Cindy A. Castañeda

[gxtitobxby]

sof i’m nervy to send this but…. dad!robby telling you to pee before a long trip… you brattily refusing…. him refusing to stop at a rest stop…

gill.............. 1) I'm taking the win for converting you into the dad agenda 2) I love that you're nervous when we've talked about way worse you're adorable and I love you 3) I literally just got back from a weekend at the cabin........... 4) this got away from me :3 no proofreading!

he tries so hard not to throw you over his knee the second you start stomping your foot at him, so he settles for a glaring contest at the front door - him holding his bag in one hand, the cooler in the other, and your duffel over his shoulder while you stand there in your little daddy's girl shirt and tiny useless purse. he sighs n begs the universe for strength and patience.

with arms crossed and a pinched look on your face you whine "but I don't have to go!"

"good thing I didn't ask if you had to go then - I said go, now."

you whine again, like a fuckin' brat if you ask him, with your head thrown back n everything "why won't you listen! i'm a grown up I can decide if I need to go or not."

he chuckles at that, one of those breathy laughs he does when he's trying not to lose his shit. "you know what, fine. get in the car." he slides his sunglasses on then points a scolding finger at you "I don't want to hear a single word outta you when you have to go, you got it? you'll hold it until we get there."

"fine" it's said under your breath but your bravery is short lived when he turns back to you and raises an eyebrow.

"sorry, what was that?"

your lip pouts a little at his tone and the way he looks at you like you're an unruly child. your thighs rub together. "yes, dad. I got it."

and bless your heart, you really do try to hold it. an hour in you start to fidget a little. thirty minutes later, you're squirming on the warm sticky seat, throwing robby shy pouty glances he very pointedly decides to ignore.

by the time it's been two hours you finally break. "dad?"

"hm?" robby has an arm out the window, tapping the outside of the car to the beat of the classic rock song pouring out of the speakers.

"can we... is there a gas station coming up?"

"you hungry? we got some fruit in the cooler, sweetheart, help yourself."

you glance at the big red cooler in the back seat, "oh o-okay, thanks. um.. I was actually..."

"I know you're not asking for the bathroom since you insisted you'd be fine till we get there. so if it's not that or food, whatd'ya need, honey?"

you take advantage of the long front seat with no gap and cuddle up next to him, nosing sadly at his arm looking up at him with big rounded eyes. the corner of his mouth lifts and he presses a kiss to your forehead, speaking quietly against it "what is it, baby, tell dad."

you sniffle, "I really have to go."

he clicks his tongue, still not looking at you but putting a big warm hand on your thigh. his forearm presses lightly against your belly and the feeling makes you jump. "but sweetheart, you said you'd be fine till we get there remember? jack is waiting for us, we have no time to stop."

"b-but—"

"—and I said I didn't want to hear a word about it remember?"

"yes, but—"

"good, then you'll be a good girl and hold it, right?"

you hesitate for a second, burying another whine against his arm. robby squeezes at your thigh and repeats. "right, baby?"

he can hear the big wobbly pout in your "yes, dad."

and it wouldn't be robby if he made it easy for you. soon enough he has your little skirt flipped over and your legs spread open while he rubs mean circles your clit. your underwear is wet and sticky and your thighs are shaking as you try to hold it all in. you know if you cum it'll be even harder to hold it, so you try with all your might to stave it off - but your dad knows you so well, knows all the spots the right tempo the dirty words to say to have your pussy drooling.

he's all "dad's dirty girl. can you hear how wet you are?" "thought you said you were a big girl, honey, what happened?" "where's my bratty girl now?" "c'mon let dad have it"

when jack opens the door to the cabin he finds a bleary eyed girl with a bruised bottom and wet underwear and his oldest friend with a smug grin and a rock hard tent in his pants. someone's gonna have some cleaning up to do :)

[drjohncarters]

robby taking advantage of his young, pretty intern

warnings: smut, 18+! toxic!bigdick!perv!robby, intern!virgin!desperate!fem!reader. no plot! it’s raunchy and perverted and i don’t wanna spoil any more so pls enjoy!

not tagging or formatting this like usual bc i don’t feel like it rn sorry y’all! i trust this will find who it is meant to find..

when dana hears him do it for the first time, she’s on his throat in front of everyone.

“she’s a doctor just like the rest of your group here, robinavitch. let’s treat her accordingly, yeah?” she bites.

a little smirk paints itself on his lips, and then he lulls his head in your direction, eyes still focused on the computer screen in front of him. the one you’re looking at, too.

the one where he’s just written: locker room, 5 minutes.

you swallow hard.

“she doesn’t mind it. do you, sweetheart?” he nudges your shoulder with his own.

clearing your throat, you shake your head, eyes flitting from him to dana. she’s red in the face, blowing out a long, tired breath.

“it’s inappropriate and sexist,” she starts going in on him again.

“excuse me.” you duck out of the conversation and round the nurse’s hub. neither of them spare you a glance, too caught up in their little spat to even notice you’re gone.

not a minute after you make your way into the locker room, robby is coming in, too. as you’re standing to greet him, he gives a minute tilt of his head, and then dana comes in at his heels.

you’re sitting on the bench in front of your locker, shoes slipped off of your heels, with your mouth around the lip of a water bottle.

awkwardly, you lower it, push your feet in, and stand.

“i would like to apologize for my behavior, doctor.” there’s a defiant smirk on robby’s face as he addresses you. “it’s been brought to my attention that it could be considered harassment.”

quickly, you swallow the water that’s still in your mouth, otherwise you’ll spit it all over the both of them.

“oh, um. it’s really ok, dr robby. no need to apologize,” you reply shyly. you like that he calls you sweetheart.

“oh, its needed.” dana claps her hands together. “we’ll see you out there, kid.”

you won’t point out that her calling you kid isn’t much different than robby calling you sweetheart.

instead, you try to keep robby here like his note said. for a moment, you’re busy trying to find an excuse, rocking back on your heels and hesitantly taking a step forward.

“a-actually,” you speak too loudly as they both head for the door. there’s a glint in robby’s eyes as he catches your stare. “um— i was hoping i could talk to you about something, dr robby. i’ll be quick.”

not very specific, but it’ll do.

acting a bit annoyed, he rubs a hand over his scruff and nods reluctantly. checking his watch, he exhales a heavy sigh.

“make it fast, doctor,” he responds as he takes a step closer.

dana eyes him with frustration, but seems to pay no mind to the both of you staying behind alone. once she’s out of the room, robby is on you. he’s lifting you from the ground and carrying you into the single stall bathroom that’s attached to the showers.

he’s grunting and groaning into your lips, his beard burning the skin around your mouth as he moves roughly against you.

“sweetheart,” he whispers, shoving your scrubs to your ankles. “look so pretty today.”

part of you wants to yank them back up and hide, not ready for him to see you nude yet.

but he’s sliding his pants down, too. only enough to let his cock spring out. the tip is already leaking precum. your lips part at the sight of him so excited for you.

“dr robby, i don’t know if you’ll fit.” you blanche as he fists his dick. his hand doesn’t even fit all the way around it. “i’m so sorry. i think you’ll be too big.”

a mean laugh falls from his lips.

“you’ll be ok, sweetheart. i’ve got you.” with a large hand between your shoulders, he pushes you forward until your arms are propped on the sink. his hands grab your hips then, squeezing roughly before slapping your ass so hard you yelp too loudly.

you can’t help but moan his name, shifting your hips back to urge him in.

before he pushes in, he wraps your ponytail around his hand and yanks hard, pulling your head up to face the mirror above the faucet.

“want to see your face, sweetheart.” he pushes into you slowly, painfully. by the time he’s halfway, you’re sure that your pussy can’t stretch any further to accommodate his fat cock.

he’s watching your face intensely in the mirror, holding your eye contact there as you whimper and plead for less of him. instead of listening, he’s relishing in the tears that spring to your eyes, the pull of your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

when you finally sniffle, tears steadily streaming now, he decides he’s had enough of teasing you.

he gives you his whole cock, pushing in so hard and fast that his balls come slamming into your clit. you’re surprised that he holds the pace steadily, unrelentingly slamming into you over and over until he finally cums inside of you. the whole time, he never lets go of your eyes in the mirror.

as soon as he catches his breath, he’s tugging his jeans back over his half-hard cock and zipping it away.

“so fuckin sexy, sweetheart.” he kisses the top of your head and ties your scrub pants for you, thankful that the black color does a nice job of hiding the cum that’s spilling out of you and soaking through your panties.

“dr robby, um— do i need to take a plan b or something?” you shouldn’t have asked while staring up at him with those fucked-out, watery eyes.

“you’re not on birth control?” he’s pressing you into the sink again, gentler this time. with his chest against your back, he puts his hands over yours and begins washing them for you.

you swallow hard, trying to process everything that just happened with your attending.

“i’ve n-never needed it?” you respond like it’s a question.

his motions stop. still, he keeps your hands trapped in his, eyes locked on yours in the reflection.

“never had sex, you mean?” he’s slack-jawed. “sweetheart, was that your first time?”

you nod, breaking the eye contact and looking at where your hands are intertwined. you didn’t want him to find out like this. it all happened so fast, and you didn’t think he was going to go straight to sex. you thought he wanted to sneak off and make out. since that’s all you’ve done with him before, you didn’t expect such a drastic step. heat floods your face as the guilt creeps in.

“i’m so sorry, dr robby, i shouldn’t have kept it a secret, but-” he interrupts you with a hand over your mouth. when you pause, he turns you to face him, wet hands cold on your bare elbows.

“i’ll get you a pill,” he promises, “but you can’t tell anyone, ok? i shouldn’t be prescribing you anything at all.”

“well i don’t want you to break the rules.” you sniffle, wiping away a fallen tear. “i feel bad enough as it is.”

he shakes his head, and his cold, wet hands worm their way under your scrub top right onto your bare belly.

“if you got pregnant, this would get so much bigger,” he groans, rolling his head back. shedding your shirt for you entirely, he grabs your face by the cheeks. “your belly probably swole with my cock while i fucked you, and i didn’t even get to see it. i’ll see again tonight, ok? you’ll come to my house after you get off and stay for awhile.”

you nod dumbly, squirming under his stare.

nobody has ever seen you naked before.

“and these.” he unclasps your bra and your tits bounce sinfully. “sweetheart, these would swell so much. be so pretty showing off your big tits in a scrub top for me, wouldn’t you?”

“is that what you want?” you swallow hard, desperate for some sort of validation as he manhandles you. his head snaps up to meet your eyes. “i mean, d-do you want me to have your baby, dr robby?”

it’s his turn to nod dumbly. here he was, internally scheming a way that he could prescribe sugar pills instead of birth control. and the whole time, all he had to do was ask?

you look so sexy like this, waiting under his stare, nipples peaked under his cold, wet palms. you’re only just now recovering from your earlier crying and the tears brimming at your waterline make your eyes glow prettily.

he hopes the baby has your eyes.

“if it’s what you want, i’ll do it,” you say softly, eyes searching his face for any sign of humor or dishonesty.

no man has ever expressed this sort of interest in you before. sneaking around with you at work? fucking you? finishing inside of you? wanting you to have his baby? god, you’ve never felt so important.

“sweetheart, you’re going to look so good all swollen with my baby, ok?” he squeezes your tits, massaging them in his hands.

it feels so fucking good.

“d-dr robby,” you gasp, hand reaching out to grab his bicep.

“you like that, sweetheart? my sweet virgin girl likes having her nipples rubbed?” he does it more intentionally now, taking his thumb and forefinger and pinching your peaked bud. you whine, rutting your hips forward into his leg, desperate for friction in a way you’ve never experienced.

“wait, dr robby,” you whimper. “your semen is dripping out of m-my—”

he chuckles, rolling your nipples between his fingers and watching you writhe and moan for him, worried the baby won’t stick.

“it’s ok, sweetheart. when i see you tonight, m’gonna give you more, ok? gonna stay inside and plug your pretty pussy with my cock all night long.”

he stops his ministrations on your tits long enough for you to open your eyes. god, you look so beautiful. so fucked-out. lips parted, short gasps falling from them as you look at him with those begging eyes.

when your hands reach for your tits in his absence, he pushes them away.

“as long as you listen, sweetheart, we will have no problems making this baby, ok?” he raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you nod obediently.

“yes, dr.” you nod. “i promise.”

“good.” bending down, he presses a kiss just below your navel. then, he grips your waist hard before stepping back and taking his phone out of his back pocket. “now smile for me, sweetheart.”

[p0ckykiss-deactivated20260427]

your body's a temple - choi seungcheol

SUMMARY -> everyone knows choi seungcheol, captain of the football team, has been trying to get into your (the head cheerleader's) pants for the entire semester. you make him wait, and wait, and wait. until he doesn't.

WORDS -> approx. 15k

WARNINGS -> choi seungcheol x female reader, university au, football player choi seungcheol, cheerleader reader, top seungcheol, wet & messy, rough sex, unprotected sex, face slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, light drug use, reader gets wrecked while wearing a skirt, crying, size kink

- requested [no]

seungcheol is more than aware that he's a little bit of a cliche. star quarterback of the football team, frat boy, a little bit of a playboy. add in the fact that he's spent the entire semester pining over the head cheerleader into the mix and he's basically the embodiment of a romcom trope.

but he doesn't mind much: life is good. the only real issue is that he's been trying (and failing. desperately failing) to get in said head cheerleader's pants for the better part of the last four months and he's just about ready to crawl out of his skin.

but it's fine. he's fine.

he's three or five drinks deep already at one of the last house parties of the year. the semester is winding down to prepare for spring break, as most students are already done with their finals and just sticking around for the last football game coming up next week. seungcheol has been stretched so thin between studying and practice for the past few weeks that he's not in much of a partying mood, so rather than being at the center of the room like he usually is, he's kicked back on the couch by the back door nursing a drink, mingyu sitting on the arm next to him as they quietly chat below the music pounding through the room.

"staring at the door won't make her come any faster," mingyu says, elbowing seungcheol in the ribs. he pushes the little marble-swirled pipe pinched between his fingers under seungcheol's nose, twisting it. "relax. smoke with me."

"who said i'm waiting for her?" seungcheol says into his red solo cup, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. he knows mingyu isn't buying it. "i don't care if she comes or not."

"so you're saying if y/n were to walk through that door right now you wouldn't be over there in ten seconds flat pushing a drink into her hand and trying to take her up to your room?" mingyu rolls his eyes, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. "yeah, i'll believe that when i see it."

seungcheol is about to talk back when a commotion across the room catches his attention. a small group is arriving, filtering in one by one, faces seungcheol definitely recognizes. his heart rate spikes and he cranes his neck the tiniest bit, hoping mingyu doesn't notice.

"ah," mingyu says, bringing the pipe to his lips and sparking the lighter up. "there she is."

it's amazing how you manage to demand the attention of the room at large the second you enter. faces turn to you like flowers toward the sun and you glow under the attention, smiling sweetly and greeting the people around you with hugs and waving the lollipop clutched in your hand excitedly at those who yell your name from deeper into the room. it takes you a second to weave through the throng of people but once seungcheol can see you properly his mouth instantly goes dry— you're wearing all black from head to toe, sinfully tight miniskirt with stockings disappearing into your high boots. a loose shirt just barely brushes your waistband, exposing a little peek of skin just above your belt that seungcheol's eyes linger on for a few seconds too long.

"hey, earth to seungcheol," mingyu says right in his ear, startling him. "stop drooling over y/n for two seconds and answer my question."

"didn't hear you," seungcheol mumbles. you run your fingers through your hair, the rings on your fingers catching the light. your hair is getting even longer, now, and seungcheol thinks it suits you. to be fair though, just about anything would suit you so there's really no point in having a preference. "what'd you say?"

mingyu exhales a thick cloud of milky smoke into the air right in front of seungcheol's eyes but it doesn't stop him from watching as some poor fuck practically falls to his knees in front of you with a drink in his hand. you accept it with a sweet smile that curls your eyes, leaning into the boy's space and toeing the heel of your boot into the carpet. seungcheol ignores the little spark of jealousy that roars to life in his chest, tearing his eyes away. he focuses on the little pipe in mingyu's hand. "nah, not in the mood tonight."

"suit yourself." mingyu shrugs.

you are laughing at something the little call-boy is whispering to you, throwing your head back in a way that makes the glitter smeared high on your cheeks glint under the low light. he wrinkles his nose, draining the rest of his drink.

"based on the way she's still the only thing you seem to be able to focus on i'm gonna guess you still haven't gotten into her pants yet?" mingyu muses.

seungcheol shoots mingyu a look. "trust me, if i had then you and the entire campus would know already. i plan on putting it on a billboard when it finally happens."

"why don't you go talk to her, then? it's not like you to give up."

seungcheol sighs, leaning back into the couch. "what do you want me to do? throw myself at her like the rest of the room is doing?" he gestures at you, who now has the attention of some guy giggling and cracking jokes. it makes him snort; good luck with that, sweetheart. "i'm not desperate."

"are you sure? because i kinda recall you spending every single party this year doing exactly what they're all doing."

"i mean i'm not gonna throw myself at her right now," seungcheol almost whines. "i'm trying something new. shut up."

"ah, the make her come to you method." mingyu nods. "solid."

"so you think she even knows i'm here?"

"seungcheol, you live here."

"maybe i should—"

"oh look, she's headed this way now!" mingyu says, tapping seungcheol excitedly on the shoulder.

seungcheol's eyes snap back to the last place he saw you. you're still standing in the same spot, twisting the bright pink sucker between your fingers and nodding enthusiastically to the guy whispering something in your ear. "no she's n—"

"hey, y/n!" mingyu shouts, reaching up to wave his hand up high in the air. you startle and jerk your head up, searching the crowd for the source of the voice before you spot mingyu and smile, wiggling your fingers in their direction. your eyes snap to seungcheol for a split second and they instantly narrow, making a chill shoot up and down his spine.

"i'm going to fucking kill you," seungcheol says, watching you say goodbye to your friends and start to pick through the crowd on the way over to them.

"okay, hurry, act natural. she's almost here." mingyu pauses, side-eyeing seungcheol. "actually, y/n is so used to you looking at her like that it would be weirder if you tried being normal. you're good."

seungcheol is this close to chewing mingyu out but then you are right in front of him, one hand cocked on your waist and the other carding through your hair at your temple. you look... bored, in a way, like you don't want to be standing there right now, and for some reason you giving him that look, like, instantly turns him on.

"hey," you say, twirling the candy between your fingers. "what are you two doing all the way back here?" you raise yours eyebrows at seungcheol. "you're usually the first one doing keg stands in the middle of the living room."

"seungcheol is just so exhausted,” mingyu pipes up. “you know, it's not easy being the star football player. quarterback and captain. not only that but did you know he's been on the dean's list for the past three semesters? if that's not the kind of quality you want from a long-term partner or even a casual hookup then i don't know what is. in fact—"

"okay!" seungcheol almost shouts, making mingyu snap his mouth shut with a devilish little grin. seungcheol has no idea why he keeps him around. "just tired. practice has been crazy with the big game coming up. you know."

"mm," you hum in agreement. the cheerleading squad works just as hard if not harder than the football team. you share a field during practice, in fact. seungcheol is all too aware of that. "you two smoking?"

"yeah, get in here," mingyu says, passing the pipe and lighter over to you who accepts it happily.

"thank you," you singsong. you turn your attention back to seungcheol. "mind if i have a seat?"

"oh, yeah, yeah. sorry." seungcheol hadn't realized how rude he's being, spread out in the middle of the loveseat leaving nowhere for you to sit down. he's just about to move over to make room when you smile sweetly, stepping forward until your knees are pressed together and then sinking one into the the couch between the arm and seungcheol's thigh, slinging the other over his lap and settling down.

"best seat in the house," you say, eyes boring into seungcheol's. he vaguely registers mingyu snickering at his left, most likely because he must look like a deer in the headlights right now but he doesn't care. having you on his lap is basically the best-case scenario of any situation he could ever find himself in.

"my bed is more comfortable," seungcheol blurts.

mingyu chokes. "alright, that's my cue to leave," he says. "you two can keep that bowl." he slides off the arm of the couch and disappears into the crowd, leaving only you and seungcheol in your own little world.

you giggle, letting your head loll onto his shoulder. you squeeze your knees a little bit around seungcheol's thighs and shift forward until your crotch is just a hair's breath away from seungcheol's zipper. the proximity has seungcheol feeling dizzy and mentally praying that his dick doesn't get the memo embarrass him.

"maybe i'll find out someday," you say airily, but seungcheol knows it's all talk. he's been playing this game with you for far too long.

"you gonna smoke that?" seungcheol says, mostly for something to say. his words crack around the dryness in his throat and he glances at his empty solo cup on the end table next to the couch, really needing another drink right about now, but he's sure as hell not going to make you move to go make another.

"let's share it, yeah?" you say. you bring the pipe to your mouth and wrap your lips around it, sparking the flame to life low in the bowl and inhaling deeply, holding it in your lungs.

seungcheol hadn't really wanted to smoke tonight but what you want you get as far as he's concerned. he starts to reach for the pipe, expecting you to hand it over, but you shake your head and smile, a little wisp of smoke escaping the corner of your lips. you bring your hand to seungcheol's cheek, the back of your knuckle brushing his jaw pressing your thumb on seungcheol's lower lip, urging him to part them.

it takes seungcheol a second to register what you want him to do. you just raise your eyebrows, adding a little more pressure to your touch until your thumb nail dips into the wet part of seungcheol's mouth.

seungcheol finally gets the memo and parts his lips the rest of the way, tipping his head back to inhale, drinking every curl of smoke from your lips into his own lungs. he can feel the heat from his mouth, the two of you so close together he can almost feel your lips brushing. he has to resist the urge to chase it— you keep your eyes on him, half-lidded and already a little bit hazy from drinks, probably from drinking with your friends before heading over to the party. you look like pure sex.

god, seungcheol has never wanted anyone or anything more in his life.

you don't pull back even once seungcheol has exhaled all the smoke. in fact you've somehow gotten closer— your knees press into his waist, the swell of your ass sitting somewhere near where his cock has started stirring, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. the weight of you in his lap is almost torture but you are only making it worse with the way you're looking at him, gaze dark and sultry. like you want him just as much as seungcheol wants you.

the voice in the back of his head, the rational part of seungcheol (if there's even such a thing when he has you in his lap) reminds him that this is just what you do. this push-and-pull, will-they-or-won't-they, absolutely torturous test of patience and sanity.

you both have a pretty long history; the football team and cheerleading squad usually practice at the same time, and from the moment you stepped on that field seungcheol has been enamored with you. it would be nearly impossible to not be—  you're very distracting, the way you prance around in your crop tops and little skirts rolled down low on your hips to make them even shorter than they're supposed to be, much to the dismay of seungcheol's concentration but to the delight of basically every other part of him.

the first time you had tangled your hands together and dragged seungcheol behind the bleachers after practice was only a short couple of weeks into the semester. you'd let seungcheol push you into the fence and slot his knee between your legs, had let him lick hotly into your mouth and tug on your hair until you were both panting and worked up, a flush high on your cheeks. but just as seungcheol was about to suggest you head back to the frat house only a short walk away, you had pulled back, tugging at the hem of your painfully short top and sliding your tongue over your kiss-swollen lips.

that was fun, you'd said. maybe we can finish this next time? 

it became somewhat of an unspoken routine between you. every once in a while—  only every couple of weeks, really, by no means a regular thing— you would be extra distracting during practice, would somehow always be... doing something that seungcheol would deem a hazard to his health, from stretching until you were nearly bent in half, tying your shoelaces, and—  on one particularly excruciating day— doing a full split with your eyes on seungcheol the whole time, lips curled in a way that was far too innocent to not be intentional.

but no matter how much seungcheol wanted to, your little meetups never progressed any further than making out. every single time, just as seungcheol was starting to get really wound up, you would pull away, tell him you had to go, and leave.

needless to say, outside of football and studying there's little that seungcheol has been able to think about outside of you, you and you.

he hasn't even slept with anyone since he and you have started whatever thing you've gotten into. he did once, had picked up some girl who’d been trying to get in his pants for weeks. he ended up fucking her face down with her head pressed into the pillow, trying (and failing) to imagine that it was you trembling underneath him instead.

it didn't work, not even a little bit. if anything it only made him more frustrated, knowing that the only thing that would sate his appetite is a taste of you yourself.

it's excruciating.

you know it, too. it's clear in the way you're looking at him right now, the way you dart your tongue out against the end of the pipe before sliding it between your lips, keeping your eyes on seungcheol the entire time you light up the second half of the bowl and inhale before repeating the motion from before, dipping your head down to exhale the smoke directly into seungcheol's lungs.

he hadn't expected it to turn into a kiss; the second the last bit of smoke curls out from your mouth you push down the few inches to press your lips together, tongue sliding hotly over seungcheol's bottom lip and hands winding around his neck to wrap in his hair. seungcheol responds to it immediately, doesn't even have to think about it before his hands are on your thighs and he's tilting his head to give you better access, meeting your tongue in the space between your lips. you taste like vodka and the strawberry lollipop you'd been sucking on. he's already long associated the taste of artificial strawberry with kissing you, to the point where a few weeks ago his friend had offered him a pink starburst and the second he ate it he'd popped a boner and had to head back to the frat house in shame.

you pull away for air, panting in the pretty way you do against seungcheol's lips as you look at him through your eyelashes. seungcheol runs his hand down your thigh and his hand feels on something smooth— he hadn't realized before that you are wearing a pair of sheer stockings.

"you've been working so hard," you breathe. you massage the pads of your fingers into seungcheol's shoulders, working at the tense muscles there. "maybe there's somewhere we can go to release a little tension, mm? blow off some steam?"

"yeah?" seungcheol asks, hazy. he toys with the edge of your little skirt and you arch your back, pressing your cunt against seungcheol's zipper, making him hiss through his teeth.

"yeah." you parrot. you lean forward to ghost your lips over seungcheol's earlobe, hair brushing featherlight against his temple. "how about you show me where your room is?"

seungcheol shivers— he turns his head and noses against your cheek until you turn your head to meet him, brushing your lips just barely, sweet strawberry and liquor mingling in the shared space. his cock throbs in his jeans and he knows you are close enough that you can feel it, the swell of your ass full-on pressed over it. with a mischievous smirk you grind your hips down, just barely, painfully slow, eyes going dark. seungcheol is vaguely aware that you're both in a room full of people but he can't find himself in it to care if you're giving them a show, too overwhelmed by the feeling of you pressing in on every single one of his senses. you're so fucking intoxicating, even more so than the alcohol and weed coursing through his veins.

he slides his hands under your thighs, standing up and bringing you with him. you giggle, wrapping your legs around seungcheol's waist and winding your arms around his neck. there's dozens of eyes on you both when you make your way through the small crowd at the back of the house and up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, but he doesn't give a fuck about what kind of things people are saying about you. there’s already enough rumors talking about how you both must be hooking up— if anything seungcheol is praying that after tonight there might actually be some truth to them.

it’s a miracle and a half that seungcheol manages to not stumble and fall on his ass on the way up the stairs. once you reach the landing where there's much less prying eyes and attention on you, you immediately surge forward, grabbing a handful of seungcheol's shirt to drag the collar away from his neck, dipping your head to trace his collarbone with your tongue before sucking a bruise just above it. seungcheol shivers at the thought of having your marks on him, hidden just below where everyone will be able to see them— one little slip of his shirt will reveal the tender bruise blooming beneath it.

which— that's not something you've ever done before, marking each other—  you drag your lips over it and then pull back to admire it with hazy eyes, a pleased little smile curling the corner of your lips. within seconds you have your arms back around seungcheol's neck and you're sucking his earlobe into your mouth, laving your tongue over the shell of his ear and working your hips up against seungcheol's lower hips, the press of his cock unmistakably hard even trapped under his too-tight jeans.

"this one?" you gasp against his ear, breath rolling cold over the damp skin. seungcheol nods, letting you reach down and grab the handle before seungcheol kicks the bottom of the door to let you in, spinning to push you up against it to slam it shut the second you're inside. you unwind your legs from seungcheol's waist and drop to the ground, immediately pushing up on your tiptoes to bring your lips together in another kiss, wet and messy and tense with the promise of more to come.

kissing you is like the most addicting drug he's even taken—  he thinks he'd never stop if he didn't have to. he gets lost in the feel of it, the way you flick your tongue in the downright filthy way that never fails to make seungcheol's toes curl, mind immediately going to how it would feel for you to do that against the head of his cock.

seungcheol slots his thigh between your legs in the way he always does, pressing hard— you mewl, throwing your head back and curling your hand into hairs at the base of seungcheol's hair. and this is the way it always starts, the game you never finish playing.

seungcheol licks a fat stripe up the side of your neck before grazing his teeth over your jawline, every little whine he drags from your saliva-slick lips jolting straight to his groin.

"what's it gonna take, huh?" seungcheol mumbles into your skin, sealing the words with the slide of his tongue, tasting salt and perfume clinging to your skin. he slips his fingers underneath the stockings straining around your thigh, hitching your leg up around him to give him better access to roll your hips together. "what's it gonna take for you to let me fuck you?"

"thought you loved the chase," you pant, hands sliding to seungcheol's shoulders for leverage, pushing the collar of his shirt down to expose the golden, sweat-damp line of his neck. "what happened to taking your time?"

"you're a fucking tease is what happened." seungcheol finds your lips again, crashing them together in a messy, wet kiss laced with intent. you let him lick into your mouth, easy, pliant; you like to act like you're in control but seungcheol can see how quickly you fall apart under his hands, is dying to see how much you shake and writhe when split open on his cock. he shivers at the visual, a mess of precum dampening the front of his boxers.

"am i teasing you right now?" your voice doesn't lose the mischievous lilt even as you grind down on seungcheol's clothed cock, words punctuated by filthy little moans that have seungcheol going fucking crazy. "seems like you have me exactly where you want me."

seungcheol groans, not even able to think of a witty response. he just wants so badly it hurts — he grips harder around the stockings, pulling you impossibly closer. his other hand drops to your hip, fingers sliding up under your top to trace the line of skin above your waistband. heat starts to pool behind his lower body already, embarrassingly worked up from just this with all the past context of you edging him over and over again across the last semester. he's always prided himself on his stamina, never thinking he was the type to come in his pants from dry humping like a dog in heat, but then again he didn't think a lot of things were possible before he met you.

your kiss turns sloppier, more desperate; your lips are all puffy and swollen under his and seungcheol pulls back to trace them with the rigid tip of his tongue. your eyes are both half-lidded and glassy and you stare at each other as you roll your hips, panting in the shared space between you.

you've never gone any further than this, and seungcheol is already dreading the second you decide it's time for you to call it quits. seungcheol is so close he can practically taste his release on the tip of his tongue. he tries to tell himself it's different this time; you had told him you were coming up here to release some tension. you're in seungcheol's room, alone, with no risk of being caught or facing awkward walk of shame back home if you get a little messy. but part of him is already thinking ahead to the way you alway pull away, running your hands through your messy hair and flashing a sweet little swollen-lipped smile with a sorry, i have to get home, let's finish this next time? 

you are needy tonight, though. you don't show any signs of stopping, much to seungcheol's delight; you drag your lips down from his neck to his shoulder, leaving a slick trail of saliva, sucking another bruise into seungcheol's skin. you hiss through your teeth and cool the spot when seungcheol jerks harshly on the stocking to hitch you up even higher, forcing you up on the tiptoes of your high boots and wrapping your leg around his waist. seungcheol is grinding down onto you at a feverish pace, now, chasing his release, panting loudly in the room over the thundering boom of the bass outside. he's close, so, so close, and even if he doesn't get to fuck you he still wants to be able to come with you pressed up against you, the the strawberry scent on his nose and the salt of your sweat on his tongue.

"you're so fucking flexible," seungcheol growls, pressing your foreheads together.

"i'm a cheerleader," you gasp cheekily. there's a high red flush on your cheeks and you look so fucking wrecked— his cock drools another flood of precum and the string in his belly tightens nearly to snapping. "i can bend a hell of a lot more than this.”

"oh yeah?" seungcheol slips his fingers from where they're resting on your bare waist and circles them around to your stomach, brushing through the thin panties you're wearing disappearing down into the waistband of your skirt. he thumbs at it, hesitating, asking—  no, begging for permission.

you hum, deliberating. seungcheol's cock physically hurts with how bad he wants you, and the longer he stares at you the more he's torturing himself with wondering how you must look naked, your athletic cheerleader body and your thighs that he wants wrapped around his head more than he wants to be alive.

"how about we make a deal?" you say suddenly, your hazy eyes gaining some clarity, a flicker of mischief. you loosen your grip on seungcheol's hair, pressing gently against his chest in a way that makes seungcheol instantly still his hips. he has to hold back an actual sob, is fully prepared to get on his knees and beg if he has to. at this point he doesn't even care about getting himself off, he just wants you any way he can have you. he'd be happy to eat you out, let you cum out on his tongue, let you ride his face. just the thought of having your legs spread over his lips has his mouth filling with saliva and he ruts his hips forward, biting back an involuntary moan.

"anything," seungcheol answers after a little bit too long. "anything you want."

you giggle but it's different from the way you usually sound, low and sultry rather than pitched high with playfulness. you drag your nails over seungcheol's cheek before tracing your thumb nail over his bottom lip, pausing.

"win the game this weekend. if you do, come find me after. i'll have a surprise for you."

seungcheol blinks. he's so blindsided he doesn't even know what to say. "the game?"

"mmm." you pull away, gently tugging at seungcheol's wrist to make him unwind his hand from around the stockings on your thigh. he hadn't realized how tightly he was holding it until he lets go— his hand hurts. he flexes it a few times, wincing, and then smooths it down the front of his shirt, wrinkled and damp with sweat.

"y/n," seungcheol groans. he lets his head crash back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. he's so frustrated and worked up he feels like he might start whining and begging any second, has half a mind to shove his hand down the front of his pants and get himself off. "what did i ever do to you to deserve this level of torture?"

you giggle. there's a pressure on his jaw and when he opens his eyes it's your hand gripping it as you lean closer, lips brushing his earlobe.

"you didn't do anything to me, frat boy," you say sweetly, sliding your palm down his jaw and loosely letting your fingers loop around the thickest part of his neck. the rings on your fingers are shockingly cool against his overheated skin. "not yet, anyway."

you pull away all too quickly, stepping to the side and wrapping your hand around seungcheol's door knob, pulling it open. the thundering bass of the party downstairs roars to life, but right before you leave you fish in your purse to produce a brand new strawberry lollipop, taking a second to unwrap it before slipping it into your mouth. you push the wrapper into seungcheol's hand, curling his fingers closed, and then you slip through the door.

the room is draped in muffled sound again when the door snaps shut. seungcheol stares down at the pink wrapper in his hand before wadding it up in frustration, tossing it on his dresser before pulling his shirt over his head as he heads toward the bathroom to take a cold shower, no longer interested in the party.

one thing is for sure: he's going to win that game even if it kills him.

the next week of practice is hell on earth.

you are always there, like no matter where seungcheol turns you're doing some kind of obscene stretching in your tiny little skirt and crop top that shows way more skin than necessary. in fact, seungcheol is ninety-nine percent sure that you are wearing less clothing than usual on purpose just to make seungcheol miserable. it certainly wouldn't be out of character.

his coach and teammates actually get so frustrated with him that they start getting on his case about being distracted when the big game is coming up soon. if you weren't head cheerleader for the very team seungcheol plays for then he'd almost think you're trying to make sure their rivals win rather than them.

his frat throws parties almost every single night leading up to spring break, taking advantage of everyone making it through finals and having a lot of free time. seungcheol is so exhausted he's not really in the mood to party but he still sits downstairs every single night, nursing a drink while he waits for you to arrive.

you don't.

every day after practice he sticks around a little later than usual until both the football team and cheerleaders have left the field, taking extra time to pack his stuff up in the hopes that you will take pity on him and drag him behind the bleachers like you would sometimes do.

you don't.

in a few moments of desperation he actually shoots you a text, something he doesn't often do. he asks what you're doing that night, if you still have finals (and if you need a study partner) thinking maybe if he can get a conversation going then maybe you will hang out with him. you don't even have to do anything. he just wants to be around you. you have to at least reply, right?

you don't.

seungcheol wants to gnaw off his own arm.

thoughts of you consume him nearly every second of every hour of every day: you in your skimpy little practice outfits. you in your tight miniskirt with your stockings. you underneath him, skin slicked with sweat and lips bitten red, mewling and panting as seungcheol opens you up. he wonders if the pretty pink flush you wear high on your cheeks when you get worked up extends down to your chest, wonders which parts of your body are the most sensitive.

it's usually at night when his thoughts wander to the last one, after he's already tried (and failed) to sleep with increasing levels of frustration. it usually ends with him licking a stripe up his palm and shoving his hand down the front of his joggers, jerking his cock fast and hard with the image of you stretching in your little skirt at the forefront of his mind.

it's a very difficult time for him.

but, of course, other than you the biggest thing on his mind is the game. it's going to be a big one, the biggest his school has had in years— they're playing against their longtime rival school, and whichever team wins this year's final game will go down in college football history. seungcheol might even be able to get an offer to go pro off this game alone if he manages to play well and network properly afterward. he would literally be set for life.

no pressure or anything.

three days before the big game, their coach calls their final practice and the team goes out for a big dinner of steak and lobster with the liquor flowing freely on the team coordinator's tab. it's supposed to be an event to build team bonds or something like that, but really it's just an excuse for them to try and drink away the nerves that threaten to consume them knowing one of the most important games of their lives is coming up soon. seungcheol is feeling particularly antsy, knowing that being the star player and quarterback means much of that pressure sits directly on his shoulders.

he's a little tipsy but not uncomfortably so when they finish, and so he decides to walk back to the frat house afterward in an attempt to blow off some steam. but he quickly regrets his decision about halfway through when he realizes how chilly it is, the crisp spring air piercing through the thin material of his simple joggers and letterman jacket thrown over a thin t-shirt from his gym bag.

but then a banner flashes over the top of his phone screen, his text tone blaring a shrill beep that echoes over the abandoned street he's walking down. when he sees who it's from, his skin instantly heats up, mouth going dry.

y/n: hey there frat boy

y/n: got a minute?

seungcheol: for you?

seungcheol: a minute, an hour, as long as you want

y/n: oh yeah? well that's convenient for me

y/n: nervous about the big game?

y/n: i've heard there's a lot at stake

seungcheol: i wonder where you heard that

y/n: ha

y/n: i was talking about the actual stakes, not about ours

y/n: but while we're on the subject, that's actually why i decided to text you this evening :)

seungcheol fumbles his phone and nearly drops it when he reads your last text. his body has an instant reaction to the words, blood pumping like lava and rushing straight down to his groin. aside from loaded glances across the football field, seungcheol hasn't had any interaction with you for the better part of the week and then you come out of nowhere with all this.

classic y/n, honestly. always keeping him on his toes.

seungcheol: oh yeah?

seungcheol: are you finally gonna tell me what the surprise is when we win?

y/n: oh i see

y/n: when you win, not if

y/n: confident

seungcheol: are you hoping we don't win, y/n?

y/n: ha

y/n: if that's what you want to think

y/n: but back to what i was saying before...

y/n: i'm not going to tell you what you get when you win

seungcheol groans. he should have known you were just teasing him some more. it was too good to be true.

but then his text tone rings out again and he glances down at the message.

y/n: how about i show you instead?

seungcheol: fuck y/n

seungcheol: you already know my answer

you don't respond for an excruciatingly long period of time. so long, in fact, that seungcheol makes it all the way back to the frat house before you answer at all, obsessively checking his phone every few seconds the entire time he walks. and, okay, maybe he was walking a little bit faster than he was a few minutes ago, but he doesn't think anyone would blame him for that.

once he gets upstairs and into his room he locks the door behind him, and rather than his usual routine of stripping off his clothes and hopping immediately in the shower he beelines for his bed and sits on the end of it, staring at his phone screen while he anxiously taps his fingers over the back of it.

he's starting to think you aren't going to text him at all when his screen finally lights up with a new message.

y/n: sorry about the wait

seungcheol: i think this the first time you've apologized for making me wait

seungcheol: progress

y/n: quick response

y/n: someone's eager

y/n: where are you right now?

seungcheol: sitting on my bed

y/n: perfect

y/n: you've been so patient for me i thought you deserved a little reward

y/n: and maybe something that will help you relax before the big game

before seungcheol can respond something flashes over the top of his screen.

photo from y/n!

he immediately taps the banner without any hesitation, but he realizes immediately that he probably should have taken a minute to brace himself for what it contains. because the second he lays his eyes on the picture he's pretty sure he actually blacks out for the first ten seconds of the twenty second timer. the picture is of you from behind taken in a mirror—  you're bent over a desk so only your lower half is visible, bare feet curled into the carpet. but the most important, dizzying thing about the photo is what's hanging down over your thighs— just barely covering the swell of your ass is a little pleated skirt that seungcheol recognizes as the girls' cheer uniform.

seungcheol immediately scrambles to pull his joggers down, tucking them under his balls and hissing when he wraps his ice cold hand around his hot, heavy cock. he nearly drops his phone in his haste to replay the photo, thumbing through the precum drooling through his slit as he takes his time admiring it for his second look. there's the faintest peek of your asscheeks from below the skirt, and though seungcheol has seen your ass in your shorts at practice actually seeing a tease of the bare skin has him drooling, pumping his cock a few times with his fist before the picture inevitably ends and the screen goes black again.

y/n: you replayed

y/n: i take it that means you liked my little gift?

seungcheol: that was a little gift?

seungcheol: fuck y/n you're so

seungcheol: are you wearing that right now?

y/n: yep!

y/n: i got all dressed up just for you

y/n: should i wear this on saturday after the game? oh, or maybe during the game would be more fun? unless you think that would be too distracting while you play?

seungcheol: god you're driving me crazy

y/n: oh, i know

y/n: isn't that the point?

y/n: show me

seungcheol: show you?

y/n: i want to see what i do to you

seungcheol switches back over to camera with shaky hands, idly pumping his cock a few more times. the visual of you in the skirt is still fresh in his mind, so burned into him that he thinks it's all he's going to be able to think about for the rest of his life. not that it would be the most horrible thing in the world. he takes a few photos before settling on one of him taken from the front, cock gripped in his hand with precum messily smeared over the tip.

y/n has opened your photo! y/n has replayed your photo!

seungcheol: now who's the one replaying?

y/n: i was taken by surprise

y/n: if i'd known you have such a huge cock maybe i would have let you fuck me sooner

seungcheol: both of us know that's a lie

y/n: what can i do, i like to tease

y/n: and i haven't seen you complaining about it

seungcheol: i have, in fact, been very loudly and frequently complaining about it

y/n: i know your type, seungcheol

y/n: once you get what you want you get bored

y/n: the thrill is all in the chase

y/n: am i wrong?

and… you aren't exactly wrong, seungcheol does have a reputation on campus for being a fuckboy, and he’s definitely been known to jump around and have a lot of partners rather than having a solid arrangement with just one person. but it isn’t necessarily because he likes the chase, more that he hasn’t really found someone that catches his interest for more than a few hookups. he’s not opposed to commitment, he just hasn’t found a reason to commit. there’s a difference, he thinks. subtle, but there.

seungcheol: you’re different

he hits send before he has time to think about the implications of his message. it’s a very bizarre moment of clarity: he’s sitting there with his cock in his hand while having some sort of realization about how he feels about you. because, sure, the ridiculous sexual tension you have between you is the thing that connects you, but seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something else there. like maybe if he were able to pick it apart, to remove the lust from the equation and really focus on his thoughts there’s some more complexity behind the reasons he’s so hung up on you that extend beyond just she’s hot and i want to fuck her. there’s something there that makes you different, that makes seungcheol want to pursue you to the point where he hasn’t given up or had any other sexual partners even after months of getting nowhere. with anyone else, seungcheol would have gotten bored and given up a long time ago.

y/n: that’s cute, but it’s not going to get you in my pants any faster

y/n: you’ve been patient for this long, you can wait a little longer

y/n: but!

y/n: since you’ve been so patient, i have a little parting gift

y/n: wanna see?

seungcheol is sort of reeling from his semi-coherent realization but he’s also still ridiculously horny and he thinks maybe a little bit of post-nut clarity will give him more room to think about things. or at least that’s what he tells himself when he types his next message.

seungcheol: fuck, yes

photo from y/n!

it’s a similar angle as the first photo but the camera is dropped a little lower and your back is a little more arched— the lower half of your ass is completely exposed, now, fat and perky all at once, probably the most perfect fucking thing seungcheol has ever seen in his entire life. he starts stroking his cock in earnest, already so worked up from the teasing and the last picture that he can feel himself getting close embarrassingly fast— but then he notices something he hadn’t been able to see before, a little flash of pink peeking out from under the hem of your skirt.

he brings the phone closer to his face so he can see it more clearly, and sure enough there is something there: nestled between your cheeks is the tip of a shiny pink dildo, the skin around your hole slick and wet.

seungcheol bites his fist to stop himself from crying out as he comes hard all over his hand, hips jolting off the bed with the force of it— he comes an obscene amount, so much it drips all over his hand and onto his navel, some of it even splattered over his knee.

it takes him a second to come down from his orgasm but once he does he realizes with a jolt that he’d disappeared even though he saw you sending him texts while he was finishing himself off. he lurches for his phone, which had fallen onto the carpet near his feet at some point during the last minute or so.

y/n: i’ll take your disappearance as a good thing

y/n: i’m going to bed

y/n: glad you enjoyed the sneak peek

y/n: can’t wait for saturday

y/n: hope you win :)

seungcheol: oh trust me

seungcheol: i’m gonna win

they lose.

seungcheol honestly hadn’t really considered this outcome: for some reason he just assumed they would win, had thought that everything was already spelled out in the stars or something and he was destined to win this game and get everything he wanted. he was going to secure an offer to go pro before even entering his senior year and walk out of the stadium with you on his arm and his name in the college football history books.

it’s a low low.

he isn’t really sure how to deal with it.

his team tries to stay in high spirits but naturally most of them are very disappointed. there’s a lot of we’ll get them next time and it’s okay, seungcheol, you still have one more year, knowing this defeat probably hits him the hardest.

seungcheol had purposefully forced himself to not focus on you during the game, not even spending halftime watching the cheerleaders do their routine even though he’d wanted to see it because he knew how hard they worked on it. he figured there would be lots of videos that he could watch later, and the risk of getting distracted was too high. so the first time he sees you for the entire evening is after the game ends when most of his team has already headed back to their dorms and apartments to finish packing their things, preparing to head back home for the break until fall rolls around again and they’d come back and do it all over again, most of them for the last time.

he catches your eyes across the field and gets a pained, apologetic smile and wave in return.  it’s different from the way you usually look at him and something about it kind of hurts, realizing that you probably don’t have any interest in him anymore now that he let his entire school down. which, realistically he knows it’s kind of dramatic to think that way because his team still had a record-breaking season culminating in a very closely tied game against their biggest rivals which is an accomplishment in and of itself, but he can’t help but feel like really dropped the ball and failed in a huge way.

mingyu treats him to dinner before dropping him back off at the frat house. he isn’t heading back home for a few more days still because his parents are on vacation and he’d rather stay here with the few friends who live around campus during the summer than sit around in an empty house, especially when he’s already feeling pretty low.

when he arrives his friend is sitting on the couch with his nose in a book, typical for him, but the second seungcheol opens the door he gives him a pained smile similar to the one you had given him.

“sorry about the game,” he says. “next year will be better. don’t beat yourself up too much.”

seungcheol winces, waving him off in a way that he hopes isn’t rude.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he says, trudging up the staircase with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. he’d already showered the game off in the locker room and put his football uniform in his bag, choosing to throw on a simple long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of black joggers for the walk back home. at some point he thinks he lost his letterman jacket, almost positive he’d taken it to the game with him, but he probably just left it at home in his haste to leave earlier that morning.

“i’m sure you’ll find a way to distract yourself,” his friend says airily. the statement strikes seungcheol as odd because there’s definitely not anything fun to do in this city during the summer— everything revolves around college life and as such the bars and restaurants are all boring and empty at this time of year. it’s really depressing. maybe he’ll catch up on some of the video games he’s been neglecting in favor of studies and sports.

he cracks his door open and kicks his shoes off, dropping his gym bag on top of them, flipping on his light and heading toward the bed so he can lay there for a while and contemplate his life choices or something.

but when the light flickers on he stops dead in his tracks, lips parting in surprise.

“hey there, frat boy.”

you look like you stepped straight out of his most frantic fantasies: you're sitting on the edge of seungcheol's bed with your legs delicately crossed at the knee, the short, barely-there plaid cheerleading skirt sitting high up on your waist under a white crop top, the hem just barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but what really gets seungcheol, what really makes his skin heat up and his mouth go dry is the fact that his own letterman jacket is hanging low around your shoulders, so big on your dainty little frame that it nearly swallows you up. the sleeves bunch around your hands, the only visible part being the tips of your tiny fingers gripping your signature lollipop stick, candy sliding slick over your lips.

“i,” seungcheol says.

“i know we had a deal,” you say, words slow and unhurried. you uncross your legs and slide one foot underneath yourself, dropping the hand not holding the lollipop down to your thigh wrapped with your usual stockings. the letterman jacket slides further off your shoulder, skin catching the soft light from seungcheol's lamp. “but i thought maybe you’ve already suffered enough. maybe i can help cheer you up?”

seungcheol blinks at you. he sort of thinks maybe he’s having some sort of extremely elaborate fever dream. did he get sick? did he get hit by a car on his way home? if he knew this was what awaited him in the afterlife maybe he wouldn’t have been so afraid of his own mortality.

the strawberry lollipop clinks against your teeth when you slide it over your cheek, cocking your head. a lock of hair falls over your eyes.

“so?” you ask. “what are you waiting for?”

seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. he surges forward, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner of his room.

“god, i’ve been thinking about this for months,” seungcheol rasps just before he crashes your lips together with enough force to push you back on the bed, caging your smaller frame with his larger one. you giggle into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck and parting your lips easily to slide your tongues together. the sweet strawberry candy on your tongue bursts to life, making seungcheol salivate and turning the kiss messier, wetter; he drags his saliva-slick lips down to your jaw, nipping at it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “gonna make you wish you never made me wait.”

you arch your back into a pretty curve, making the skirt ride up higher over your thighs. seungcheol slides his hands down your body, dipping under the letterman jacket to trace your waist before roaming down to your thighs, pausing to toy with the hem of your skirt as he explores every inch of exposed skin above your shirt with his tongue. even as long as he’s been waiting he still wants to take his time, wants to savor you— wants to commit the way you feel and taste to memory until it’s burned into his tongue, wants to worship you the way you deserve to be.

“ah, seungcheol,” you gasp, huffing when seungcheol nips at your collarbone. “feels good.”

the fact that you are letting seungcheol touch you like this, giving him the privilege, is something seungcheol refuses to take for granted.

“i’ll make you feel so good, baby,” seungcheol gasps, pushing his hand up into your shirt, rolling your nipple between the pads of his fingers. you gasp, arching up off the bed, hair fanning prettily over the sheets like a halo around your head. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do it. anything.”

“oh yeah?” the smile on your lips shines through in your tone. “do you wanna know why i made you wait for so long, seungcheol?”

“we’ve gone over this,” seungcheol mumbles into your skin. he pushes the crop top further up your chest to expose both nipples, soft and pink, hardening under the chill of the air conditioner. “because you wanted me to go fucking crazy.”

“you’re not— ah, fuck—” you mewl like a kitten when seungcheol attaches his lips to your nipple and sucks, a high sweet noise that jolts straight down to his cock. “you’re not completely wrong.”

seungcheol pulls off to switch to the other nipple, taking a second to admire his handiwork. your nipple is all hard and wet, puffy and red from his mouth. you look so fucking pretty when you're a little messed up. “not completely ?”

“i wanted to make you— ah, fuck, flick your tongue like that again— wanted to make you snap,” you admit, hissing through your teeth when seungcheol grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud. “wanted to make sure you were s-so worked up that when you can finally have me you’d fucking ruin me.”

seungcheol groans, pulling off your nipple with a little pop and a smear of saliva and sliding his hands down to your waist, admiring how dainty your frame is, the way seungcheol's hands are so big on you that he can wrap his hands almost all the way around. he imagines how it would feel to hold you like that up off the bed while he's fucking into you.

“i’ll ruin you.” seungcheol says, dragging his eyes down to admire the way the skirt falls down over your thighs, the pretty black stockings against your flawless skin. it’s a promise, words loaded with confidence. “i’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop— gonna make you think about me every time you try to walk for days.”

“fuck.” you shiver, your hands twitch against the bedsheets, curling your hands around the cuffs of seungcheol's letterman jacket. “your cock is so fucking big— been thinking about it so much.” you wrap one of your legs around seungcheol's back, sliding your socked foot over his waist. “i fucked myself with my thickest toy and imagined it was you— plugged myself up with it afterward and sent you those pictures while my cunt was still all messy with cum.”

seungcheol is fucking dizzy with your words, dragging his eyes all over your body and admiring the view as he does, feeling like he’s entered some kind of alternate reality where he’s the luckiest man alive. you are a vision, prettier than aphrodite, something that belongs in a museum— he’s delighted to find out that the pretty pink flush that sits high up on your cheeks extends all the way down to your chest and even colors your elbows and knees.

“i feel like i’m dreaming,” seungcheol admits out loud before his mouth catches up to his brain.

“you’re not,” you promise, lifting a hand to drag your nails over seungcheol's neck before pausing to press your thumb against his pulse point. you smile devilishly when you feel how fast seungcheol's heart is beating, flicking your tongue out to wet your lips. “you know, you can stare at me all night if you want, but the least you can do is let me suck your cock while you do it.”

“oh.” seungcheol squeezes his hands around your waist, pulling back the slightest bit. he realizes he’s been staring for what is probably an absurdly long amount of time, and once he comes back to himself it’s like everything floods back to him at once— the warmness of your skin under his hands, the way his cock is already sitting hard and heavy between his legs, the front of his joggers damp with precum. “yeah. fuck, come here— get on your knees.”

you let seungcheol pull you up off the mattress by your waist, setting you delicately on the floor where you sit prettily on your heels and fold your hands in your lap, cocking your head and watching as seungcheol arranges himself at the foot of the bed— you're impatient, though, already clawing at the waistband of seungcheol's sweats the second he’s sitting.

his cock springs free with a wet slap against his belly. you lick your lips, eyes widening as you take it in, dripping with awe and reverence and want, the pink flush on your cheeks darkening. you don’t hesitate to push forward, circling your fingers around the thickest part at the base of his cock.

seungcheol gasps, hips jerking up off the bed— it’s the first time you have touched him like this and it’s more of a shock to his system than he realized it would be, grounding him back in reality. It’s the first taste of this is really fucking happening that he’s gotten so far, the feeling of your warm hand wrapped around his length.

“you’re even bigger in person,” you whine. seungcheol realizes with a groan that your small hand can hardly even wrap all the way around his cock, fingers barely meeting even when you stretch them. “god, i want you to fuck me so bad. nothing’s ever big enough for me, even my biggest toys— i like it when it hurts, wanna be split apart.”

“you’re gonna kill me,” seungcheol gasps. he watches as you play with the precum oozing from his slit, pulling your fingers away to let it stretch in thin, sticky strands that you smear around his cockhead, pumping it a few times to aid the slide of your palm.

“just as long as you don’t die before you fuck me we’re good,” you tease and seungcheol swats you on the arm, earning him a giggle.

“thought you were the one who wanted to get the show on the road and suck me off,” seungcheol says, pushing his hips up into your fist. “i wanna see how pretty your lips look stretched out over my cock.”

you hum like you're deliberating; you press your chest to the end of the bed and angles seungcheol's cock down to smear the head over your lips, coating them in milky white. the first press of your velvety lips has seungcheol hissing, cock jerking in your hand and drooling more precum onto your face that dribbles down the corner of your mouth and down your chin.

“i want you to make me,” you say, pouting. when you speak the thin strands of seungcheol's precum stretch obscenely between your lips and seungcheol bites his lip, heart leaping up into his throat. you are so fucking hot he isn’t sure how he’s going to survive tonight. Maybe he won’t. “i told you i want you to snap. i want you to force my head down, fuck my throat, ruin me. i don’t want you to be gentle, i don’t want you to be kind, i want you to fuck me like a slut.”

god, you are a fucking wet dream as a person. and if you want seungcheol to snap, that’s exactly what he’ll do. you deserve to get fucked the way you need, the way you deserve.

he grips a hand in your hair close to the scalp, so hard you hiss at the burn. your eyes roll back in your head and you actually look relaxed, lighter, like seungcheol is finally giving you what you want. you make a pretty, high-pitched sound, letting your lips drop open so seungcheol can force your head down on his cock, pushing you halfway down on it in one motion. it makes you nearly choke but you take seungcheol's cock like a champ, relaxing your throat so you don’t choke, suffocated moans creeping up your throat and vibrating your mouth in a way that has seungcheol gasping and tightening his grip in your hair.

“is this what you wanted?” he feels the strain of your head frantically trying to nod, held still by seungcheol's firm grip on your hair. he pushes you down even deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust to the slide until your mouth is fully seated on his cock, strawberry lips stretched around the base and a mess of drool and precum dripping messily down your chin and over seungcheol's balls. “to choke on my cock? for me to force you to choke on my cock? to have all your filthy little holes stretched open and stuffed full?”

“mm,” you moan around his cock in frantic agreement, all you can do with your mouth full of cock. you fist your hand in seungcheol's sweats until your knuckles are white. you're straining against seungcheol's hand to try to force your head down even more.

“fucking cockslut,” seungcheol says and you moan, tightening your grip on seungcheol's sweats. “only been sucking me off for a few minutes and you already want me to fuck your throat? is that what you want, baby?”

your eyes flash up to his. they’re pleading.

i want you to snap. i want you to ruin me. i want you to fuck me like a slut.

seungcheol forces your head down until your nose is pressed into the neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock and you full-on gag, squeezing the tip of his cock in a way that makes seungcheol cry out and toss his head back. your mouth is so fucking wet, hot, the back of your throat small and tight. you take it so well, gagging and swallowing down the precum that drips from seungcheol's slit while also controlling the pressure of your lips and sliding the flat of your tongue up and down the shaft to add pressure.

you untangle your hand from seungcheol's sweats and slip it between his legs to cup his balls, gently rolling them over your palm and between your fingers. you're still looking up at seungcheol with your eyes, lashes threaded with tears that are starting to well up and drip down the apples of your cheeks from your throat being fucked. you look so pretty gagging on his cock that seungcheol can’t even believe you're real.

his first orgasm is already coming on quickly so he picks up his pace, chasing release— he knows it’s a little early to come but he wants to take the edge off fast so he can recover quickly and fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked later— he picks up the pace, planting his feet on the floor and working his hips up to fuck your throat faster, holding your head still. the noises filling the room are straight up obscene, the slick sloppy slide of his cock pushing into your pliant mouth and the wet gagging every time he hits the back of your throat— seungcheol's gasps and groans, loud and rhythmic. his hand is fisted in the back of your hair so hard it must hurt but you look so blissed and fucked out like having seungcheol's cock forced down your throat is the only thing you've ever wanted, little moans vibrating through your chest that don’t have a chance to escape with the brutal pace of seungcheol's cock fucking into your mouth.

tears start full-on running down your cheeks, tinged with the slight grey of your mascara. you're a fucking vision. 

“gonna c-come,” seungcheol gasps, shuddering. “where do you want me to come, baby? down your throat?”

you pinch seungcheol's thigh to signal him to pull out and seungcheol instantly lets go of your hair, letting you pull himself off with an obscene pop and a huge gasp that sucks all the air out of the room. seungcheol is worried for a second that he’d taken it too far and hurt you but you don’t even miss a beat before you're leaning forward, angling with your mouth open wide under seungcheol's cock and your tongue sticking out.

“on my face,” you gasp. “on my face, hurry, please—”

seungcheol takes himself in his hand and jerks his cock with quick, short strokes, grunting as he feels the heat pool in his groin and then snap— and he’s coming, drenching your tongue and chin in creamy white. you are moaning like you're the one coming, tears still streaming down your face and hands fisted into the hem of your skirt.

“tastes so good,” you say. your voice is cracked and broken from abuse. “god, so fucking good.”

once seungcheol has milked himself of every drop of his release he pushes his softening cock against your lips, smearing it through his own release before dragging it up to the apples of your cheeks, wiping away the grey tear tracks. you wait patiently as he does it, mouth still hanging open with seungcheol's cum pooled on your tongue, eyes wide and unblinking. the second seungcheol shoves his cock back in your mouth you shiver around it, lapping up seungcheol's release tinged with your own tears.

“so fucking perfect,” seungcheol says. “come here.”

you crawl up onto seungcheol's lap, pushing your finger against his bottom lip just like you had the night you'd shotgunned at the frat party— seungcheol parts them easily and then you are hovering over him, dripping his cum mixed with your tears into his mouth. it’s salty and bitter but tinged with the candied strawberry sweetness of your mouth— it’s so fucking dirty it has seungcheol's cock already stirring back to attention. seungcheol surges up and presses your lips together, tongues meeting messily in the center and twisting around the cum and tears, passing between each other before swallowing it all down.

“are you even real, huh?” seungcheol asks when you pull away, dragging his fingers through the mess on your chin and then dropping his hands to your thighs, pushing up under your skirt and letting the fabric pool around his wrists. “wanna fuck you so bad.”

“please,” you say, squeezing your knees around seungcheol's thighs.

“but first, want you to ride my face until i get hard again.” he strokes his fingers over your thighs, tender, gentle. “gonna make you come riding my tongue and then i’ll fuck you open until you’re screaming on my cock like a messy slut.”

you shiver, already nodding your head and frantically pushing at seungcheol's shoulders to lay him flat on his back. you climb up over his chest, planting your knees on either side of seungcheol's arms. your cunt is only inches from his face like this, giving seungcheol a perfect view up your skirt— you've made a mess of yourself, wetness dripping down from your hole.

“i must have saved a galaxy in my past life,” seungcheol muses out loud, making you giggle. he grips the back of your thighs to pull you up closer to his face and you squeal in surprise, falling forward and planting your palms into the mattress. he slides his hands up the back of your thighs and cups your cheeks, groaning at how the fat, pillowy globes of your ass fit so perfectly in his palms. he spreads your cheeks apart, revealing the same pastel pink dildo that had been nestled between your cunt in the photos you had sent him the other night.

seungcheol flicks at the end of the dildo, ripping a gasp from your chest. “already fingered myself open for you,” you admit. “d-did it on your bed before you came home— thought about everything i wanted you to do to me but didn’t let myself come.”

“what did you think about?” seungcheol asks, pinching the end of the dildo between his fingers and twisting it. you shudder, knees slipping over the sheets.

“thought about this.” you say, panting. “thought about riding y-your face, and then you bending me over and fucking me from behind while you called me a whore.”

“you are a whore,” seungcheol says easily and the reaction you have to it is instant, the way your thighs are rubbing against each other against your skirt and you gasp and shiver, gripping at the sheets. “you know what whores do?”

“w-what?”

“ride my tongue until you come.” seungcheol pulls the dildo an inch out and then plunges it deeper, fucking it into your slicked hole. “if you can do that, then i’ll fuck you just like you imagined.”

you inhale deeply and then exhale shaky. “yeah,” you gasp. “fuck, yeah, okay.”

seungcheol idly plays with the dildo for a few more seconds until you huff in frustration, trying to pull up to force seungcheol to pull the dildo out of your hole. “stop teasing me,” you whine.

“payback.” seungcheol replies cheekily, making you roll your eyes. but he's not about to make either of you wait much longer, not with how long he’s been fantasizing about having you sitting on his face.

your hole flutters around nothing when he finally slides the dildo loose. your wetness oozes from inside of your hole and drips onto seungcheol's bottom lip— it smells sweet so he darts his tongue out to taste it.

you taste like fucking strawberry.

he tosses the dildo aside, shoving his hands up under your skirt to grip your thighs and force you down onto your face. you sink onto his mouth like you're meant to sit there, lining your cunt up with seungcheol's mouth and grinding down on it. the first lick of seungcheol's tongue against your cunt has you gasping and mewling already, a sweet sound that echoes off the walls.

if fucking your throat was a religious experience this is somehow even better; you are so fucking loud in the way you show pleasure, so responsive to everything seungcheol does— he curls his tongue to run his tongue around your hole and then slides in as deep as he can go without aid from his fingers. you tremble, grinding your hips down in small circles, chasing the hot, wet feeling of seungcheol's tongue.

“seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol.” you are chanting, so far gone— your fingers scramble for purchase against the bedsheets. “deeper, more, please.”

seungcheol spreads your cheeks wider, rubbing his thumb against your entrance and pushing the tip of his thumb in next to his tongue, opening you up so he can push his tongue deeper inside. you moan desperately, working your hips faster— you grind down on seungcheol's tongue, babbling— yes, just like that, just like that— fuck so wet, so hot, so fucking good. 

your knees squeeze seungcheol's head, shaking and trembling like you're trying to crush it. you push up off your hands to sit straight up on seungcheol's face, the letterman jacket falling full off your shoulders and pooling around your hands that you curl into the hem of your skirt as you grind down on seungcheol's tongue and fingers around dry sobs. you're breathtaking from this angle—  well, you are breathtaking from any angle but you're particularly striking like this, the sheen of sweat on your bare shoulders and stomach shining under the golden light of seungcheol's lamp.

“wanna come so bad.” you arch your back as seungcheol drags his tongue down your hole, chest rising and falling with long, labored breaths. “can’t come like this, seungcheol, please, need you to fill my cunt—”

seungcheol hooks his fingers around the stockings on your thigh and tugs on it, making you spread your legs wider and sink even further down on his face until seungcheol can hardly even breathe, a silent way of telling you if you want to come then ride my face harder. and you full-on whine, loud and high pitched, thighs shaking violently like you're struggling to even hold yourself upright anymore. you tangle your hands into your own hair and tugs at the strands in frustration, working your hips messier, more frantically— it’s so wet, so messy, your wetness mixed with saliva coating the entire lower half of seungcheol's face.

you're chasing, chasing, chasing — seungcheol presses his thumb deeper, all the way up to the curve of his hand, stroking and massaging your walls as he works his tongue deeper in beside it.

“oh, fuck—” you suddenly shout. “i’m— i’m right there. right there— please, please, i just need a little more, just a little more — something, anything.” you're babbling, rhythm faltering in your panic, your desperation to get off. you curl your hands in seungcheol's hair and forces his head up as you fuck down onto his face, gasping, pleading, messy sobbing—

and then finally you're coming with a shout, back arching in a curve that looks almost painful, cunt spurting white that hits your skirt and drips down onto seungcheol's face. your bitten lips are open in a silent scream, eyes screwed shut, hole clenching around seungcheol's tongue as you ride it out, babbling a mixture of seungcheol's name mixed with curses.

seungcheol lets you come down before he folds your legs back to push you off his face, tossing you back on the bed in a way that makes you bounce, eyes post-orgasm blissed and hazy. seungcheol's been ready for round two for what feels like forever, cock hard and heavy between his legs. you press your thighs together, smearing the mess of saliva and cum between them, watching as seungcheol reaches down to pump his cock a few times.

“oh,” you say, words slurred. you light up suddenly when you realize what’s happening, eyeing seungcheol's cock with interest. “finally gonna fuck me?”

seungcheol doesn’t even answer, just climbs over your body and parts your legs with his knee, shoving your skirt up over your thighs. he gathers some of the mess dripping from your hole and uses it to slick himself up, lining his hips up and pressing his cockhead against your puffy, swollen entrance.

you squirm, already trying to fuck yourself down on seungcheol's cock the second you feel him press up against you— seungcheol is fucking baffled at how insatiable you are, already desperate to get fucked not even two minutes after you had just come— you're babbling again already, fuck me, fuck me, god I’ve been wanting this so bad, fill me up

seungcheol pushes all the way in to the hilt in one swift motion— your entire body tenses from the stretch, a line appearing between your eyebrows and your abdomen tensing from the burn— seungcheol waits a second to let you adjust, moving his hips in smooth circles to help you get used to the stretch.

“god, you’re so fucking big, fill me up so good — ah, no one has ever filled me like this before—” you gasp. “move, please, fuck me.”

seungcheol pulls out slowly and then slams back in with the lewd slap of his balls against your ass. you cry out, digging your nails into seungcheol's sweat-slicked shoulders to hold yourself steady so seungcheol can pick up the pace, fucking into you over and over, each ripping a string of pretty sounds and swears from your mouth, like music to seungcheol's ears.

“you’re so fucking tight around my cock,” seungcheol groans. “fucking incredible, how are you even real.” 

he pushes his hands to the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half, using the stockings around your thigh to hold your ass up off the bed to fuck even deeper. he can tell when he angles his hips just right and hits your weak spot because you start full-on squealing, eyes rolling into the back of your head and fingers twisting into the bedsheets so hard you rip them off the corners of the mattress.

“feel so full,” your voice sounds hazy, like you're on another planet. “j-just a little more and i’m gonna— fuck, gonna come again—”

“already?” seungcheol asks, picking up the pace until he’s fucking into you almost brutally, hitting your spot full-on with every slam of his hips. “you really are a fucking slut, already came on my tongue and now my cock— how greedy are you? how many times are you gonna come before you’re fucking satisfied?” 

you toss your head back when seungcheol slams into you particularly hard, pushing you halfway up the bed; you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries but seungcheol growls, ripping it away and pinning it over your head

“let me hear every noise i fuck out of you,”

“s-seungcheol can you please— can you—”

“can i?” seungcheol is prepared to do whatever the fuck you want at this point. anything.

“hit me,” you gasp quickly, as if you're embarrassed to even breathe the words to life. “fucking— please. slap me, i’m so so so close, fucking slap me—” 

seungcheol hesitates for a second but he sees the look in your eyes, so desperate, pleading, needing it— he draws his hand back and slaps you full on the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make you gasp, eyes flying wide.

“like that?”

“n-no, harder.” you are squirming as you whine. “hit me harder. hard enough to leave a mark, make it hurt.”

“alright. okay, ah— fuck, y/n,” seungcheol pants. he brings his hand down again, slapping you hard enough to jerk your face to the side, leaving a faint pink mark on your cheek with a crisp sound that rings out into the room.

“yes!’ your spine goes rigid and your hole clenches around seungcheol's cock. “yes, yes, j-just like that— ‘m so close.”

“still not coming for me? even when i’m slapping you around like a fucking whore?” seungcheol winds his arm back and slaps you again, and again, and you sob as your body goes taut before you start trembling and shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks as you come untouched for the second time, cum flooding from your cunt in thick ropes that shoot up to your chest, covering the hem of seungcheol's jacket and draping over the pleats in your skirt.

your cunt is still wet, puffy and so swollen it looks like it must hurt with how badly it wants to be touched.

seungcheol pulls out before you even finish riding out your orgasm and you panic, scrambling against the sheets. “w-wait, don’t wanna be empty,” you gasp. “put it back, keep fucking me.”

“shh, baby, i’m not done with you yet,” seungcheol promises. he dips his head to press your lips together in a kiss, probably too gentle and tender for all you're doing right now, but even despite everything seungcheol wants you to know you're appreciated, being cared for. “flip over.”

your eyes are shiny when you pull away from the kiss and you nod, rolling over onto your stomach. seungcheol slides off the back of the bed and plants his feet on the ground, pulling you by the calves to the end of the bed and bending you over the edge, pressing a hand down on the small of your back to keep you steady as he slides his cock back inside.

“fuck, look at you,” seungcheol says when he slides in. “came twice already and you’re still greedy for more. insatiable little cumslut.”

he pulls out and slams back in, your sloppy hole sucking him in like you were made to take his cock. you shake from oversensitivity but still take his cock so well, socked toes scrambling against the carpet for purchase but not finding from the way seungcheol is holding you up against the bed. he fucks into your hole, watching the way the hem of the skirt bounces against the thickest part of your ass every time he snaps his hips forward.

"fill me," you gasp, so far gone, drooling onto the bed below. "when are you g-gonna fill me up?”

"soon, baby. you're gonna look so pretty all filled up with my cum," seungcheol says, punctuating his words with harsh slams of his hips that make your ass jiggle. "i'm gonna fill you up so good it spills out of your hole and drips all down your thighs, making you look just like the messy little slut you are."

"oh— fuck, seungcheol," you say weakly. your voice is raspy from overuse but still has the pretty, cheerful lilt to it that it always does. seungcheol bites down on his lip and groans, jerking his hips forward as he slides his hands further up your thighs, under the skirt, letting the fabric pool over his wrists. "s-so big — god, your cock is so perfect, fucking made for me, fucking spoiling me with it."

seungcheol strokes his thumbs over your ass as he fucks into you, mesmerized by how pretty you look underneath him, back curved into a perfect arch, your messy hair damp with sweat and mussed from seungcheol's fingers. "i'll make sure my cock is the only thing you can think about when you get off, how's that sound? gonna fuck you so good, so deep, that i ruin you for anything and anyone else."

"already have," you pant. "n-no one can fuck me like this, only you seungcheol, o-only you, mmh— god, when are you gonna come inside me? i n-need it, i want you to fill me so bad, wanna be full and dripping and warm."

“messy little cumslut,” seungcheol rasps. he slaps you full on the fattest part of your ass and you jerk in surprise before moaning, pressing your forehead down into the mattress. a pretty pink mark in the shape of seungcheol's hand blooms against your skin.

“yeah,” you breathe. “fucking love it, can’t wait to feel you come inside.”

a few more thrusts and seungcheol can feel his release creeping up fast— he digs the pads of his fingers into the meat of your ass, focusing on the sight of the little pleated skirt and the overwhelmed tremble of your legs, and before long he’s coming with a shout, spilling hot and deep into your hole and fucking it into you until you have milked him clean of every drop.

the noises you make as you come are filthy— you're mewling, gasping, begging for more— "please, seungcheol, want more, feels s-so good, so hot, ‘m so full.”

the second seungcheol finishes coming he slips his cock out, earning a whine from you— you're grinding against the mattress, chasing another orgasm with your forehead pressed into the sheets, weakly murmuring seungcheol's name and senseless pleas. seungcheol drops to the ground and spreads your ass, watching the way his cum is already slowly leaking out of your hole, rolling down your inner thigh.

he laps up the drop, tracing the path up to your puffy, abused hole, so messy and wet. you gasp when you feel the first press seungcheol's tongue against your cunt, licking his own release out of you.

"o-oh, seungcheol, that's—" you tremble, grinding your cunt against the mattress. "that's f-filthy, fuck."

seungcheol reaches around your cunt with his fingers, rubbing your cunt slowly as he eats you out, swallowing down every drop of his own cum. your shoulders drop in relief at finally having your neglected cunt touched, fucking into seungcheol's fingers to chase your final orgasm. you come quickly, whimpering weakly as your spent swollen cunt dribbles a pathetic amount of cum onto seungcheol's fingers.

seungcheol pulls himself to his feet and you try to follow suit but the second you stand your knees buckle and you nearly collapse.

“hey, hey, are you okay?” seungcheol asks, catching you around the waist and straightening you up. he gently sets you on the end of the bed but you wince at the pressure on your abused hole, shifting your weight onto your hip instead.

“mm,” you hum in agreement. your eyes are still a little hazy but you don’t look upset, just still far gone. “was so good. thank you.”

seungcheol laughs. “i should be the one thanking you,” he says, settling on the bed next to you. he puts his hand under your thigh to help take some of the pressure off where it hurts. “that was… god, i don’t even have words for it, it was amazing.”

“i was good?” you ask.

“you were perfect.”

you smile, humming contentedly. "i’m tired.”

“why don’t you get cleaned up. i’ll strip the sheets and then we can go to bed, okay? you deserve to get some rest.”

you agree so seungcheol gets to work— he fills the tub in the bathroom and helps ease you into it, filling it with soaps and bath bombs that you pick out yourself (after some mild teasing about why he has such an expansive bath product collection— seungcheol just likes to smell good, okay?) and then he gathers up the filthy clothes and bedsheets and throws them in the wash, grabbing a new set to re-make the bed.

he’s just finished cleaning himself up in the downstairs bathroom and is picking out some clothes from his drawers for you to put on when the bathroom door creaks open and you poke your head out— your skin is scrubbed clean and your hair is damp, a towel wrapped around your body.

“hey,” you say, a little quietly. you seem so much smaller and vulnerable than you usually do and something about it makes warmth flood into seungcheol's chest, stomach fluttering at how domestic it feels for you to be showering in his ensuite. “what are you doing?”

“grabbing you some clothes,” seungcheol says. he gathers up the long-sleeved t-shirt and sweats he’d found and sets them into your arms. “they’ll probably be too big for you, sorry, but they’ll do for now.”

you stare down at them, tongue poked in your cheek. seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something wrong and a little wave of anxiety spikes through him, feeling like maybe he did something wrong. had he been too rough with you? had he taken advantage of you somehow? he doesn’t really have much experience with having sex that rough but he knows an important part of it is making sure your partner is taken care of afterward and he wonders if maybe he didn’t do a good job— even though he was planning on cuddling you once you got in bed and making sure you were okay. was he supposed to do it sooner?

you don’t seem to notice his anxiety, dipping back into the bathroom to pull seungcheol's clothes on and re-emerging a minute later, rubbing your damp hair with the towel that was just around your body.

seungcheol is still sort of panicking. “is everything okay?”

“oh, yeah, yeah.” you drape the damp towel over the back of seungcheol's desk chair and then look across the room. “where are my clothes?”

“i threw them in the wash.”

“oh. well, i can come back and get them tomorrow morning, then, i’ll be staying on campus for a few more days.”

seungcheol blinks at you. “you’re leaving?”

you seem taken aback. “yeah?”

“oh.”

you cock your head to the side. “you were acting like i was acting weird but i'm pretty sure you’re the one who’s actually acting weird. what’s wrong?”

“i just uh.” seungcheol pauses. he wonders if you staying the night was a ridiculous expectation. after all, your relationship up until now has been nothing but the promise of sex, definitely not talking or cuddling in seungcheol's bed. you will probably think he’s weird and overstepping boundaries for even suggesting it. “i thought maybe you were going to stay.”

you blink a few times. you seem genuinely taken aback, but definitely not upset. a range of emotions crosses your face but then, finally, a smile curls the corners of your lips.

“you want me to stay?”

“of course i do. we had a great time and i thought we could, uh—”

“cuddle?” you step toward him, your smile curling impossible wider. “talk all night? watch movies?”

seungcheol can feel his cheeks heat up. “actually… yes?”

“huh.” you stop in front of seungcheol, looping your arms over his shoulders. “never pegged you as the romantic type.”

“i’m not? i just, uh.” he swallows down the lump in his throat. “you make me want to be.”

your eyes glitter— you push up on your tiptoes and brush a slight kiss against his lips, mint on your breath. for once you don’t smell like strawberries— you smell like seungcheol. and as much as seungcheol has grown to like the way you taste, the way you smell— he decides he likes it very, very much.

“i think you might make me want to be, too.”

you do spend the night. and then you spend the next night, and the next night after that. it’s amazing how well you both get along when you actually talk instead of dry humping behind the football field, and seungcheol is kinda mad at himself for being so hung up on getting in your pants that he never actually tried to get to know you.

(not that he still doesn't try to get in your pants. the only difference now is that he actually succeeds).

in seungcheol's senior year, his team crushes their rivals in the final game of the season with a landslide victory, earning his name a place in the college football history books and on a contract for a pro team with an offer that makes his head spin.

the best part about the victory, though, is the way you come streaking across the field the moment the game ends, eyes curled with the force of your bright, beaming smile. you leap into seungcheol's arms, crashing your lips together in a kiss that says you did it, you fucking did it, i’m so proud of you. 

so yeah, seungcheol might be a little bit of a cliche: captain of the football team dating the head cheerleader. but he doesn’t mind: life is good.

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

MASTERLIST

[popecodysgirl]

Better Than Him | Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!resident!reader

Summary: When Robby finds out that you, his favourite resident, has a boyfriend, he starts thinking of all the ways he can treat you better than him. One night, he finally gets the chance to show you. 

Warnings/tags: 18+, minors do not interact, smut, dubcon (reader is a little drunk), cheating, cheating kink, breeding kink, perv!Robby, panty sniffing, dry humping, pussy slapping, porn without plot, age gap (reader is in mid-twenties and Robby is late 40s/early 50s), mean loser boyfriend, power imbalance, inappropriate workplace relationship, power dynamic, drinking, praise kink, slight degradation kink, tipsy!reader, mention of masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, mention of violence (very very brief), pet names (he calls you special girl, good girl, pretty girl, and sweet girl), no use of y/n, 

Word Count: 5,113

Author’s note: NOT PROOFREAD. I’ve got perv Robby on my mind and I have no complaints. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

From the second you stepped foot into PTMC, Robby had set his sights on you. Not only were you the best resident he’d ever seen, energetic, eager, and hardworking, but you were just his type. The first time he saw you, he froze in place and did a double take. Fuck, you were absolutely stunning. Curves in all the right places, pretty face, and those eyes, doe-eyed and innocent. It didn’t take long for him to become obsessed with you. 

It started off as an innocent little crush. Robby kept telling himself that it was just a crush because that’s all it could ever be. He was older than you, much older than you and he was your attending. For a while, that worked for him. Sure, he would constantly steal glances at you and his eyes would drift down your body every time you walked away from him, but he kept it professional or at least tried to. He took his time teaching you the ropes of emergency medicine; how to stay calm in the chaos, talk family members through difficult decisions, and work efficiently. You were a fast learner and you quickly became his favourite resident- not just because he wanted you but also because you were damn good at your job. 

Over the next few months, Robby’s crush turned into obsession. Every minute spent with you tested him. It was truly pathetic how turned on he would get just by watching you. It was honestly unfair for him because somehow, you looked better every day. All the very normal things you did set him off. The way your lips wrapped around your straw as you sipped from your water bottle, put your hair up in a ponytail, and his favourite, when you bent down to tie your shoelaces. Robby would purposely start talking to you whenever you were tying your shoelaces because he liked seeing you on your knees looking up at him. It took every ounce of self control he had not to grab you by your ponytail and shove your face into his crotch to feel his hardening cock. You had him rushing to the bathroom every time your body innocently came into contact with him. He would desperately fuck his fist, cumming messily all over his hand in a pathetic attempt to curb his desire for you. The age gap and power balance would’ve kept any good man from even thinking about you. But luckily for him, Robby wasn’t a good man. 

Imagine Robby’s initial disappointment when he found out that you had a boyfriend. Normally, he didn’t pay attention to the workplace gossip but when he heard Princess and Perlah talking about you, he discreetly moved closer to where they were sitting at the counter. 

“Did you see that her boyfriend dropped her off this morning?” Princess asked. 

“Wow, I guess she found a good one,” Perlah said with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah. She said that they’ve been together for four years-” 

“Alright, back to work ladies,” Dana called out, interrupting their gossip session. She glanced over at Robby who was pretending to check something on the computer. “You too Robby.” 

Robby’s ears and neck turned red as he cast a dumbfounded look at Dana. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he shook his head. 

“Sure,” Dana chuckled. 

Now, imagine Robby’s surprise when he found out that your boyfriend wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was. Your boyfriend was a loser. He sold his car to buy a new gaming set up and the only reason he drove to you work was because it was your car he was driving. Your boyfriend didn’t like to have sex with you because you were too hard to please. Instead, he’d watch porn and jerk off to women who looked nothing like you. Your boyfriend never liked talking about having a future with you. Although you’d been together for four years, the topic of engagement and eventually having kids never came up. Your boyfriend didn’t cook, clean, and the only contributions he made to rent were the few hundred dollars he was sent by his parents. Even with your busy schedule and long hours as a resident, you were the one doing the cooking and cleaning. 

Every time Robby heard you complain about your deadbeat boyfriend, he would fantasize about all the ways he would treat you better. For starters, Robby would never let you clean or cook. He would hire a housekeeper to keep the house tidy and he would cook whatever you wanted. As the chief of emergency medicine at PTMC, Robby made more than enough money to buy you whatever your heart desired. You wanted a car? He’d take you to the dealership. You wanted to go on a shopping spree? He’d give you his American Express Centurion Card. You wanted to go on a vacation? He’d buy first class tickets and book the nicest hotel in the city. But most of all, Robby would fuck you until you couldn’t walk properly the next day. He would rather die than let you go to sleep unsatisfied. Robby nearly choked on his protein bar when he eavesdropped on you telling Trinity that your boyfriend hated eating you out. Anger surged through his body at the thought of your idiot boyfriend neglecting you like that. Any real man, like himself, loved to eat pussy. There were few things Robby liked than having a woman sit on his face or have his face between a woman’s thighs. He loved to eat and he had been dreaming of eating you out for months. It disgusted Robby that your boyfriend jerked off to other women when he’d been fucking his fist nearly every day thinking of you. And the fact that your boyfriend didn’t like talking about the future with you? That made Robby want to wring your boyfriend’s neck. He constantly thought of a future with you. 

Robby’s brain short circuited the day he overheard you complaining to McKay about how you wanted to have a baby: 

“We’ve been together for four years and I’m not getting any younger. That’s just a biological fact. I don’t want to have a baby now but eventually I do-”

All the blood rushed to Robby’s cock when you said that. The thought of you pregnant, your swollen round belly and huge breasts, fuck, he would definitely jerk off thinking about that when he got home. 

“Did you talk to your boyfriend about it?” McKay asked. 

“No,” you sighed. 

“Why not?”

“He spends more time playing video games than talking to me….maybe I should just freeze my eggs or something.” 

“You could always use a sperm donor," McKay suggested. 

A sperm donor? No, that wouldn’t be good enough for you. Robby was determined not to let that happen. He loved thinking of getting you pregnant with his child. A baby would tie you to him forever. Would having a baby during your residency fuck up your very promising career? Sure, but fuck, the thought of fucking a baby into you, filling you up with his cum, and watching your body grow his baby made him feel weak in the knees. Just the thought of everyone knowing you let him, a dirty, perverted, and much older man not only fuck you but pump you so full of his cum that you ended up pregnant made him feel deliriously turned on. He wanted to put a fucking rock on your finger and a baby in your belly so everyone would know that you belonged to him. 

One night, Robby finally got his chance. 

It was after a long and difficult day. The day shift decided to go out for drinks at a bar across the street. Normally, Robby never went to staff outings, he preferred drinking beer in the park but when he saw you were coming along, he was more than eager to come. The entire time you were at the bar, Robby’s eyes were shamelessly locked on you. His heart pounded with excitement when you started taking shots with Trinity. With each shot you took, your giggles got louder, you started getting tipsier, and his cock got harder. 

He waited patiently for everyone else to start leaving and when Trinity was about to get you in an Uber with her, he swooped in and offered to drive you home. You accepted his offer, thinking about how lucky you were to have such a caring attending. You leaned back against the headrest of Robby’s car while he followed the directions on his GPS to your apartment. What should’ve been a twenty minute drive was more like ten minutes because of how fast Robby was driving. He couldn’t wait to get into your apartment and show you how much he wanted you. 

You held onto his arm the entire walk up to your apartment. He loved the feeling of your fingers gripping onto his bicep as he helped you upstairs. When you didn’t react when his hand slipped down from your lower back to your ass, he knew you were just where he wanted you. You were just drunk enough that your inhibitions were lowered but still sober enough that you were lucid. 

“Is it okay if I come in for a glass of water?” Robby asked. He cleared his throat and pretended to cough. 

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded. Giving him some water was the least you could do after he so graciously drove you home. You unlocked the door and let him inside. 

“Nice place,” he lied. As he expected, your apartment was small, messy, cramped, and overall in bad condition. He couldn’t wait for the day he would move you into his house. 

“Sorry, my boyfriend was supposed to clean up,” you apologized. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” 

“He’s probably on his way home from work,” you shrugged as you walked to the kitchen and poured Robby a glass of water. 

“How are things going between you?” 

You sat down on the lumpy couch and sighed. “Honestly, it feels like I’m living with a stranger. He barely talks to me because he’d rather be playing video games or going out for drinks with his friends. I can’t remember the last time we had sex-” you froze and your eyes widened with horror. You couldn’t believe you just said that to your attending. You slowly looked over at Robby, expecting him to lecture you on how inappropriate that comment was or leave right away. 

But Robby didn’t do any of that. He sat down on the couch next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. It had been so long since a man touched you, heat surged through your entire body and you felt yourself getting wet. Your thighs weren’t exactly tiny but his hand was large enough that it covered your entire leg. You couldn’t help but wonder how those long fingers would feel inside of you. 

“Well that’s just not right,” Robby said, shaking his head. “A girl like you should be loved and adored. Any real man would be able to see how special you are.”

You could feel heat spread across your cheeks when hearing him say those words. “Really?” you asked in a soft voice. 

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be living in a place like this. You deserve so much better. You should stop wasting your time with that boy. You need a real man.” As he spoke, his hand moved up and down your thigh, gently stroking it before he started moving closer to your inner thigh, making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“A real man?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Someone to take care of you. I bet he can’t make you feel good. Does he make you feel good?”

“No,” you shook your head. 

“I could make you feel so good,” he said, staring down into your glassy eyes. His hand slowly moved between your thighs and you gasped at the contact. He let out a low groan as he felt how wet you were, even through your scrubs and panties, he could feel that you were absolutely soaked. 

“W-what are you doing Robby?” you stuttered but didn’t move away. 

“I wanna take care of you. Will you let me do that?” 

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, his soft gentle voice, or the way his thumb pressed against your clit while his fingers dragged up and down your clothed pussy, the delicious friction making you squeeze your thighs together, but before you could think, you were nodding your head, “Yes.” 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Robby. He gave you the attention you so greatly desired and craved that your boyfriend has neglected to give you. It wasn’t lost on you how Robby’s eyes would follow you all day around the E.D. He was always so attentive to your needs. Always there to lend a helping hand, make sure you ate, keeping you company during your breaks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that Robby was right; he would treat you so much better than your boyfriend. 

“Good girl,” he smiled. Robby knew the effect his soft tone and sweet words had on you. It wasn’t lost on him how your thighs pressed together whenever he praised you at work. Sure, you didn’t know the alarming extent of how he would think about you, fantasize about you, but you didn’t need to know that. All you needed to know was that he wanted you. 

Robby leaned in, gently grabbed your chin with one hand, and stroked your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you. You instinctively leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and giving in. The kiss started off slow, like he was savouring every moment, trying to remember it forever. But his urges for you quickly took over and the kisses turned hungry, desperate for more of you. He bit your lower lip and you opened your mouth to let out a soft moan, letting his tongue enter your mouth. The feeling of his warm hands touching your body, grabbing and squeezing your breasts while gently biting on your neck, combined with the buzz from all the shots you had at the bar made you feel like you were floating. Every touch from him sent shivers down your spine in a way you’d never experienced before. 

“Robby,” you moaned, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. 

“Michael-” he said in a strained voice. He was trying so hard to be gentle with you but fuck, all those pretty sounds you were making made it very hard for him. “Call me Michael.” 

“Michael,” you moaned. 

With his strong arms and tight grip on your hips, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap. Your thighs were spread out on either side of his hips. Even through his clothes, you could feel how big he was. The friction of his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt made your hips instinctively grind down against him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Use me,” Michael said. His chest moved up and down with heavy breaths as he let you take over. 

You quickly pulled off your scrub top and lace bra, throwing it to the ground before you draped your arms around his neck and started riding him. “Feels so good,” you gasped. You kept rolling your hips into him; the friction of his hard throbbing rubbing against your wet pussy and clothing against your clit felt so good. 

“Fuck,” he let out a low hiss as he took in the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down. He buried his face in your breasts, sucking on your soft skin. He gently bit down on your skin and then soothed the spot by licking it. 

It had been so long since you had a man touching your body, someone who wanted you like this that it didn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. You started messily grinding down on him, mouth open, letting your moans spill out as you felt the tightening in your lower stomach reach its climax. “Oh oh fuck!” you cried out, letting your head fall on his shoulder. 

Michael’s pupils dilated as he watched you come down from your orgasm. You looked so pretty with your mouth hung open, eyes rolling back, and chest moving up and down. He couldn’t wait to see how you looked when he fucked you. But first, he needed to taste you. He gently lifted you off of him and laid you down on the couch. Your head was laying on the armrest. 

“Let’s take these off.” Michael pulled down your scrub pants until you were just in your underwear. “Spread your legs open for me.”

You obeyed. 

He rested himself between your legs on the couch and before you could react, he put his nose right over your clothed pussy and took a deep whiff, moaning as he smelled you. You felt your pussy clench as his moan vibrated through the fabric. 

“Robby- I mean, Michael, what are you doing?” you asked. You were flustered and you could feel heat spreading across your face. You did know what he was doing but you didn’t know why. Your boyfriend never went down on you because he got grossed out by it, which in turn, made you feel ashamed. 

You tried to get up and close your legs but he placed his large hands on your thighs, keeping them spread open. “Keep them open. I wanna taste you,” he said. He closed his eyes, burying his face into your pussy and deeply inhaling your sweet musky scent. 

Your legs squirmed against his grip as he pushed his nose into the folds, going up and down against the now wet fabric. He moved his hand to grip your hips, pushing your pussy into his face as he ran his tongue down your pussy, tasting you through the fabric. “Ah- oh my god,” you gasped, your voice and thighs trembling at the sensation. 

“So fucking sweet, even better than I imagined,” he groaned. That turned you on more than it should’ve. The sounds that were coming out of Michael, all the low groans, hisses, and moans were pornographic. You’d never heard anything sexier and you couldn’t believe that the reason for those moans was the smell of your pussy. 

Your taste was like a drug and Michael was fiending for more. He pulled off your panties, bunched the fabric together in his hand and deeply inhaled. With his eyes locked on yours, he unfolded them and licked the gusset while touching his cock through his pants. His eyes closed as he tasted your sweet arousal. Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in awe for a few seconds before you felt a desperate, aching need for him to be between your thighs again. “Michael, please,” you whined. 

“Oh what’s the matter, sweet girl? You want some attention?” he teased. 

“Yes,” you nodded frantically. 

“Say please.”

“Please, Michael, I need you,” you begged. 

“Alright,” he said with a smile, “anything for my special girl.” He loved how needy you were getting for him. Without wasting another second, he leaned down, face buried in your pussy as he licked up and down your folds. His nose bumped against your clit, making your eyes roll back. He licked, sucked, and slurped your pussy like a man starved, like his sole purpose in life was to taste you. 

“Oh fuck!” Your entire body writhed against him, hungry for more as your grip on his hair tightened and your hips rolled into his face. 

“How does that feel?” he asked, looking up at you through your spread thighs. His hair was messy, his pupils were blown, and your juices dripped down his chin. 

“So good,” you gasped, propping up your elbows to look at him, “please don’t stop.” 

He let out a low chuckle that vibrated into your pussy before he dove back in. His tongue ran up and down your folds and swirled into your pussy while his nose pressed into your sensitive clit, causing a toe curling sensation. You could feel tightness building up in your lower stomach again; your second orgasm coming fast. 

“Yeah? You like that, my dirty slut?” Michael chuckled. He pulled his tongue back and slapped your pussy a few times, the sound of his fingers slapping against your wetness echoed across the living room. The pressure from his slaps, the tips of his finger hitting your clit felt so good. 

“Oh fuck yes!” you cried out. Your legs were shaking and you could feel yourself getting close. His tongue went back inside of you, moving around your gummy walls. He kept his nose pressed against your clit as your pussy clenched around his tongue. Your vision went blurry and you were thrusting your hips further into his face, covering him with your juices as you came all over him. 

“That’s it, cum for me,” Michael nodded. He rutted into the couch, trying to relieve his aching cock, desperate for some friction while your hands squeezed his hair, hard. He kept licking and sucking you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Oh my god. I’ve never experienced that before,” you sighed. Your voice and breaths were still shaky from your intense orgasm. 

“I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl,” Michael laughed softly. He stood up from the couch and hooked one arm under your waist. 

“Michael!” you gasped when he lifted you up bridal style. You looked up at his face. His beard was covered in your slick, his hair messy, and his lips were swollen. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, looking down at you. 

“There,” you pointed. You knew what was coming next and as much as you were excited, there was a small part of you that felt guilty. You had just cheated on your boyfriend and now you were about to get fucked by your boss in the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. The boyfriend you’d been with for the past few years, the only man you’d ever been with until now. 

“Are you okay?” Michael asked, noticing your absent gaze. 

“It’s just that my boyfriend will be home soon…”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go,” Michael said. He tried his best to sound genuine but the thought of leaving without getting to fuck you was enough to make him break down. He knew it was pathetic but he had been waiting so long for this moment. The thought of your boyfriend walking in on him fucking you excited him almost as much as the idea of fucking you. He wanted your boyfriend to see how much better he was. Robby wasn’t a good man, not by a long shot with all the disgusting thoughts he had about you. But he was certain about one thing, he could and would treat you better than your boyfriend did.  

You looked at the door and then back at Michael. All the months of neglect from your boyfriend played over in your mind. The way he ignored you, played his video games, and jerked off to other women. Then you thought of Michael, the man who had been so attentive and caring to you. The man who just made you orgasm and cum more times in an hour than you had in your entire life. Your heart wanted Michael to leave but the heat between your thighs that ached to be filled wanted him to stay. 

You listened to your pussy. “Stay. I want you to stay,” you said decisively. 

“Then I’ll stay,” he smiled, kissing you tenderly on the lips before he carried you into your bedroom. 

Michael gently placed you on the edge of the bed and stepped back to take his clothes off. First, he pulled off his shirt, revealing his hairy chest and round belly. Then he took off his pants and boxers. Your eyes widened and your jaw hung open when your eyes moved down his happy trail all the way to his thick cock dripping with pre-cum. “It’s so big!” you gasped. 

“I know, sweet girl. But you can take it,” he said. 

Your feet were planted on the mattress and your thighs were spread open. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched him step towards you. “Okay,” you nodded. 

“Good girl.” Michael lined his tip up with your entrance and started teasingly sliding his cock up and down your glistening folds. 

“Please, Michael,” you pleaded, looking up into his eyes with that desperate puppy eyed look he loved. 

“Such a dirty little slut. You want my cock?” he asked in a slightly mocking tone. He wanted it even more than you did but hearing your pleas was making this even hotter for him. 

“Yes, please!” you nodded frantically. 

Without wasting another second, Michael thrusted his hips forward, slowly pushing his cock inside until his full length was inside of you. Your breath sucked in as you felt your tight walls stretching around his girth.

“Oh my god!” you cried out, arching your back as your hands gripped your bedsheets. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and you dug your heels into the curve of his ass. 

“Fuck, you're so tight for me. Feels so fucking good,” he groaned, tightening his grip on your hips. He pushed his length into you as deep as he could before slowly gliding back out and slamming back in. 

“Yes, oh feels so good!” you moaned as his cock was buried inside you. You could barely catch your breath, every time your mouth opened loud moans escaped from your lips. Each time he pulled out of you and then slammed back in, hitting your cervix was absolutely euphoric. You’d never felt so full before. 

“You’re taking my big cock so well, sweet girl,” he cooed. He watched his bulge move up and down your abdomen as he thrust into you, loving the fact that he was getting that deep inside of you. 

You were in such a cock-drunk state of mindless pleasure that you didn’t even notice that your boyfriend had entered the apartment but Michael did. Upon the unmistakable sound of sex, your boyfriend had walked towards the bedroom and was standing in the doorway. As soon as Michael heard your boyfriend coming to the bedroom, he started fucking you even more ferociously, moving his hips with a carnal desire for you and the urge to prove that he was better than your boyfriend. 

Your boyfriend stood frozen in the doorway. His jaw on the ground and his eyes nearly popping out of his head. In the four years he’d been with you, he had never seen you like this. The obscene sound of Michael’s balls slapping against your ass combined with his cock thrusting in and out of your wet swollen squelching pussy was filling the room. In a way, it was mesmerizing, the way your breasts moved up and down, your back was arched, and sweat beaded down your forehead. Your boyfriend had never made you react like that before. His breath got caught in his throat when he laid eyes on the bulge of Michael’s cock moving in your lower stomach. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head as you let out loud sounds that your boyfriend didn’t even know you could make. 

“Tell me I’m better than your boyfriend,” Michael grunted, glancing at your boyfriend with a sick smile. The entire situation was turning him on much more than it should. 

“You’re so much better than him, Michael!” you cried out, still ignorant to the fact that your boyfriend was watching you. 

“Are you gonna let me cum inside of you?” Michael asked, groaning as your walls tightened around his cock. He started rubbing circles on your swollen clit, pushing you to give him the answer he wanted. 

“Cum inside me!” Overwhelming sensations of white hot pleasure were coursing through your entire body and your body started shaking. You felt tightness building up in your abdomen, your third orgasm coming fast. 

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you full of my cum so everyone can see what a dirty slut you are? You’re gonna let everyone see that you let an old man fuck you?” 

As much as you loved to hear him be sweet to you, it turned you on even more to hear him degrade you. Every time he called you a dirty slut, your pussy clenched and he could feel how much you liked it. “Mhmm yes! I wanna have your baby!”

“Turn your head to the right, pretty girl,” Michael commanded. His thrusts became quick and messier; right on the edge of cumming. 

You obediently turned your head to the right and your eyes popped wide open when you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway. The look on his face, so full of shock and sadness, made your heart drop to your stomach but at the same time, your pussy clenched around Michael. You opened your mouth to say something but the only sounds that came out were moans. You wanted to stop and say something to your boyfriend- well probably ex-boyfriend now but you couldn’t stop. 

The tightness in your lower abdomen finally snapped as your orgasm rocked through your convulsing body. Pleasure surged through your core all the way down to your legs and toes. “Oh Michael!” you cried. Your walls clamped down on him hard as you came all over his cock. 

The feeling of your tight pussy choking his cock pushed him over the edge. With a few more messy thrusts into you, Michael threw his head back, moaning your name as he spilled his load into you. You felt your pussy fill up with his thick hot ropes of cum, leaking from the sides onto the bedsheets. “You’re all mine now,” Michael said, his voice filled with authority and possessiveness as he looked over at your loser boyfriend.

Dividers by: @robinavitchslut

[eulalielatibule]

The Viscount's Doll: part 1

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: Anthony is in search of a wife, and he finally meets the perfect doll for him.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Innocent!Reader, mentions of arousal and sex, kind of slimy Anthony? Season 1-early season 2 vibes, regency typical attitudes towards marriage, BDSM vibes (full on bdsm dynamic in the future)

A/N: This is more of a bullet point style! It's like a mixture of a headcanon and typical fanfic! I've been excited to write this, so I hope you all enjoy!

Anthony was looking for his Viscountess, someone who was dutiful and obedient.

He only deserved the best, and when he met you at the Queen's diamond ball, he knew that he had found it.

Beautiful, charming, intelligent, and clearly eager to please.

He enjoyed the way you lit up when he showed approval, how you already seemed to crave his praise despite barely knowing each other.

It was intoxicating.

You were intoxicating.

He didn't waste any time approaching your father, talking to him and charming him, inviting him over for some brandy and business discussions.

The business, of course, being you.

Your father seemed pleased by the proposal, and gave his blessing, should you be agreeable.

So, just a few days after talking to your father, he invited you over to Bridgerton House and held a meeting in his study with his manservant acting as an impromptu chaperone.

(Honestly, Anthony didn't believe he should need a chaperone with his own fiancée, but he was a gentleman after all.)

He spoke your name in a low voice, gentle yet authoritative:

"I am pleased with how you held yourself at the ball the other night. You are a very graceful and beautiful young lady."

Anthony smiled at the way you preened at his praise, and your response.

"Thank you, My Lord." Said in a soft, coquettish voice.

He chuckled deeply and leaned forward a little bit, his hands on his desk and his eyes sparkling with interest.

"You are perfect. Almost."

His emphasis on "almost" made your smile falter, and he chuckled again in amusement.

" 'Almost' allows for improvement. And that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about today."

He took out some papers he had prepared, and you tilted her head in interest.

"To be blunt, I spoke to your father about you. About proposing to you."

He paused to watch your reaction, as your eyes widened a little bit, barely noticeable as you tried to keep your composure.

Anthony noticed, though. He noticed everything.

"However... Should you become my future Viscountess, you should know that you will be expected to uphold certain responsibilities. Everything from hosting family dinner to balls that the Queen herself will attend. But there is more than that. Personal matters, you could say."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at that part and smiled a bit.

"I would be your husband, and therefore your top priority, as would you be mine. I have very high standards for my family and you would be part of that. Do you understand?"

At your nod he continued.

"Very good. I realize this is unorthodox, and if you do not wish to proceed I will hold no ill will and shall leave you alone and never speak of it again. I certainly hope you will at least consider it."

Anthony presented you with a paper from his desk and nodded at you, a signal to read it.

It was a list of expectations he would have for you if you agreed to the proposal and eventual wedding.

Some of the expectations were quite normal and expected: Meeting with his family once a week for family dinner, daily promenades, hosting at least one minor event per month and two bigger events per year.

Other ones were... Less than expected, but they had you intrigued.

Allowing him to choose your hair style and dresses, wearing only colors that he deems acceptable, wearing a special necklace- a collar.

There was also a strict list of protocols he laid out: Referring to him only as "My Lord" or "Husband" while you had the name of "doll", kneeling before him in the morning upon waking up and before going to bed at night, receiving punishments such as a slap to the bottom or giving up certain "bed time activities", but also rewards like new jewelry and dresses, trips outside of London or even England, and again mentioning "bed time activities" which you realized he was keeping very vague, perhaps trying to keep your innocence if you did not want to follow through.

As you read the list, your cheeks warmed up and you felt a strange sensation in your body. Your breath quickened and you glanced at Anthony with slightly nervous eyes.

Whenever you looked at him, you realized, he always had a strange look in his eyes, a heated look that made you want to squirm.

"Lord Bridgerton, I... I do not know what to say." You finally said in a soft voice, tearing your eyes away from the paper to look at him properly.

Anthony's eyes softened slightly, but he still held that same authoritative look.

"I understand that it is quite a lot to process. If you would like to think about it and get back to me by the end of the week, that would be acceptable."

He was right- it was a lot to process. But you found yourself reading over the list again and lingering on certain words, words that made you feel tingly and warm.

Anthony seemed to know too, the way he silently watched you as you thought.

"I... Will think about it. Thank you for meeting with me, Lord Bridgerton."

And you left the Bridgerton House and went back to your own home with a racing mind.

Calling his set up unconventional was putting it mildly. You had never seen a married couple behaving the way he wrote out. But then again, maybe this is what marriage was. Maybe you just never saw it because of your status as a debutante.

You went over the pros and cons, and you thought about the way his rules made you feel.

You had a strangle tingling throughout your body, more particularly between your legs. It was an equally pleasant feeling as it was annoying.

Plus, Anthony himself was a great catch. He was a Viscount and came from a highly valued family. And you enjoyed your conversation with him at the ball.

You found yourself writing to him just a day later, confirming that you would accept his proposal and begin your training as Viscountess Bridgerton.

[yourstrulypeaches]

TOMMY SHELBY X DAUGHTER!READER

Genre: angst

Word count: 1.817 words

Writer's note: i really wanted to show that i can write angst too😭

WARNINGS: reader is 8 years old, physical punishment mentioned, neglect, violence, character death, blood, tommy lwk is a bad father in this, Grace is a bitch, grief

Tommy forgets about the safety of his daughter when going out with Grace and Charlie

Y/N Shelby, the daughter of the infamous Birmingham gangster from a previous wife. Known to be his princess and the most spoiled girl of all Birmingham. That was...until she arrived—Grace Burgess. Tommy's first wife—Y/N's mother, died because of disease and he was quite distraught. Until Grace appeared in his life and suddenly Tommy felt that same feeling in his otherwise cold heart. One problem was that Grace was a nightmare towards Y/N, which grew even more once Charlie was born. Grace felt as if Tommy didn't give Charlie—and in extent, her, enough attention in contrast to Y/N. So Grace lied, manipulated and pretended about how Y/N did this, Y/N did that. Grace would especially use the fact that Y/N hadn't warmed up to her yet as a weapon to lie towards Tommy, how Y/N insulted her, used profanity with her name, how she gossiped. It strained the relationship Y/N and Tommy once had, because Tommy unfortunately believed Grace's tears over Y/N's defense. It made the 8-year-old girl sad. This also made Tommy grow distant from Y/N and the attention she once was showered in were now crumbs of bread given to her. Grace felt happy that Tommy was showing her and Charlie more attention now—even if it meant that he was growing neglectful towards his daughter.

Tommy, Grace and Y/N found themselves in the couple's bedroom as Grace had accused Y/N of stealing jewelry from her. Tommy turned to the little girl as he sternly asked, "Y/N, is what Grace says true?" Y/N, he called her by her name. He didn't even bother with pet names anymore like he used to do, like sweetheart, love and Y/N's personal favorite was darling. She quickly shook her head as she said, "No!!! I didn't, daddy!!! I swear!!!" As her voice cracked a little, caused by her raising it. Grace angrily told Tommy, "She hates me, Tommy! Charlie would never do such a thing and the maids wouldn't ever betray us!!! Why would I suddenly miss the majority of my jewelry!?" Angrily. Tommy sighed in annoyance as he said, "Fine, I'll go look through your room, Y/N, if you truly are innocent," as he walked off to her room with heavy footsteps. The two girls followed after him as Tommy was looking in every hook and cranny in her room. Suddenly, when he looked through her closet.... There it was, hidden beneath her socks and tights were jewelry, the jewelry he bought Grace for special, intimate days like birthdays, their marriage, when Charlie was born, etc. Tommy couldn't describe the fury he felt as he slowly turned to Y/N. He noticed how Y/N was about to defend herself so he quickly interrupted her as he yelled, "SHUT IT!!!!" Which made Y/N look shocked. Tommy had never yelled at her... Tommy then said, "What did I tell you about touching things that aren't yours?" In that eerily calm tone. Y/N for the first time...felt a little scared of her father. "Go to my office, with your hands on my desk," he told her quietly with that angry expression. Her heart dropped, she knew what he meant—he was gonna punish her. He hadn't ever punished her before...not before Grace that is. Ever since Grace she occasionally got a spanking and such, but she knew that now he was gonna use a ruler. After a while, the punishment had finished and Y/N was left sobbing in her room. Frances was holding ice over her little hands—caring for her the way Tommy failed to do.

That night, there was a gala that Tommy was invited to—along with Grace, Charlie and Y/N. While they were getting ready, Tommy went to check up on Y/N to see if she wanted to come along—but saw her asleep in her bed. He sighed as he saw the dried tears on her cheek. There was a twitch of guilt in his heart—he hated punishing his daughter, but in his eyes it was needed for what she had done. Stealing jewelry crossed the line. He decided not to wake her up and to let her stay home for the night. When Tommy, Grace and Charlie walked to the car and drove off, he had failed to realize that there were enemies of his who needed leverage against him for deals. Y/N was snoring softly in her bed, gripping her stuffed bunny tightly under her arms. Her eyes slowly blinked as she heard some commotion downstairs. Maids yelling—in fear she recognized. And the voices of men—voices she didn't recognize. She sat up as she looked at the clock in her room. "11:30," it read. "What's going on downstairs?" she asked herself quietly, innocence lacing her tone as she stepped down from her bed and quietly walked out of her room. She stood over the stairs as she looked at how there were strange men in her home. She looked confused but then gasped softly as one of the men noticed her. The man yelled out something like, "I found her!" But she was already running off as the man pounded up the stairs. She ran into one of the rooms and hid in the closet that was standing there.

She heard him. Heavy footsteps walking across the upstairs area. "Where are you, little girl? I just wanna talk," the man said. Y/N held her tiny hands over her mouth as she looked through the creak in fear. "Where's daddy? I want daddy..." she thought to herself. Her eyes began to water as the fear in her was set to a maximum, grabbing a wooden hanger as a weapon. The men were in a large group and had taken the maids hostage in their quarters so that they couldn't intervene with capturing little Y/N. One maid, on the other hand, was taking a smoke break outside when the break-in happened. Shocked at the scene as the maid watched from the bushes, she made the decision to rush to a place where she could find the nearest taxi to warn the Blinders. "Come out, where's that pretty face hidin'? I don't see any point in hiding, darlin'... I'll catch you eventually," the man called out with an eerie laugh. They were part of a gangster group who the Blinders had pissed off—they killed a brother. Now they were out for revenge, wanting to make a deal with Tommy to make sure he suffers too. But they needed a way to make him agree without killing them instantly, and that was with using his beloved daughter and Peaky princess as leverage. The man looked in one room and noticed a piece of cloth sticking out of the closet. He couldn't see if it was just clothes belonging in there or Y/N, so he held his gun and shot the wall next to the closet, which made the little girl let out a frightened squeal. The man laughed loudly as he stomped over and pulled her out of the closet. She screamed as the bunny dropped out of her hand, out of panic she poked the metal part of the hanger in the man's eye which made him yell out and drop both her and the gun to nurse his eye. She had sometimes seen her uncles and father kick away guns so that they were further out of reach, so the little girl quickly kicked it under the closet.

She ran to the telephone within the room to call her sister, Ada. Ada had always played games with Y/N in order to make her remember her telephone number for when an emergency hit. That was when the man's eyes filled with terror. He assumed she was gonna call Tommy, Arthur or John. So out of panic, he grabbed her nightgown from behind before she could reach up for the telephone and pinned her body down. She squealed out as she hit the man's arms, but her strength would only go so far. The man's paranoia rose as he grabbed a wooden statue off the table and began to hit Y/N's head. Once, twice, thrice. Then it went dark.

Tommy rushed home, breaking all the traffic laws out there. The maid had gone over to Michael, who rushed to the gala and informed Tommy and the brothers what was happening at his home. Arthur sat in the passenger's seat while John was in the back. "I swear to fuckin' hell if they hurt her..." Arthur angrily muttered out. Y/N was Arthur's favorite niece, and he was like a second father to her. Tommy didn't say anything, he was only focused on one thing—you. When they arrived at the home, it took 15 to 30 minutes before the enemy gangsters were dead. Apparently, their fear for the 3 brothers was a lot bigger than their balls. Tommy ran up the stairs while the Blinders were dealing with the men as he maniacally looked for Y/N. He then went into the room Y/N had hid and his heart stopped. There she was...his sweet girl, his beloved daughter...dead on the floor. Blood was pooling down her head as he fell to his knees and scrambled over. He was shaking as he held her body to him while saying, "Come on, darlin'...wake up, wake up for daddy...come on love..." Repeatedly. Arthur and John walked in and their hearts also took a leap when they saw their sweet Y/N dead in Tommy's arms. They were frozen in shock by the doorway—not knowing what to do. It wasn't common that an 8-year-old in the Shelby family died because of gang violence. It was also the first time they had seen Tommy cry. He wasn't sobbing, just quiet tears streaming down his face. Y/N was the anchor in his life, the innocence that he regained in him from a young age when she was born. Tommy was in denial; he made himself believe the denial. She wasn't dead... Just unconscious. But he knew better—he lost his little girl.

For days, Tommy stayed in his office, day and night. Normally, people wouldn’t bat an eye since he was a workaholic, but this time he wasn't even in with his head when there was business, didn’t check on Grace or Charlie, didn't talk to his family. He was trapped in that moment—seeing his daughter on the floor. His guilt deepened when he learned Grace had lied about all the ‘bad’ things Y/N had done, how Y/N had never actually stolen the jewelry but Grace had planted them there—he had let love blind him, trusting a stranger over his own child, the girl he had promised to protect and cherish until she had gray hair. The pieces that Y/N had built up in him had fallen again, Tommy Shelby was yet again a broken man. After all, when she was born, he had imagined walking her down the aisle, not staring down at her grave.

[captainsophiestark]

Shenanigans and Small Closets

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist! - Send me a Fictober request!

Written for Fictober 2025! Requested by @auroracalisto - thank you for being so patient while I worked on this! I had a ton of fun writing this one, and I hope you like it :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Twenty Prompt: "Trust me, this will work!"

Summary: Benedict's best friend since childhood has an idea for getting revenge on Anthony after he cheated in pall mall, and she's not about to let Benedict sit out the enacting of the plan.

Word Count: 2,028

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Trust me, this will work!"

I stared straight into the eyes of my best friend, Benedict Bridgerton, willing him to believe what I was saying. He raised an eyebrow, and I could see the doubt in his eyes, but to his credit he was still standing in the small hallway alcove with me.

"...I suppose I've trusted you this long. One more leap of faith isn't too much to ask, with all of that considered."

I grinned at him. "Thank you. And just think about the expression on Anthony's face when my plan goes off without a hitch!"

Benedict shook his head, but he smiled nonetheless. I smiled back, leaning my shoulder into his.

Technically, we were far too close for propriety. But we'd been joined at the hip since we were children, and we were in Aubrey Hall with no one besides his family and the staff. I wasn't about to let my best friend sit out of shenanigans because society had recently decided we weren't allowed to exist within two feet of each other.

In pall mall yesterday, Anthony had completely cheated to prevent me from winning, and I was not about to let that stand. So, I'd come up with a plan to get my revenge, via a bucket full of water balanced over a doorway I knew Anthony would be walking through shortly.

"I hope you have a plan for the moment after the water hits its mark," Benedict muttered, so close to me that I could feel his breath on my neck. I repressed a shiver, and immediately after, repressed any analysis of why I might've felt a shiver coming on.

"The plan is to hide here," I said. "Where we'll see him and he won't see us."

"And if he does see us?"

"Then I'm going to run, at least fast enough to be faster than you."

Benedict scoffed and rolled his eyes, and I responded with a grin. Before either of us could continue our conversation, however, the trapped door swung open with Anthony's typical level of force, sending the perilous bucket of water tipping over and straight onto his head.

He gasped, already scowling, as my hands shot to my face to try to stifle a laugh. Just behind me, Benedict wasn't quite as successful as I had been. A horrible, half-muffled snort escaped him, and Anthony's head whipped instantly in our direction.

All three of us froze for a moment, and then all hell broke loose.

"Run!" I shouted, whirling around and shoving Benedict ahead of me as Anthony bellowed our names, clearly having realized we were to blame.

Just ahead of me, I could see Benedict shaking his head as the two of us sprinted through the hallways of Aubrey Hall, like we had when we were kids. Despite the situation, I couldn't keep a slightly manic smile off my face.

"Come on, Ben! I know you can run faster than that!" I called, putting on just enough speed to pull ahead of Benedict. I heard him huff behind me, and I could tell he wasn't quite as amused as I was.

Of course, to be fair, his brother would probably actually punch him if he caught up to Benedict first. He'd be more likely to pick me up and drag me all the way outside to throw me in the lake in retaliation.

"We need a better plan than just running!" Benedict called, still just a half-step behind me. I hummed. He was right. Luckily for both of us, I'd practically grown up in this house, too, and I'd spent a lot of time exploring these hallways, including after Anthony had to step up and do real work instead of spending time with Benedict and I.

"Just follow me," I huffed, quickly turning a corner and then yanking Benedict after me through a door to a servant's supply cupboard. I knew Anthony had no idea it existed, and honestly, I doubted whether Benedict knew, either.

I tugged the door shut behind us, putting my back to the wall in the small, dark space with Benedict just in front of me. I wished I could pretend that my heart was only racing from the running and the adrenaline.

"What a-"

"Sh!" I hissed, putting a finger to my lips to silence Benedict as quickly as possible. We stood so close to fit both of us in the closet that my finger wasn't far from touching his lips, too.

A moment later, we heard Anthony's footsteps go thundering past outside. Neither of us so much as breathed, staying absolutely still and listening as carefully as we could. Mercifully, it sounded like Anthony had gone right past us without a second thought.

I met Benedict's eyes, huffing a quiet laugh as a small smile of relief pulled onto my face.

"I think we're in the clear," I said, still smiling, although I wasn't totally sure why anymore. It took a concentrated effort to keep my eyes on Benedict's face.

"All thanks to your brilliant quick thinking," he muttered, sounding a little breathless himself, as his eyes roamed my face. My heart kicked up an extra beat, and against the better judgement in the back of my mind, I followed the impulse to let my hands drift up to rest on his arms.

Almost reflexively, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Benedict's hands came up to rest lightly on my waist. Slowly, he leaned forward, until our foreheads pressed together. He'd given me plenty of time to pull back, but I hadn't moved an inch.

"I... am about to say something that will greatly complicate our friendship," he said. I smiled, meeting his eyes as we remained face to face.

"By all means, do so."

He chuckled, a relieved smile growing on his own face. My heart sped up in my chest in anticipation of what I thought Benedict was about to say.

"I have been feeling this way for some time... I've thought about saying this to you for a long time, too. I should be more eloquent, but I'm struggling not to trip over my words..." My smile grew as I huffed a short laugh. Benedict, usually one of the most poetic and well-spoken people I knew, was struggling not to trip over his words. He huffed a little laugh, then continued. "I... have feelings for you. To be more precise, actually, I... I love you. I'm in love with you. And I think I have been for... for longer than I'd realized. You are such a wonderful and important part of my life, and you have been for so long. I can't imagine life without you, I- oh, please tell me I haven't just ruined our relationship."

I laughed, especially at the worried look on his face. He looked slightly more relaxed at my reaction, but not completely. I moved one of my hands from his arm to his chest, just above his heart, and gave him a soft smile.

"You haven't ruined anything, Benedict. I've been feeling the same way for at least as long as you have. I was too scared to ruin our relationship myself, so I never said anything... I'm glad you finally did."

He let out a gigantic sigh, relaxing backwards to rest his head on the opposite closet wall as his shoulders slumped.

"Oh, thank goodness. I can't imagine what I would've done if you hadn't felt the same way."

I giggled a little, leaning into him as he straightened up and pulled me closer. This time, I didn't stop myself from glancing down at his lips, which also meant I didn't miss the way they curved into a mischievous smile.

"...Does this also mean I can finally kiss you?" he asked. My eyes snapped back up to his, and I quickly nodded my head.

"I'll be incredibly disappointed if you don't."

Benedict grinned again, then wasted no time leaning in to close the distance between us. I met him halfway, and fireworks exploded in my chest as soon as our lips met.

I leaned even farther forward, into Benedict, and he pulled me closer as we deepened the kiss. My head spun, my entire world narrowing to the man I loved, who I knew loved me back, who I finally got to kiss. I don't know how far we would've gone before society's hovering rules floated back into our minds, but the door to our hideout swung open before we got the chance to find out.

My stomach swooped, this time with panic rather than butterflies. Benedict and I jerked apart, putting as much distance as possible between us in the tiny space, and I got ready to shove Anthony over if he'd somehow managed to find us. After blinking a few times while my eyes adjusted to the sudden light, however, I found a different Bridgerton sibling staring at the two of us.

Daphne stood framed in the doorway, her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised. I glanced at Benedict, and found him looking just as shocked and sheepish as I felt.

"I was wondering how long something like this would take the two of you."

Benedict and I both stumbled over a few half-formed words. I had absolutely no idea what to say, and clearly, he didn't either.

"I came to tell the two of you that Anthony gave up. He's due for a visit to one of the neighbors, and he had no choice but to leave a few minutes ago. You two are safe, at least for now."

"...Thank you, Daphne." I managed to choke out. She nodded and then slowly, a grinned pulled onto her face as she glanced between me and Benedict again.

"You know, the two of you are very lucky both Anthony and I have been in similar situations before. And that I'm the one who found you."

"I take that to mean you won't be telling anyone?" Benedict finally managed to ask. Daphne shook her head.

"No. Although I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say I'm relieved the two of you finally realized the feelings you've been ignoring for far too long."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the closet door open behind her. Benedict and I turned to each other slowly, sheepish grins in place as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Well..." I started. "I suppose my idea for revenge on Anthony worked out better than imagined."

Benedict snorted, the tension and nerves finally breaking between us. He reached out and pulled me into his side, although with the door wide open, we didn't go farther than that.

"...I'm afraid that if I agree, I'm going to find myself running from my siblings after you've decided to prank them more often than I already do."

I grinned up at him, leaning into his side a little more. "That's a guarantee regardless, Benedict. If we act on these feelings and court, then-"

"There is no if."

I stopped short, the teasing grin falling from my face at the seriousness of Benedict's tone. He met my eyes steadily, absolute sincerity conveyed through his posture, tone, and expression.

"So long as you agree, I intend to marry you. I know we may need to court officially first, and that we can't simply be married tomorrow, but... for me, it's a when, not an if."

I straightened up slightly, smiling at Benedict more earnestly.

"Then you will definitely need to be prepared to run from your siblings with me after I've pranked them, much more frequently as my husband."

Benedict sighed dramatically, throwing his head back and slumping a little. I brought a hand up to my face to hide a laugh, especially as Benedict straightened up again and fixed me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Well, at least then, we'll be able to do what we want in the closets we hide in without fear of social scandal or violation of propriety."

I laughed, lightly whacking Benedict's shoulder as he grinned. The two of us wandered back into the rest of Aubrey Hall together, lighter and happier than I'd ever felt before.

Not even the looming issue of Anthony's return could change that feeling today.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21 @diego42 @crepuscola

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily @dearhnymn @asgards-princess-of-mischief @babypurpledragon

[toastedkiwi]

Kelce on The Today Show…

Hoda: you’re not married, right? To Jarren Duran? I’ve seen you guys call each other husband and wife. I’ve seen some articles saying that you are and seen some conflicting reports. I wonder if you can clear that up for us.

Y/n: *chuckles* no, we’re not married yet. I’ve been trying to call his bluff after he said that he wants to marry me on live TV back in like late September. I will say he wasn’t the most sober at the time

Hoda: wait, you said “yet”!

Y/n: I got no ring. *shows left hand*

Carson: do you know when there might be a ring?

Y/n: what kinda question is that? You guys are so nosy

Hoda: we’re supposed to be!

Y/n: yeah but you’re asking the wrong person. You should be asking him these questions. Not me. I like to be surprised.

[somethingeh]

pairing - michael “robby” robinovitch x reader

word count - 2.6k

summary - robby has done an excellent job keeping his home life a secret from his coworkers — until his pregnant wife has an accident that lands her in the pitt.

a/n - this is my first time posting anything. it’s probably shit tbh barely read over or edited. TW for pregnancy. i don’t want kids EVER but i want robby to have kids rlly bad. Definitely won’t do a ton of this type of content if i manage to keep posting, this is not my usual stuff.

Michael Robinovitch was notoriously tight-lipped. If you knew anything about anything going on in the ER, it wasn’t from him. None of his patients' business was broadcasted, not even his friends, and perhaps least of all, his. It certainly had its benefits, security, trust, HIPAA, and the like, but it often tipped the scales into secretive and self-destructive territory from time to time. The effort it took to get him to ask for help, even for Dana or Abbot, was great. Oftentimes his troubles ended up buried and repressed to deal with at a later time that never seemed to come.

Aside from his emotions, experiences, and trauma, he didn’t enjoy small talk much more than the big stuff. Langdon was always keen to share his latest surprise for his wife and kids, or show photos from their last trip. Whitaker talked about going back home to visit his family in Nebraska. Dana had her kids to boast about, Javadi had school and parental pressures to vent about, even Santos talked non stop about her new kitten, but Robby?

“Nope, no plans, just staying home.”

“Sorry, can’t make it tonight, got a thing.”

“Got something I gotta do this weekend, no big deal.”

He didn’t seem to have hobbies, take trips, consume media, even. The occasional beer with Jack was the closest thing to plans he’d ever had. But nobody batted an eye. Based on the way he was at work, no one expected him to have much going on at home. They pictured an empty apartment, takeout, medical journals for fun. No one gave it much thought because there was never any indication there was much to be thought of.

Until one chilly February morning, surprisingly calm for the pitt, with grey skies and thunder that threatened a rain that had yet to come. Robby was stuck in a trauma, spinal cord injury from a bad skating accident, when another came in. You sat upright, holding pressure to your forehead with one hand, the other placed atop your swollen belly between the numerous fetal monitors stretched across it. Mackay and Javadi got called to the front.

“What do we got?” Mackay asked, taking over the gauze on your forehead to check the laceration.

“Female, 32 weeks pregnant, passed out at home, landlord called us,” said the EMT quickly, wheeling you into a trauma room. “Small laceration on the forehead, completely alert, no signs of a concussion. She fell onto her stomach, no bleeding other than from the head.”

“Head lac looks good, bleeding stopped,” said Mackay. “Probably won’t even need stitches, just some glue.”

She turned to you as the EMTs left, a kind smile on her face.

“Hi, ma’am, my name is Dr. Mackay, I’m gonna be taking care of you today.”

You smiled as best you could and gave your name back.

“This is Victoria Javadi, a student doctor. Do you mind if she helps?”

“Not at all.”

“Perfect,” said Mackay as you’re hooked up to a million more machines. “Javadi, any questions?”

A baby-faced, anxious looking young girl with her hair back in a scrunchie steps forward, clutching an ipad for dear life.

“So, can you tell us what happened?”

You sighed, already embarrassed.

“I was feeling a little light headed, so I got up to get something to eat, and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.”

“Have you eaten enough today?”

“I feel like all I do is eat nowadays,” you joked as a nurse took your blood pressure.

“Has this ever happened before?” asked Mackay.

“Um, no, but I guess I’ve been feeling a little dizzy and tired the past few weeks,” you said. “I mean, I’m in my third trimester, it’s to be expected, right?”

“More than usual recently, though?”

“Yeah, you could say that. My husband begged me to go in, but I figured it was all normal. He worries too much.”

Mackay’s eyes flicked down to register a silver band on your left hand along with a sizable engagement ring. She snapped on some gloves.

“Okay, I’m just going to palpate your belly, is that okay?”

You nodded.

“Alright, let me know if you feel any tenderness.”

As she made her way across the bottom of your belly and reached the left side, you tensed, your face grimacing in discomfort.

“Ah — right there,” you breathed.

“Can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten, ten being the highest?” asked Javadi as Mackay set up an ultrasound.

“It’s not too bad,” you said, rubbing your belly. “Maybe like a three or four?”

“Alright, I’m going to look inside your uterus to rule out an internal injury,” said Mackay. “I’m going to squeeze some jelly onto your skin — it may be a little cold.”

You could barely see what they were doing on the other side of your bump, but you heard the squirt of the bottle and something cool and slimy on your skin before the slight pressure of a probe moving smoothly around the tender area. While she looked, Javadi started cleaning your head wound, and in no time at all it was disinfected and covered. She had just informed you she wanted to do a neuro exam when your name was called from the hall.

Dana came hurrying in, concern etched in her face and arms outstretched.

“What the hell happened?” she exclaimed, pulling you into her arms as best she could from your seated position on the bed. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, kid!”

You smiled, grateful for the familiar presence, although there was someone you’d take over anyone else right now.

“I’m all good, Dana, just took a fall,” you reassured, though your hands were still a little shaky.

You looked around and saw both Javadi and Mackay distracted from their tasks at hand, staring quizzically at you and Dana, and your hands still linked.

“I’m sorry, how do you know each other?” Javadi asked.

You hesitated, glancing up at Dana. You knew Robby didn’t like mixing personal and professional, and had been very successful thus far at keeping your and your baby’s existences quiet. I just don’t want you associated with all that mess, he had said. Wanna keep you safe, and happy, here at home, just the two of us. Well — three, now.

Dana put on a smile.

“We go way back,” she said, rubbing your back comfortingly. “We actually met through her husband.” She turned and looked down at you, a knowing glint in her eye. “Does he know?”

“No,” you said quickly. “And I don’t really want him to. You know how he gets.”

She seemed unsure, but let it slide.

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll stay with you for now, how's that sound?”

You gave her hands a grateful squeeze as Javadi called your attention back to her neuro exam, and Mackay took up her probe again.

“Neuro is normal, I don’t think we need a head CT,” said Javadi, pocketing her pen light. “But definitely want blood and urine samples.”

“Baby looks good,” Mackay added. “Perfect size, moving around a lot.”

“Yes, she’s very active,” you said fondly. “Especially at night.”

“They tend to do that,” said Mackay, smiling. “Just practice for having a newborn.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but she paused, smile fading. Her eyes narrowed at the screen. All you could see were grainy black and white lines, but you didn’t like the look on her face.

It felt like a bucket of ice was dumped down your stomach. Fear, cold and overwhelming, gripped you tightly. Fear for yourself, fear for your body, but most of all, fear for your baby. Could this tumble have cost your baby her health? Had you been stupid to ignore your husband’s badgering?

“What’s wrong?” you managed to squeak out.

You glanced at Dana, but her worried eyes were glued to the screen as well.

“Um, I’m not — maybe nothing,” said Mackay, removing the probe and setting it down on her tray.

Still, the anxiety wasn’t leaving her face. You wrapped your arms instinctively around your bump, as though that could protect her from harm. Mackay put on her best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I’m just going to have our chief attending take a look,” she said. “Just to double check, and I assure you, he is great. You and your baby will be in the best possible hands.”

Oh, he’s gonna freak out, you thought. But you smiled weakly, trying to breath your way through the fire burning in your chest. Dana didn’t hesitate, just shot back out into the chaos and you knew her goal was finding Robby, only this time, you didn’t care about how it looked to his coworkers, or what this would mean long term. You just wanted him here with you.

You felt a familiar sting behind your eyes, and tried to rub away the tremble in your lip. Mackay clocked it instantly.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Even if I saw what I think I saw — it's extremely treatable. Bottom line is, your baby looks as healthy as can be. She’s safe, and we’re going to do everything we can to keep her that way. Okay?”

You nodded, still staving off tears, until Robby came barreling around the corner, Dana at his heels, throwing his gown and goggles to the side carelessly. The second he was at your side, you broke, tears streaming down your face. He surrounded you immediately in his big arms and you burrowed into him, shoulders shaking. As he stroked your hair and murmured reassurances, you tried to focus on him. The vibrations of his soft voice against your forehead. The firm grip of his hands on you. His heartbeat, though he was steady and stable, much faster than normal. His smell, of sandalwood and rain, was still barely discernible under antiseptic and sweat. You inhaled deeply and felt yourself begin to calm. Still, worry sat like a heavy weight on your chest.

After a few minutes, he pulled back and cradled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears away. You gripped his hoodie like a lifeline.

“What’s going on?” he said, and although his face might have seemed neutral to anyone else, you could detect the slight line between his eyebrows, and the strain on his voice.

“I — I fell,” you sniffled. “I fainted. I don’t know what happened. I’m scared, Mikey.”

His jaw tensed as he glanced at Mackay. You could by her expression she was full of questions, Javadi too, but he didn’t pay the elephant in the room any mind as he tagged Dana in to hold you up and snatched the probe, squirting fresh gel on top and quickly locating the issue. You hated the sharp breath he inhaled, the tightening of his fingers on the handle, and felt fresh tears beading on your waterline. Dana’s arm around your shoulders tightened.

“What?” you managed, voice thick with tears. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” he said instantly, turning back to you. “Yes, she is. There’s just a small bleed behind your placenta, which can be serious” — you let out a cry — “but it can also be nothing. Oftentimes they clear up completely on their own.”

Your hands found your bump again, but your hands are covered by Robby’s large, warm ones.

“Hey,” he said, softer still, lowering his eyeline until you met it. “She’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You nodded, flipping your hands up to grab his. Something about those baby browns, you just couldn’t help trusting.

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Of course,” he said. “I just need to wrap up some loose ends down here, and I’ll be right up, okay?”

You nodded again as Dana started wheeling you up to OB.

“You got a bed up there?” she asked Robby in a low voice.

“They owe me a favor,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “A couple, actually.”

Once you had disappeared into the elevator, he let out a long suffering sigh. But he had more than just patients to deal with.

He turned to face a flabbergasted Javadi and Mackay, raised eyebrows demanding answers. He grimaced, crossing his arms.

“Okay,” he said. “Yes, I have a wife. Yes, she is pregnant. We’ve been together for going on seven years now. I don’t know how she puts up with me either. We good?”

Javadi cleared her throat.

“You, um — you don’t wear a ring?”

He slid a finger under the chain hidden beneath his scrubs and pulled it out. Attached was a silver wedding band matching yours. He tucked it back under his clothes.

“Anything else?”

“A lot,” said Mackay. “But we’ll let you finish up down here and get back to your wife.”

She pulled Javadi away by the arm, still muttering “your wife” under her breath, and Robby knew it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. But until that point, he would go on operating as usual.

“I got an emergency,” is all he said in explanation of his abrupt departure.

They kept you overnight for observation, and by morning the bleeding had ceased and you were released into the care of your loving, albeit obsessive, husband. Mackay came up to visit, and to share the cause of the mystery fainting spell, anemia. At that you felt both yourself and Robby truly take a deep breath. Simple iron supplements and you’d be back to normal.

He took the next day off to “nurse you back to health,” though due to there not really being any illness, that mostly meant feeding you pie in bed and rubbing your feet. You weren’t complaining. He hated leaving you the next morning, and let himself leave late in favor of lounging in bed.

You brought him a cup of chamomile tea at the door (“Coffee makes you evil, Michael!”) and kissed him goodbye. He lingered a bit, relishing in your even breathing and steady heartbeat. He pulled back to look into your eyes, brushing bedhead away from your face.

“I better not see you at work today,” he said, sounding more soft than stern, as usual. “As much as I love seeing our girl” — he placed a hand on your tummy — “I don’t think it's worth the strain on my heart. Maybe let's just stick to the scheduled OB visits, hm?”

“Agreed,” you smiled.

One more peck on the forehead for good measure, and he was out the door. He tried his best to ignore the immediate attention garnered as he walked through the doors to the pitt. As he logged on to the computer at his work station, he could hear Perlah and Princess muttering to each other at the speed of light, barely subtle in their glances his way. Even if they were speaking Tagalog, he had no question in his mind what the topic of conversation was.

Dana found him quickly.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Enjoy your day off?”

“Very much,” he said shortly.

“How’s she doing?”

“Wonderfully.”

That was that.

Only sweet Mel had the gall to bring it up to him all day, although it was more about naivety than courage. She congratulated him excitedly on his wife’s pregnancy, and expressed her trust in his parenting abilities. Others stared, but he thanked her kindly and went about his day.

As he stopped for a break in the ambulance bay, smiling widely at the picture you sent him of your progress knitting a baby blanket, he toyed with his ring. It wasn’t long before he was being called into a trauma, but he hung back for a minute. Disconnecting the chain from around his neck, he slid the ring off of it and onto his finger. After spinning it around for a while, he decided it looked much better there. And there it would stay.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Seven-week curse

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch

Robby Masterlist Updates Account

｡𖦹°‧➵Robby’s dating history is infamous, no relationship survives past seven weeks. So when he asks you out, you strike a deal: no sex until seven weeks have passed.

｡𖦹°‧➵ tags/warnings: smut, porn with plot, minors DNI, dry humping, unprotected piv, grinding, fingering, creampie, blowjob, f!social worker reader, kinda slowburn, robby is flirty and a bit of a manwhore (accurate)

 ｡𖦹°‧➵ A/N: This is only my second time writing for Robby, and I’m not really part of The Pitt fandom. So if you enjoyed this, maybe consider following me? I’d love to have more mutuals from the fandom

Ever since you were a little girl, you knew this was what you wanted, to spend your life helping people in the ways that mattered most. Nothing else ever came close to the satisfaction of knowing you’d made a real difference, even if it was just for one person on one impossible day.

Working as a social worker at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center has shown you the rawest edges of humanity. Abused kids, elderly patients with no one to hold their hand when the doctor delivered bad news, addicts fighting for one more chance while the world keeps telling them they’ve run out. You’d been there almost a year now, long enough to have learned the rhythms of the place, but it wasn’t perfect. Some nights, the weight on your shoulders was too much to carry alone. When a kid you thought was safe got pulled back into the same house, when an addict relapsed and the look in their eyes said they had already given up, when you left a room and realized you were crying in the stairwell without even noticing.

Your office was tucked away in a quiet corner of the administrative floor, a small room crammed with files and silence, so much different from the noise and chaos of the ED. But lately, your sanctuary had been invaded, not unpleasantly, but persistently, by Robby.

You first noticed him about a month ago, during a particularly grueling case involving a young mother who'd been in a car accident. You'd been called in to assess her family's needs, and there he was, scrubbing out after stabilizing her, his scrubs splattered with blood. "Tough one," he'd said, nodding at you as you passed in the hall. "You holding up? I know you’re new here. It can take some time to get used to." It was casual, but there was something warm in his voice… something you couldn’t shake off.

Since then, it'd escalated. Subtly at first, he'd bump into you in the cafeteria, offering to grab your tray. "Let me get that for you," he'd say with that lopsided grin, brushing his hand against yours just a second too long. Then came the coffees, the first time, it was a surprise on your desk, a steaming latte from the hospital's overpriced kiosk, with a sticky note: "Fuel after a long day. -Robby." It slowly became a pattern. Every few days, another coffee, sometimes with a muffin or an oatmeal cookie. "Thought you might need a pick-me-up," he'd say if he caught you in person, leaning against your doorframe like he had all the time in the world.

You weren’t naive. You knew exactly how men worked. You could read Robby’s flirting as clearly as a neon sign: the way his gaze lingered a beat too long when you passed in the corridor, his voice when he asked about your weekend like he actually cared what you’d done, the easy smile he flashed when he shared some absurd story from the ED that always made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

Every time he locked eyes with you, you felt that familiar flutter in your stomach. The dangerous kind. The one that whispered this could be trouble, while your pulse kicked up anyway. Because Robby’s reputation wasn’t just gossip, it was more like a well-documented pattern. You’d overheard all about his brief hospital romances with nurses, residents, and the occasional admin, who’d all fallen for the same things, his charm, his attentiveness. Until the moment things edged toward anything real… anything that required staying, vulnerability, effort, then poof: Robby was gone. Vanished into long shifts, vague excuses, and polite distance, leaving the other person to pick up the pieces and pretend it hadn’t stung.

So it didn’t matter that he was exactly your type: a little older, tall enough that you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes, that beard framing a jaw you’d caught yourself staring at more than once, kind eyes with wrinkles at the corners when he laughed, and a sharp mind. He could be funny, thoughtful, devastatingly good at his job. None of it changed the math.

You were done with flings. Done with hookups that left you hollow. Done with anything that came with an expiration date. You’d spent too many nights replaying conversations, wondering where you went wrong, promising yourself next time you’d be smarter. You weren’t going back.

Robby could flirt all he wanted. He could keep showing up with your favorite coffee and those stupid blueberry muffins he pretended he “just happened to grab.” He could lean against the nurses’ station and talk to you like you were the only thing worth his attention in the middle of a fifteen-hour shift.

But you weren’t going to let him charm his way past your walls just to discard you at week seven like everyone else. You’d built those walls for a reason. And this time, they were staying up.

One day, you found yourself buried in paperwork when you heard the knock. You looked up, and there he was, framed in your doorway, holding two coffees. He was in his navy-blue scrubs, a stethoscope draped around his neck, a hint of vulnerability in the smile he offered you that made your resolve waver.

"Hey," he said, stepping in without waiting for an invitation. "Figured you could use this. Double shot, no sugar, right?" He set one cup on your desk, grazing his fingers on the edge of your keyboard as he did. Up close, you could smell his cologne, and it made you want to bury your face in his neck.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms to create some distance. "Robby, you don't have to keep doing this." Your voice was steady, but inside, your heart was doing that annoying skip it always did around him.

He perched on the edge of your desk, ignoring the stack of files he was displacing. "What, bring coffee to my favorite person in this building? It's no trouble." His eyes sparkled with that playful mischief, and he tilted his head, studying you. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to see you. How's your day going? Has Gloria come and annoyed you with her bureaucratic nonsense already?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. He was good at this, disarming you with humor, making the conversation flow like it was the most natural thing. You told him about the elderly patient you were advocating for, the one whose insurance was denying coverage for rehab. He listened intently, nodding, offering insights from the medical side. It was easy talking to him, he got the grind of hospital life with more compassion than most doctors showed.

But as the chat stretched on, you felt the way his gaze lingered on your lips when you spoke, the subtle compliments woven in. "You're amazing at what you do," he said softly. "Don’t know how we managed to get by before you." His hand reached out, almost touching your arm, but he pulled back at the last second, as if sensing your hesitation.

You've been here before, not with him, but with men like him. Now, all you were craving was something real. You wanted stability, commitment, a partner who sticks around when the novelty wears off. And Robby? From what you'd heard, he was the opposite.

Every time he got too close to you, you remembered the nurses talking: “He's dated a resident, nurses, oh, and that radiology tech too. He pulls away when things get serious. That man is really damaged”. "Seven weeks," one of them confided over lunch last month. "That's his record. Gets bored, or scared, who knows. But he's the type of man you should run from."

You decided it was time. No more dancing around it. "Robby," you said, your tone shifting to one firmer. He straightened, sensing the change. "You're really sweet. The coffees, the chats... It's nice. You’re nice."

He smiled, but it was cautious now. "But...?"

"But I've heard what people say about you." You met his eyes directly, not accusatory, just honest.

He smiled, arching his brows with both curiosity and amusement. “Ah, good things only, I presume.”

You sighed, leaning forward. “You have a reputation when it comes to women, Robby.”

His brow furrowed harder, and he set his coffee down, crossing his arms defensively. "Reputation? You’re making it sound a little dramatic. I don’t have a reputation, come on."

“I’ve heard about the seven-week curse,” you said without preamble, no sugarcoating the truth.

Robby choked mid-sip, the coffee going down the wrong pipe. He coughed hard, his eyes watering as he thumped his chest like he was trying to dislodge a lung. “Seven-week curse?” he wheezed, half-laughing and a little-horrified. “What the hell am I, some kind of demonic entity?” He gestured wildly with both hands, his palms up, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline in exaggerated disbelief. “Jesus. Is that really what people are saying about me?”

"I know you've dated other people here at the hospital. A few, actually. And from what I've heard, you don't stick around. Things get too serious, and you're out. You’ve never lasted more than seven weeks with any of them."

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign he was uncomfortable. For a moment, he looked vulnerable. "Whoa, okay. That's... I’m sure it had to be more than seven at least once." He narrowed his eyes, as if he was thinking deeply about it. “Are you sure they said seven?”

“That’s what they said.”

“I must sound like a douchebag.”

“You do. You’re like Leo DiCaprio when his girlfriends turn twenty-five,” you said flatly.

He frowned, clearly lost. “Yeah… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He dumps them and moves on to the next,” you explained. “You’re the same, except you do it when the relationship hits seven weeks.”

Robby scoffed, getting a bit defensive already. “You make it sound like it’s a pattern. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” He paused, then added, thinking it over, “And I’m pretty sure one of them lasted eight weeks… ish.”

He paused, like he was trying to read the verdict before you delivered it. “Look, I know exactly how that makes me sound. I don’t have a strong case here, and I’m not gonna pretend I do. But for what it’s worth… that was before. I’m a different man now.” You couldn’t help it, a mocking snort escaped you. “No, no, don’t laugh, I’m serious! The sabbatical really changed me. Three months away from this place, I’m not the same man I was.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism kept creeping in. "A new man? If I got a dime for every time I’ve heard guys saying that, then I wouldn’t be working here."

He slid off the desk, stepping closer, his presence filling the small office. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About what I want. I see you, and... you're different. I don’t see you as just... a distraction from my life. I want to try something real this time."

His words hang in the air, and they sounded so tempting. Part of you wanted to believe him, the part that had enjoyed his relentless attention, the butterflies when he smiled at you. You imagined it: dates outside the hospital, lazy mornings, building something solid. But the wiser part, the one scarred from past disappointments, held back.

You stood up, creating space, pacing to the window. "Robby, I appreciate all you do. I do. But at this point in my life..." You turned to face him. "I'm tired of one-night stands, of no-strings-attached flings that go nowhere. I've done that, hookups after bad days, situationships with guys who are not willing to commit. I want something solid, shared dreams, someone who won't bail when it gets hard. And honestly? From everything I know about you, you're just not it."

He stared at you, opening his mouth and then closing it like the words were slipping through his lips before he could catch them. “Wait—that’s not fair,” he finally managed. “You can’t judge me on rumors and hallway gossip. Let me take you out. Just once. Get your own idea of me.”

You shook your head, unyielding. "It's not about one date. It's about patterns. I've seen too many people get hurt chasing the 'new man' version of someone. And I can't afford that anymore.” You paused, “I’m sure there are plenty of impressionable, young residents and nurses in this hospital who’d jump at the chance for something casual with the hotshot attending. You’d have no shortage of takers.”

“There might be,” he admitted before he caught the sharp arch of your brow. He exhaled through his nose, recalibrating. “But none of them are you.”

“You’re a manwhore, Robby,” you said without preamble. “And I don’t do men who can’t commit.”

“Manwhore? You— I’m not—”

“And if you want my opinion,” you cut in before he could scramble together an excuse, “you’re a little old to still be acting like a fuckboy with commitment issues.”

“I’m not that old.”

“You’re what—fifty?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Ish,” he said, rolling his eyes and making a vague gesture with his hand. Then, smirking, he added, “Have I ever told you how much I love it when you put me in my place?”

You chuckled, and for a second, the air between you felt too charged. “I’m sorry, Robby. At some other point in my life, I would’ve said yes. I would’ve let you take me out, let you charm me, let you break my heart. But I’m not that person anymore.”

The silence stretched. Robby's face fell, the charm giving way to something that looked just like disappointment, maybe even hurt. He nodded slowly, stepping back toward the door. "Okay. I get it. But for what it's worth... I think we could've been good together." He picked up his coffee and gave you one last look. "Take care of yourself."

He left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him, louder than it should have been in the quiet office. Maybe he was right. Maybe he had changed… maybe the man who just looked at you with unguarded eyes wasn’t the same one who used to disappear when things got real. But you’d been burned before, and you were not willing to gamble your heart on “maybe” anymore. 

You threw yourself into the chaos to drown out the echo of his voice. Every time you stepped into the main emergency bay, your gaze flicked involuntarily toward the trauma bays, the hallway, the nurses’ station, half-expecting to catch him leaning against the counter, with a crooked grin as he tossed out some flirty line just to watch you roll your eyes. But he wasn’t there. 

The week that followed felt strangely hollow. Robby didn’t hide. He didn’t avoid you. He was there, same shifts, same corridors, but he’d dialed himself back to something painfully professional. A polite nod in passing. A clipped “good work”. Eyes that met yours for exactly the appropriate second before sliding away. He was respectful and controlled. Too controlled.

You should’ve felt relieved. You’d told him you wanted boundaries, and he was giving them to you. He was doing exactly what you’d asked. So why did it sting? Some small, traitorous part of you missed the game, the way he used to lean too close when no one was looking, the teasing drawl of your name, the hum that crackled between you every time your shoulders brushed in the hallway. The mouse-and-cat chase that made the long shifts bearable, that made you feel seen. 

You missed the heat of it. The stupid, addictive thrill of knowing he wanted you.

Two weeks later,  the rain was coming down in sheets, turning the hospital parking lot into a glossy black mirror under the glow of the streetlights. Your shift had stretched with consultations with a suicidal teen, a battered spouse reluctant to press charges, and an overdose case that required hours of coordination with rehab facilities. Your muscles ached, and all you wanted was to collapse into your bed after a hot shower.

You pushed through the employee exit, you'd forgotten your umbrella again in the rush of the day, and now you were regretting it as fat drops pelted your shirt and hair. Cursing under your breath, you hunched your shoulders and made a dash for your car, parked in the far corner of the lot because the closer spots were already taken.

"Hey! Wait up!" The voice cut through the downpour. You turned, squinting against the rain, and there he was. Robby, jogging toward you with an oversized black umbrella clutched in one hand. His hair was plastered to his forehead, but that grin, God, that irrepressible grin, was still there, lighting up his face like he hadn't just pulled a 15-hour shift in the pitt.

"Robby? What are you—" You started, but he cut you off by stepping close, angling the umbrella to shield you both. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you. He was only inches away, and you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

"Come on, let me walk you," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "It's pouring out here. You'll get soaked."

You hesitated, it'd been two weeks since that awkward conversation in your office, and true to his word, he'd stepped back. No more overt flirting, but small gestures: a quick "How's it going?" during rounds, even stepping in once to vouch for a patient's social services needs in a meeting. It was like he was proving himself without pushing, giving you space while still being present. But now, here he was, holding his umbrella in, looking at you with those eyes that seemed to see right through your defenses.

"Fine," you stepped under the umbrella's canopy. It wasn’t big enough for two without being close, your shoulder brushed his arm, and you felt the solid muscle beneath his scrubs. "Thanks."

You walked in silence at first. "Long night," he said finally, breaking the quiet. "I saw you with that OD case earlier. You handled it well, got the family on board without a fight. Not easy."

You glanced at him sideways, surprised he noticed. "Yeah, it was rough. Kid's only 16. Parents in denial. But that's the job, right? Patch 'em up, send 'em out, hope they make it."

He nodded, his expression turning somehow thoughtful. "We do what we can. Day after day."

You reached your car, fishing for your keys in your pocket. The rain had eased a bit, but droplets still cascaded off the edges of the umbrella. You clicked the unlock button, and the headlights flashed in response. "Well, this is me. Thanks for the escort, Robby. I appreciate it."

He didn’t move, though, holding the umbrella steady over you as you opened the door. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit you'd come to recognize. "Hey, wait. Can we talk? Just for a minute?"

You paused before getting inside the car. "Robby..."

"I know," he said quickly, anticipating your protest. "I know what you said before. About my so-called… reputation, about not wanting something casual. And I've been trying to respect that, giving you space. But... come on. Give me a chance to prove I'm right. That I can be different from what you’ve heard."

His eyes were earnest, pleading almost, and in the dim light, he looked younger, more vulnerable. Water beaded on his lashes, and his breath fogged slightly in the cold air. You'd heard this before, but Robby's persistence felt different, or maybe you were just tired enough to want to believe it.

“I might’ve been a little… uncommitted before,” Robby said quietly,  like he was forcing the words out. “But I’m not a bad guy.”

You looked at him, even if doing so felt like daggers sinking in your chest. “I’m not saying you are, Robby. I just… I think we want different things.”

He leaned forward slightly. “What do we want, then?” His tone was careful, almost daring you to say it.

You exhaled, the sound coming out small and tired. “I want something real. Something with a future. I want stability, a routine. Someone who stays when shit gets hard. I want the boring parts too. The grocery runs, the quiet mornings. I want to build something.” You paused, searching his face. “And you… I think you want something you can use to run from whatever’s eating at you. A distraction. A good fuck. A way to feel alive for a few hours before you disappear back into your own head.”

He blinked, his eyes widening for a split second before he tilted his head to the right, a shocked little laugh escaping him, full of disbelief and admiration. “Oh-ho, you’re good at this.”

You couldn’t help it, a reluctant laugh bubbled up too, breaking the heaviness for just a moment. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. We’re incompatible. You’re a master at deflection, and I’m… I’m tired of being someone’s escape hatch.” You shook your head. “I don’t want to waste seven weeks of my life on something that’s just going to end when you decide it’s too real. I’d rather walk away now than wake up in week six hating myself for hoping.”

He leaned against the doorframe, the umbrella still sheltering you both. "Look, I get why you're skeptical. My track record sucks, I own that. Seven weeks? Yeah, that's probably accurate. But I can't stop thinking about you." He shifted closer. "One date. That's all. Let me show you."

The words hang there, tempting. Your resolve wavered, maybe it was because of the rain, maybe the exhaustion, or the way his presence felt like a warm anchor in the storm. You'd been single for over a year, focusing on work, on yourself. But the loneliness crept in on nights like this, and Robby was offering a glimmer of possibility.

"Fine," you said the word escaping your lips before you could overthink it. "I'll go out with you."

His face lit up, that grin breaking through like sunshine in the middle of the storm. "Why do I feel like there’s a “but” coming?"

"But," you interrupted, holding up a hand. "There's a condition."

He tilted his head, curious. "Of course there is."

"No sex. Not until we've been dating for at least seven weeks."

He blinked, stunned, the umbrella dipping slightly as his grip loosened. "What? Sorry I.. I don’t think I heard you right, with the rain and the cars passing by."

You crossed your arms, trying not to laugh at the confusion etching his features. "No sex, Robby. Seven is your magic number, right? The point where you usually run. If we hold off on the physical stuff, then you’ll be forced to have something real with me. No using me as a distraction, no running away from your problems, no rushing into bed to avoid dealing with emotions. You’ll get the chance to prove if you're serious or if this is just another fling."

He stared at you, processing what you’d just said. For a moment, you thought he might back out, but then he chuckled. "Seven weeks, huh."

"Is it a deal-breaker?" you asked, arching an eyebrow, though your heart pounded waiting for his answer.

He met your gaze, and somehow, he managed to look smug even now. "Oh, please, I could do fourteen weeks." 

“Fourteen?” You bit your lower lip, noticing the way his eyes moved there, full of want.

“Easily. But I’ll settle for seven, I don’t wanna make it too hard for you.” He extended his hand through the open door, and you shook it. The touch lingered a second too long before he pulled back. “We have a deal.”

"Okay, then," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "When do we start?"

"I’m free this Friday. Pick you up at seven? Dinner, maybe a walk after if you’re up for it."

You nodded, sitting in the driver’s seat, closing the door but rolling down the window. "Friday it is. Don't be late."

He stepped back as you started the engine, folding the umbrella now that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. "Wouldn't dream of it." 

You drove off, watching him in the rearview mirror as he stood there, hands in his pockets, with a stupid smile painted on his face. The wipers swoop rhythmically across the windshield, clearing the view, and you wondered if you'd just made a huge mistake or the best decision of your life. Seven weeks. It sounded simple, but you knew it'd be anything but. 

The days leading up to Friday crawled by in a blur of hospital work. A multi-car pileup flooded the ER, keeping Robby buried in work while you worked in the aftermath, grieving families, insurance nightmares, and child custody issues for orphaned kids. You crossed paths a few times: once in the elevator, where he flashed a quick smile and said, "Still on for Friday?" You nodded, and he winked before the doors opened. 

By Friday evening, your stupid nerves had you second-guessing everything: the dress (too much? too little?), the way you laughed too loud at his last text, whether this whole thing was going to crash and burn the second you both made it to week seven. You were pacing your apartment when the doorbell rang at exactly seven. Not a minute early, not a minute late. 

You opened the door, and the air left your lungs. He was standing there looking unfairly handsome, holding a generous bouquet of tulips. “For you,” he said, with a small crooked smile that made your stomach flip.

The date was… easy. Stupidly, disarmingly easy. He took you to a quiet place. The food was perfect, but it wasn’t the food that made the date perfect. The conversation flowed naturally, from work stories to childhood memories and favorite movies. He listened, really listened. Robby kept his eyes on yours, no phone, no glancing around the room, no interrupting to one-up you. When you talked, he leaned in just a fraction, like he was afraid he’d miss a single word. 

Every now and then, his knee brushed yours under the table, and each time the contact sent a spark up your spine. When you laughed, really laughed, at something he said, he dropped his gaze to your mouth for half a second before he caught himself and looked away, flexing his jaw like he was trying not to do something reckless.

By the time the check came, you were warm from the wine and warmer from the way he was looking at you, like you were the only person in the room, maybe the only one who’d ever mattered.

After dinner, you walked along the riverfront, and he slipped his jacket over your shoulders when you shivered. "So," he said eventually, stopping at a bench. "We’re really doing this… seven-week ban."

“Yep," you replied, sitting beside him. The jacket smelled like him, and it comforted you. "Does it feel weird? Not drawing your sorrows in meaningless sex?"

Robby let out a low, genuine laugh that rumbled through his chest. “Oh, my sorrows keep getting bigger every day. And you’re not helping me.” He dragged his gaze over you deliberately, taking in the way your simple black dress clung to every curve like it was painted on, hugging the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, the soft line of your thighs. “You put that thing on just to punish me. Don’t even try to deny it.”

You felt the heat crawling up your neck despite yourself. “It’s just a dress.”

“It’s a weapon,” his eyes kept roaming like he was memorizing you for later. Then his expression softened, just a fraction. “And just so you know, the sex wouldn’t be meaningless with you. Not even close. It would be… very, very meaningful.”

A small chuckle escaped your mouth, and you half-hearted swat at his arm. “Don’t try to seduce me. It’s not gonna work.”

He caught your wrist gently before you could pull away, brushing his thumb over your pulse point. A beat of charged silence stretched between you, then he shifted, leaning back on his hands, trying to look casual even though the tension was rolling off him.

“Okay. We should probably establish some ground rules. Before I lose what little self-control I’ve got left.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “Ground rules. Very mature of you.”

He shot you a half-amused look. “Kissing?”

You let the smile break free. “Allowed.”

Robby nodded once, like he was filing it away. “Second base?”

You tilted your head, considering, letting him sweat for a second. “We’ll see.”

His eyes darkened, and he exhaled through his nose. “Third base?”

“You’re pushing it, Robinavitch.”

He leaned in just a fraction. “I’m really good at third base.”

The confidence in it, cocky but earned, sent a fresh pulse of heat straight between your legs. You arched a brow, holding his gaze without flinching. “Then prove it. But after week seven.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a grin and losing. Finally, he nodded. “Week seven,” he leaned in just enough that your breaths mingled, but he didn’t kiss you. "I will."

When he walked you to your door afterward, he didn’t try for a kiss either. He just brushed a strand of hair off your face, grazing his thumb over your cheekbone for half a second, and said, “I had a really good time. Let’s do this again next week.”

After that, the rhythm established itself naturally. Every week, like clockwork, you found time. Sometimes it was a proper date: drinks at some bar near the shore with the city skyline glittering across the river, a late-night showing of some old film at a cinema where you shared popcorn and your knees kept touching the entire time. Other times, it was quieter, just takeout at your place after a brutal shift, tangling your feet under the coffee table while you binge-watched a crime documentary and argued about who the killer was. One time, he showed up at your apartment with grocery bags, insisting he was going to cook for you. He burned the vegetables and cursed under his breath, but the meal turned out surprisingly decent, and you ate it straight from the pan standing at the counter, chatting and laughing until your sides hurt.

You learned things about him in fragments: the foods he hated, the summers at his grandma’s house when he was just a child, and why he got into this job in the first place.

You noticed how, when he was anxious, he’d apply hand sanitizer and rub his palms together a little too long, to keep his emotions at bay whenever they threatened to spill over, like a tiny unconscious tic. Or how he was terrible at texting back quickly, but when he did, the messages were thoughtful, never one-word replies.

You opened up with him things, too. Told him about messy exes who’d left you shattered. Why you became a social worker after a rough childhood. How you check your phone every night before bed, terrified you’ll miss a call about a patient in crisis. 

The third date was different. It was a Saturday, and you met him at a park. He was already there when you arrived, leaning against a tree in a dark green jacket, two coffees in hand. You walked the trails for hours, talking about everything and nothing. When the sun started to dip, he stopped on a small wooden bridge over a creek. You were both quiet for a moment, just listening to the water.

He turned to you, looking at you with those soft eyes you couldn’t say no to. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart tripped over itself. You nodded. The first kiss was slow and careful, like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. He cupped the back of your neck, stroking the soft skin behind your ear with his thumb. When you finally pulled back, resting your foreheads together, he exhaled a shaky laugh.

“Been thinking about that since the day I met you.”

You smiled against his lips. “Good things come to those who wait.”

After that, kissing became part of the routine. Quick ones in the hospital corridors when no one was looking. Longer ones on your couch when a movie neither of you was watching faded into background noise. Stolen ones in the elevator when you were both going down to the cafeteria at the same time.

By week five, the tension was a living thing between you. It was a Thursday night. His place this time. He was off tomorrow, you had a rare three-day stretch, so you’d decided to cook together. 

Dinner was eaten at the small table by the window, and afterward, you migrated to the couch. You were curled against his side, his arm around your shoulders, tracing patterns on your upper arm.

It started sweet and innocent, nothing more than a soft kiss. Then another, hungrier, deeper. Robby slid his hot tongue against yours, and you shifted without thinking, turning fully into him. He splayed his hand across your waist, digging his fingers in possessively as he yanked you closer until your chest was pressed flush against his.

Before you could catch your breath, you were swinging a leg over, straddling his lap, sinking your knees into the couch on either side of his hips. The thick, rock-hard outline of his cock strained against his cargo pants, pressing right up against your clothed cunt. You rolled your hips once, then again, grinding down harder, feeling every inch of him twitch and throb beneath you.

A low groan rumbled from his throat straight into your mouth, vibrating through you. He shoved his palm under your shirt, sliding up your bare back as he gripped you tighter, urging you to keep moving.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dropping his head back against the couch as he jerked his hips up instinctively to meet your next grind. “You’re gonna make me lose it, baby… you’re driving me insane.”

You ground down again, rolling your hips in a filthy drag that let you feel every ridge of his cock. He clamped his fingers down hard on your hips, bruising in the best way, guiding you into a lazy rhythm, making you ride the fat length of him like you were already fucking. 

Robby latched his mouth onto the tender skin of your throat, sucking softly at first, then harder, grazing his teeth until he’d left marks on your skin.

“You’re torturing me,” he sounded wrecked against your collarbone. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is this. You on me. Under me. Bent over every surface in this house. Fuck, just… everywhere.”

His filthy words hit you like a punch, making your cunt throb against him. You kissed him harder, twisting your fingers tightly in his hair and yanking it just enough to rip a hiss from his throat. He slid one of his rough hands up your ribs, dragging his thumb deliberately under the swell of your breast, teasing the stiff peak through your thin bra until you arched into it shamelessly, chasing more of that sweet friction.

He squeezed your right breast hard, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, kneading and rolling it roughly like he was trying to brand his handprint there. Robby bucked his hips up at the same time, grinding the head of his cock right against your throbbing clit through the layers of your clothes. Even with the fabric barrier, you felt every pulse of him pressing insistently against your slick center, making your pussy clench around nothing.

Robby clamped his other hand down on your ass, spreading his fingers wide as he yanked you forward, forcing you to grind faster.

Even with his reputation preceding him, Robby had gone long stretches without sex in his adult life, but this was different, seeing you every week, being so close to you was slowly killing him. He had to swallow the animal urge to pin you against the nearest wall, yank your pants down, and bury himself so deep you’d forget your own name.

He was so pent-up it physically hurt. His cock stayed half-hard most nights, throbbing painfully against his lower stomach. The restraint was agony, his balls were full, heavy and aching, every pulse was a constant reminder of how badly he wanted to spread you open, lick into your wet pussy until you were dripping down his chin, then fuck you raw until he’d pumped you so full of cum it leaked out for days.

He’d jerk off in the shower sometimes, quick and furious, biting his fist to keep quiet, picturing your thighs clamped around his head while you rode his face. It never helped. The second he saw you again, the need roared back twice as vicious.

But then… something clicked. You froze, pushing gently at his chest to pull away. Robby stilled instantly beneath you, snapping his eyesopen, his pupils blown so wide they were almost black.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice a little unsteady. It was difficult to remember the rules you had established for yourself when Robby felt so tempting under you. “I should… I should probably go home.”

He blinked, dazed in a cloud of pleasure. “You really have to?”

You slid off his lap, feeling your legs shaky as you stood. Your shirt was rumpled, your lips swollen, and your hair a mess from his fingers. “The rule,” you reminded him, though your own body was screaming in protest. “Seven weeks.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, dragging both hands down his face. “Right. The rule.” He looked wrecked, his cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling too fast, the obvious bulge in his pants doing nothing to hide how affected he was.

You grabbed your jacket from the arm of the couch, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.” He stood too, wincing a little as he tried to adjust himself subtly. “Don’t apologize. A deal is a deal. I’m a man of my words.”

He stepped closer, not crowding you, just enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I really, really like you,” he said quietly. “Like… stupid amounts. I love spending time with you. The dates, the quiet nights. God help me, I even love losing our silly arguments. And I hate losing.” He gave you a small, crooked smile. “I love getting to know you. The way you hum when you’re concentrating. The way you steal my hoodies and pretend you don’t notice.” He took a breath, locking his eyes on yours. “So yeah. Even if you leave me here like a horny teenager who just discovered what a boner is… I’m still in. All the way. No rushing things.”

Your throat felt tight. You stepped into him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest. His heartbeat was fast under your ear. His arms came around you immediately, cradling the back of your head with one hand.

“I like you too,” you murmured into his shirt. “A lot.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I know. You’d be a fool not to.”

You stayed like that for a long minute, just holding each other, the tension from your shared desire easing into something more sweet and innocent.

Eventually, you pulled back. “I really do have to go. Got an early meeting tomorrow.”

He nodded, reluctantly letting you go. “I’ll walk you down.”

At your car, parked on the street right in front of his house, he kissed you again, softer this time, nothing like the hunger he’d shown you on his couch before.

“Two more weeks,” he whispered, half-laughing. “I can do two more weeks. I’m great. Abstinence is curing all my trauma. I feel reborn already.”

You grinned. “You’d better.”

He watched you drive away, standing under the streetlight until your taillights disappeared around the corner. In the quiet of your own apartment later, lying in bed, you realized something… You were not just waiting for seven weeks anymore. You were building something together.

The seventh week arrived on a Friday, exactly seven weeks from that first rain-soaked parking-lot promise. Tonight feels different from the start.

He texts you at 4:17 p.m., while you’re wrapping up notes on a domestic violence case that’s left your chest tight all day:

Dress nice. Pick you up at 7:30. I’ve got plans.

You choose the deep green velvet dress you’ve been saving, the one with thin straps, a fitted bodice, and a skirt that flares just enough to move when you walk. When you open the door at 7:29, he’s already there, ready to knock, but he freezes mid-motion.

Robby is in a navy suit, no tie, the top button undone, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and his hair is tamed but still has that just-raked-through-it look. He’s holding a bouquet of white roses, almost shyly.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his eyes instantly traveling over you in an appreciative sweep. “You trying to kill me before we even leave?”

You smile, taking the roses. “You clean up nice, too, Robinavitch.”

He steps inside just long enough to help you into your coat, allowing his fingers to linger at your collar, brushing the nape of your neck. The touch is electric after weeks of holding back. “Ready?”

The restaurant is one of those places you’ve only ever seen in movies. None of the men you dated before would’ve dreamed of bringing you here, too expensive, too formal, too much effort for what they were willing to give. Tonight, though, the candlelight flickers across the white tablecloths, and in the corner, a jazz trio plays soft music.

He’s reserved a corner table near the window. Dinner is luxurious. Wine, plates of charcuterie and truffle oil, handmade pasta, and tiramisu shared with two spoons. 

Conversation flows effortlessly, you talk about the week’s chaos, his patient with the ruptured aorta, and your achievement with a teenage girl who finally agreed to foster care placement. You laugh about stupid things too: the way he can’t pronounce Italian words correctly, or how you’ve started adopting his little mannerisms, like scratching your neck when you get shy.

But underneath it all is a hunger that gets louder with every passing minute. Every time your knees brush under the table, every time he reaches across to tuck your hair behind your ear, every time his gaze drops to your mouth like he’s remembering exactly how it tastes.

Dessert comes and goes. Coffee, a third glass of wine. The check arrives, and he pays without fanfare, then looks at you across the candlelight.

“So,” he says, “seven weeks. To the day.”

You lean forward, placing your elbows on the table, your chin on your laced fingers. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Thought you’d ghost me by now.”

He grins, shaking his head as he places a hand over his chest. “Ouch, you had that little trust in me? Told you from the first moment… this was different, and I’m never wrong.” 

“Give me your final evaluation, Dr. Robinavitch. How’d we do?”

He exhales a quiet laugh, rubbing his jaw like he’s thinking about it. Then he leans in too, close enough that you can smell his cologne, a smell that’s so familiar now. “I’m deeper in this than I’ve ever been with anyone,” he says without any hesitation. “I like you so fucking much it scares me sometimes. Not in a bad way—just… I’m used to you. Your laugh when I say something stupid. The way you steal half my blanket when we watch movies on my couch. The little crease between your brows when you’re reading a chart. I can’t picture waking up and not having that in my life anymore. I don’t want to.”

Your throat tightens, you want to speak, but you don’t interrupt. He keeps going. “That sex ban? It was brutal, I’m not gonna lie. But it was good. Really good. It forced me to stay. To talk instead of fuck my way out of feeling things. I had to learn you, really learn you. And I did. I do.” He pauses, locking his eyes on yours. “But I’m not gentlemanly enough to pretend I’m not dying here. I’ve spent the last seven weeks imagining every single way I want to take you home and rip that dress off you. Slowly. Then not slowly at all. I want my hands on every inch of you. I want to wake up tomorrow with your marks on my back and you on my bed.”

The words land like sparks, the heat floods your chest, your thighs, everywhere. You swallow, your voice coming out barely above a whisper. “Then take me home, Robby.”

His pupils blow wide. For half a second, he looks stunned, like he wasn’t sure you’d say it. Then he’s moving, standing, offering his hand, pulling you up with him. 

In the parking lot, he holds the passenger’s door open for you, and then rounds to the driver's side, starts the engine, and pulls out onto the street. You glance at him and feel a surge of boldness. Leaning over the console, you press a kiss to his jaw, soft at first, then trailing down to his neck. He inhales sharply, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Careful," he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Trying to drive here."

You hum against his skin. "You can handle it," you nip lightly at his earlobe, sliding your hand to his thigh, squeezing gently, feeling the muscle tense under your palm.

He lets out a groan, glancing at you sideways with heat in his eyes. Emboldened, you continue, peppering kisses on his neck, flicking your tongue to trace the curve of his ear. The car swerves just a fraction before he corrects it, chuckling breathlessly. "Okay, okay… Save some for when we're not moving at sixty miles an hour."

But you don't stop entirely, just slow down, brushing your lips over his skin in lazy patterns as the miles tick by. He finds your knee, stroking it in slow circles that mirror the rhythm of your kisses. 

Finally, he turns onto a quiet residential street in one of Pittsburgh's nicer neighborhoods and pulls into his driveway. "Home sweet home," he says, killing the engine and turning to you. 

Before you can respond, he's leaning over, capturing your lips in a kiss that's deeper than the ones before. He cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you melt into it.

You break apart only when breathing becomes necessary, both of you grinning like idiots. 

"Inside," he says. "Before the neighbors get a show."

You nod, fumbling with your seatbelt as he comes around to open your door again, placing his arm around your waist as he leads you up the porch steps. He fumbles the key at his door, cursing under his breath while you laugh against his neck. Then the door swings open and you’re inside, coats shed somewhere in the hallway, shoes kicked off, his mouth never leaving yours.

The hall is dark, but Robby confidently walks you backward toward the bedroom. The air in the room is charged with seven weeks of anticipation. Robby's hands are on you immediately, as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. He backs you against the door for a moment, pressing his body flush to yours, claiming your mouth in a kiss that's all desperation, tangling your tongues, teeth grazing, and breaths coming in gasps.

His fingers tremble slightly as he slides them up your arms, hooking under the thin straps of your green dress. He pulls back just enough to look at you. "God, I've waited for this," he murmurs with longing. "I can't believe I finally have you here. Like this. All mine."

The dress slips down your body in a slow cascade, pooling at your feet until you're left in black lace panties and bra. Robby's gaze rakes over you, hungry, almost feral. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, and you can see the restraint cracking in him.

You step forward, closing the distance, your hands going to his shirt. You unbutton it slowly, revealing inch after inch of his chest, the faint dusting of dark hair trailing down to his lower abdomen. His skin is warm under your fingertips, feverish almost, and he shudders when you scrape your nails lightly over his nipples.

"You were killing me," he breathes, tipping his head back as you push the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. "Every date, every kiss… Watching you walk away, knowing I couldn't have you. I wanted you so much it hurt. Physically hurt."

His words send a thrill through you, and so you sink to your knees before him. Your hands work his belt open with ease, the buckle clinking softly. He watches you, transfixed, one hand coming to rest lightly on your head, not guiding, just needing the contact.

You yank his pants and boxers down in one rough tug, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, rock-hard and aching, the thick length curving upward toward his stomach, veins standing out along the shaft, the fat and flushed head already slick and shining with a fat bead of pre-cum that drips slowly down the slit. The sight hits you like a punch, making your mouth flood with saliva, your cunt clenching hard and empty, dripping down your thighs in anticipation.

You wrap your fingers tight around the pulsing base, stroking once, twisting at the head, and Robby lets out a low groan in response, jerking his hips forward like he can’t help it, trying to fuck into your fist.

“Fuck—baby—” His voice is already ruined, desperate, and you’ve barely touched him.

You lean in close, letting your hot breath ghost over him first, then you flick your tongue out to lap at the salty, musky bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip. Then you open your mouth wide and take him in. His grith forces your lips to stretch tight around him as you slide down inch by throbbing inch.

“You taste so good, Robby.” You say, swirling your tongue around the swollen head, sucking lightly at first, teasing the slit, making his knees nearly give out as his whole body shudders, a choked sound ripping from his throat.

“Oh God—yes—fuck—” He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat like the pleasure’s too much, before snapping back open. He can’t look away from the obscene sight of your mouth stuffed full of him, lips shiny and stretched, cheeks hollowed as you start bobbing in earnest, taking him until he hits the back of your throat and you gag just a little, the sloppy sounds echoing loud in the small space.

He fists his hands tighter in your hair, holding on like you’re his only anchor while his thighs tremble under your palms, twitching his hips forward in shallow thrusts. Every time you suck harder and swirl your tongue, he groans like he’s dying, completely undone

"You have no idea… How many times I imagined this," he pants. "In the shower, at work… fuck,  I'd zone out thinking about your mouth. You're perfect— so fucking perfect."

You hum around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath. You take him as deep as you can, brushing your nose against the coarse hair at his base, and he chokes out a moan, thrusting into your mouth despite himself. Tears prick at your eyes from the stretch, but it's worth it for the way he's unraveling, his head thrown back, his free hand braced against the door for support.

But then his grip tightens, tugging you back gently but insistently. "Stop—wait, please—" His voice is desperate. You pull off with a soft pop, looking up at him questioningly. His chest heaves, and his cock twitches in the cool air, shiny from your mouth. "If you keep going, I'm gonna cum right now, and I—fuck, I need to be inside you. Need to feel you first."

The raw plea in his words ignites something fierce in you. You stand, feeling your legs a little shaky, and he pulls you into him, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue without a hint of hesitation. His hands roam your body, unhooking your bra with fumbling fingers, sliding it off, then hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs. You're both naked now, skin to skin, and the contact is electric.

He walks you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, until the mattress hits the backs of your thighs. You sit, then scoot back, and he follows, crawling over you like a man possessed. His weight presses you into the sheets, comforting and overwhelming. He kisses down your body with open-mouthed drags along the sensitive column of your throat, grazing his teeth over your racing pulse before he moves lower.

His lips map the line of your collarbone, sucking lightly enough to leave faint marks, then down to your breasts. He latches onto one stiff nipple with his wet mouth, swirling his tongue hard around the swollen peak before he sucks deep, pulling the bud tight between his lips with suction that makes you curl your toes. At the same time, his rough palm cups your other breast, kneading the soft flesh possessively,  pinching and rolling the neglected nipple until it’s throbbing and aching in rhythm with the one he’s devouring. 

You arch into him, a broken moan tearing from your throat as you dig your nails into the thick muscle of his shoulders, clawing at him like you need to anchor yourself or rip him closer, either way, you’re desperate. Every pull of his mouth sends electric jolts straight to your dripping cunt, making you grind your hips uselessly against nothing. 

"Been dying for this," he whispers against your skin, trailing lower, over your ribs, your stomach. "Every night, I'd lie here thinking about touching you. Tasting you. You drove me insane. I wanted you so bad I could barely think straight."

He slides his big hand between your trembling thighs, brushing his fingers against the drenched heat of your cunt, finding you absolutely soaked, your slick dripping down your folds, coating his palm in a slippery mess the second he touches you. 

A groan rumbles deep in his chest, like discovering your wetness is the single greatest thing he’s ever felt in his life. “Fuck, baby… you’re dripping for me. You wanted me this much?” 

You nod, and Robby parts your lips with two thick fingers, gently at first, spreading you open, exposing your pulsing clit to the cool air before he pushes them inside, stretching your tight, greedy walls. He curls them just right, hooking perfectly against that spongy spot deep inside, stroking it with firm pressure that sends white-hot stars exploding behind your eyelids and a fresh gush of slick coating his knuckles.

“Robby—Oh fuck!” You curse, bucking your hips up off the bed, chasing more of his fingers, more of that perfect friction while your cunt clamps down around him like it never wants to let go.

He watches your face intently, finding your clit and circling with perfect pressure, slow at first, then faster, matching the pump of his fingers. 

“Like this?” he asks as he scissors his fingers wider inside you, angling them higher, curling the tips harder. “Tell me what feels good, baby,” The dual assault is making you tear up.  “Use your words, let me hear how much you love it.”

“So good… fuck! Like that—yes yes yes—” you cry out, cracking into desperate sobs. 

"Look at you," he whispers. You can hear the desperation in his voice. "So wet for me. So ready. I can't believe I get to have you."

“Just like that… don’t stop, please…” You beg him as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core when he plunges his fingers, curling and scissoring them inside your soaked cunt. The lewd, squelching sounds of your slick fill the room.

He ducks his head, latching back onto your breast with hunger, grazing the swollen nipple before he sucks hard. At the same time, he presses his thumb down firmly on your clit, rubbing filthy circles that match the punishing rhythm of his fingers fucking into you.

"Cum for me," he pleads, almost begs, his own desperation bleeding through his words. "I need to feel it… need to know I'm making you feel good. Please, baby. Can you do that for me?"

It crashes over you. Your cunt clamps down hard around his fingers, spasming wildly as you come undone, your walls pulsing and fluttering in rhythmic waves that milk every inch of him. He doesn’t let up. Not even close. He keeps thrusting through the slick mess of your orgasm, curling against that good spot, grinding merciless circles over your oversensitive clit until every aftershock drags another whimper.

“Oh, God. You made me cum so hard…” You giggle, blinded with the disbelief of feeling this good for the first time. “I’m still shaking…”

When you finally collapse, he drags his fingers out slowly, inch by glistening inch, strings of your creamy release clinging to his knuckles. He brings them straight to his mouth and sucks them clean, swirling his tongue deliberately over every drop of your taste

"Taste so good," he says, completely lost in the moment. "I could do this all night. But fuck, I need you now. Need to be inside you before I lose my mind."

You pull him up, kissing him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips. "Get inside me," you manage to say through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Robby settles between your spread thighs, pressing his knees on the mattress as he notches himself right where you’re aching most. The thick head of his cock nudges your slick entrance, parting your folds. He drags the leaking tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your dripping arousal until every inch of him glistens, strings of your slick stretching obscenely between his cock and your greedy hole.

He pauses there, just barely breaching you, letting you feel the ridge of his crown stretching your tight ring of muscle, teasing you with the promise of being filled without giving it to you yet

He pauses, pressing his forehead to yours, your breaths mingling. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you've wanted me as much as I've wanted you."

"More," you breathe, framing his face with your hands, lifting your hips to try and get him inside you. "Now, Robby—please."

“Fuck, look at you… so wet, so ready to take every inch,” He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every rigid vein, every throbbing pulse as he stretches you around his girth.

Your walls try to pull him deeper while he holds your hips steady, controlling the pace, making you take it all in agonizing slow motion. The burn is perfect, your slick dripping down his shaft with every careful slide.

When he finally bottoms out, his hips flush tight against yours, balls pressed against your ass, you both let out a broken moan in perfect unison. 

"Fuck—" His arms tremble where they brace beside your head. "You're so tight… so hot. I can't—God, I can't believe I have you. You were killing me for seven weeks, walking away every time. I wanted to pin you down, make you mine right then."

He starts moving with punishingly deep thrusts that drag him along every nerve inside you, stretching and stroking your walls. Each pull-out leaves you clenching around nothing, dripping down your ass, before he sinks back in to the hilt with a wet slap of skin on skin.

“Right there—right fucking there—yes, yes, yes—” You wrap your legs tight around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back, digging your heels hard into the firm curve of his ass, pulling him deeper, forcing him to bottom out harder, grinding your clit against his pubic bone with every brutal roll of his hips.

He groans at the pressure, the way your pussy sucks him in deeper, and then he picks up the pace, snapping forward faster, until his balls are slapping wetly against your ass on every deep plunge.

"Feels so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "Better than I imagined… And I imagined a lot. Every night, thinking about you like this, wrapped around me, moaning my name."

The words fuel the fire, pushing you higher. You push at his chest. "Let me ride you."

He smiles as he flips you both effortlessly, so now you’re straddling him, your thighs spread wide over his hips, his fat length stretching you even fuller from this position, the blunt head kissing places inside you that make your vision flicker.

“Oh god… Robby, you feel so fucking good inside me…”

Robby clamps his hand down on your hips, digging in hard enough to bruise, guiding you exactly where he wants you. His eyes devour every inch: your flushed tits bouncing with each movement, the way your stomach trembles, the slick shine of arousal coating his shaft where it disappears into your hole.

You rise slowly, until just the head catches at your entrance, then you sink back down, taking him to the root in one plunge that makes you both groan. His cock throbs deep inside you, and the slap of your ass meeting his thighs echoes in the room as you start to ride him, rolling your hips in sloppy circles while he watches, mesmerized, like you’re the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

"Ride me… Yes, just like that—" He's babbling now, completely undone, his head thrown back against the pillows until his throat exposed. " Fuck, look at you… You’re so perfect."

“You’re so deep—fuck, I can feel you in my stomach…” You grind down, dragging your clit along the base of his cock, and then you pick up speed, bouncing harder, taking him to the hilt on every downstroke.

He digs his fingers deep into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he helps guide your rhythm, lifting you just enough before yanking you back down onto his length. He meets every bounce with an upward thrust of his hips, fucking up into you with precision.

You notice him locking his eyes on where your soaked pussy swallows him whole, creamy rings of your arousal frothing at the base of his cock with every punishing bounce.

“Use my dick, Fuck, you’re so goddamn good.. I'm close—fuck, so close—" His voice is wrecked, desperate. "You feel too good… Gonna cum inside you, fill you up."

“I can’t—too good—too fucking good—” You moan, and the way he jerks his hips upward to fuck into you, tip you over again.

You come hard, clenching around him, your vision whiting out. He follows seconds later, hammering into you in erratic stutters. His cocik swells even thicker as he unloads in heavy spurts, filling you with thick ropes of cum that seem to go on forever. You feel every fat jet deep inside you, the heat of it blooming against your walls.

You collapse forward onto his sweat-slick chest, both of you gasping for air. Robby buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard against your skin, while his cock still twitches weakly inside you.

Robby’s chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, with one arm wrapped around your waist before you shift slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can see his face. He looks wrecked in the best way, completely blissed out, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you watch him.

“Hey,” you say softly, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertip. “Promise me something?”

He hums. “Anything.”

“Don’t ghost me now that we’ve fucked.” The words come out quieter than you mean them to, but they land anyway. “Don’t disappear.”

He stills his hand on your back, and he shifts, rolling toward you so you’re face-to-face, your noses almost touching. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

You hold his gaze, searching for honesty.  “I need to know this isn’t the end of the version of you I’ve been getting for seven weeks.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he leans in, presses the softest kiss to your forehead, lingering there. “I know it’s gonna sound like the most cliché thing in the world,” he starts, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again, “but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before. Not just the sex, though Jesus, that was—”

He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he still can’t process it. “That was unreal. But it’s not just that. It’s everything about you. Being with you is different. I don’t feel like I’m running from my problems anymore. I used to, every time shit got real, every time someone got too close, I’d bolt. Find an excuse, pick a fight, disappear into work. Because staying meant dealing with the mess in my head, and I was terrified of that. But with you?”

Robby strokes your cheek again. “It feels like I’m choosing you. Every single day, because I want to stay. I want the mornings where we’re both half-dead and fighting over who gets the last of the coffee. I want the nights we do nothing but lie here and talk about stupid shit. I want your bad days, your good days. I’ve spent years convincing myself I wasn’t built for this, for someone to matter this much. But you make me want to be. You make me feel like I can be.”

He swallows, and you can see his eyes shining a little in the dim light. “So no,” he says firmly, “I’m not ghosting you. I’m not running. I’m right fucking here, and I’m staying. You’re stuck with me, okay? All of it. I’m choosing you. Every day.”

The words settle over you, comforting and easing all your doubts and fears. You feel the knot in your chest loosen, the old fear that always whispers “what if he leaves” starting to quiet.

You lean in, kissing him, tasting the truth of everything he just said. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his. “Okay,” you whisper, smiling against his lips. “I believe you.”

A/N: Uhhh, thank you so much for all the support and love on the first one-shot I wrote for Robby. I honestly wasn’t expecting it hehe, but it made me so happy. And since he’s my latest obsession, I can’t stop all the ideas for new fics from popping into my head. I’m feeling really inspired, so I’ll probably keep writing more stuff for him in the future.

Like I said, I’m new to the fandom. I’ve read a couple of fics, but I haven’t really had time to fully get into it yet. I mostly write whatever ideas pop into my head, so if I end up writing something that’s already been done a million times… sorry jskdjd 😭

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[oldermenfucker]

okay… just a quick munch!robby idea… cw: obv oral (f!), car sex, semi public sex lol / everyone say thank you to @loverwrites for starting the munch!robby agenda

The first time Robby told you about this ‘Robinavitch tradition’ you laughed lightheartedly, thinking nothing of it. You found it endearing and sweet, and in his words: essential.

He explained to you how his grandmother told him to break into new things he bought by doing something he liked with them like playing with his new toys or studying in his new sweatshirt.

But when you came around, the meaning began to change into something… less innocent.

The first time he showed you the tradition was when he bought a new phone and he asked if you’d like to take a selfie with him so the first picture in the new phone would have your memory in it.

Sweet, caring, very romantic. But that night he had you spreading your legs open while you held the phone and recorded him ravishing your cunt with his mouth, sucking on your nerves feverishly.

The second time was when he got his motorcycle and took you for a ride and showed off his skills, only to engulf your pussy with his lips and make your legs shake as he bent you over the seat of the bike. He was ravenous that night, like he had been starving himself for days just for this moment.

You came three times that night.

The tradition changed over time, it wasn’t doing something you liked anymore, it became ‘Robby eating you out until you couldn’t walk’ tradition.

Up to now that he has you bent over the middle console of the new car he got you for your birthday from the backseat, pants already down and his face buried between your thighs, breaking into the vehicle by doing something you both like — in his mind, there is nothing more he loves than feasting on your cunt — while you moan and push your hips back.

The position is… questionable, because he has to bend over just as much as you and keep you up at the same time, but he is not complaining as long as he gets to drink up your juices like a thirsty dog in the middle of the Sahara.

“Ugh, Robby–” you hiccup, pushing your ass back further into his face, enjoying the burn of his beard against your thighs as he shakes his head side to side and clutches your hips for dear life, “I’ll break the console if you stop!”

He doesn’t reply, he can’t even hear your words, and even if he does, he can’t process them because he is too deep into making you come to care about anything else.

“O-oh! ‘M coming, ‘m coming!”

Robby doesn’t let go of you when your orgasm has you trembling and crying out his name, instead, he latches his lips to your clit and sucks on the nerves until you are pushing his head away while whimpering.

“Jesus, Robby, that was–” you turn around and find him sitting back against the seat, beard soaked and hands playing with the flesh of your thighs, a satisfied smile on his face as he stares at your dripping pussy, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, and I’ve never been one to sleep on a family tradition,” he says breathlessly, grinning when you roll your eyes at him.

[kenziexoxoxo]

Robby Robinavitch x reader

Happy birthday

Yup dont own this picture

Warnings: SMUT

Happy of happiest birthdays to my dear friend @mibustore and in Spanish Feliz cumpleaños! 🥳🥳🥳🎉🎉🎉

She had one ask for her birthday spend the weekend in bed living off of cake and dick. Robby had to pull a lot of strings he knew he'd be working Christmas and Thanksgiving so Shen would work the weekend so he could have it off but thankfully Shen was very happy to help out.

Robby showed up at her place with a big ass cake and a smirk on his face. She opened her front door with her eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you doing here i thought you had to work." She said subconsciously fixing her robe it was a thin little thing she threw on after her shower. Robby smirked at her.

"Well I had to let Shen take the holidays off but me and you get the whole weekend to ourselves so you will get to live off of Dick and Cake sweetheart." He said sliding his body inside her apartment and moving to put the cake down on the counter she shut and locked the door trying not to giggle. He stalked up behind her and grabbed her around the waist his lips attaching to her neck. Her back was pressed tight to his chest her hands braced herself on the door as she moaned and he with deft fingers un did the ties on her robe letting it fall to the ground. He detechated his lips to take his shirt off his warm belly pressing into her back as he continued to kiss her neck.

He slowly man handled her towards the counter he easily spun her around and grabbing her lifting her up onto the counter he smirked at her.

He opened the cake and grabbed a spoon.

"Open up doll." He said watching as she opened her mouth so he could feed her. He un did his pants pushing them down with his boxers he was already hard he had been thinking about this all day planning it.

One hand grabbed his dick as the other grabbed her hip and slid into her. He grabbed another spoonful of cake and slipped it between her lips before he started pounding into her. She moaned around the spoon her eyes locking with his. He rolled his hips faster starting a pace he knew would have her breathless and cumming. He put the spoon down so he could grab her ass and fully fuck into her.

Her nails scratched into his shoulders as he fucked her one hand found its way to his hair as they kept eye contact. She moaned as he hit the perfect spot inside her. He reached a hand between their bodies and pinched her clit as he started to roll it between his fingers knowing it'd drive her feral. Her head tipped back as she moaned. She felt the heat building in her lower abdomen and it slowly made its way up her spine before bursting open and she saw stars her body locked up as she started to shake. Her orgasm tore through her like a bull in a China shop. He rolled his hips helping her through her orgasm and chasing his own. He gave a couple more thrusts before spilling inside her.

He pulled out cleaning her up. And taking her to bed.

Let's just say Monday when he walked in covered in marks everyone knew she had a birthday well spent.

[marvelous-slut]

Personal Pleasure - Doctor Robby Robinavitch x Reader

Ugh. He’s so hot. I’m just mad I can’t find the gif of him outside in season 2 with those tattoos showing, YUMMY!

Warnings: AGE GAP, reader is mentioned to be 25 and Robby is 50. Reader is a student nurse, Robby’s a dirty old man who discovers only fans. Talks of masturbation, Robby tells reader what he wants to do to them. No direct smut, I will be making a part 2 to this because I have an idea.

“New content release from Lunarlust is available now!” Robby reads the notification, wishing he would have silenced them before work this morning. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, feeling like a dirty old man after seeing it.

He never thought he’d be in this situation, a fifty year old man paying for Onlyfans. It was lame, who pays for photos and videos of women with all the free porn sites available now days? To him, this felt more personal and he needed something personal to keep him afloat. Porn was exploiting in his eyes and this was his way of feeling better about watching a woman half his age pleasure herself. At least he was supporting her directly, right?

────୨ৎ────

He found your page and it was all he needed, he almost scrolled when a photo of a woman in a baby doll come across his Twitter. No face of course, but he didn’t need a face. Your body was enough, the small freckles on different parts of your chest, the way the baby doll clung to your body and your hard nipples showed through the thin fabric and the tattoo of a crescent moon that was placed up your upper, inner right arm. The caption to the photo helped too, reading “Go on, indulge a little.” God knows Robby needed something to indulge himself in. He clicked onto your Twitter page, seeing the teasers. The photos were innocently positioned, light colored baby dolls being mainly what you wore. Before he knew it, he found himself downloading the app and paying the $8.99/month to subscribe.

That was two months ago. Since then, he has spent his fair share on private photos, videos and chats. His favorite that he had paid for being when he requested a video of you riding a dildo, keeping a light pink baby doll on and asked for you to moan the name Micheal as you did. He can’t count the times he’s gotten off to it, it’s a sickening amount.

────୨ৎ────

“Robby! I’ve got a student, she’ll be here for the next few weeks.” He turns to see you smiling sweetly, introducing yourself, he thinks of how beautiful you are and how sweet you speak. He pulls himself together, knowing Dana would have him by the balls if he let himself start flirting with her nursing student.

“Nice to meet you. Dana will take good care of you.” He keeps it quick, knowing if he stands her and looks at you anymore he will say something that will eventually get him scolded later.

────୨ৎ────

It’s almost time for the end of the shift and the day has been a shit show. You knew immediately the ED is not for you, missing when you were in the nursery dealing with babies but what solidified that it wasn’t for you, was when you were knocked down by a patient who the cops came looking for and decided to take off running. You hit the back of your head, feeling dazed as you did.

“Fuck.” You let out, rubbing the back of it. Dana sees what happens and helps you up, taking you into an exam room.

“Don’t worry, won’t be the first time.” You look at her with shock, “Sometimes, they do mean to hit you. Let me get one of the docs to come check you out. Take your coat off so we can get an accurate blood pressure.” You slip it off, waiting for her to come back.

She comes back with the man you knew as Doctor Robby. She puts the blood pressure cuff on, leaving it in place as she’s yelled for and runs out of the room. Robby preforms the neurological exams needed, you try to focus on passing but you’re a bit distracted by the size of his hands, his eyes and his tattoos. Pull it together, you think to yourself.

“Okay, everything looks good but you need to stay for a bit so we can check on you.” You sigh and throw your head back, forgetting for a second you just busted it on the hard floor. “Fuck.” You groan out. Robby stops for a minute, he knows that groan, he’s heard that word fuck from somewhere. He starts taking off the blood pressure cuff. As he does, he notices something that makes his heart drop, his eyes widen and he hopes you don’t notice.

A crescent moon. Right arm.

Surely this is not the same girl he watches get herself off, not the same one who sends him dirty messages helping him get himself off. The girl he has gotten off to multiple times. He decides to pry, just enough to confirm his suspicions.

“So I didn’t get to ask much about you earlier, how old are you?”

“I am 25.” You say, smiling as you do. “I took a few years off after high school so now trying to get myself a degree.”

25. He knows it’s you, he doesn’t need to see your face. The voice, the tattoo, the age. He feels his chest tighten, trying to get out of the room quickly to contain himself. He remembers reading it in your biography, you telling him it once in a DM.

“That’s, that’s great. Always good to further your education. Uh. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Okay Doctor Robby.” He exits the room swiftly, praying he can get to the bathroom before anyone notices the bulge in his scrubs.

────୨ৎ────

Robby was finally home, showered and in bed. He thinks back through the day. He thinks of you. The way you smelled, the innocent smile you gave him, the innocent eyes. No one would believe a girl like you did porn online. He just couldn’t believe he’d put a face to a name. He decides to check your page, finally looking at the new content he had been notified about. He feels himself harden at the photo, you’re laying in bed, breast exposed and arm behind your head exposing the tattoo. He also notices “online now” plastered on the top of your page.

“Loving the new post.” He sends, he knows it’s a bad idea. Especially now that he knows who you are. That you’ll be in his ED for the next 6 weeks, but he can’t resist.

“I haven’t heard from you for a bit, I thought you had forgotten about me. :(“ He reads the text, realizing he hadn’t talked to you in about a week.

“Oh baby. I could never forget about you. You make me feel too good.”

You had no clue who the man you’d talked to was, but he felt different from other men you talked to on the site. He was respectful, had a way about him that he seemed to want a woman to take care of, not be mean to like some disgusting messages you’ve received in the past. He always called you baby, praised your body and photos. He let you know how much custom videos meant to him (even if he paid for them). So you noticed when he was absent from your DMs.

“I could never forget you either. I’ve thought about you being buried inside of me more times than I’d like to admit this week.”

Robby knows better. He really does. He tells himself it’s a bad idea, but he sends it anyways.

Your eyes widen as you see the tip come across your screen.

“$500 sent for a tip.”

The next message makes you debate, heavily.

“You don’t have to, by any means of course if you aren’t comfortable. Is there anyway I could see the way you look when you cum? All of you. Face included.”

He’s nice enough. You have a decent amount of subscribers, the odds that you know him or he knows you are slim to none. Plus, $500 would be more than enough to help you with bills. It made you feel appreciated getting such a large tip from someone, the biggest you had gotten in the four months you’d been doing this.

“Anything for you, sir.”

Robby’s chest tightens as he reads the message.

“But, you’ll have to help me get there. Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

“I want to have you in the palm of my hand. I want to see how much pleasure I bring you when I am knuckle deep in your pussy. I want to hear you moan my name, begging me to pick up the slow pace, watch you as I take my time ruining you just by using my fingers.” You feel dizzy reading the message, as it’s mixed with the stimulation of your clit.

“I don’t want to brag, but I am well endowed. I would make sure you’re good and wet, stretched out just enough from my fingers before I slide my cock into you. I want to watch the gasp you let out when you feel every inch inside of you, begging me to move. I know you feel incredible, the thought of you wrapped around my cock drives me crazy. I’d tell you what a good girl you are, how pretty you look taking every inch of me.” You feel yourself getting close to an orgasm and turn your phone to record, using the front camera to show him how you’re touching yourself, as you reach your climax, you bring the camera to your face, moaning out in pleasure. Once you calm, you bring your fingers to your mouth, showing him how you taste yourself and hit send.

Robby cums as soon as he finishes the video, discovering that this is in fact his new favorite. He’s confirmed the pretty student nurse is in fact the woman who’s drove him fucking crazy over the internet.

“Fuck. You are beautiful. Such a pretty face. I just wish those fingers were in my mouth instead of yours.”

You can’t help but smile a little bit at the message. It was a nice pace from hearing “you’re so fucking sexy”, “you’re a dirty slut”, “nasty bitch”. In reply to your content. You know he was another man paying for you to touch yourself through the phone, but it felt different.

It felt personal.

It felt personal to Robby too, knowing now you were for sure the woman. His dazed mind from an intense orgasm and a long shift weren’t a good combination. Without much thought left in his mind, he forms a texts and hits send.

“Pretty girl, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Forgetting that he knew you, but you didn’t know he really knew you like this.

You open the text, feeling your chest tighten. It feels like you’re having a heart attack, when really you know it’s panic. See you tomorrow?

“What?”

Robby rereads his message, realizing what he’s done, he’s wide awake now. He looks at it, trying to think of a way to fix it. Something to say. Anything to say. He decides to say nothing, he puts his phone on DND and sets it on the bed side table.

Work and pleasure, it never did mix for him.

[marvelous-slut]

Personal Pleasure Pt 2 - Robby Robinavitch x Reader

Okay, ya’ll convinced me to turn this into a series. Not sure how far I’ll go, but I have some ideas and here is part 2! Read part one, here

WARNINGS: Dirty talk, Robby’s a little manipulative I feel like?, Mentions of readers boobs, readers thong. Readers kinda being manipulative too, but it’s well deserved by Robby

Robby wakes up, immediately remembering last night. He groans and covers his face with his hands. He grabs his phone and sees he has two unread messages from you.

“Is this a joke or something? Who is this?”

“Please just tell me who you are.”

He actually feels pretty shitty. He knows you probably sat up all night, thinking of who may know you, who’s seen you out, who’s messaged you on any other platform and then he realizes, he’s not blocked. Somewhere in his twisted mind, this is good. You were giving him a chance to explain himself. He does it quickly before he does end up blocked.

“Hi doll. I’m sorry to scare you. I was pretty tired from working and after seeing that pretty face… You can use your imagination. I meant I would see you tomorrow, as in content.” He hits send and adds in a tip, $150. He feels it’s appropriate since he’s probably kept you up through the night worrying that you have a stalker. He gets up, getting dressed for work, a little more pep in his step knowing you’ll be there.

────୨ৎ────

He watches you trying to keep up with Dana, he can tell you’re sleepy from your slowed reaction times. It’s when he starts to really feel bad. He looks at his phone, making sure he didn’t miss a message from you.

Nothing.

Maybe it’s not so bad, he thinks to himself. He can just move things into real life without admitting that he’s a pervert that’s been watching you on the internet. It’s a fresh start, it’s a wonderful idea.

Until he sees you finally sit down at the nurses station and pull out your phone. You look around before you open the message, smiling as you do. He notices you appear to be in deep thought. You close the phone, stand up and rush off to the restroom. He sits for a few moments, trying to focus on charting as he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He doesn’t want to answer it right away, afraid you’ll come busting back out of the bathroom and see him typing. He has to be smarter than this. He feels his phone buzz again, this time pulling it out.

“Lunarlust sent you a private message”

“Lunarlust has a new post”

He resists the urge to open the app, shoving his phone back in his pocket. Before he gets a chance to think, a woman comes in screaming that her husband needs help.

────୨ৎ────

It’s been a long day, but it’s almost time to go home. Robby looks over the urine culture for Mrs. Peters in room 14 south, deciding IV Ceftriaxone would be best for her severe UTI.

“Dana, can we get Ceftriaxone 1g in-“ He looks up to see you sitting alone at the nurses station, looking frightened as he comes out. “Where’s Dana?”

“Uh. She went to help Doctor Langdon. I was getting a drink so I just sat back down when I saw she was gone.” You feel nervous, unsure if it’s the fact the handsome Doctor was talking to you or the fact you knew little to none about IVs, how to set them, how to calculate medication with them and if he asks you to do anything with it you may die. He smiles, motioning you to follow him. Robby feels a bit of pleasure when he sees how quickly you jump to follow. He leads you to the med room, pushing back the thoughts of bending you over the counter and fucking you senseless as he does have a patient who needs the correct dosage of antibiotics. The two of you enter the room, it’s a little cramped but he doesn’t mind. Especially now that he can smell your perfume extremely well.

“Okay,” He starts, grabbing all the items needed for an IV insertion and getting into the medicine cart. “Have you ever done an IV?” You shake your head, he notices the eyes you make, like you’re scared he’s going to lash out and insult you.

“That’s okay, school never prepares you for the real thing and setting these rates can get tricky. It will take a few times before you’re even remotely comfortable doing it.” You were shocked at how much team work happened in The Pitt, other places you’d shadowed so far had been a shit show. Doctors cursing nurses, nurses not assisting patients because they “weren’t their patients”, CNAs ignoring call lights deliberately for the same reason. It was a chaotic environment in The Pitt, but refreshing to see. He sets everything out on the counter including his phone which has the calculator app already pulled up as he lays it down.

“Okay, so when you determine the drip rate in drops per minute you have to use this formula,” He starts, looking for a pen. “Well, first you need a pen and paper to write it down.” You giggle at him as he turns and searches for the items. His phone goes black after a minute since it hasn’t been used, your eyes can’t help but roam down when it lights back up with a notification from the weather app. You get closer and feel your heart drop, under the weather app is the familiar blue app you use with your user name.

“Lunarlust sent you a private message”

“Lunarlust has a new post”

What. The. Fuck! You think to yourself, not believing what is happening. You turn away, acting like you’re reading the “7 Rights of Medication Administration” Your mind is going insane. Was Doctor Robby the man you’d been talking to on the internet? The one you showed your face to last night?

No. You remind yourself, you remember the man you’d been talking to was named Micheal as he asked for a video of you moaning that name. You see he’s still under the counter looking for a pen in a large junk box and decide to walk back to his phone, hitting the side button to see what time the message was sent.

3 hours ago.

3 hours ago. It lined up perfectly when you had messaged the man back and told him you appreciated him letting you know about the misunderstanding, thanking him for the tip and letting him know you’d be eager to talk tonight.

This is bad. This is awful. You feel angry, betrayed, a little turned on. There’s a lot of things going through your head and you finally land on the best one.

It’s an advantage.

You weren’t dumb by any means, sometimes a bit naive but you knew when to play the field. You think about the situation and decide, Robby knows who you are, sure. He has seen every part of your body, asking for a picture of your face was just for confirmation. You think back and remember he had saw your tattoo and that’s when you think he put two and two together. He thinks he has the one up in this situation, but now it’s you. If he wanted to play games, you would play back. He finally turns around, pulling out a pen and paper.

“Here we go.” He writes down the problem used for IV calculations and explains everything. You really want to listen and understand, but there’s too many thoughts, ideas even, going through your brain for it to process.

“Thank you for explaining all this Robby.” You say, brushing the side of his arm as you grab the paper. “I think I’ll keep this as an example if that’s okay?” You look at him with the sweetest eyes you can muster up and see him shift around, crossing his arms as he looks away.

“Uh, absolutely.” You smile softly, sticking the paper into your pocket and leaning back onto the counter.

“So, is Robby short for something?” You ask. Let’s see if he cracks.

“Well, my last name is Robinavitch. So it’s short for that.” He says, he’s trying to avoid eye contact as he finishes spiking the IV bags. He knows if he does, he is going to fucking melt.

“So Robby isn’t your first name? I thought it was short for a first name, not a last!” You say, giggling as you do. Without thinking, he gives you a confession.

“My real name is Micheal, but I don’t go by that, usually.” There it is. Exactly what you need.

“Oh wow. Okay, I like it, Micheal.” You say as seductively as you can get out and he silently thanks God he is done fixing these fucking bags. “So when do you ever go by Micheal?”

“Uh. Professional things. Meetings, conferences. Things like that.” Yeah, surely not when you’re asking a young girl to moan out your name while she gets off on a dildo right? He opens the door, holding it for you as he does. “If you want, I’ll show you how to hang this and start an IV?”

“I’d love that, Micheal.”

────୨ৎ────

Robby has been thankful to be home from work many times in his life, but today he’s extra thankful. He’s thought about the moment of you and him in the med room since it happened. The way you brushed against him, how sweet your perfume smelled, how you had these big eyes that looked at him with curiosity and gratitude for showing you something new. He opens the message from you that was sent hours ago.

“Oh thank God. I was so worried I may have a stalker, I have really had a fair share of strange guys on here. I didn’t want to be disappointed by you. Thank you for another tip, I really appreciate it, but I think I appreciate the nasty thoughts you tell me about more…”

He checks your latest post too, a close up of a lilac colored thong hugging your ass perfectly. He feels his cock twitch in his pants. It’s worse now when he sees your photos because of how close he is daily.

“Sorry, sweet girl. Work was busy today. I’ve thought about you a lot today. Sorry again to scare you like that.”

You read the message and scoff, who does he think he is? Knowing he works with you and letting you think you had a stalker. Well, you give him a small amount of credit for owning up to it the next day, maybe he just fell asleep before he could explain what he meant.

No. Don’t let him make you feel sorry for him! You remind yourself that you have the power here and it’s time to use it.

“That’s okay, I’ve thought about you all day too. I can’t stop thinking about you.” You hit send, it’s enough to get the conversation going for the night.

“Can you tell me those thoughts baby? I’d love to hear what you’re thinking.”

$150 Tip Received.

You take a photo of your bare breast, making sure your tattoo is very visible as you do. You hit send and form a message out.

“I’ve thought about having you touching all over my body. How your hands would feel grabbing onto my tits, moving up and down my body. I’ve thought all day about how you’d take care of me, how you would touch me like no other man has before. How gentle you’d be with me, but also how you’d ruin me for anyone else.”

Robby is stroking himself to the photo and the words. He thinks of your face too, he thinks of how you smell, your voice, he now has a thought for any of the senses that he needs. He grips his cock tighter as he pictures himself buried deep inside of you.

“I don’t want to be too selfish, even if you’d let me be. I would want to worship your cock. I thought about how I would suck your cock, I’d want you to stand up, letting me be on my knees in front of you so you can look down at me. See how well I take you in my mouth. I know I couldn’t fit all of you, I would gag as you tell me to just take it easy.”

Robby is close, he can feel the climax right on the edge until he gets the next message. He feels his heart sink. His hard on, gone. His mind begins racing.

“I’ve thought about what you look like all day. I’d love to find out.”

Robby shakes any perverted thoughts out of his head. Fuck. This is bad. He puts his boxers back on, pacing around the room.

“Fuck!” He lets out. He feels his phone buzz and he opens the message.

“I understand if not, but you have drove me insane the last few months. I have never sent anything with my face in it on here, but you’re different. I feel different when I say these things to you, I actually want to do them. I’m not playing a part to anyone online and personally, you make me want to break any rules I’ve ever sat for myself. I want to see you, meet you, let you ruin me.”

He feels his chest tighten. He sets his phone down, lying in bed as he looks to the ceiling. He should have stopped when he was ahead, when he found out exactly who you were. As badly as he wants you, as badly as he wants to bring you here in his bed, fuck you till you don’t know anyone’s name but his, he has to be smart. He thinks of how this could blow up in his face, how it’s an HR nightmare. “Nursing student finds out ER Attending subscribes to her only fans.” It’s bad for everyone involved and the last thing he wants to do is for you to be hurt.

Little does Robby know, he’s not the only one who’s playing a game anymore. You look to see that he’s read the message, rolling your eyes and closing out the app for the night.

“Fucking chicken shit.” You say before turning off your bed side light and heading to sleep.

[amyzworldds]

Title: The Little Secret

Masterlist

At a chaotic idol game show, Seventeen’s wild maknae yn hides a massive crush on Stray Kids’ Bang Chan, keeping it secret from her 13 teasing members. Pairing: Seventeen x Bang Chan x 14 member Genre: Fluff, Humor

Seventeen had been buzzing with excitement all week—they’d been invited to a massive idol game show, a chaotic mashup of silly challenges, alongside other groups. The dorm was a whirlwind of practice runs and Hoshi yelling, “I’m winning the water balloon toss, no one stop me!” yn, their wild maknae, usually thrived in this madness, plotting pranks or hyping the boys with her unhinged energy. But today? She was hiding a secret that could unravel her in front of everyone: she had a massive crush on Stray Kids’ Bang Chan. And no one—not a single one of her 13 members—knew. She’d kept it locked tight, knowing full well they’d tease her into next year if they found out. “Hoshi oppa would make a weverse post about it,” she muttered to herself, shuddering. “Seokmin oppa would sing a love ballad in my face. Nope. Not happening.”

The day of the show arrived, and the group piled into their dressing room, a mess of hairspray, costume racks, and Mingyu tripping over a chair. Yn, usually bouncing off the walls, sat oddly quiet in a corner, twirling her hair. She sidled up to Joshua, casual as she could muster. “So, uh, Shua oppa… which groups are here today? Just curious.”

Joshua shrugged, adjusting his mic pack. “Oh, you know, the usual chaos crew. NCT Dream, (G)I-DLE, Stray Kids—”

“Stray Kids?!” Yn blurted, eyes widening before she caught herself. “I mean… cool. Coolcoolcool. That’s… neat.” She spun away, heart hammering, and beelined for her stylist. “Unnie! My makeup—it’s okay, right? Not too much? Not too little? Like, cute but natural? Please say yes.”

The stylist blinked, brush mid-air. “Uh, yeah, yn-ah, you look great. Why’re you stressing? You’re always fine.”

“Just checking!” Yn chirped, too high-pitched, then darted to Seungkwan. “Kwanie oppa, do I look good? Like, pretty? Tell me the truth!”

Seungkwan squinted, suspicious but sweet. “You’re gorgeous, yn-ah. Always are. What’s with you? You’re acting like it’s your first stage.”

“Just… feeling it today!” she said, flashing a nervous grin before bouncing to Vernon. “Bononie oppa, am I cute? Like, cute cute?”

Vernon tilted his head, chewing gum. “Yeah, dude, you’re adorable. Chill, you’re killing it.”

“Aw, thanks!” she cooed, clutching her cheeks. The members exchanged glances—yn was being sweet. Too sweet. Normally, she’d be wrestling Hoshi for the last snack or yelling at Dino to stop stealing her iced coffee. Something was up, but they let it slide, too busy hyping each other up.

Showtime hit, and the groups lined up for intros. Seventeen went full SEVENTEEN—Hoshi cartwheeled across the stage, DK moonwalked into a mic stand, Seungkwan struck a diva pose, and Mingyu tripped over nothing, earning roars of laughter from the other groups. Embarrassment? Not in their dictionary. Then came yn. Instead of her usual chaos—backflips, goofy faces, or yelling “CARATS, I LOVE YOU!”—she just… walked. Smiling softly, waving daintily, like a princess in a parade. The other groups blinked. The MCs blinked. Stray Kids, lined up nearby, tilted their heads. Bang Chan, standing at the front, smiled politely, and yn’s knees nearly buckled.

“What… was that?” Jeonghan whispered to Woozi as they sat down. “She didn’t even dab or something.”

“She’s being… cute?” Woozi muttered, frowning. “That’s not her.”

The show rolled on—races, trivia, a ridiculous dance-off—and yn was a shadow of herself. Shy giggles instead of cackles, timid steps instead of wild leaps. During a water balloon toss, she delicately handed the balloon to Jun, murmuring, “Careful, oppa,” instead of chucking it at his head like usual. The members were officially weirded out. Bang Chan, meanwhile, was obliviously charming across the set, laughing with his members and acing every challenge, while yn snuck glances, her cheeks pink.

Break time hit, and the groups scattered to their corners. Seventeen huddled, whispering furiously, while yn stood at a mirror, practicing a sweet, dimpled smile. “Okay, tilt head… soft eyes… ‘Hi, I’m yn!’—no, too loud, softer—‘Hi, I’m yn…’ Perfect.” She nodded, pleased, then turned to see 13 pairs of eyes staring at her.

“Yn-ah, you okay?” Seungcheol asked, arms crossed. “You’re acting… weird. Quiet. Shy. That’s not you.”

“Yeah!” Hoshi jumped in, flailing. “You didn’t even laugh when I slipped on the wet floor! You just… smiled! Are you sick?!”

“I’m fine, Cheolie oppa, Hoshi oppa!” she chirped, batting her lashes. She twirled to them, clasping her hands cutely. “Do I look cute? Like, super cute? Tell me!”

“You’re always cute,” DK said, squinting. “But this is… extra. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” she sang, spinning back to the mirror. “Just feeling cute today!”

“Liar,” Seungkwan accused, stepping closer. “You’ve been all timid and blushy since we got here. Spill it, yn-ah. What’s up?”

“Nope!” she said, popping the ‘p’ with a grin. “No spilling! I’m good! Perfect, even!” She wouldn’t budge—Bang Chan was right there, across the room, and she wasn’t about to let her crazy side loose. No way was her crush seeing her tackle Mingyu or scream-laugh at Hoshi’s antics. She’d be cute, poised, normal—for once.

The members weren’t buying it. “She’s hiding something,” Vernon whispered to Dino. “She keeps looking over there—” He nodded toward Stray Kids, chatting in their corner.

Dino gasped. “You think… a crush?!”

“No way,” Jun scoffed. “She’d tell us. Right?”

“Would she?” Jeonghan smirked. “She knows we’d tease her ‘til she cries.”

The show resumed, and yn’s shy act held—giggling softly at the MC’s jokes, waving cutely at the crowd, avoiding her members’ probing stares. During a team relay, she “accidentally” ended up near Bang Chan, who smiled and said, “Nice job out there!” yn squeaked, “T-thanks!” and bolted back to her spot, face flaming. The boys clocked it, eyes narrowing.

The game aftermath had Seventeen buzzing with suspicion, but yn was determined to keep her Bang Chan crush under wraps. Backstage chaos reigned—idols mingling, staff rushing around, and her members still whispering theories about her shy act. She needed a safe zone, so she stuck close to Minghao and Wonwoo, the group’s quietest duo. They weren’t the type to pry or tease her into oblivion like Hoshi or Jeonghan would. With them, she could breathe, maybe even vent a little without risking a full-blown interrogation.

The three of them were tucked in a corner near the dressing rooms, away from the main bustle. Yn was mid-ramble, pacing as she talked. “So, Hao oppa, Wonwoo oppa, I was thinking—maybe we should do a chill tiktok next time, you know? Like, just vibes, no crazy stunts. I’m kinda over falling on my face for views—” She took a step back, gesturing wildly, and thud—slammed right into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” a warm voice said behind her. Yn spun around, and her eyes ballooned to cartoonish size. It was Bang Chan. Stray Kids’ leader, her secret crush, standing there in all his dimpled, apologetic glory, smiling sweetly at her. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you—my bad!”

Her heart did a triple backflip. Her cheeks flared redder than a stoplight. “I—uh—n-no, it’s fine!” she squeaked, voice cracking like a middle schooler’s. She stumbled back, one hand clutching her chest, the other flailing until it latched onto Minghao’s arm for dear life. “Ohmygodohmygod,” she wheezed, hyperventilating as Bang Chan gave a little wave and walked off, oblivious to the meltdown he’d triggered.

Minghao steadied her, eyebrows shooting up, while Wonwoo tilted his head, peering at her like she was a science experiment. “Yn-ah… you okay?” Minghao asked, voice calm but laced with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna die,” she gasped, gripping his arm tighter, her other hand still pressed to her racing heart. “Hao oppa, Wonwoo oppa, this is the best day of my life. He smiled at me. He talked to me. I’m—I’m ascending!”

Wonwoo blinked, then let out a low chuckle. “Wait… is this why you’ve been all shy today?”

Minghao’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, I see it now. Bang Chan, huh? That’s the big secret?”

Yn’s tomato-red face snapped between them, panic setting in. “Shhh! SHH! No, no, no—don’t say it out loud!” She flailed her free hand, nearly smacking Wonwoo. “You can’t tell anyone! I trust you two—you’re the quiet ones! Please, oppa, keep it secret! If Hoshi oppa finds out, I’m done for—he’ll never shut up!”

Minghao burst out laughing, a rare full-on cackle, while Wonwoo’s deep laugh rumbled beside him. “Oh, this is too good,” Minghao said, wiping a tear. “You’re a mess, yn-ah. Look at you—clinging to me like a koala ‘cause Bang Chan said ‘sorry’!”

“It’s not funny!” she whined, but her pout only made them laugh harder. “He’s so nice, and I’m dying, and you’re laughing? Rude!”

“It’s hilarious,” Wonwoo deadpanned, grinning. “You went from ‘crazy maknae’ to ‘blushing schoolgirl’ in two seconds. We’ve got blackmail material now.”

“NO!” Yn yelped, letting go of Minghao to grab Wonwoo’s sleeve instead. “You can’t! I’ll—I’ll bribe you! I’ll do your chores! Just don’t tell the others!”

Across the room, the rest of Seventeen clocked the commotion. Hoshi perked up, squinting. “What’s going on over there? Why’s yn red? And why’re Hao and Wonwoo laughing?”

“She’s freaking out about something,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “She’s been weird all day—look at her grabbing them like that!”

“Did she trip again?” Mingyu asked, craning his neck. “She’s not yelling, though. That’s sus.”

Seungcheol frowned, arms crossed. “They know something we don’t. She’s been dodging us since the show started.”

“Bet it’s a crush,” Jeonghan teased, smirking. “She’s got that blushy vibe. Who’s the lucky idol?”

“No way,” Dino scoffed, but he looked unsure. “She’d tell us… right?”

Yn, catching their stares, panicked. “Shhhh, oppa, stop laughing—they’re looking!” she hissed, shoving Minghao and Wonwoo behind a rack. “Act normal! Please, I’m begging you!”

Minghao grinned, patting her head. “Relax, yn-ah. Your secret’s safe with us. For now.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo added, smirking. “But you owe us. Big time.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Why did I pick the quiet ones? You’re evil!”

“We’re quiet, not saints,” Minghao quipped, still chuckling. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

The members kept staring, whispering theories—“She’s definitely hiding something,” “Maybe she ate Hoshi’s snacks again,” “Nah, it’s bigger than that”—but YN stayed glued to her safe duo, heart still racing from Bang Chan’s smile. She peeked through her fingers, muttering, “Best day ever… worst day ever…” Minghao and Wonwoo snickered, already plotting how to milk this secret without spilling it—yet.

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

The second break of the game show was winding down, and the backstage area was a flurry of idols grabbing snacks, fixing hair, and dodging staff with clipboards. Yn, still reeling from her earlier Bang Chan collision, had ditched Minghao and Wonwoo for a solo mission to the snack table. They’d wandered off to chat with some members, leaving her defenseless—and starving. She spotted a lone bag of spicy chips on the table, the last one, and grinned. “Finally, something good,” she muttered, reaching for it.

Her hand brushed against someone else’s, and their fingers tangled around the bag. She froze, eyes darting up, and—oh no—it was Bang Chan. Again. Standing there, all dimples and charm, his hand still on hers. Her heart somersaulted into her throat, her cheeks flaring redder than a chili pepper. “S-sorry!” he said, pulling back with a sheepish laugh, holding the chips out to her. “You take it—I didn’t mean to steal your snack!”

“N-no, it’s fine!” yn squeaked, shoving it back at him, her voice cracking like a rusty hinge. “You have it! I’m good!”

“No, really, it’s yours!” Bang Chan insisted, pushing it toward her again, his smile widening as he watched her blush deepen. The bag ping-ponged between them, back and forth, earning a full-on chuckle from him. “Okay, this is ridiculous—should we split it or what?”

Yn’s brain was a puddle. Split it? With Bang Chan? She nodded dumbly, clutching the table for support as he ripped the bag open and handed her half. “T-thanks,” she mumbled, staring at the chips like they were a love letter. He was looking at her—laughing at her blushy mess—and she was dying inside, but in the best way.

“So, how’s it going?” Bang Chan asked, popping a chip in his mouth, casual as ever. “You’re killing it out there—seventeen always so fun to watch.”

Her smile went full wattage, shy but beaming. “Oh, uh, thanks! It’s… chaotic, but fun! How about you? Stray Kids is amazing—I mean, you’re amazing—uh, I mean—” She clamped her mouth shut, mortified, as he grinned.

“Thanks, that’s sweet,” he said, unfazed by her stumble. “How’s it living with 13 older brothers? I’ve met a few of them—Vernon and Joshua, mostly. They’re a lot.”

She giggled, loosening up a fraction. “Oh, they’re insane. Hoshi oppa once tried to do a backflip off the couch and broke a lamp. Seungcheol oppa yelled at him for, like, an hour. And Mingyu oppa—he’s tall but trips over air. I love them, but they’re a circus.”

Bang Chan laughed, leaning closer. “That sounds like a riot. I’ve got my own chaos with the kids, but 13? You’re a saint.”

“Nah, I’m just loud,” she said, blushing harder but warming to the chat. “They say I’m the noisiest, but I think DK oppa wins that one—he sings in his sleep sometimes.”

“No way!” Bang Chan cackled, his eyes crinkling. “That’s gold. You’ve got stories for days, huh?”

She nodded, grinning like an idiot, her heart doing cartwheels. He was so easy to talk to—funny, sweet, perfect. She forgot the world for a moment, lost in his laugh, until—

“OH MY GOD, I KNEW IT!” Hoshi’s voice exploded from the corner, shattering her bubble. He was pointing while vibrating at her like a detective cracking a case, eyes wild. “IT’S BANG CHAN! I KNEW IT WAS BANG CHAN!”

Yn’s soul left her body. She whipped around, chips spilling from her hand, as the SEVENTEEN members swarmed like piranhas. “Hoshi oppa, NO!” she yelped, but it was too late.

“Bang Chan?!” Seungkwan shrieked, clutching Jeonghan’s arm. “That’s why she’s been all blushy and shy?! OH, THIS IS PERFECT!”

“Yn’s got a crush!” DK sang, twirling like a giddy kid. “Yn and Bang Chan, sitting in a tree—”

“STOP!” she wailed, flailing her arms, her face now a furnace. Bang Chan, beside her, laughed harder, clearly amused but not helping her case.

Mingyu bounded over, grinning. “Wait, wait, wait—so that’s why you’ve been ‘cute yn’ all day? Asking us if you’re pretty? For him?!”

“I hate you all!” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare!”

“A cute nightmare!” Seungcheol teased, ruffling her hair. “Aw, our maknae’s in love! Bang Chan, you’ve got a fan!”

“Shut up, Cheol oppa!” she hissed, swatting him away, but the teasing train had no brakes.

Hoshi darted closer, pointing between them. “I saw it! The chip hand-holding! The blushing! You’re busted, yn-ah! How long were you hiding this?!”

“Forever, and you ruined it!” she shot back, stomping her foot. “You’re the worst!”

Bang Chan, still chuckling, waved a hand. “Hey, I’m flattered, honestly. She’s cool—don’t tease her too hard.”

“Too late!” Jeonghan called, smirking. “She’s ours to torture now. Right, Wonwoo? Hao?”

Wonwoo and Minghao, rejoining the chaos, grinned like devils. “Oh, we knew,” Minghao said, crossing his arms. “She’s been a mess since you bumped into her earlier.”

“YOU TRAITORS!” yn gasped, pointing at them. “I trusted you!”

“We didn’t tell,” Wonwoo said, smirking. “Hoshi figured it out himself.”

“Detective Hoshi strikes again!” Hoshi crowed, striking a pose. “I’m a genius!”

“You’re a menace!” yn retorted, but her pout only made them laugh harder.

Dino sidled up, grinning. “So, yn-ah, you gonna ask him out now? Since it’s all out there?”

“NO!” she yelped, shoving him. “I’m moving to Antarctica! Goodbye!”

Bang Chan, ever the gentleman, smiled at her. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. It’s cute—I like your energy.”

Yn’s jaw dropped, and the members erupted again. “HE LIKES HER ENERGY!” Seungkwan screamed, clutching Vernon. “SHE’S DONE FOR!”

“I’m dead,” Yn muttered, sliding down to sit on the floor, chips forgotten. “Officially dead.”

The break ended, but the teasing didn’t. As they shuffled back to the set, the members kept it up—DK humming a love song, Hoshi chanting “Yn and Bang Chan!” like a cheerleader, Seungcheol fake-scolding her with a grin. Bang Chan shot her a playful wink from across the stage, and she groaned, hiding behind Minghao. “Best day ever… worst day ever,” she mumbled, while her members cackled, plotting a lifetime of torment.

Her secret was out, and Seventeen was never letting it die.

[lovelyflower23]

Imagine being the “Weird” Swan and Paul Lahote’s imprint:

You’re weird to other high schoolers, not to people who aren’t judgemental when they learn you grow herbal plants in your garden. (Like there are tomatoes and pumpkins in there too.)

Many older people in town actually buy from you and the potions you playfully call them. 

It isn’t so playful when you learn that you are actually a bit of a witch but like an Earth/Green witch, and it explains why your garden grows so well.

You don’t fully find out until your half-sister Bella comes to town and her trouble seeking behavior triggers it like the increase of wolves and vampire sightings. 

Your mother was a Green witch too, but she died due to a sickness leaving you in the care of your father Charlie.

It was one night after his Renee left him the first time when he asked her to marry him and said she couldn’t, that he met your mother. (One night turned into a baby then a four year old who was taken in by Charlie.)

You’re the same age as Bella since the only reason her terrible mother came back was because she was pregnant with Bella.

After Renee leaves with Bella, leaving Charlie heartbroken he gets a call about you and immediately brings you home. (You were like his little saving grace because it felt like you only had each other in the world now.)

You are obviously the favorite whereas Bella and Renee hated the news that Charlie had another daughter like [Renee words: “How dare you do this to Bella, who needs more love than that one!] 

Charlie is your #1 defender, so if they ever bad month you in front of him, he is fighting back for you. (Even he can see that Bella is a brat and that’s his kid but like you’re his baby.)

You’re the type to cook around the house and clean willingly to test out new products. (An example is you finding a new recipe or if the mixture of lemon and rosemary helps with stains.)

At home you seem like the perfect daughter when she moves to Forks, so she is happy that the school thinks you’re “weird” aka her terrible friends. 

She does tell you to distance yourself from her in school because you bring too much attention to yourself despite her being the (plain) interesting new girl in school.

However, not only are you the favorite with Charlie, but with the Cullens as well. (Bella’s jealousy is at 68%, by the time she finds out Carlisle has you as an intern and the pack adores you it reaches 110%.) 

[Good because Bella should die of Vampire AIDS for being the worst next to her mother.]

You don’t think badly of Bella, you’re just sad that she refuses to be your sister and you just accept it.

Accepting is a little complicated on Paul’s part, who is outrageously protective of you. 

He met you after he became part of the pack, and believed he was too good to be tied down with an imprint, yet the universe laughed and sent him your way.

You work in a tea shop for this nice old lady and people go there to be “trendy”, so this girl that Paul was on a date with picked your tea shop and when his eyes locked with yours his whole world flipped and that boy ran out that tea shop so fast. 

Sure he had seen you around the reservation and La Push beach with Jacob, Embry, and Quil or walking out of the Clearwater house but he never spoke to you until that day. 

When you brought it up to Leah (since the Clearwaters were like a second home to you), she scoffed telling you Paul Lahote was a womanizer and not to trust anyone of those douchebags that hung out with Sam. 

You know she was just saying that out of hurt over what happened, but Seth also nosey told you that Paul was probably bad news. (It may be because Seth has a crush on you that all older boys you seem interested in are the enemy.)

With an increase in murders and your dad and sister never being home, you’re on the reservation for safety reasons and for that reason is why Paul feels he needs to be by your side more. 

He didn’t fully accept the fact that you were his imprint, but he warmed up to the idea of hearing your giggles on the beach and the way your smile was the only light on that gloomy day. 

He needed to know you, and you were curious about his handsome boy that you started seeing around every corner.

[gyukimja-deactivated20251217]

A Father's Strength, A Mother's Heart - Scoups x Reader

The moment the front door slammed, you flinched. Your teenage son stomped down the hallway, his voice raised something about school, rules, and how “Mama never understands.”

You kept quiet, trying not to let your frustration show. You’d been patient all day, talking to him softly, trying to help him. But when he suddenly snapped “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! it stung more than you wanted to admit.

Before you could say another word, a deep voice echoed from behind him.

“Hey.”

Your son froze.

Seungcheol stepped out from the living room, tall and composed, but the seriousness in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn’t angry — he was disappointed. And for your son, that was worse.

He crossed his arms. “Is that how you talk to your mother?”

“Papa, I—”

“No.” His voice sharpened. “Answer me.”

Your son lowered his eyes. “No…”

“Look at her.” Cheol tilted your son’s chin up slightly. “Your mama does everything for you. She wakes up early for you, she worries about you, she cares about you even when she’s exhausted. And this is how you talk to her?”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing when Seungcheol’s hand slipped onto your back, rubbing small circles — comforting you even while lecturing your son.

Your son’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Mama…”

But Seungcheol wasn’t done. “You don’t get to shout at her. Not in this house. Not ever.” His tone softened, but the firmness stayed. “If you’re stressed or upset, you talk. You don’t raise your voice at the person who loves you the most.”

Your son nodded, wiping his eyes. “I know… I’m sorry.”

Cheol finally sighed and pulled him into a hug — always strict, but never cold. “I’m not mad you’re upset. I’m mad you hurt her while you were upset. You understand?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Now go clean up and come back when you can talk properly.”

Your son went upstairs, quiet and remorseful.

The moment he was out of sight, Seungcheol turned to you. His stern facade melted instantly as he cupped your cheek gently.

“Baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing your skin, “are you okay?”

You nodded, but your eyes were a little shiny.

Cheol pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you, protective and warm. “I’ll handle him. You don’t deserve to be shouted at, love.”

You exhaled into his shirt, finally letting out the tension you’d been holding all day. He kissed the top of your head softly, his voice low and full of warmth.

“I’ll always protect you,” he murmured. “Even from our kids.”

You chuckled weakly, and he tilted your chin up for a soft, reassuring kiss — slow, warm, the kind that told you he adored you more than anything.

“Let me take care of you, honey,” he whispered. “You’ve been holding everything alone today. Not anymore.”

And in his arms, everything suddenly felt lighter.

When the house finally grew quiet, you sat at the edge of the bed, hands clasped together. The room felt heavy like guilt had wrapped itself around your chest.

You didn’t hear Seungcheol come in until the mattress dipped beside you.

“Baby…” he murmured.

You shook your head quickly, wiping your cheeks before he could see. But he always sees.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently taking your hands. “Look at me.”

You kept your gaze down.

“I’m… I’m a bad mom, Cheollie.” Your voice cracked. “He yelled at me because I can’t even discipline him properly. I try… I try so hard. But maybe I’m just not good at it.”

The second the words left your mouth, his expression changed — not with frustration, but with something fierce and protective, like someone had just insulted the person he loves most.

He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you *ever* say that again,” he said softly but firmly. “Not even as a joke.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. “But—”

“No.” He shook his head, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if wiping away every drop of doubt.

“You are an incredible mother. He loves you. He depends on you. When he’s scared, he wants you. When he’s sick, he wants you. When he needs comfort, he calls for you.”

You sniffled. “Then why did he shout at me today?”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours.

“Because he’s growing up. Because he’s overwhelmed. Because he’s figuring things out and he doesn’t know how to manage his feelings yet.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly. “It has *nothing* to do with you not being a good mother.”

Your voice trembled. “I feel like I failed him…”

Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around you immediately, pulling you onto his lap as if he needed you close to remind you of your worth.

“You didn’t fail anyone,” he whispered into your hair. “You are the heart of this family. You love him, you guide him, you show him patience every single day. That is discipline, baby. That is parenting.”

You buried your face in his neck, your tears soaking into his shirt. He just held you tighter, one hand stroking your back, the other cradling your head.

“You don’t have to be the strict one,” he murmured. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll be firm when he needs it. You be soft. Together, we balance him. Together, we’re his parents.”

Your breath hitched. “But it hurts when he shouts at me…”

Cheol kissed your temple slowly, gently, as if soothing each bruise your heart felt.

“I know,” he whispered. “And that’s why I’ll always step in. I will never let him disrespect you. Not now, not ever.”

He tilted your chin up. “I’m your husband before anything else. Protecting you is my job.”

You felt his warmth, his sincerity, his love wrapping around every broken piece.

You whispered, “Cheollie…”

He brushed a kiss across your lips, slow and tender.

“I love you, baby. You’re doing so well. You’re doing more than enough.”

You rested your head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart — a constant reminder that you weren’t alone.

Then, as if on cue, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Papa… Mama… can I come in?”

You stiffened, but Seungcheol squeezed your waist gently.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m right here.”

The door opened slowly, and your son stood there with red eyes, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of his shirt. He looked much smaller than he did an hour ago.

“Mama… Papa…” he whispered.

You shifted slightly, but Seungcheol kept his arm securely around your waist, grounding you, letting you know you didn’t have to handle this alone.

Your son stepped inside and took a shaky breath. “I… I’m really sorry.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Seungcheol gently ran his thumb over your hip — a silent signal.

Let him talk. I’m here.

Your son’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to shout at you, Mama. I was stressed and mad and I just… I took it out on you. I know you didn’t deserve that.”

Your heart squeezed, but guilt still lingered. “Sweetheart, I—”

Again, Cheol soothed your thigh softly. He leaned forward slightly.

“Tell her what you understand now,” he encouraged your son, voice calm but full of authority.

Your son nodded quickly. “I understand that Mama tries really hard. You do a lot for me. You always listen. You always help.” His voice cracked. “And I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, Mama.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but this time, they weren’t from guilt — they were from finally hearing what you needed.

Seungcheol squeezed your waist, whispering softly, “It’s okay to cry, love.”

Your son walked closer, hesitating. “Can… can I hug you?”

You nodded, opening your arms. He stepped into your embrace, burying his face against your shoulder like he did when he was little. You held him gently, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “I didn’t know how to help you today.”

Your son shook his head against your shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Mama. I just… didn’t know how to talk.”

Seungcheol placed a big, warm hand on both your backs, grounding the moment.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now we talk properly. No yelling. No disrespect.” Then he gently tilted your son’s chin up. “And when you’re overwhelmed, come to Mama or me. Don’t explode alone.”

Your son nodded.

Seungcheol’s tone softened even further. “Your mama loves you a lot. She tries hard every day. I want you to see that, and treat her with the respect she deserves. Understand?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” He patted his son’s shoulder and nodded toward you. “Now tell her what you’ll do next time.”

Your son swallowed. “Next time… I’ll talk. Even if I’m angry or stressed. I’ll… try my best not to shout.”

You smiled through tears. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He hugged you again before leaving the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

The moment he left, your body slumped, all the tension releasing. Seungcheol immediately pulled you onto his lap, both arms wrapping around you protectively.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “See? You didn’t fail him. You taught him. You just needed someone to catch you too.”

You exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Cheollie…”

He kissed your shoulder softly, then your cheek, then your lips slowly, warm, healing.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured. “For you, for him, for every hard moment. You’re not alone, love.”

He rested your head against his chest, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispered. “You’ve carried enough.”

When the door clicked shut behind your son, the room fell quiet again. You stayed curled on Seungcheol’s lap, your cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the warm, steady beat of his heart. It was the one sound that always made you feel safe.

Cheol stroked your back slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been carrying too much today, baby. Let me take over now, hmm?”

You nodded weakly against him.

He slid one hand under your thighs and the other behind your back, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped softly, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Cheollie—”

“Let me spoil you,” he murmured. “You deserve it.”

He carried you to the bathroom, warm lights glowing softly as he set you gently on the counter. He brushed a thumb over your cheek, wiping the last of your tears.

“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “Even when you feel like you’re not.”

Then he turned and began running a warm bath, adding a small splash of your favorite scent. Steam slowly filled the room. When he came back to you, he stood between your knees and kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips softly, slow, lingering.

“Let me undress you, love.”

His fingers were gentle, never rushed, every action done with care. When you were settled in the warm water, you let out a shaky breath, your whole body relaxing for the first time all day.

Seungcheol rolled up his sleeves and kneeled beside the tub, dipping a cup into the water and pouring it slowly over your shoulders.

“You’re tense,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

His hands massaged your shoulders, thumbs working small circles that made your eyes flutter shut. No words, just soft touches and his steady presence beside you.

When you finished, he wrapped you in the warmest, fluffiest towel he could find and dried you gently—like you were something precious he didn’t want to mishandle.

He carried you again, this time to your bed, settling you under the blankets. Then he climbed in beside you, pulling you against his chest so your head rested over his heart.

His hand slipped under your shirt to rub slow, comforting circles on your back.

“You’re such a good mother,” he whispered against your hair. “And an even better woman. I’m so damn proud of you.”

You closed your eyes, tears escaping again—but soft ones this time.

“I just… love him so much,” you murmured.

“I know,” Cheol whispered. “And he loves you. A lot. Today was just one tough moment. But you handled it. And I’ve got you through all the hard ones.”

His lips brushed your forehead.

“I’ll always choose you first, baby. Always protect you. Always comfort you.”

You nuzzled into him, feeling his warmth, his strength, his unwavering love surrounding you.

“And tonight,” he continued softly, fingers brushing your waist, “you fall asleep in my arms. No stress, no guilt. Just us.”

You looked up at him, eyes glossy but peaceful now.

“I love you, Cheollie.”

His mouth curved into a soft smile before he kissed you—slow, deep, with all the reassurance and devotion you needed.

“I love you more, baby,” he whispered. “Now sleep. I’ve got you.”

And you drifted off with his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heartbeat steady against your ear, and his presence comforting you until the world felt gentle again.

You woke up to the soft smell of something warm and buttery floating through the room. When you blinked your eyes open, the first thing you saw was Seungcheol sitting at the edge of the bed, quietly watching you.

His voice was soft, the kind he only used for you. “Morning, love.”

You stretched a little, and he immediately leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

“In your arms?” you murmured. “Perfect.”

That made him smile, the kind of soft, proud smile you always loved. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“I made breakfast,” he whispered. “Your favorite. And… someone wants to talk to you.”

You froze slightly, heart skipping.

Cheol cupped your chin gently. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “He’s calmer. He feels bad. I talked to him this morning.”

You nodded slowly.

He helped you sit up, supporting your back with one arm as he placed a pillow behind you. “Stay. I’ll bring it here.”

Before you could protest, he leaned down and kissed your temple. “I want to take care of my baby a little longer.”

A moment later, he returned with a tray warm pancakes, fruit, and a cup of tea just the way you liked it. He set it on your lap, adjusting the blanket around you.

Then there was a soft knock.

Your son peeked inside, eyes still shy but much gentler than yesterday. “Good morning, Mama…”

You smiled softly. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He walked in and sat quietly at the foot of the bed.

Seungcheol settled beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, reminding you he was right there.

Your son swallowed, looking down. “I… I want to say sorry again. For yesterday. I shouldn’t have yelled. You didn’t deserve it.”

You glanced at Seungcheol.

He nodded, encouraging you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh.

You reached out your hand, and your son took it instantly.

“I forgive you,” you said softly. “But I want you to talk to me next time, okay? Even if you’re angry.”

He nodded quickly. “I will. I promise.”

Then he hesitated before leaning forward to hug you. You stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too, Mama…”

When he pulled back, he looked at Seungcheol. “Papa… thanks for helping me.”

Cheol tapped his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Then he looked at you, eyes warm with affection. “See?” he whispered. “You didn’t fail him. You just needed a break.”

You leaned into his shoulder, feeling your heart finally at ease.

Your son slipped off the bed. “I’ll go set the table… maybe we can all eat together?”

You nodded. “That sounds nice.”

When he left, Seungcheol turned to you with the most tender smile. His hand slid to your waist, thumb stroking your skin softly.

“Baby,” he murmured, “you did amazing. Yesterday wasn’t easy, but look… your son came back because he loves you. Because you taught him.”

You exhaled shakily, relief warming your chest.

Seungcheol kissed your forehead again, lingering.

“Now let’s go eat,” he whispered. “And then we’ll have a slow day. Just the three of us. I want to keep you close.”

He took your hand, helping you stand, then wrapped an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the room, protective, comforting, loving.

You rested your head against his shoulder as you walked together.

And Seungcheol whispered, almost too soft to hear:

“I’ll hold you through every storm, honey. Always.”