Read,” you said.

Jack laughed and said, “Bullshit. You’re such a bad liar for a lawyer.”

“I don’t lie as a lawyer,” you grumbled. “I don’t need to, I’m too clever.”

“Yeah?” Jack goaded, a smile in his voice. You heard him sit down in one of their leather chairs.

“Yeah, that’s why they pay me more money than I know what to do with.”

“And why you work 70 hour weeks,” he added.

“Only sometimes.”

“And when you’re not working, what do you do to relax?”

“You know what I do,” you told him quietly.

“Tell me.”

“Jack,” you whined.

“C’mon baby, tell me how you touch yourself.”

His voice, already raspy and soft, was deeper with want. It wasn’t hard to imagine him on his leather chair, leaning back watching you hungrily.

“Only if you do the same,” you replied.

“Ladies first,” he said.

“Most of the time, it’s just a vibrator and whatever smut I’m reading at the moment.”

“Do you not turn yourself on?” He asked, it didn’t sound judgmental but curious.

“It’s an ends to a mean most of the time,” you nearly whispered. “Sorry, I know that’s not sexy.”

Jack cleared his throat. “I think you underestimate what I find sexy. The last time I saw you, I felt you up and you were wearing business professional.”

You laughed softly. “I guess that’s true.”

“Tell me a fantasy then,” he replied. “What do you think about when you want to get off.”

“Right now? How you and Robby pinned me between you both. I swear I can feel you still,” you told him.

“I thought about that too after you left. You were so warm and soft against me,” he murmured.

“How do you touch yourself, Jack?”

“With my hand.”

You snorted. “Sexy.”

“I like really firm pressure, that rotates,” he told you, voice breathy and a little nervous.

“Do you like someone playing with your balls?” You tried to sound sexy but were positive you missed the mark; it wasn’t something that came naturally to you.

“Y-yeah,” he hissed.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“How could I not?”

“What do you think about to get off?” You asked him, quietly.

There was the soft pant of Jack’s breath against the phone as he stroked himself.

“You and Robby on your knees for me. Sometimes us on our knees for you,” he managed tightly.

“Not for Robby?”

“He’s surprisingly submissive,” Jack halfway laughed.

“Do you want me to tell you what I would want to do if I was on my knees for you?”

“I’m not sure I could take it,” he said breathlessly. “But yes, please.”

“I would start gently, rubbing at you over the fabric of your boxers, as needy as you want me to be—”

“Mmm, would you beg?” He asked. It didn’t sound mean or even as dominant as he might have intended. It sounded desperate.

“I would beg and beg until you let me take off your underwear, then I would worship you with my mouth. Starting at your thighs, I’ve always wanted to leave a hickey there.”

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

“Then I would suck on your balls before moving to your dick,” you said. “The whole time staring at you, showing you how much I’m enjoying myself.”

“Are you wet, baby?”

You didn’t think he was asking about the hypothetical you in the fantasy.

“Want me to check?”

“Please,” he whined.

Slowly, you slid your hands under the waistband of your shorts. Unsurprisingly you were soaked.

“Thinking about sucking your dick made me soaked,” you said, lightly toying with your clit.

“Will you touch yourself?”

“Sure,” you said rolling over to your side table sifting for your vibrator. Jack groaned over the phone when he heard it turn on. You turned it on the lowest setting, but it still was intense once in contact with your clit. “Shit.”

“What…what else would you do?” He panted.

“I’d beg you to use my throat,” you managed, though you were squeakier than intended. “Use me however you want to feel good. I’ll suck and suck until you’re finishing down my throat.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he moaned.

“Then when you’re finally done, I’ll beg you to use my vibrator on me. Beg you to let me cum for you.”

“I’ll bet you sound so pretty when you cum,” he said, a soft grunt suggesting he was getting close.

“I want to hear you, Jack,” you told him. “Are you close?”

“So close,” he huffed.

“Think of me on my knees in front of you, where do you want to cum? My face? My tits?”

“Tits,” he managed.

“Show me what you sound like, baby. Paint my tits,” you hissed, arching into the vibrator.

There was a long, low groan from Jack that ended with his heavy breathing.

“Fuck, baby. That was crazy. How close are you?”

“Very,” you sighed.

“Would you do this on display for us? Pleasure yourself for our enjoyment? We’re older now, can’t always get it up.”

“Where do you want me to be?” You asked, closing your eyes letting him paint you a picture.

“We’d put you on the bed, legs out. Your cute little vibrator between your legs.”

“Would you both touch me?”

“Would you want us to?”

“Desperately,” you breathed.

“Then sure, baby. There wouldn’t be a piece of your skin we wouldn’t memorize the feeling of. Maybe if you asked nicely, Robby would shove his thick fingers in your cunt,” Jack told you.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you hissed.

“Just like that, baby. Think about how it would feel for us to watch you come apart.”

It wasn’t hard. Just like it wasn’t hard to imagine Jack using your mouth, it wasn’t hard to imagine their hands on you as you inched closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Jack,” you said between gritted teeth. “Tell me I cum. Count me down.”

“I can do that,” he sounded pleased and a little surprised. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Cum for me, baby.”

A sharp keening sound left your mouth as your body finally let go for Jack. The orgasm tore through you more intense than you’d felt in years. For a minute you sat their twitching, the remnants of the orgasm slowly abating.

“I was right,” Jack said.

“About what?”

“You sound very pretty when you cum.”

You laughed and felt yourself warm at his compliment. “You do too, you know. This is the new fantasy, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, that was very hot, Dr. Abbot.”

“You cannot ‘Dr. Abbot’ me,” he groaned.

“Why not?”

“I’ll get a boner the next time a patient says my name!” He protested with a laugh.

“Devastating for me,” you replied with a smile.

“You feel any better?”

“A little, still feel like something is missing,” you said without thinking.

“And what do you think is missing?”

You blinked and quieter than you expected said, “You and Robby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When the stickiness between your thighs began to irritate you, you briefly hung up promising to call back when you were settled again. After cleaning yourself up, you slid back into bed and called Jack back on his phone this time.

“Hey,” he said, you could feel his smile from 200 miles away.

“Hey,” you replied.

For awhile you both talked about nothing and everything. The conversation ranged from opinions on The Matrix to a brief but thorough cultural critique on people’s fear of sharks. When you felt yourself drifting, Jack cleared his throat and said,

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“When you fantasize…” he trailed off and the beginning had your marginally more awake. “Do you ever think about you and Robby?”

“Do you really want to talk about this?” You asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I think I want to know.”

Jack knew that Robby had once or twice but the guilt had been too overwhelming to continually revisit.

“I did once, but not in a…sexual way, I guess. It’s kind of a boner killer,” you said sardonically. “I wonder what the difference would be—what it would be like to know that I care for the other person and they care for me. Maybe hate-fucking was theoretically hot, but in practice…it was empty. We didn’t bond. Or at least I didn’t.”

Soulmate bonding was well-studied but not understood. Most scientists believed that soul bonds were generated from intercourse combined with an intense endorphin rush. Most of the time that occurred during intense and passionate sex between soulmates.

“Do you regret it?”

“Everyday,” you said simply. “Why did you forgive us?”

It was a question that had been on your mind ever since the men had come back into your life.

“Actually, why did you forgive me? With Robby there was so much history and love, but we weren’t…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure how to finish the thought. Thankfully, Jack knew what you meant.

“Because, I knew that if I had been in that storage room with you, I would have done the same thing,” he said. “I’m not being gregarious when I say that, either. I was halfway in love with you before I found out about the marks. It made sense when I realized, of course, but I was dreaming of you in our bed long before you and Robby fucked.”

“Huh.”

“Was that too much?”

“No of course not,” you said. “I guess I hadn’t realized. I thought it was one sided, my feelings for you.”

“It was not,” he laughed, a little acerbically. “Can you forgive me?”

“For what?” You asked, astounded.

“For flirting with you when I was already in a relationship. For constantly seeking you out when I knew—well, at the time I thought I knew—we couldn’t be anything.”

You were silent for a minute trying to figure out how to handle him apologizing for something that felt so small in comparison.

Eventually, you said, “Yes, I forgive you.”

“I forgive you, too.”

— —

Robby found himself taking one of his few breaks outside. The fall chill had settled on the city and there was a short seasonal lull before the winter freeze finally hit in a few weeks. Leaning against the pillar, one knee uncomfortably drawn up towards his chest (he was not as young as he used to be), he was scrolling through his phone looking at the thread of texts between you both.

It was silly, he knew. But staring at your dry, slightly too-lawerly text messages made him miss you slightly less.

Ever since the kiss, there hadn’t been any conversation about what was going to happen moving forward. Robby wanted desperately to beg you to move back to Pittsburgh, to ditch even looking for an apartment and move in with him and Jack. But Jack was right, you had been more hesitant and closed off as you both reconnected.

Months ago he wondered what it was like to be loved by you and he wasn’t sure he knew yet, but he did know what it was like to eat Chinese food on your squeaky work couch. He knew what it was like to kiss you with Jack’s taste still lingering on your lips; he knew what it felt like to be cared about—if that paper plan had anything to say about it.

So looking through your last text messages was not a replacement for your presence, but it would be tolerable until you returned.

——

You crossed city lines back into Pittsburgh a little after eight pm on Friday evening. The familiar shape of downtown rose against the deep indigo sky, windows glowing like scattered embers as the city settled into another cold October night. Instead of taking the turn to your awful temporary apartment, you made your way to Jack and Robby’s.

Pulling up to their small bungalow, the knot that had lived beneath your ribs all week eased, if only by a little.

It was Robby who opened the door and for a split second he took your breath away.

He wasn’t even dressed up, in fact he looked a little grumpy in a rumpled t-shirt and ratty pajama pants. His feet were covered in thick wool socks to combat the growing chill at night. His necklace shimmered in the porch light, the familiar Star of David catching the warm glow of the porch light. His dark greying hair was mussed and messy, and the tiredness beneath his eyes did nothing to lessen how impossibly handsome he looked.

“Jack stepped out to the store,” Robby said softly.

You stepped through the door and lightly brushed Robby on the arm as you entered. He cleared his throat and said,

“Are you…are you spending the night?”

The night before they asked you to come over and stay for the weekend. There was no obligation for sex. They just wanted to be around you. That simple request had made you smile. It felt precious in a way you hadn’t expected. Before leaving your apartment in Harrisburg, you had grabbed your favorite blankets and pillows, desperate for some comfort of home regardless of whether you were at the impersonal penthouse or your soulmates’ slightly more personal house. Neither place was truly yours yet, but this one was beginning to feel less borrowed every time you walked through the door.

“I am,” you confirmed. “I am just too lazy to grab my bag.”

“Let me grab it,” he said, holding his hand out for your keys.

You handed them over, Robby’s slightly rough skin brushing against your own. The touch lasted barely a second, but it was enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

You watched from the entryway as Robby slipped on shoes and walked to your trunk. Cold air drifted in through the open doorway, carrying the sharp scent of winter and distant chimney smoke. He grabbed the duffle bag easily and then peeked over at you before asking,

“Do you want the bedding?”

“Just the green blanket!” you called.

He picked up the fuzzy blanket, bunching it beneath one arm, and walked back inside. After shutting the door, he herded you back to the guest room. The very one he had slept in the night he fucked you. Instead of dwelling on the pit that grew in his stomach when thinking about his bad decisions, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Beating himself up didn’t help anything. It never changed the past, and it certainly didn’t make the future easier.

“This is soft,” Robby said, gesturing to the blanket as he placed your duffle on the mostly empty dresser. The room itself remained simple—fresh sheets tucked tightly onto the bed, a single lamp casting pools of amber light across the hardwood floor, the faint scent of cedar lingering from last time their cleaning lady mopped.

“Thank you, a friend got it for my birthday.”

“You seem to have really good friends,” he replied.

“I really do,” you said softly. Thinking of them made your chest ache with gratitude. They had held you together through impossible years and impossible clusterfucks of your own making .

“What do they think about all this?”

“I don’t think they know what to think. They’re holding out judgment for now,” you said, digging through your bag. Your fingers searched between folded sweaters until they brushed the small wrapped package tucked safely inside. “Do you know when Jack will be back?”

“Thirty minutes probably.”

“Okay, I have something for you both. It’s super small.”

“Do I get a hint?” Robby asked, approaching you.

He reached out and toyed with your fingers, absentmindedly tracing the spaces between them before pulling you flush with his body.

He smelled good. He smelled like a classic cologne. It reminded you of the ocean and leather and wood, clean without being too overpowering. Burying yourself against his body, arms wrapped around his waist, you couldn’t resist a deep inhale. Your nose bumped the side of his neck as you luxuriated in his scent. It settled something restless inside you that you hadn’t even realized had been fraying all week.

“Nope,” you replied, muffled against his body. “You smell really good.”

“You smell like car,” he replied, a smile evident in his voice.

You rolled your eyes.

“I drove three hours.”

“We really did miss you,” he said softly, his hands landing on your hips. His thumbs rubbed absent circles through your sweater without him seeming to notice. With a few slow steps he backed you against the doorjamb of the bedroom.

Tilting your head up, you gazed at his weather-worn skin and surprisingly soft beard. The lines around his eyes had deepened over the past week, evidence of long shifts and too little sleep, yet there was something lighter in them now that you were here. Mischief danced behind his eyes as he gazed down at you. He seemed happy, at least happier.

The first brush of his lips was not shocking. But strength in his grip on your hips brought you back to the heady way he’d man handled you in the storage closet all those years ago. Against your will and better judgement, you body reacted: melting against his whims desperate to feel his lips on every part of your skin.

“We had a plan,” Robby mumbled between harsh kisses and knee-wobbling bites.

“This feels like a good plan,” you croaked.

“We were going to wine and dine you,” he said moving down your face to suck at your jaw. “We were going to make sweet and gentle love to you. To finally bond with you after all this fucking time.”

You couldn’t manage to form words under his welcomed assault. The only thing keeping you standing was his grip on your hips and sheer will power. Your brain was unable to communicate with non-relevant systems. It didn’t give a flying fuck about your knees’ stability while Robby’s skilled mouth was rendering you dumb.

“But you are just so fucking kissable. Grabable.”

“I like the grabbing,” you managed between gasps. He bit down at the juncture of your shoulder and neck making you keen, scrambling to get a hold of him in case you legs really did give out.

“But I promised Jack,” Robby sighed pulling away.

Your chest was heaving and it took your brain multiple seconds to process how worked up Robby had gotten you only to pull away. Whining, you leaned back heavily against the door jam. He looked far too pleased with himself and you couldn’t help but glare at him.

“You’re a bastard,” you hissed.

Robby grinned at you, his forefinger tracing a line from the edge of your shoulder, up your neck, so he could tilt your chin upwards. He placed a soft peck on your lips.

“I know. Want to shower?”

“Fucking need it,” you grumbled to yourself.

Annoyed and still remarkably turned on you gathered your change of clothes and petulantly stomped to the bathroom. You could hear Robby’s chuckles behind you. You weren’t sure when or where, but you knew that you would be getting your revenge on the man and it would be sweet.

By the time you showered, dried off and got dressed, Jack returned. You walked out to their living room hearing his muffled laughter. It had been a long day. In a different world you might have tried to wear something sexy, but you couldn’t be fucked. An old law school tshirt and pajama shorts were all you could stomach putting on your body.

Turns out you didn’t need to worry, because when you walked in both men stared at you with such rapt attention they would have missed the rapture. Robby swallowed hard while Jack’s eyes never stayed stationary—taking in your bare legs and relaxed appearance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not in a suit,” Jack said.

He was sitting next to Robby on the couch. A few inches of space separating them. When you stepped close enough, Jack yanked you towards them, situating you between the two men. Jack’s hands were immediately on your body: one on your thigh lightly squeezing and the other wrapped around your waist. Robby’s hand was not far behind, rubbing up and down your bare thigh with excruciatingly slow speed.

“If I’d known this is what would happen wearing ratty pajamas,” you mumbled feeling excited and terrified for what was coming next.

“Can we…?”

“Yeah, yes. Please,” you croaked out to Jack’s question.

“I want to savor you, baby,” Jack said.

He pulled you against his body, slotting his lips against yours. You remembered what Robby had said only a few minutes before—that the plan was nice and slow. That was fine, great even. But you spent the last week craving these men and finally the itch you’d couldn’t quite scratch was being soothed.

You didn’t want slow and gentle.

Summoning the ferocity of the woman you were underneath the fear and trepidation, you swung your leg over Jack, straddling his lap. Pulling away just enough to glance at Robby, you said,

“You get to watch for now, you dick.”

Ignoring Jack’s confused look, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him almost angrily. Distantly, you heard Robby’s amused huff and the ghost of his hand touching you and Jack. This is what he got for working you up before Jack got home.

Jack’s face was rough with the early vestiges of a five o’clock shadow but you didn’t care. The scratch of his skin was more than tolerable when you were finally the kissing the man you fell in love with. Forcefully, you kissed and mouthed down his jaw, lightly sucking before focusing your attention on his neck.

“Holy shit,” Jack moaned, throwing his head back.

Even through your thundering heart beat, you could feel the frantic pulse of Jack’s underneath your lips. For a moment you paused, pressed lips against his jugular. Magical was the only way you could describe the understanding of how alive Jack was beneath you. Each pump of his heart kept him alive. He was alive and he cared about you.

Despite the everything, he cared about you.

Everyone you’d spoken to describe bonding with a soulmate differently. Some felt a jolt, some had a wave of emotions, but for you everything went silent. It echoed in your ears until the only thing you could see was Jack. The world zeroed in on him and even Robby’s soft caress wasn’t felt.

The first time the men told you about their sensory association you had thought it sounded like bullshit. You never said that, of course. But even though neither of them had bonded to you, they had these synesthestetic associations with you.

But as the world faded, and only you and Jack remained, you felt it:

On a dark, foggy coast he was the lighthouse guiding you home.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped.

“Oh my god,” croaked Jack.

Both of you were breathing heavy as you felt the bond settle into your body. The bond securing felt like someone had cracked a warm egg over your head and it was seeping down all the way to your toes. You shivered and looked at Jack.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, before pulling your harshly against him any pretense of softness forgotten.

Robby hadn’t said anything and you wondered if his bond would also solidify tonight.

“What do I feel like?” Jack asked in between frantic kisses. He held you tightly against his body, as though terrified you might float away.

“A lighthouse on a dark and foggy night,” you told him.

Jack made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Did you bond?” Robby asked softly.

Jack didn’t respond—his lips too busy on yours, but he pulled Robby in closer. Awkwardly, Robby began to suck on Jack’s neck in the way you had been doing before the bond snapped to life.

Jack’s touch felt more intense and lingered longer. Goosebumps followed his fingers in a way they didn’t with Robby. You knew the bond felt intense the first few days, but you felt like teetering on a knife’s edge. It was overwhelming but you couldn’t pull away.

Still, bonded or not, you needed air. It wasn’t until your lungs were burning did you finally break away.

Panting, you let Jack and Robby continue without you. Watching Robby shift, so his arm was still around you even while focused on Jack. The dichotomy of Robby was his terrifying wrath and equally powerful compassion. He raged and fought and lashed out, but he also ensured that you felt him bracing you no matter what.

Without a doubt, you knew if you began to tip over on Jack’s lap it would be Robby who would catch you.

The man annoyed the shit out of you. He egged you on. He cared so tenderly for you that even after he blew up his life, bid you goodbye with a small paper airplane. That paper airplane had followed you for years, and as you stared at the man in front you fully and sloppily making out with Jack, the world became fuzzy.

It was different than it was with Jack. Bonding with Jack felt like one in a million—nothing else mattered. With Robby, the bond felt inevitable. You felt a string wrap around your chest tightly, tethering you to the grumpy, caustic and warm hearted man.

He froze against Jack’s lips but his grip on you tightened almost painfully.

Robby was an explosive gust of wind before a storm. He battered against you and pushed you forward, he cleansed and healed. The string that tethered you together snapped taut and you could feel it weave through your body. If Jack seeped, Robby burrowed. There was no way you could rid yourself of either man. They became integrated with the very nature of who you were.

When the world righted again, Robby’s arm felt like a brand against your skin and you couldn’t help but squirm.

“Did you bond too?” Jack asked, a grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Robby muttered pulling back to stare at you.

“A gust of stormwind,” you told him.

“A powerful trumpet solo,” he said back you.

“The strength of an evergreen forest,” Jack added.

“I feel a little insane,” you admitted. “It’s a head rush.”

Not only was it a head rush, but you felt absolutely soaked. There was no amount of foreplay that could have created the watershed in your pants.

“Fuck me, one of you, please,” you said.

Both men zeroed in on you. Their gazes felt predatory and Robby pulled you with him as he stood.

“Bedroom,” he growled and you felt it in your core. He pushed you towards their room.

Robby pulled you onto the bed after him. He sat up against the headboard, thoughtlessly pushing off the pillows and blankets. Who cares where they landed? All you needed was their touch on your desperate skin. Robby pulled at your tshirt and you let it go willingly, pulling off your shorts as well.

In your haste, you lost your balance and nearly tipped over the bed. Robby caught you, just like you knew he would.

As though it were a sixth sense, you could feel Jack’s eyes on your bare body. (Robby was taking his time undressing which was not fair). The overwhelm felt astronomical and Jack’s slow gait felt positively glacial.

“Jack,” you said, turning to look at him. His darkened eyes drank in your nude form. “Please.”

Robby looked up at him and said, “You first.”

The whine that came from you surprised yourself and Robby. It didn’t sound like anything you thought you could make. Hastily, Robby grabbed some of the pillows from the floor and created a small pile.

“Lay down, sweetheart. Prop yourself up for Jack,” he said.

You recalled Jack saying that Robby was more submissive and you wondered if your relationship with him—bickering and bothering—brought out his oft under-used bedroom dominance. Ultimately, you didn’t care.

So you draped yourself over the pillows, face down. They propped up your hips for better access. For deeper access. Robby’s long legs were splayed out and you in between them. The bed dipped when Jack sat on the edge. Turning slightly, you saw him naked (you mourned missing him undress) and taking off his prosthetic.

Once unburdened, he slowly crawled up behind you, settling himself between your open legs. You positively ached.

Robby’s forefinger and thumb grabbed your chin and titled your face up towards his.

“Do you need warming up?”

You shook your head. “I’m pretty certain I’m wet enough to take you both at once.”

Jack’s hands, that had been caressing your hips so softly, gripped tightly at your words.

“We should consider that for later,” he bit out.

“We really should,” Robby agreed, taking your lips. You were bending at and awkward angle to reach him, but the comfort didn’t matter so much as how Jack felt lining himself against you.

“She’s so wet Robby,” he said. “Like a fucking fountain.”

“That for us, sweetheart? You finally getting what you want.”

The tip of Jack’s dick ran the length of your core, never quite pushing inside. You groaned trying to push back against him but a sharp slap against your ass made you still. The contact echoed through your body, making you tingle and shiver. You were pretty certain it made you wetter.

Before you could complain again, Jack slid inside forcefully. The movement knocked you forward and you collapsed onto Robby’s lap, burying your head in his hip. On a different night, when you weren’t completely overwhelmed, you would have tried to suck his dick. But tonight, the simple movement of Jack inside you ground all coherent thoughts to a halt.

Jack folded his body over yours, burying himself deeply inside you. Yoh knew that you were whining, groaning, and making all kinds of incoherent noises. Clutching onto Robby help ground you, but the simple act of contact still made your fingers tingle.

Having Jack fuck you with a force that knocked the headboard against the wall, felt like fireworks exploding in your chest. Each drag of his cock through your walls made you clench. With one hand dug into Robby’s thigh, you reached behind to hold onto Jack. Cocooned between the men should have felt suffocating. Instead, each breath lit your nerves on fire.

“Kiss me,” Jack said. At first you thought he was talking to you, but when you felt Robby lean forward, you whined. You wanted to see.

When you tried to pull away, Robby’s hand kept your head and body exactly where it was buried against his skin.

“It’s so nice when she doesn’t fight us all the time,” Robby mumbled in between kisses.

You might be fuck drunk, but you still were you. In response to his comment you bit him hard.

“Fucking hell,” he exclaimed jumping.

Instead of letting go, you held on and to your surprise he moaned.

“He likes some pain,” Jack laughed. Leaning over you, no longer kissing Robby—who was making indecent noises as you bit him—he continued to whisper, “Does it feel good to have me so deep inside. I knew you’d feel like coming home baby.”

It was too hard to find words to respond, so you let go of Robby and whined for Jack. His thrusts were rhythmic and deep. He wasn’t going fast, but his speed made stars dance behind your eyes.

“So good for me,” Jack muttered. You clenched at his words. “Fuck Robby, she might be tighter than you.”

Still panting against Robby’s side, it was insane to feel so singularly worshipped and degraded by Jack. Robby held your face against him, muffling your cries or maybe just keeping them for himself. You could hear the two men kissing again which meant that Jack was no longer draped along your back. Your skin itched without his touch.

“Please,” you said not quite sure what you were asking for.

Jack’s hand slid under your hips and fingers circled your clit. It was impossible to control the way you jolted under his finger tips. So singularly focused on how it felt to be pounded by Jack, you almost missed the way Robby stroked his cock next to your face. You managed to move over just enough to reach the base of his cock with your tongue.

Instead of letting you. Robby stuck his two fingers in your mouth and said. “Suck.”

Later he would tell you it was because any touch from you made him want to blow his load.

You sucked on his fingers as though auditioning to be able to touch his cock.

“Oh sweetheart,” Robby hissed. “Your tongue.”

“She feels so good, Mike,” Jack moaned.

“Feels like she was made for us,” he replied. “Does it feel like that sweetheart? Like Jack’s cock was made to touch every little spot inside of you?”

Jack’s heavy thrusts were becoming frantic, as were his circles on your clit. Your orgasm was building, starting in your core and radiating outwards until you trembled and twitched between the men crying out. You could hear Jack’s grunts as you tight clenching finally wore down his self control.

When Jack collapsed onto you, every inch of his skin pressed upon yours, you purred. This is what your body craved. It wanted to feel the men so intricately woven into you life. If given the chance, you would burrow yourself into their chests.

Jack’s softly brushed back your hair.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby. You did so well for me,” he mumbled pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulder. You were jello in their grasp.

You whined when Jack pulled back, unsticking himself from you. In fact, he pulled away entirely, settling himself on the opposite end of the bed.

“Cmon sweetheart,” cooed Robby.

You felt your body being moved by the men until you were laying on Jack’s chest, his thighs keeping yours open, hands toying with your nipples. In your haze, you barely understood the changes until you felt Robby kneeling over both of you, his cock pressing into your abused cunt.

“Fuck,” you hissed. “I don’t think I can.”

You were so sensitive.

“You can take him, baby,” whispered Jack in your ear. “Look at his pretty cock all red and angry for you. Don’t you want to know what you do to him?”

Robby pushed into your pussy at a glacial pace, making you feel every stretch and touch and caress. His long groan when fully sheathed inside sent a wave of arousal through you. Having both men focus on you was dizzying.

“So much,” you mumbled.

Robby draped himself over you, pressing himself invariably deeper. You swore you could feel him in your throat. He didn’t pound into you like Jack had, instead he rolled his hips sending motes of pleasure through your body that had you shaking.

“So warm and wet. Feels like coming home,” he growled.

He leaned past you and kissed Jack. Their sloppy noises ratcheting your senses higher and higher. Jack hadn’t stopped his attention on your nipples. Each tweak was timed with a roll of Robby’s hips. For a a few minutes there were just the sounds of Robby’s slick cock stroking you, the smack of their lips together, and your own quiet keening as the men used you for their pleasure.

It was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“Isn’t her pussy so nice?” Jack asked licking the shell of your ear; you shuddered.

“Made for us,” Robby agreed. “Made for our pleasure and made for us to pleasure.”

Your whine sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

“Aww, she’s fucked out,” Robby cooed.

He leaned down again, this time slotting his lips with you. The caress of his lips and tongue, combined with his languid strokes, emptied your brain of anything other than the two men. Your two soulmates. Being pressed between them while the bond solidified had you hazy and utterly incapable of higher thought.

“Taking us so well baby,” Jack murmured. “Cmon, cum on Robby’s dick, too. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

One of Jack’s hands slipped between your body and Robby’s to circle your clit again. It was too much. You were already too sensitive from your first orgasm, now with Robby filling you so deeply and Jack not giving your overwrought nerves a moment, you felt yourself writhing against them.

“Fuck baby,” Jack hissed.

“Clenching so hard on me,” Robby panted. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You both,” you managed. It felt like an unassailable truth. There was no one in the world who would be able to make you feel like this.

“Are you close?” Robby asked. You nodded.

“Cum for us. Show the neighbors what a good girl we have,” Jack told you.

His command finally gave your body permission to lose control. White, hot pleasure coursed through you. It was almost too intense to enjoy. You definitely screamed and maybe raked your nails across Robby’s back while Jack’s lips tickled the side of your neck. Distantly you were aware Robby himself also came, but it was lost in the sensations of your body.

When you finally came back to awareness, you managed to croak:

“Please tell me it’s not always like that.”

Robby was still braced over you and Jack. You could feel him, but he wasn’t putting any weight on your body. The entirety of your weight was pressing on Jack, but you couldn’t even think about moving yet.

“No,” Jack said, brushing your hair slightly. He seemed to enjoy the contact. “It’s always intense for awhile after you bond, but since you bonded twice…”

You groaned.

“Really hot, though,” Robby added. “Jack slid into you and it’s like I watched your brain shut down.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I can’t move.”

Between Robby and Jack, they managed to roll you off and onto the bed. While Jack held you—you still craved contact even if you wanted them to stay far away from your cunt—Robby went to grab something to clean everyone up.

He came back in with a rag and your pajamas.

He was so gentle as wiped you down, softly apologizing when you twitched under his care. He tossed the rag at Jack and it landed on his chest with a wet “plop”. Robby had slid on a pair of short and a tshirt.

“Take the shirt off,” you said as you slid your underwear back on. You were foregoing the shirt for now.

“Yes ma’am,” Robby laughed. He slid into bed next to you and you ditched Jack’s body for Robby.

His long arms wrapped around you and he nuzzled the side of your face. His bare skin against yours soothes the prickling sensation of your soulmate bond.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched painfully. All the history and memories and yet you still were laying in their bed. They still were telling you they loved you. You felt yourself tear up a bit. Before you could respond, Jack was against your back. Being held by the two men finally allowed you to relax, melting into their embrace.

“I love you,” Jack said. “I love you both.”

Jack preened when he felt you relax into them. Over the last six month of knowing you and spending time with you, all he wanted was to make your life easier. He wanted to make you feel seen and cared for in ways, he was pretty certain no one had ever done for you.

Recognizing that his mere presence allowed you to calm down so much, your already noddle-like body became pliable between him and Robby was exhilarating. He bonded with you. He felt the world completely stop except for you. All he wanted for the rest of his life is to feel you relax when he held you.

“I love you both, too,” you said softly.

Robby kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger against your skin. He reached for Jack’s body on your other side desperate to hold you both. His heart felt so full and content for the first time in a long time. There wasn’t this feeling of missingness—of knowing you were out in the world and not in bed with him and Jack. He was almost asleep when you quietly said,

“I’m moving back to Pittsburgh.”

Robby was suddenly wide awake.

“Really?” Jack asked.

“Transfer was approved today,” you said softly.

“Move in with us,” Robby said suddenly. Technically he and Jack hadn’t talked about it but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that’s what Jack wanted too.

“Please,” Jack echoed. “I want to see you more than just dinner in your sad office.”

You laughed and wiggled on your back in between the men.

“I’ll draw up a contract,” you said.

Robby snorted, “Is that obnoxious lawyer for yes?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied grinning.

“You’ll move in?” Jack asked.

“I will.”

Jack made a happy noise and began to pepper your face in kisses, making you giggle and push him away.

Robby threaded his fingers through Jack’s and rested them on your bare stomach.

“I love you both, so much.”

——

Robby was halfway to work when he realized his keys had a new small keychain on them. At a crosswalk, he paused and saw a tiny silver paper airplane, not quite the size of his thumbnail, dangling from a short chain. On one side were Jack’s initials and on the other side were yours.

Hanging on Jack’s keys was an identical paper airplane, because no matter how far away you traveled, they would be waiting for you at home.

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