๐๐๐๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ณ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐๐ต ๐ข๐๐ฟ ๐๐ฒ๐น๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐- ๐ .๐ฅ.
Pairing- Michael Robinavitch x Abbot!Reader
WC- 7.6k (i'm so sorry yall idk what my problem is)
Summary- Youโre planning a surprise party for your brother, Jack. Your secret relationship with his best friend threatens to blow the whole thing up.
Contains- 18+ SMUT MDNI, unprotected p in v (bad idea!!! bc always!!!) oral (m and f receiving), this is honestly just nasty sorry yall, robby being a bitch as always, he tries to be mean and dominant but is Down Bad, they kind of take turns as the brat and the brat tamer, r is bestie with pittlings, alcohol usage, brief mention of park the shark but purely to move the plot forward, trinity being a messy gay, nearly getting caught teehee
A/N- divider from @enchanthings! Obsessed with @mariasontโs abbot!reader and i wanted to take a stab at it <3 as always thank you to my bestie @whatif-ialreadydid for being the best beta reader!
Soft sheets envelop your frame as you hunch over your laptop, criss cross applesauce in your bed. Your manicured nails clack on the keyboard, brows furrowed in concentration as you navigate some stupid e-vite website Javadi recommended. Splashes of glittery pinks and purples erupt in your screen, the words "JJ'S 5OTH" sprawled across the top.
You review the information- day, time, location, a sinister smile spreading across your face. Clicking to your laptop's messages, you send the link to a large group chat containing your brother's colleagues.
A buzz ruptures the peaceful calm of your bedsheets, the large, languid frame next to you turning over to pick up the phone. You avert your gaze from your screen, Michael's arms stretching above his head, eyes squinting to see his phone.
"I need my readersโฆ" he mumbles, and your heart beats thrice as fast.
"Old man," you murmur, lips pursing into a much sweeter smile than before.
You nudge his leg with yours, giggling at his scoffs of protest, the light kicks his tired bones allow. You flop down on your back, curling into the long, rigid frame next to you.
You catch him at the tail end of a big stretch, the hem of his white t-shirt riding up to reveal the patch of hair decorating his lower belly. A shiver unravels his body as your fingers skim over the sensitive skin, fiddling with the waistline of his boxers.
He reaches up to grab your face, bringing you down to kiss him. Your lips slot over his, moving in a tandem that releases butterflies into your belly. You rest your hands delicately on his chest, a low groan reverberating under your fingertips.
"Want you," you whisper sweetly against his lips, swinging your legs over his hips and sinking your weight down.
He breathes out a whine, pressing his eyes shut, pronouncing the lines that decorate the area. You lean in and place a light kiss on each set of wrinkles, before darting your lips around all points of his face- his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead.
You roll your hips against his, your arms crossing over your stomach to lift your (Robby's) shirt over your h-
Bloop.
You both freeze, the cruel reminder of your laptop's presence resting beside you, the lifelong nickname you gave your brother aglow in bright red. All while you're about to get naked for his best friend.
You lean sideways, twisting on his lap, a shiver running down your spine as he grips your waist a bit tighter at your movements. The laptop falls shut, and you turn back, the sight of him stopping you short.
A sliver of morning creeps through the window, illuminating the hair peppering down his chest, teeth sinking in to your lip at the sight. You prop your hands on his chest, leaning your weight ever so slightly.
His arms reach up to graze your forearm, goosebumps unlocking with each touch. A sigh falls past your lips as you find his eyes, your heart palpitating at the softness swirling through the honey brown.
"Michael," you whisper, your eyes falling shut as you start to move your hips. It's slow, teasing and tantalizing. His own eyes fall shut, a groan rumbling past his lips.
"I love it when you call me that," he gruffs. You press your hips in deeper.
His hands start to creep up the loose, tattered fabric falling over your frame. It's a ratty Creed shirt that nearly pre-dates you, and he can't resist you in it. His large fingers grip your waist, kneading your plush skin, the chub of your hips, the fat of your ass.
Your head falls to the side, body going limp at the warmth spreading through your belly. It allows Robby to take over, skilled and swift fingers lifting it over your head. He sits up then, placing a hand on the arch of your back, pulling you to him.
You fall on to him, lips moving in tandem, tongues deftly tasting each other. Your nails reach his scalp, scratching lightly between kisses, reveling in the light whimpers falling out of his mouth, the deep furrow of his brows.
"So sensitive," you tease, your lips kissing and biting and sucking his neck.
His hips jerk involuntarily, the heavy weight of him pressing beneath you. More whimpers, eyes falling shut and head falling back.
"Please," he whispers, "pl-"
The click of the front door robs him of his plea, a loud call of your name sinking the both of you in ice cold water.
"Ffffuuuuuccckkkk," you panic under your breath, scurrying off of Robby as you scramble for a shirt- yours, not his.
Robby throws the sheets off of him, throwing on his sweatpants in record speed.
"Just a sec, JJ!" You call out, trying to control your labored breath. "Just got out of the shower!" You lie, ensuring he won't come in. You've never been more thankful for an en suite bathroom.
He doesn't typically burst in your room, but you are staying at his house for free, and he is your big brother. Sometimes he likes to tackle you awake when you've slept too long for his liking. Not today, Satan.
You push Robby's solid shoulders out the door to your terrace, your eyes peeled on the way his big, broad frame climbs down. You can't help but giggle, the cracking of his knees paired with the juvenility of his actions providing a sweet contrast to the panic coursing through you.
He disappears from sight, and it snaps you back to reality, to the steps of your brother coming up the stairs. You pull on a pair of your own pants, and slide your way out the door. Pressing your back against the closed door, you give your brother an innocent smile. All the while, your ears are peeled for the telltale creaks and whines of Robby slinking down the front of your house.
"Hi JJ!" You chirp, giving him a quick hug in greeting.
"Hey hun," he says, patting you on the head. You smile, rocking back and forth on your feet, eager to tell him to finally take a night off.
"What's this about?" He asks, deadpan in disdain, hand gesturing to your giddy expression. "Why are you looking at me like a crazy person?"
"Wellโฆ" you start, walking around him to the steps, "someone has a birthday coming up," you muse. "I just wanted to suggest taking the night off, you deserve the rest!" You say, trotting off down the steps and ignoring his incredulous laugh.
You know it'll take more convincing to get him to actually do it, but you successfully coerced him to let you move into his huge house for free. You're not super concerned about persuading him.
The next couple days are jam-packed with party planning. It's difficult when he's home all day, to pick up flower orders, balloon fixtures, the cake, for goodness' sake. You feel like Magnum P.I., (a movie Robby showed you) skirting around your brother like this.
Of course, it's not the only way you're doing that to him.
Robby's in your bed every night, without fail. Shame burns in your stomach as you wait for him, perched on the bed, the door to your terrace cracked. The soft glow of your lamp wraps around you as you see him climb up, bustling through the railing. By the time he's through the door, he's already peeling his sweatshirt off.
Soft smiles are exchanged as he paws off his shoes, his eyes never leaving you- clad in a small pink cotton tank top, matching shorts stretched under the plush of your thigh. He licks his lips at the sight of them, stretched taut over your thick skin.
His head shakes as he stops, clad only in his boxers and underscrubs that pinch his waist deliciously. You bite your lip at the sight of him, hair mussed, eyes tired, lips turned up in a delicate smile.
"What?" You whisper, tantalizing. "I need you," you pout, elbows meeting in front of you to push your tits up.
"Jesus fuck," he grumbles, scruffing his hand over his beard. "You're just beautiful," he shakes his head, crawling onto your bed. "Can't believe I get to come back from a shift to this."
He rests on his side, turning you toward him, still on your knees. He just takes you in, tired body sinking into your plush bed, eyes not leaving your pebbled tits. The cool night air drifts in from the terrace, and you shiver a bit, chest shaking with the motion.
The thick of his cock plumps up at the sight, his own shiver unleashing down his spine. He reaches a hand up, cupping your cheek and kissing you. He grabs you, pulls you over him so you can press your center into his.
The weight of his hardness beneath you never fails to make you dizzy, your eyes falling closed as you absentmindedly grind into him. His hands are everywhere, pawing at your ass, squeezing and kneading, moving up to your love handles, pinching playfully before finally landing at your tits.
He squeezes them through the thin fabric of your pajamas, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You whine, throwing your head back, pushing your breasts into him further.
"Michaelllll," you draw out, a whiny pitch to your words. "It's already so good. How is this so good?" You wonder out loud, the sole feeling of humping against him rendering you nearly useless.
He wraps his large arms around you, pulling you close to him and planting a hungry kiss on your lips. His mouth is greedy, all consuming as it slots over yours. It takes some serious restraint on his part not to swallow you whole, and the thought of that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins.
"I know, honey," he mumbles against your lips. His own move from your lips, to your cheek, to your ear, nibbling playfully on the lobe. You giggle, and he pinches your ass.
"Your body feels so fucking good on top of me, made for me, hm?" He asks, the point of his nose nudging yours.
You nod desperately, eyes wide and glassy, lips pouty. He kisses it off, and you whine again.
"Made for you," you confirm, picking up the speed of your hips.
You feel him shake under you, his hands coming to your waist to slow your movements. A bratty pout sprouts on your lips once more, your hips disobeying with all their might, desperate for more friction.
"Slow down, you brat," he teases, swatting your ass before you give up, slumpig against his large frame.
He runs his hands up and down your back as you both catch your breath, your chests rising and falling against each other's.
"I was gonna cum. Didn't wanna do that when I wasn't inside you." he admits against your neck, and you squeal in delight.
"Really?" You ask, eyes aglow at the information. "Big Dr. Robby was gonna come in his pants because of me? Really?" You ask again, a teasing lilt to your voice that has him beet red.
"God, fuck don't fucking call me doctor right now," he pulls his head out of your neck, your words rendering him boneless. He flops back onto the bed, hands coming up to cover his eyes.
"Sorry, Doctor," you pout, slinking your knees between Robby's, hitching your hands under his knees and spreading them apart.
You giggle at the crack of his hip, a groan of discomfort falling from his mouth. You stand tall on your knees, resting his calves on your shoulders. You turn to plant a kiss to his ankle, and he whimpers.
Your manicured nails reach under the waistband of his boxer shorts, running one finger along the hem. He shivers at the touch, his nipples hardening under the nylon fabric still donning his chest.
You change that, nails raking up his stomach, ribs, and chest, taking his under scrubs with them. He lifts up his arms submissively, his cheek falling onto the pillow as you pull it off of him.
You take a minute to appreciate him in this position- legs hiked up, soft belly all scrunched, chest heaving up and down. You have no choice but to absolutely devour him.
You set his legs down gently, keeping them apart as you lower yourself to his groin. His bulge is prominent through his boxers. You cup it with vigor, biting your lip at the feeling, the smell, the noises coming from his mouth.
"Want me to put it in my mouth, Doctor?" You ask, peeling the fabric over his hard length. It springs free, and you waste no time wrapping your hand around it.
Your mouth finds his balls, tugging them into your mouth and sucking gently, your fist working his cock. His head falls back on the pillows, a loud cry emenating from his mouth.
"Fuck, that's so good," he whimpers as you press delicate kisses up his shaft to his tip, tongue darting out to clean up his leaky slit. His hands find your hair, petting and rubbing and tugging on it. You take in more of him, hallowing your cheeks and sucking. Hard.
His hips jerk up, forcing you to take even more of him. He hits the back of your throat, and you gurgle around him, eyes watering as he hits your gag reflex, over and over.
The feeling of him in your mouth is a delicious discomfort, stretching your throat and mouth for his pleasure. The thought of this, of treating big mean Dr. Robby so good, has you weak in the knees, butterflies swarming your belly. You tell him so, actually.
"Feels so good," you splutter, spit reverberating off his cock as you speak. You work your hand up and down his length, keeping him right in your palm as you talk. "Love making you feel good, baby. You work so hard, hm?" You ask, voice high pitched. needy, and whiny. It's his favorite, and you can tell by the pre-cum that continues to leak out of him. You lean down and lick some up.
"Yeah," you sympathize, eyes big and watery. "Y'just need someone pretty to hold all of that, just for a little bit. Right?" You asks, and he nods a pathetic answer. "Big, mean Dr. Robby just needs his pretty girl to work his cock out."
"Fuck!" He throws his head back at that, cum sputtering out of him. It covers your hands, his stomach, his chest, your chest. You continue to squeeze it out of him, tightening your hand to get the rest out.
His chest heaves as he comes down from his high, the soft look in his eye unleashing an endless flutter in your tummy. You work your hand until he can't take it any longer, pawing you off of him.
You lean down to lick him clean, and he groans as his thick release coats your tongue. You don't swallow, lifting your head to his to plant a salty, tangy kiss to his lips.
His own tongue starts moving on its own accord, licking and sucking and panting, his large hand covering the expanse of your cheek. You let up just a little, and he's not having it. He plants one, two, three more little kisses before finally releasing you.
"You like tasting yourself?" You whisper against his lips.
He whines, gripping your waist tighter at the question. He buries his face in your neck, face warm, lips planting kisses along your skin.
You chuckle in victory, placing a sweet kiss on the top of his head.
You flop onto your own back, getting yourself comfortable for him to return the favor. He claps a palm to your raised knee, resting on his elbow as he turns towards you.
He slinks himself between your legs, lifting your ankles to his shoulders, just like you did with him moments before. Raw vulnerability is a fire poker to your stomach, laid out before him like this.
He kisses your ankle, your calf, your inner thigh. He lowers himself onto the bed the higher he goes. Your breath hitches the closer he gets to your core, the sharp tip of his nose nuzzling your clit before pressing a kiss there.
"Oh, Michael," you whimper, your brows pinching.
You scoop your legs up with your hands, and he spreads you further with his big hands before going in.
He's ruthless with his assault, licking you from your opening all the way up to your clit, puncturing it with a harsh suck. Your head falls back, whines and whimpers an endless stream pouring from your lips.
"'S good?" He asks against your skin, and the vibrations have you shaking under his touch.
Your stomach twists as he licks, kisses, and sucks. He darts his tongue in and out, next, his thumb rubbing taut circles on your most sensitive spot.
A white hot burn brews in your belly, bubbling like stew.
"Michael, it's so good, your mouth is always perfect, fuck," you moan out, jaw slack at the pleasure coursing through you.
"Always perfect, hmm?" He hums between kisses, his thumb rubbing continuous circles as he looks up at you. "Better than any asshole your age yeah? Needed an old man to treat this pussy right?"
Your face burns at his filthy words, closing your eyes yet nodding yes. Your cheek finds your pillow, and you nuzzle in, while sinking your fingers in his hair, pushing you back to your center.
"I'm close, please keep going," you plead, which he answers eagerly.
"Got you," he mumbles against you, wrapping his arms around your legs and pulling you closer, nearly smashing his face in your center. "Gonna make you feel so good, go ahead, come for me."
His permission unravels you, white hot pleasure hitting you like a tsunami, waves ebbing and flowing as you shake in his arms.
Your chest heaves as you come down, eyes desperate to see him as he crawls up your body. You rake your nails down his chest, reveling in his shiver, greedy fingertips finding his once-again hard length. He freezes, though, and you stop your movements.
"Sweet girlโฆ" he starts and your stomach sinks.
"Robinavitchโฆ" you trail off, propping yourself up on your own elbows, brow raising in suspicion. "Don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me."
"I can't stay," he breaks the news, and rage runs through you like a river.
"What the fuck do you mean you can't stay?" You sit up on your knees, assuming your sultriest pose, desperate to keep him right where you want him.
"We almost got caught last time," he starts, running his palm over his mouth. "I don't think I can afford to do that again."
"Oh, but you could afford to come and get your dick sucked?" You wave your hands in exasperation. He flinches at your wild tone, and your heart sinks. You want to shove him.
"Listen, I'm sneaking in and out through your terrace! I don't think I've done that since the 80s," he holds his hands up in surrender, and it makes you want to smack him.
His words hit you hard, though, like little pinpricks to your heart. The backs of your eyes burn, and you avert your gaze. God forbid he sees you cry.
"You seem to like the benefits of that trek, though, Robinavitch," you quip, ignoring the burning desire to take him in your arms, to wake up and fall asleep with him there.
He has nothing to say to that, and you swear you can feel your heart break, just a little.
"Get out of here," you wave him off before he can see his affect on you.
"I-" he starts, but you whip his clothing at him, effectively cutting him off.
"I don't wanna fucking hear it," you snap, heart racing and adrenaline pumping. "You really thought you could just come over, get your rocks off, and then go? That's all I am here? Just a fun little quest while you're trying to figure your shit out?" Your voice climbs higher with each syllable, and he cringes with each accusation thrown his way.
"Honey, I'm sorry. Of course that's not it, I just-" He starts, but you have no more patience.
"Get out," you point toward the door leading to your terrace. It's a force of habit, since he's never left so early, he technically doesn't have to take that route tonight. You honestly kind of want him to fall, break a few bones on the concrete below. That'll teach him. "Out. Now!" You demand, pushing his half-clad body out the door.
He resists, pushing against you in the direction of the actual bedroom door.
"If that's alright with you," he starts, annoyance pricking his own tone now. "I'm going to use the front door. Like a fucking adult," that last part is pointed, and each word is an arrow to your heart.
"Really, Robinavitch? You wanna go there with me?" You ask, fire spewing from your lips.
You're following him out of the room, trailing behind him down the grand spiral staircase lining your brother's house.
"Where? Where am I going?" He asks, tempting your limits. "I thought I was just going home."
"God, you're such a fucking bitch!" You spew from halfway down the stairs, stomping your foot against the wood like a child. You ignore the pain that shoots through your ankle and up your leg, like you ignore the throb in your heart, the tremble in your lips.
"Least I'm not a child," he calls back, deadpan. "See you tomorrow, pretty girl."
With that, the door slams behind him. You bury your face in your hands, plant yourself on the steps, and cry.
The grief of the night before sits heavy in your chest, a dark cloud rolling over what should be a happy day. Jack is still sleeping, thankfully his shift the night before was taxing enough to knock him out solidly.
You've pattered around the house all day, letting in vendors, grabbing the decorations you've shoved in closets for weeks. Nerves pump through your veins all day, anticipating your brother's reaction to your elaborate surprise.
Around noon, it's finally starting to come along. The sun shines through the bright pinks, yellows, and blues that decorate the backyard. It hangs high in the sky, the peak of the day waiting for you.
You take a moment to soak it up, breathing in the chlorine-scented air to try and ease your nerves.
You're snapped out of your reprieve by the slide of the back door, and you whip around to see your brother, brows furrowed in surprise.
"Woahhhh, what's this, kiddo?" He asks, bringing his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Happy birthday, JJ!" You squeal, hugging him back.
"This is all for me?" He asks, head whipping around, taking in the transformation of his backyard.
"Surprise!" You throw your hands up, your pride burying the heartbreak from the night before, just slightly.
"Friends are coming in about a half hour," you tell him, circling the patio table, setting up various snacks and drinks. "We're just about finished out here, and I'm gonna go get changed! Cheers, birthday boy!" You toss him a can of Coors Light before darting to the glass door he just came out of moments before.
"It's noon!" He calls back, and you roll your eyes.
"It ain't called day drinking unless you start drinking in the day!" You call back, retreating to the quiet of the inside.
You take a moment to appreciate your hard work- it's spotless, the decorations in your living room nearly mirroring the festivities outside.
You slink up to your room, your heart sinking as the memory of last night creeps up your spine like a spider- sharp and biting. You press your fingers to your waterline, desperate to protect your eye makeup from running. You won't ruin hundreds of dollars of makeup for Michael Robinavitch.
You open your closet, grabbing the pink swimsuit you bought just for this occasion. It's a burning, bright pink, straps as thin as can be, paired with a matching sarong. You pull it on, adjusting your chest in the cups of the suit before pulling on your sandals.
The doorbell rings as you jog down the stairs, heart racing in anticipation.
You're greeted by Ellis and Shen, and you throw your arms up in celebration. You pull them both in for a group hug, relishing in the feeling of their constricting muscles under your hands.
"You guys look great! What are they doin' to ya over in the night shift?" You ask, looking back at them while leading them inside.
"Too much, I'll tell you that," Ellis responds, heading straight for the drinks table.
She grabs two, and cracks one of her own. Shen trades his Dunkin' for a can she's holding out to him, and you swipe the latte from the kitchen island. You take a sip, a buttery vanilla coating your tongue.
"Hmm, that's pretty good," you shrug, putting it in the fridge for when he'll inevitably go back to it before his shift later.
"You're gross," he teases, and you stick your tongue out.
People continue to filter in as the afternoon crawls on, the day shift slowly taking over for the night shift as the sun goes down. It's a perfect golden hour when you see him again, and the sight still knocks you off your center, even after all these weeks.
He's greeted with smiles and celebration throughout the backyard, jealousy sliding down your spine like sticky slime. The idea of others seeing him, knowing him, is almost too much for you to bear witness to right now.
You turn away from him, the shiny, sheer fabric of your skirt illuminated by the evening glow of the sun. You perch your hands on the table in front of you, under the guise of leaning closer to see something on Javadi's phone.
You arch your back with the movement, your plush skin moving with your giggles in a way you know will make Robby crazy. You continue to talk to the Pittlings, who have become some of your closest friends since moving back in with your brother.
"You've got someone staring a hole through your back right now, by the way," Victoria says, lifting her drink in Robby's direction.
"More like her ass," Santos adds, slapping you there as she approaches the group, plopping down on the chaise lounge next to Victoria.
"Oh God," you groan, hands covering your burning cheeks.
"How's that treating you, by the way?" Whitaker asks, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Messing around behind your brother's back?"
"Pshh," you huff, rolling your eyes. "Just about as good as you'd expect. He has the emotional depth of an acorn."
"That's being generous," Samira adds, cheering your can with hers in response.
"That bad, huh?" Whitaker asks, and your heart picks up in your chest.
"It's just-" you start, taking a large sip of your drink before you start. "He wants me one second, and then doesn't the next. It's so confusing. I don't know what else I expected when we got together, but this wasn't it."
"I mean, it's honestly enough of a feat in itself that you got him to open up at all," Trinity says, taking her own sip.
This quells your worries only slightly, and you shake your head to ponder her point.
"I guess, but last night he just took off. Didn't spend the night," you mutter that last part quietly, and are met with disapproving groans and wolf whistles from your friends.
"Oh, shit," Samira says, sitting up. "You like him!"
"What? No I don't!" You insist, the words sputtering from your lips.
"Uh, yeah, ya do," Trinity adds, rolling her eyes at the incessant shakes of your head. "If you don't like him, then why are you constantly texting me about how sexy he is?" She asks, pointedly holding up her phone.
"Gross," Samira says, under her breath.
Your cheeks burn.
"You wanna prove you don't like him?" Trinity challenges, and a pit forms in your stomach.
You nod desperately, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
"See that guy over there?" She asks, head nodding towards a certain party-goer.
He's massive, a buff guy with slicked hair that you vaguely recognize from your brothers' stories. He doesn't work directly in the ER, that much you know. Maybe a surgeon?
"Park? Really?" Whitaker asks, disgust tingeing his voice.
"Really," Trinity stands firm on her decision. "If you don't like Robby-" she fakes a gag at that, "then go flirt with Park the Shark."
She wiggles her eyebrows in intrigue as you find his eyes again. He's looking at you this time, a sinister grin on his lips. Something wrong pounds in your heart, but your stubborn resolve wins over.
You stand up straight, flipping your hair over your shoulders, popping your hip before sauntering over. You turn back to your friends, giving a cheeky wink and a wave.
"Watch me," you whisper, slinking your way over.
You spot Robby in your peripheral, his inquisitive eye tracking your every move. He goes rigid when he sees where you're going, and you can't help but buck up a little, pushing your chest out as you descend on your prey.
"Hi!" You chirp, placing a delicate hand on his thick bicep. "I need your workout routine! How is this even possible?" You gush, though each word feels like poison on your lips.
He puffs up, says something stupid about his gym membership, and you continue to ooh and awe, batting him your sweetest lashes.
You feel Robby's eyes on you the entire time, and you don't hesitate to play the part. You shake your hair from side to side, letting the sunlight hit different points of your face. His eyes burn into your face, and your stomach burns, but not with the butterflies you're used to. It's dark, shameful and pitying.
You throw your head in the other direction, under the guise of getting the sun out of your eyes. Really, though, you want to see the sun hitting another man, standing on the other side of the backyard.
The honey brown of his eyes light up with the late afternoon glow, jealousy ferociously coursing through them. You perk up, remembering why you're there. You arch your back, lean into him slightly. Your laughter is a little too loud, bending over a little too far at his jokes.
You spare one more glance. He's setting his drink down, he's running his hands over his mouth. You turn back to the man on your arm.
"I can't believe you can make all that work with such a busy schedule!" You gush, petting his arm up and down.
"Yeah, well-"
"Hey," a gruff voice interrupts him from behind.
You freeze at the familiar sound, your heart falling into your stomach. Your cheeks burn, your eyes frantic as they scan the faces of your friends, an even mix of shock and intrigue.
You turn your body slowly, reluctantly meeting his gaze. It takes the breath out of you when you finally see him, his brown eyes a mix of regret and adoration.
"Hi," you respond, your breath hitched in your throat.
"Can we talk, uh, alone?" His hand reaches to scruff the back of his hand, and your heart nearly melts at the self soothing motion.
"Uhmโฆ" you start, eyebrows raising. "I'm actually talking to someone. Recognize him?"
You know it's bitchy, but you can't help the rage that courses through you at his question. Now he wants to talk? The second you start flirting with someone else?
He clears his throat, the apples of his cheeks tinting red as he now takes in his audience- a colleague so ruthless he's compared to an apex predator.
"You know him, pretty girl?" Park asks.
The familiar name sends a twinge of disgusts from your heart to your belly. Your mouth twists downward, and suddenly, this isn't much fun anymore.
"Yeah," Robby interjects, gripping your forearm. "She does."
He manhandles you away from him, fire burning in his gaze. As mad as you are right now, you're damn thankful he got you out of this.
"What the hell, Robby?" You whisper yell, throwing your hand out in exasperation.
"Meet me inside," he demands, turning to walk inside.
You stand there, frozen, your heart galloping in your chest. You find your friends again, throwing a scared, yet excited glance their way as you start to follow him. They're confused at first, then look towards the door, sending a mix of 'good luck's and 'don't fuck it up's your way.
You pick your speed up as you turn around, a prissy little half jog to catch up to his long strides. He stops before you can catch yourself, causing you to run straight into his broad, strong back.
You collapse with the thin, linen fabric of his shirt, and you can't help but sink your fingers in it to help stop yourself. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.
"Oomph!" You squeal into the fabric, cheeks burning even hotter under his dubious gaze.
You shove him lightly, once, twice, three times before he's finally crossing the threshold.
Thankfully, the living room is empty as you slide the glass door closed behind you. You nick the lock into place, just in case.
The air between the two of you is thick, warm like the humidity radiating outside. You run nervous fingers through your hair, your stomach bubbling with nauseating anxiety.
"What, Robby?" You ask, your heart beating a mile a minute. It pounds in your ears, and you can barely hear his response. "What do you want?"
"I just-" he starts, plowing five fingers through his hair. "I just wanted to see you again. I couldn't keep looking at you with that fucking asshole-"
"Really?" You cut him off. "The only reason you're fucking speaking to me is because you felt threatened? Do you realize how big of an ass this makes you sound?"
"Fuck," he mutters, running his hands down his face in exasperation. "You're gonna fucking kill me, kid."
"What, am I wrong?" You question, voice raising ever so slightly. "Am I wrong?"
"Quiet down!" He hisses, frantically looking around him.
"Oh. My God, Michael," you snap, turning away from him and towards the steps.
You hear him padding behind you, frustrated stomps echoing the plop of your sandals.
"You are so infuriating, you know that?" You ask, starting up the stairs. He follows, and you can feel his gaze nearly burning a hole through your ass.
"You don't even know the half of it," he bites back, reaching up to swat at your backside.
You pause on the landing, turning your body to face him. Your face rages with anger, while your stomach swirls with a sultry warmth.
"What do you think this is?" You demand, tone even bitchier than before, if possible. "Do you think this is just a pump and dump? That you can just do that to me and not spend the night?"
The air grows cold at your last question, the root of this argument finally escaping your lips. Your heart drops, the heat rushing from your face, abandoning you in the bitter cold of being known.
Robby sinks his weight on his back leg, rearing his head back in incredulous frustration. A disbelieving smile spreads across his lips as he props his hands on his hips.
"Is that what this is about?" He asks, tonguing the inside of his cheek to keep a laugh from bubbling over. "You're mad because I didn't spend the night?"
Your mouth twists up in an angry pout, stomping your foot petulantly before turning to finish your ascent up the staircase.
"Are you serious?" He asks, anger lacing his tone as he follows you, eventually into your room.
He shuts the door behind him, a broad stance between you and the outside world.
"You're being a brat because I didn't spend the night?" He asks, sauntering closer to you.
Each step has your heart beating louder in your ears, blood rushing through your veins. You maintain your resolve as best you can, the heady buzz of his proximity weakening your knees.
"I'm not a fucking brat," you spit through your teeth as he nears closer, dropping your head back to stare him dead in his eye.
"Really?" He asks, his hand grazing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "To me, a brat flirts with my colleague to try and get a rise out of me."
His fingers find their way under your jaw, gripping enough to gain control, ensuring your eyes never leave his.
"I wasn't trying to get a rise out of you," you lie through your teeth, a sinister smirk curling your lips.
The energy between you is electric, buzzing through every part of your bodies. Heat burns deep in your belly, spreading to the apex of your thighs.
"Really?" He asks, disbelief lacing his tone.
"Really," You insist, nuzzling into the firm grip of his palm, a dreamy look widening your eyes. "He's super hot, thought he might be good in bed-"
You don't get through much else before he's smashing his lips to yours, bending his knees to scoop you up by the backs of your thighs. You waste no time wrapping yourself around him, your arms around his neck, mirroring the grip your legs have on his waist.
He tosses you onto the bed with little regard, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes darkening as he rips off his shirt with one hand. He crawls on the bed, kneeling tall as he creeps in between your legs.
"You really think I'm gonna give in this easy?" You ask, your eyes sparkling.
"Yes," he says, reaching down to untie the sarong constricting your waist. It falls at your sides, revealing your plush skin and the tiny strings of your bikini.
"Christ," he runs a hand down his face. "How is this even legal to wear? So fuckin' tiny."
He flips you over, taking advantage of your cheeky bottoms to land a few teasing spanks on your exposed ass. You whine, your body jerking at the impact. You rest your cheek on your folded hands, arching your back and wiggling slightly, desperate for more attention from his hands.
"Now, see, thatโฆ" he starts, landing another harsh smack on your supple skin. "That is something a brat would do," he grits through his teeth, landing one, two, three more spanks.
"Michael," you moan out, wiggling your hips in desperate search of any friction. "Don't tease me," you whine, pouting your lips.
"Ohohoho," he chuckles, incredulously, landing five consecutive, merciless smacks. "Now you wanna be my sweet pretty girl again? Not gonna work that way, sorry baby."
His hand comes up to untie the strap of your bikini top, flipping you over on your back once more. He whips the thin fabric over your head, hands mercilessly palming your sensitive chest. His fingers close in around them, and you arch into his firm grip.
His palms brush against your nipples with each roll of his hands, your eyes falling closed and legs falling open.
You rock your hips into his, relishing in the moan he releases when you move your core up and down his thickening length.
"Take it off, Michael," you plead as his fingers hook under the waistline of your bathing suit.
He smiles wickedly, before pulling the fabric taut against your center, a delicious stretch of polyester pressing into your clit.
"Y'think I'm gonna just give in? Just like that?" He asks sardonically. "Do you even know me, baby?"
"Yes," you quip, echoing his answer from earlier.
At that, he snaps the teeny strap of your bottoms against the supple skin of your hip, and you cry out. Your legs spread on their own accord, knees falling to the bed. He blows out a whistle at the action, shaking his head in revelry.
Your cheeks burn at your neediness, your desperation for the large man above you. You kick your legs slightly, a petulant action that has him pinning you down with his large hands. He swats your inner thigh, and shows no remorse when you whine.
"You wanna be needy now, hm? This pussy's so fucking wet," he slides your bathing suit to the side, skimming his fingers up your slick center. "You need me so bad, huh? Should've thought of that before you decided to fucking flirt with Park."
He spits the name out, disgust coating the syllable. Your tummy turns with regret at your earlier actions. Your cheeks heat, eyes going wide. He clocks it immediately, face immediately softening. He purses his lips, a pathetic coo escaping them.
"Oh, sweet girl," he drags the pet name out, and you kick your legs under him again, desperate for something, anything.
He finally drags the rest of your swimsuit off, pulling himself out and entering you with a swift, merciless thrust.
It knocks the wind out of you, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. It always takes a moment to adjust to him, especially now, unprepared, but you can't seem to care. The stretch is too tantalizing, too good. You tell him so, in breathless whimpers and moans.
He smiles sardonically, wasting no time moving in and out of you. Each thrust is like a punch to your gut, a desperate little 'uh' falling from your lips with each one. A burning hot sensation builds in your stomach, right where he hits you, over and over again.
"Michaeelll," you whine, scraping your nails down his sturdy chest. You revel in the way his round body meets your hips, your center welcoming his soft belly with each thrust. "Feels so good, you're so beautiful."
Your eyes sparkle while you compliment him, a smile spreading your mouth as he goes red, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact. He thrusts harder, though, reaching a hand down to rub your neglected clit. His rough fingers slide over the wet nub with a delicious friction, a tsunamic wave of pleasure threatening to take over.
"That's a crazy thing to say," he remarks, trying mightily to keep his resolve. His desperation only makes you wetter, warmer, tighter.
"Fuck-" he groans out, "fucking crazy, honey. You're the prettiest one here, yeah? Had every single eye on you in that suit," he punctuates each word with a ruthless thrust.
"Made me so fucking crazy, could only keep it together knowing I was gonna be the one to take it off you. So show me, baby. Show me why you've been letting me get you naked in your brother's house for the past six weeks."
Stars burst behind your eyes at this, insatiable moans ripping from your chest. You grab at him, pulling him close to you as you ride out your high, which has since triggered his. You pulse around him as he twitches inside of you, pumping each drop into you.
You whimper and moan as the sensitivity dawns on you, pushing him off slightly, a silent plea to stop.
"Okay, baby, okay," he whispers, brushing a hand through your hair. It's soothing as he pulls out, and you can't help but grip his wrist, pressing a kiss to the small tattoo there.
"It's okay, I got you," he says, now laying on his side with his arms around your back.
You're snapped out of your peaceful daze by a sharp knock on the door. You both freeze in each other's arms, so silent you could hear a pin drop.
"Hey hun," you hear your brother on the other side of the door, and panic crawls up your throat like a scream you can't hold back. "You okay in there? I know it's hot out, so I just wanted to check on you."
You squeeze your eyes shut, taking one, two, three deep breaths before willing your shaky voice to respond.
"I'm all good, JJ! Just had a bit too much to drink, I think. I'll be back soon!" You manage to sound as normal as possible, whacking Michael when he gives you two sarcastic thumbs up.
"No worries, hun. You take your time, okay?" He responds, and you let a strangled breath go, thinking you're off the hook.
"You haven't seen Robby anywhere, have ya?" He adds, and your heart sinks once again.
Michael stifles a chuckle, one that's too loud, in your opinion. You sit up, whacking him with your pillow. You'd smother him with it too, if you could get away with it.
"No!" You sputter out. "Nope, no-uh- why do you ask?" You cringe in on yourself, pressing two fingers to your temples.
"Just wondering. Haven't seen him in a minute either," he remarks, and you can't tell if there's an accusation in there.
"Weird," is all you can say, after a moment of awkward silence.
"Yeah, really weird," he responds before walking away.
Once he retreats down the steps, a cackle echoes next to you. You grab the pillow again, whacking him once, twice, three times until you're laughing so hard, your belly hurts.
You collapse onto his own stomach, resting your cheek on the peak of his belly. You press a kiss into the skin there, murmuring a 'shut up' into his skin.
"I wouldn't even if you wanted me to," he says, and you roll your eyes.
Your heart skips a beat, galloping at lightning speed in your chest. You are in big trouble.













