Fem!reader x exfwb! Brendon Park, Fem!reader x future! Jack Abbot
A/n: Mama decided to dip her toes into smau. This is my tumblr debut hi 😏. Ik is crazy self indulgent that’s my bad. I’m gonna be real idk if this is gonna be more abbot x reader or park x reader yet because im greedy and want them both. I might even indulge in Robby later if anyone even reads this who knows 😛
Summary: reader is an R2 and lives w Dennis and trin, she had a fwb situation w park the shark until he ghosted and now she’s bitter. Anywayssss im trying to find a nickname that isn’t fucking sunshine and it’s HARD
craig cody and his childhood best friend / never-ending situationship
(this is 4 u my wonderful melly love u girl @scrmqwn)
Craig Cody isn’t the smartest man in the world, but when he’s with her, his best friend since the second grade, he seems to get a whole lot dumber — they collectively seem to get a lot dumber. And they’re together a lot.
They probably haven’t gone three days without seeing each other since the first time she came over. Her mom brought some new guy to the house and told her to go play outside; Craig had been running from his brothers after pulling some stupid stunt and found her laying in the grass, plucking at strands.
Confused, he called her name in between pants while he stomped up her yard.
“Oh, hey, Craig.” She’d looked over, watching him plop down in the grass next to her. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“I live that way,” He pointed down the street, like that explained why he was in her yard. “Whatcha doin?” He asked, moving his hand back and forth in the grass while she flipped over to lay on her tummy.
“My mom told me to come play outside, but nobody wanted to play with me.” The other parents on the street were aware enough of her mother’s habits to not want anything to do with the small family.
“Oh. That’s stupid.”
She nodded in agreement against the arms folded under her head.
“You can always come play with me.” Craig shrugged.
“Really?”
“Yeah!” He grinned, and the hair he wouldn’t let his mother cut even then moved along with his nodding head. “C’mon, we can go swimming and my mom got popsicles.”
They clambered up from the grass together, running off to Craig’s house full of giggles. That had been halfway through third grade, around two decades ago.
She’s basically part of the family now, Smurf always makes sure there’s enough dinner for her. The older woman loves her dearly, unlike the rest of the relationships she has with her sons…womanly counterparts. She just worries about those two, sometimes, with the conversations she’s overheard throughout the years. It was worse in their teen years.
“How does that even work?” She’d heard Craig ask as she passed by his room with a basket full of clean laundry. Smurf paused, looking in the small crack left between the door and its frame to find the two starfished out across his bed with confusion written all over their faces. Closed doors wasn’t much of a thing in the Cody house, privacy wasn’t ever a concern.
“What do you mean, dude, like, the fishes?”
“Yeah, why don’t they all freeze and die when stuff gets all icy? How do fishes still exist?”
They go quiet, and Smurf watches the girl try to think up an answer with wide eyes and furrowed brows. After a minute, she shakes her head.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“…fish magic.”
They burst out giggling, and Smurf has to close her eyes and walk away to stop the sigh that wants to leave her mouth. Fishes — fucking fish magic. Dumbasses.
J meets her the first day he spends at Smurfs. While the boys jump around the pool she’s laying in a lounge chair with a football in her hands.
“Go!” She shouts to Craig from where he stands on the diving board.
“Gimme a minute-“ He pleads, taking in gulps of air.
“No, go, dude!”
With a groan, he starts to run off the diving board. Clearly not fast enough for her, because she pelts him in the stomach with the football.
He drops into the water with a moan while she cackles, resurfacing to throw the ball back at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She tries while watching him climb from the pool with a gleam of trouble in his eyes. The giggles in between sorries doesn’t make it seem very true.
“Yeah, you better be,” He grins when she stumbles from the lounge chair and starts running around the pool.
“No, no, no,” She dashes around Deran, when suddenly Smurf storms into the backyard with a boy by her side.
“My cupcakes are ruined!”
Unaware of his surroundings (as usual), Craig manages to grab ahold of her from behind, pulling her into his chest and off the ground.
“You remember your uncles, J, don’t you?” Smurf asks the young boy. It stops Craig from hauling her back into the pool. They pay no attention to the rest of the conversation while he let’s her back down and he stuffs her under his arm. Smurf says her name, so she throws J a wave and a grin as she wraps her arm around Craigs waist. “This is Craigs…good friend.”
Before they can stop themselves, she’s wrestling for the football in his hand. He’s too strong though, like every other time they do this, and soon she’s hauled back up into the air and he’s making a running jump into the pool.
“Sorry,” Baz tells only the new boy, because everybody else is used to them. “They don’t know how to behave.”
so what if you did a little porn here and there to help pay through med school? it's not like you were making millions; it helped put ten extra bucks in the bank that paid for dinner for the week. you never showed your face, never put your real name on anything, never showed more of your room outside of one angle. it was anonymous as anonymous could be…until your attending pieces together that you're the amateur creator he keeps going back to. 11.5k
⟢ pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader
⟢ tags: MDNI/18+; f!reader; starts out in jack's pov sorry, i promise it's important for the plot; jack feels guilty about porn; brief m!masturbation; reader used to make amateur porn; reader is jack's coworker; insinuated age gap (reader's age not specified, insinuated to be late twenties); shen and ellis are here; shen's a little shit (affectionate); jack's kind of an asshole; little confrontation for the drama; bc reader does not put up with shit!; texting that leads to sexting; a lot of build up lol sorry; phone sex; pillow humping; open ending
⟢ A/N: WOOF it's finally done. i hope yall like it or i will be very sad. the idea/scenario popped into my brain one day and i needed to write this. i kinda lost steam towards the end and i feel like that's obivious sorryyyyy but i'm already considering a part two idk !!! have fun freaks <3
read on ao3
♡ support me here !
Jack Abbot never considered himself a righteous man. With a laundry list of regrets and an even longer list of mistakes, he was always the last one to argue in favor of his virtue. But one thing Jack Abbot was not…was a pervert.
At least, that's what he was currently trying to convince himself.
And truth be told, he wasn't exactly doing a very good job at. Lying in bed half-hard and trying to will his blood to flow literally anywhere else, the corners of his mind kept floating back to fantasies that relieved him of the loneliness that life seemed determined to keep him under. It wasn't the desire itself that he fought his brain trying to repress. He'd lived too long to even attempt wrestling his body's urges or feign embarrassment from an overactive imagination. The only thing he'd been fighting was the urge to indulge using…the internet.
Jack liked to believe he could pride himself on his willpower. That whatever he set himself towards, he could do. Including the simple act of getting off to his own fantasies instead of relying on strangers on the internet to feed it to him with fake smiles and even faker moans. It wasn't like he was against the idea of porn—his track record of stolen Playboys and single college nights would prove that hypocrisy quick—it was just something about the internet aspect of it that made him feel…perverted.
Maybe it was the knowledge that he could be watching anyone post their body or their sex with the intention of other strangers getting off to it. Maybe it was the realization that most people who did the posting were half his age. It was there for a reason; it shouldn't have mattered, but he still felt like he needed to make excuses to justify why he turned to it.
Luckily, that pestering voice in the back of his mind always had an excuse to justify what he was doing. When he relented long enough to grab his phone, it was "to check the work email". When his thumb gravitated towards the internet safari, it was "to look up the Pirates' score" (when he knew full well baseball season was practically over). But the excuses started to fade when his free hand drifted over the front of his pants and palmed the bulge that was only growing larger with each second he tried to ignore it. Damn blood flow and its resolute persistence.
So, without any self-pitying justification to soften the blow, Jack Abbot succumbs to a weakness he'd never admit he has and pulls up the first website that pops up when he keywords amateur.
That was the one thing he wouldn't budge on when all the other willpower faltered. When cold showers and "imagination" couldn't solve the problem and he reluctantly turned to the wide scope of the internet, the one necessity was the lack of production value. He didn't want stage lights and camera crews and actors with more plastic than flesh. He didn't want a movie with advertisement. He wanted something as real as filmed sex could offer. Something he could envision actually happening that was actually desired by the performer.
And Jack couldn't decide if that made him more or less of a pervert. On one hand, it was a surefire way to feel like the world's biggest voyeur. On the other, he figured being so picky made him less of a target for the internet's average depiction of a pervert.
So picky, in fact, that he'd scrolled to the fifth page of this website and still struggled to find something that caught his attention. This was exactly why he didn't watch porn; the hand still lazily palming the outline of his dick was probably the only reason any blood kept flowing there. But he'd gotten past the hardest part of justifying it to his own brain—he just needed to pick something to jerk off to and deal with the post-nut clarity and regret when he got to the other side of it.
It was the sixth page that held the video he finally settled on. Nothing extravagant—as that was one of the qualifiers—with barely any views. Based on the thumbnail and title, it was a solo video. Just a woman, sat on her bed, getting herself off. Simple and easy and exactly what he wanted to see.
As soon as the video starts, he's met with less-than-ideal lighting that makes the camera fuzzy. Not enough to turn him off of it, just enough to give that homemade feel he preferred for this type of thing. The woman in question could be seen just fine; the angle cut off at the neck and highlighted everything from her chest and downward. She's sporting a thin little slip, body softened by the camera's grain, her skin highlighted by the soft glow of what Jack assumes is late afternoon sun filtering through beige curtains. The quality doesn't obscure the curves of her body or the soft pink of her cunt. Hell, he swears he can see her drip when she rubs circles against her perky little clit.
The video itself isn't unlike others he's seen. His dick seems to understand that as well as his brain, thickening behind his briefs to the sight on his phone. The fight's bled out of him by now; no need to justify himself when he fishes his cock out and strokes himself lazily. Especially not when the woman on-screen is spreading her own slick on her fingers and mewling sweet little sounds that make him twitch against his hand.
And that's exactly what he's focusing on by the time he spits into his palm to slick up his strokes. The little sounds that escape her—soft moans, choked breaths, and split-second whines—land straight in his gut. He can almost tell she's trying to stay quiet. Like if that camera inched up just a bit, he'd see her with a lip caught between her teeth. But she lets a little moan escape as those nimble fingers sink inside her cunt and Jack can't help but respond in vain with his own guttural sound. He tries to match the pace of her hand with his own, pumping his cock in time with her fingers disappearing into her slick hole, in some sort of pathetic mockery of actual sex. It's wet and sloppy and every kind of desperate. And it satisfied that itch just as quickly as he feared it would.
As the video comes to its (literal) climax, he can't help but imagine how her brow might furrow when she cums, how swollen her lips might look from biting back moans. Trying to picture a face as cute as the body on screen. That was another weakness he'd never admit to—always too curious about things he had no business wondering. He'd gotten off to a stranger's body and, before he'd even wiped his stomach clean of his own spend, he was wondering if she was always this quiet. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the question of why she was so quiet. Where was she? And why did she record in the middle of the day? Before the video cut off and turned the screen black, he wondered if the band poster on the wall behind her naked body was her favorite.
Jesus, he was getting old. Embarrassingly sentimental over a stranger in a porn video.
He tosses his phone onto the mattress beside him with a dejected sigh. The voice in his head that had initially come up with excuses to justify it had swiftly turned sour with guilt. There were enough things in life that lingered with regret (and this surely wouldn't be the last), but on the list of offenses, it sat pretty low. It was just a lapse in judgement he'd surely forget by tomorrow when he's wrist-deep in someone's chest.
But Jack most certainly did not forget about that video.
To be fair, it never popped into his mind while he was working. The never-ending onslaught of the hurt, sick, and broken didn't allow much time for his mind to wander where it didn't belong. This was when he had the right to be proud of his willpower. When, after three back-to-back traumas in the middle of the night, he was still focused on directing a team and getting the job done.
The weakness only came when loneliness settled too heavily on his shoulders. When he came back to an empty home after nearly 13 hours managing lives and had to pretend like taking care of himself was something easy. He liked to tell himself that being alone didn't bother him. Or that the quiet got easier to exist in. But the argument quickly died when he pulled up that same video only two days after the first time. The same video, borne from the same lapse in judgement—only this time it carried more guilt. Because it was bad enough to turn to the internet and take whatever it offered, it was another thing entirely to seek out something specific because he had an affinity for a goddamn stranger.
It wasn't every day, thank God. Some days, after working himself to the bone in hopes of clearing his mind, the only urge Jack came home with was the desperate need to sleep. That was how he operated; no opportunities for weakness to seep into his synapses and make another bad decision if he was overworked and dead on his feet, right? But the curiosity eventually became worse than the loneliness. And it was that same curiosity that led him back to that explicit sight to seek out that same woman, scroll through her profile, and see what else she'd shared with the world.
And that might've been the worst possible thing he could've done. Because seeing that small collection of videos only gave him more to latch onto. Gave him a reason to be disappointed when he saw every single video was dated eight years ago. Gave him a choice in favorites that he'd prefer over the others. (Right now, it was a short video of her grinding against a pillow—he could see the slick left behind on the fabric when she circled her hips like that.)
No matter how many times he fought his own brain, it always ended with that same woman on his screen and a hand choking his dick while he fantasized about being the one to draw that pleasure out of her. It was unlike him to get so attached—Christ, he hated even using that word—but something in him was addicted. She was just so…sweet. Her body, of course, but it was also the mannerisms that snuck their way into her videos and those cute little sounds she made when she felt good. She felt so real.
Jack Abbot was definitely a pervert.
"Jesus, this is the longest shift of my life."
You groaned into your hands as they ran over your face. Barely halfway through your scheduled twelve hours, your feet already ache, you're starving, and it seems like the universe has cursed you with some of the most insufferable patients. People freaking out over gas pain, MVA injuries that could've been avoided had anyone decided to wear a seatbelt or call a designated driver. Nothing that made you feel like the "savior" this job sometimes afforded you.
"So, not up for a double, then?" Shen circles you at the nurse's station, slotting one of the staff tablets into its charging slot. "Bummer," he sighs, "I thought you loved it here."
You laugh, bracing your hands against the countertop. "Don't start." Your head aches when you look up at the patient board and see the assortment waiting for you. The list of complaints sits like a taunt to your exhaustion. "I'm this close to walking out and leaving you fools."
"Oh, quit that." Lena doesn't even have to look up the papers in her hand for you to know she's talking to you. Forever observant, the nurses were. "Don't give Abbot more reason to be grumpy." That's when she looks up at you, peering over the rim of her glasses. If you didn't already agree, her glare would've convinced you to.
"Yeah," you roll your eyes and they land on Shen, "he doesn't need that."
You don't miss the little smile on Shen's face when he rounds the curve of the counter. "C'mon, you won't leave." He carries himself to one of the computers, scanning his badge with an accepting beep. "What've you got going on that's better than this?"
"Okay, ouch."
"No, I mean—"
"I do have a life, John."
"I…bet you do." He concedes with a shrug of his shoulders. "You just…" he takes a breath, searching for the right word, and you're already bracing for something too blunt. "Y'know, you work a lot."
You roll your eyes even as the back of your mind acknowledges his words to be true. "Which is why I need the break. You guys are driving me crazy."
"Big happy family." Shen gestures to the space around him as if to highlight the constant rush of people.
That almost earns another eye roll. You snatch a tablet off of the rack and tap through the screen prompts, checking for test results that should've been back ten minutes ago. "If you have to know, I'm meeting up with an old friend. Met her back in med school—"
"She teach you not to kill people?"
"Ha ha. I haven't seen her in a while since she moved out of town for her residency." Bingo, test results back. "Unlike you freaks, she's actually nice."
Shen responds with a laugh that comes out as a snort. "Don't leave us for too long. One taste of freedom and you really will ditch this place, I'm sure." Lena echoes the sentiment with a short 'don't tempt her' as she scurries past.
"Are we working or are we talking?" Abbot's voice seems to barrel over the emergency department's constant, hectic buzz. He braces two large hands against the countertop's edge, occupying the space between you and Shen. He looks between the two of you with that arch of his eyebrow that never seemed to soften.
Shen relents first, taking your silence as an opportunity. "She's leaving us, man," he gestures towards you with an accusatory glance.
Jack's eyes land on you, brow furrowed. "Leaving us?"
"No—Don't say it like that." You'd smack Shen if you could reach him. Especially after seeing him smile as he types away at a chart he surely had no interest in.
Jack straightens, sliding his hands off of the counter. He looked at you with that same assessing stare he gave everything he couldn't quite figure out. "You better not be. You're not allowed to leave."
You sigh, silently damning yourself for opening your mouth. "I took tomorrow off. You won't even miss me."
Before you even registered he'd moved in your direction, Jack stops just behind you. Stood with his hands behind his back—the same way he always did—he peers over your shoulder to look at the scans on the screen in your hands. A low sound rumbles from his throat. "I'll miss the extra hands." You look back over your shoulder to find his eyes on you instead of the screen. "At least go do your job before you leave us, yeah?" He holds that look, something indecipherable and intense, as he steps away.
You have to take a breath to level yourself. Jack could be such a difficult book to read sometimes; it was hard to tell what went on in that head when he wasn't working through an active trauma. You could tell he'd lived too long of a life to put up with nonsense and waste time on whatever he deemed unnecessary, small talk included. Slipping in and out of conversation to occupy himself with the responsibility of his job as an attending wasn't uncommon. Still, you liked to believe that unique brand of sarcasm was how he chose to show affection.
The smile Shen flashes in your direction, complete with a raised brow that seemed more intrigued than accusatory, only confirms that belief. "Wow. He might actually miss you while you're gone."
"Shut it." You sigh, sore feet carrying your body back to one of the patients waiting for your care. You just hope Jack doesn't realize you're cherry-picking the easier cases for the sake of your sanity. If he knew you were cherry-picking, he might've kept you charting well into day shift. At least then you could argue he wanted to keep you around.
Clocking in on Sunday reminded you exactly why you never took days off for social events. The rhythm of the night shift had been interrupted and you were left to live in the consequences. It was a fun day, but the change in sleep definitely had you dragging your feet. Shen made it a point to tease you with a pointed 'this is why you can't leave us!' And as hard as you rolled your eyes, the chaos did comfort you in some strange way. Still, the chaos would've been a little easier had you not been exhausted.
Ellis, never one to mince words, was the one to urge you towards the coffee in the break room when she saw the hunch in your shoulders. "You need to wake the hell up," she'd told you, "go get some of that coffee and figure it out."
So, figure it out you did. Even though the break room coffee had run cold and thick, sitting bitter in the pot, it was better than trying to brute force another eight hours. You yawn as you pour the lukewarm brew into a mug found in the depths of the break room cabinet. It was a wonder there were still clean dishes left to choose from.
Footsteps sound out at the doorway. You peer up with tired eyes to see Shen beelining for the fridge. He nods toward you, a sweet little "hey" dropping from his lips. The fridge creaks open under his hand. "Haven't had a chance to ask about your day of freedom," you hear from behind the door as he reaches inside.
"It was good," you nod, "I'm…exhausted now, though. Didn't get much chance to catch up on sleep."
Shen hums a sound of acknowledgement. He straightens up, now holding a half-empty cup of fast-food cold brew. "Hope your friend was worth it."
Your nose wrinkles at the bitter taste that hits your tongue when you take another sip of your own coffee. Man, something sugary and sweet and overly caffeinated sounded heavenly right now. "Yes, she was worth it. I missed her. She lives over in Philly, so we never really get to meet up anymore."
"Philly?" He whistles with a shake of his head. "Man, all for you?"
"No, for her family. I just met up with her for lunch." Another sip of bitter, thick coffee has you setting the mug on the countertop before continuing, "You don't think my company's worth the four-hour drive?" You look up at him with a cocked brow, but when his lips press into a thin line, you raise a hand to cut off whatever snarky response he could come up with. "Don't answer that." Shen holds his hands up in mock surrender—the same way he always did when his sarcasm was stopped before it could manifest. "We took some pictures while she was here…"
You pat the pockets of your scrubs, searching for your phone in the fabric, and pull it out with another yawn. Half a cup of lukewarm coffee didn't seem to do much in terms of waking you up, it seemed. You inch closer to Shen as you thumb through your phone and pull up the few photos from the day before. One of you and your friend smiling at the table of a cafe, another taken outside, a few silly photos that Shen doesn't find as hilarious as you do. But he humors you with a quiet aww that almost sounds like the reaction to a cute animal rather than a photo of his coworker.
"Well, look at you wearing something other than scrubs!"
You nudge him with your elbow, "Yeah, I told you I have a life."
Another set of footsteps crosses the threshold of the break room door, but it's the sharp whistle that follows that catches the attention of both you and Shen. It's Abbot, hovering like always, eyebrows raised at the sight of you two hunched of your phone. "Scatter, kids," he urges, thumbing back towards the bustling hall, "C'mon, no gossiping."
"M'not gossiping! I'm bragging about my day off." You turn your phone around, screen facing outwards to show off one of the photos from yesterday.
Jack doesn't seem to pay it much attention as he moves to pour his own cup of coffee. "Yeah?" He humors you long enough to look at the screen for a moment. He nods, as if granting his approval. "How was that?"
"Uh, great." The emphasis you put on the word is dramatic enough to prove your point. "I met her back in med school, but she moved to Philly for her residency. Haven't seen her in a while. But we were both happy to just…be out of the hospital for a day." Turning your phone in your hand, you scroll up through your entire collection of photos in search of a particular photo from years ago. "I'm sure I have a picture of us from back then. That was…God, eight years ago?"
"Eight years?" That seems to pique Jack's attention. You think he's poking fun, but the look on his face is one of disbelief. "You were in med school only eight years ago? Christ, way to make me feel old."
"Feel old?" Shen pipes up. You shoot him a look that he reciprocates before hiding his smile behind a sip of his cold brew.
"Oh, here we go. Wow, I look like a baby…"
An old photo from nearly eight years ago pulls up full-screen on your phone. It's of you with the same friend, both eight years younger, in the apartment you resided in during med school. You didn't look much different aside from a fuller face devoid of the stress lines your job had come to give you. But showing the photo off made the image feel like it was from a lifetime ago. Shen makes a cheeky comment about the unique style you sported back then. It's when you show Jack that something seems to land awkwardly.
You don't notice it, but the photo lands like a punch to the gut. Not only was it a shock to his system to see a young, twenty-something you fresh into med school, but he knew that room. He knew those sheets, the band poster hung over the bed, the curtains framing the window at the foot of the mattress. He'd seen it countless times on his own phone screen until the layout was burned into the recesses of his brain. Jack takes a deep breath to will away the sudden thrum of his heart.
"That's…" He clears his throat when the word comes out broken, "that's your apartment?"
"Yeah. Well, was. Don't judge it!" You laugh, turning the photo back towards yourself. "I know it looks shitty, but I was broke in med school. Cut me some slack."
Shen mutters something about it being 'not that bad' as Jack practically chugs the rest of his coffee. He sets the mug down in the sink harsher than any of you expect and straightens with a huff; the sharp clink of ceramic catches your attention, but the hard set of his jaw keeps it.
"Get off your phone," he grumbles without turning to look at you. He carries himself hurriedly, like he's trying to get out of the room as fast as he physically can. "Get back to work. People need you out there."
Your eyes follow the broad set of his back as Jack slips out of the break room. His absence leaves his tone to settle over you and Shen—who shares a look of disbelief your way—and something unwelcome shifts in the air. You slip your phone back into your pocket, embarrassment and uncertainty tightening in your chest. It was his job to keep you in line and on task; a simple reminder shouldn't have weighed on you the way it did.
"Yeah, told you he wouldn't miss me."
It was childish, sure. Unprofessional, definitely. But you cared too much about what he thought. You liked to tell yourself it was strictly about the job and that staying in the good graces of your attending would make life easier. And that was true, to an extent. But you didn't often let yourself acknowledge the curiosity in the back of your mind that constantly questioned what went on in his head. It would only serve as a distraction to concern yourself with whatever he stressed over. The easiest thing to do was just catch him when the night offered a break and he wasn't pulled in ten different directions. He was fine when he wanted to talk. The hard part was just finding the right moment.
And, unfortunately, that moment never seems to come. The night had its lulls, which were nothing more than minute-long breaks that allowed you to catch up on a paragraph of charting at a time. And, to your surprise, Abbot wasn't hovering or breaking heavy tension with dry humor that only he ever found funny. Well, he was…just not with you.
What you thought was just another sour mood slowly turned into the realization that your attending was treating you differently. Rather, he wasn't acknowledging you at all. He didn't turn the other direction to avoid you—he just looked past like you weren't even there. He didn't check in with a little tap on your arm and a thumbs-up that silently asked, 'Are you still with us'. It took a few hours to realize, but once it hit you, it settled heavy on your shoulders.
It really came to a head when you had to present a case. You slunk up beside him when he'd finished a conversation with one of the nurses, deliberately trying to catch him before he could busy himself with another task. The entire time you relayed the patient's status—test results, symptoms, possible diagnoses and why they didn't fit criteria—you looked up at Jack and waited for him to meet your gaze. But it never came. Instead, he signed off on another scan, handed the tablet back to you, and scurried off like the interaction had wasted his time.
You didn't consider yourself a favorite, but it was really unlike him to be so short with you. And when he brushed you off so easily over something work-related, the last thing you wanted to do was confront his attitude. You settled for the next best thing: interrogating your coworkers.
Ellis was the first one you landed eyes on. She was clearly on a mission, carrying herself from one room to the next, but you still sidled yourself up next to her. "Hey, uhm..." You matched her pace, hugging the tablet in your hands close to your body. "Have you noticed anything…off with Abbot?"
She tears her eyes away from the destination in front of her to look over at you. "Off?" She echoes in a plea for more information.
"Yeah, just…" you trail off, trying to find the right words, "I don't know. I'm getting a weird vibe."
"He seems fine to me."
"Really? You haven't noticed him being all…avoidant or whatever?"
"I mean," Ellis shrugs, trying to find the answer you're looking for, "I guess he's been in his head a bit more. Nothin' crazy, you know how he is."
You nod, all-too-aware of what she means. But you aren't satisfied with that answer. With what essentially served as confirmation that the sudden change in demeanor was only directed towards you, now came the urge to understand why. And while you didn't expect Parker—or any of your colleagues for that matter—to have the explanation you needed, it didn't stop you from questioning.
"Nothing happened while I was gone, did it?" You stop in your tracks, hoping she'll humor you long enough to give an actual response. "No…veterans came in yesterday? Was he with SWAT this morning?"
Ellis does stop, but she huffs a sigh as she turns in your direction. "Not that I know of. Look, if you think somethin's up, just ask him. We got shit to do, yeah?"
"Right." You concede reluctantly. "Yeah, of course."
Ellis cocks her head towards the North rooms as she takes her leave, a silent urge to distract yourself with productivity. She was right—your job was more important than gossiping about your attending. Patients didn't care whether or not you felt ignored. You take a breath and steel yourself for the remaining hours of chaos.
An ache in your hands reminds you of the tablet you're still hugging against your chest. You weren't even aware you were white-knuckling the device. You shake your head as if it'll clear the stress and suffocating stream of questions and carry yourself over to the nurse's station on tired feet. The board overhead never fell below a certain threshold of patients; the rotation of color made your head spin. As you slot the tablet into its charging dock, Lena rounds the corner. The first amusement you've felt in hours comes when she scolds a small group of NA's over their tendency to talk instead of work.
A voice in the back of your head tells you to get back to your charting. Instead, you lean against the countertop and hope Lena's the only one listening to you when you call out.
"Hey, Lena, how's my favorite charge nurse?"
The look she gives you is exactly what you expect. Skeptical. "Favorite?"
"Yeah, of course," you shrug. "Don't tell Dana. Hey, listen, have you noticed anything different with Abbot today?"
Lena doesn't answer you immediately. While you fill the silence with every possible response that would send you into a panic, she just grabs a clipboard and looks at you from over the rim of her glasses. She has the courtesy to step closer, keeping her voice as low as the bustle around the two of you would allow. "Now, why are you asking me that?"
Hearing it from her mouth gives you pause. She was great at making the trivial things feel as silly as they were. "I dunno, I just…" Your eyes scan the halls and, though you don't say it, you both know you're looking for him. "He's acting a little bit off, I think."
"Yeah. 'Cause he is 'a little bit off'. Aren't we all."
"Right." Concession was starting to come easy. "Just…keep an eye on him, please? You're always watching, you'll notice better than anyone."
That manages to earn a laugh from her. "Flattery will get you nowhere, sweetheart."
You flash a smile and drag yourself back into the fray. Her sentiment is already settled in the back of your mind. Yeah, you think, clearly not.
Seven A.M. couldn't have come any slower.
The night was one of the longest drags you'd ever lived through. Least of all because of the actual work you were expected to do; everything clinical moved like clockwork. Patients, paperwork, even charting was enough of a distraction to make time tick a little faster. The real problem was Abbot and whatever had him convinced that avoiding you was the best course of action. Time moved slower when every minute was a reminder that he wasn't acknowledging you.
If it were anyone else, you'd chalk it up to a bad day and try again tomorrow. But Jack didn't do this—the unprofessional silent treatment that bled into every aspect of the job. He was an adult. He was the one rallying teamwork and perseverance and how not to let baggage seep into the job. If there was a problem, he talked it out.
Until now, apparently.
When handoff finally came and the day shift slowly flooded in, you didn't find the relief you typically did with their presence. Yes, you could finally get off your feet, maybe catch up on the sleep you'd missed, and eat a real meal for the first time in hours. But it didn't feel right going home with uncertainty hanging over your head.
Lucky for no one but yourself, Jack's role as an attending kept him busier than others. Meaning you had time to do rounds and catch the day shift up to speed with the patients without worrying about him slipping away. It doesn't stop you from keeping an eye on him whenever you're able, though. He could ignore you in favor of work, but once the two of you were clocked out, there was no choice but to listen to you. At least, that's what you told yourself as you cornered him in the stairwell.
He barely gets through the heavy doors, bag slung on his shoulder, when you call out to him. The same quiet little "hey" you always greeted him with. It isn't lost on you the way he pauses before turning to face you.
"Hey." He tosses back. You think this is the first time he's looked at you in eight hours. It quickly diverts when he fidgets with the watch on his wrist instead. "How'd tonight treat you?"
You recognize it for what it is: a formality. He's not genuinely asking because he wants to know. If he were, he'd take care to close the nearly two feet of space between you.
"Fine. It was fine." Jesus, this was awkward. It would've been easier to just go home and sleep the shift off. But that wouldn't have given you answers. You sigh, clasping your hands together only to part them seconds later when you gesture to yourself. "Did I…do something?"
That makes Jack pause. His eyes dart up, looking at you, then past your form to the heavy doors leading back to the ED, then back at you. "Not that I'm aware of…Did you do something?"
"I…I don't know." Your shrug is one of exasperation. "It feels like you've been deliberately avoiding me all night. I felt like you didn't even want me to present cases or ask for your input." Your throat feels tight halfway through the explanation, your chest heavy with all the frustration and confusion that's built throughout the night. You take a break to steady yourself and shove your hands in your pockets. "You're my attending," you know he didn't need the reminder, "if I can't come to you, there's clearly a problem."
Jack doesn't offer a response, but at least he looks at you while the muscles in his jaw tick under white stubble. He didn't like it when people felt the need to state the obvious and tell him what he already knew. But reality and how it settled on your shoulders was far more important than his feelings about it. When you think he's going to leave you with nothing, he shifts his bag on his shoulder and shakes his head.
"There's no problem."
It's your turn to be silent and stare.
Your lips press thin in a tight line as you try to swallow some of your frustration. No problem? Right, because he'd been ignoring you just for the hell of it. Because the same man who always asked how you were doing and questioned how you spent your days suddenly decided your existence had no relevance. You take a deep breath and straighten your spine. If anything, it's to ground yourself and remember that cursing him out and risking your job wasn't worth it.
"Look," you start with a huff, voice as level as you can possibly manage, "if I did something to upset you, I'd like to know so I can fix it. If I did something wrong professionally, you need to tell me so I can better it."
Jack was always a particular case study—one you liked to think you were starting to understand—but the way he looks at you now is indecipherable. Part of you is just happy to have his eyes on you, but it doesn't feel as reassuring as you thought it would. Just when the silence stretches a moment too long, his eyes tear away from you and dart around the stairwell as if surveying the area around you.
"I'm not having this conversation here," he mutters, crossing those thick arms over his chest. It's meant to be a finality, but there's no way you're letting the conversation end unfinished.
"Uhm, yes we are? If this is something interfering with work, then the conversation can happen here."
"I promise this is not a conversation you wanna have in the hospital. You'll be better off if you wait." You scoff at that, annoyed, and he doesn't miss it. He's already starting to turn away, ready to leave it at that, before he adds, "You should have my number. Text me when you're home. We'll talk about it then."
You step after him when he moves away. What started as confusion had fully bled into frustration. "So, just to be clear, there is a problem. And you're not telling me how to fix it."
Jack huffs your name in an annoyed breath that's sharp enough to make you pause. "You didn't do anything. There's no problem." When he looks back at you from over his shoulder, you swear a shiver runs down your spine. "I promise." He shifts his bag on his shoulder one final time—something you're starting to assume is a nervous tick—and you watch the muscles in his back play under his scrubs. He starts down the corridor before tossing back, "We'll talk when you're home."
That was the finality. Not that he gave you much choice in the matter, but you make it a point to stay rooted in the stairwell. You aren't sure how long you stand there, replaying the conversation in your head. It felt less like a conversation and more like the prelude to something that made your chest feel tight the longer you thought about it. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that he couldn't even look at your face. Great. Now you were dreading the return home.
The walk to the lockers feels like a display of shame, even though you're the only one who knows what just happened. It's hard to tell if your sluggish movements are from exhaustion or the subconscious desire to get home as slow as possible. But the inevitable was exactly that, and curiosity still reluctantly pulled at the back of your mind. If he really was willing to talk, you wanted to hear it. Even a harsh truth would be better than being lost in the dark.
You didn't know what to do with yourself when you got home. The smartest thing to do would be to whip up something proper to eat and change out of your scrubs. A text conversation shouldn't have taken much attention, let alone a ton of effort.
What actually ended up happening was you, thumbing away at your phone as soon as you got through the door, desperately searching for Jack's contact information to send a haphazard 'I'm home now' text. And as soon as it sent, you paced through your kitchen just waiting for him to see it and respond. The minutes feel torturously long. Part of you starts to fear he'll ghost you and refuse to have the conversation. But he promised there was no problem. It felt childish to latch onto something as feeble as that, but it was all you had. Even more embarrassing was how much it ate away at you to be so blatantly ignored by him. The longer you thought about it, the more pathetic you thought yourself for craving his approval.
Maybe the only thing more pathetic was how you perked up hearing the chime of your phone. Three long minutes after your initial message came Jack's response. And he got right to the point.
Abbot: Is there anywhere someone might be able to recognize you from?
The question left you even more confused. One, what the hell did this have to do with work? Two, why would anyone recognize you? As the questions flooded your mind, you wanted to reply with an annoyed wall of question marks. Instead, you settle for more clarification:
You: i'm sorry?
Abbot: Answer the question.
You scoff at your phone, wondering how the hell you were meant to answer.
You: i mean i don't think any of my patients would recognize me
Abbot: Not what I meant.
Okay, dick. You weren't surprised to find him as blunt over the phone as he was in person. A beat passes before he sends another message.
Abbot: Have you ever posted anything online that people might recognize you from?
Somehow, this was clearing up nothing and only leaving you with more questions.
You: what?? you mean on like instagram or smth??
You: i doubt my 20 followers would recognize me
Twenty followers that were mostly friends and family that already knew you. But you kept the sarcasm minimal in hopes it'd make his point approach quicker.
When it takes another minute for him to respond, you decide to finally retreat to your bedroom and rid yourself of the scrubs you'd been stewing in for hours. Getting off your feet and into a warm bed and fresh clothes was the closest thing to Heaven right now. You hear your phone chime as you settle in and close out the Pittsburgh dawn with thick curtains. When you slip into bed to check the messages, there's two waiting for you.
The first is just your name, plain and simple. It makes you think of the way he spoke it in the stairwell—stern and final—and something about that makes your throat run dry. The next message makes your heart skip a beat:
Abbot: Okay, I'm not asking you this as your boss. We're off the clock.
Then, possibly the last message you ever could've expected from him:
Abbot: Have you ever shared anything pornographic?
If you weren't already in bed, you swear you could've fallen over. Your heart sinks so low it reaches the floor. Maybe, just maybe, you actually already died and this was Hell.
There was no way this was real.
And the worst about it? You couldn't even laugh it off or feign disgust. You couldn't send back an angry 'what the fuck are you talking about?' and why he'd ask such a thing. Well, you could've, but it would've felt pretty disingenuous. The absurdly formal way he posed the question aside, the only thing you wanted to ask was how the hell he found out. It was years ago, a stupid endeavor to make a little pocket money during med school. You'd barely even made content before deciding the effort wasn't worth the pay. You hadn't done it in so long—hadn't even thought about it in years.
With shaky thumbs and an erratic heartbeat, you managed to type back:
You: what the fuck jack
You could lie. You could say no and make him feel terrible for bringing it up. But there's no way he would ever bring it up if he didn't have a reason to.
You: ok yes but it was years ago. i told you i was broke in med school
Jack still hasn't responded. You felt sick wondering what he was doing with that confirmation. Maybe he was already typing up an email to HR. Maybe he was wondering how to bring up to the team that you'd no longer be working with them. Fuck. Panic sits in your gut and crawls up your throat until it's nearly impossible to breathe.
You: wajt how the fuck did you find out??? did soneone tell you????
Every possible scenario ranging from bad to awful to worse ran through your mind. What if someone told him and now he had to bring it up to someone higher. What if the whole emergency department knew, or someone in particular knew and was slowly sharing it. Oh, God, what if you walked in there tomorrow and everyone started asking you about those stupid videos and—
Abbot: No, no one told me.
Thank God. At least you could push away that particular worry for now. But it didn't answer the first question you posited.
You: so you just found it?? on accident??
Abbot: I didn't know it was you until today.
Abbot: I recognized the apartment when you showed me that picture of you in school.
Ah. So that's what was going on.
In hindsight, that made the entire night way less stressful than it felt in the moment. It almost made you laugh to think about; your attending had been avoiding you because he realized you made the porn he watched. Yeah, you weren't too sure you could've looked him in the eye after that, either.
But as the realization sinks into your brain, the reality of it hits you. To recognize the walls of your apartment, he had to have watched a video. More likely, several videos. The guy who ran your department had seen a 20-something-year-old you spread your legs on a shitty phone camera. He'd seen you touch yourself and put on a show for approval of strangers on the internet. Christ, you couldn't even remember half of what those videos contained—who knew what he'd witnessed you do in the desperation for a paycheck.
And for some perverted, selfish reason, it didn't repulse you in the slightest. It should've. You should've been typing out an apology and promising that content was from the past. You should've asked that he never watch it again because of the breach of privacy. Instead, you sat in your bed and wondered if he had a favorite. You wondered if he got off to any of it, and if the knowledge that it was you made it better or worse for him.
The chime of your phone snaps you back to reality. It's then you realize you've left Jack on read for nearly eight minutes.
Abbot: I'm sorry. I should've acted more professional at work. This isn't coming into work with me tomorrow.
Abbot: It's cleared up and done. Thank you for being honest.
Honest? He all but admitted he'd watched a porno of you, and he was thanking you for the honesty of clarifying it was you? The guy you reported to had seen you naked and trembling and desperate and then had the audacity to say he'd forget all about it by tomorrow?
Yeah, right.
You: did you at least enjoy the videos?
There's a stretch of silence with no response. You regret the words for a moment, wondering if the overstep was breaching further than a tease. Then he sends another message containing nothing more than your name. It's exactly the same as last time, but you can feel the difference in tone. Shakier. Warning you. Or maybe it was all in your head.
Abbot: I said this is done.
You: i thought we were being honest :/
Yeah, you were being annoying. But Jack left you unnecessarily stressed out for most of your shift. Surely he could put up with a little bit of pestering. He had a sense of humor about everything. But you watched the text bubble pop up and disappear five different times before he finally sent a response.
Abbot: I don't think that's appropriate.
You: jack. do you really think i'm gonna judge you for watching porn when i used to make it??
You don't get a response to that message. In the minutes that follow, as you're waiting for something to pop up, you wish you could jump through your phone screen and figure out what he was doing. Was he ignoring you on purpose? Did you finally annoy him enough? A far-too hopeful voice in the back of your mind hoped he was going through the list and figuring out which video was his favorite. Aside from being unrealistic, you cringe at the thought of him going back to old videos instead of reaching out for something new. The thought creeps in—not entirely unwelcome—wondering if he'd ask for that. Debating whether you'd fulfill it while knowing damn well you probably would.
Five long minutes pass and you huff a sigh. You knew he was right; this wasn't appropriate. And Jack was a man who lived so strictly to his regiment and rules.
You: sorry
You: just curious
You set your phone down with a finality you aren't too keen on accepting. That wasn't exactly the message you'd hoped to leave off on.
The darkness of the room creeps in without the light of your phone to light up your face. You slip under your sheets and try your hardest to prepare for a longer stretch of sleep than you had the previous day. Exhaustion hit you hard and sudden, pulling at your aching muscles, but your brain couldn't stay quiet. All it did was replay the night, every little conversation, what you could've done differently. Conjuring up scenarios where you confronted Jack earlier and saved yourself the stress, or what would've happened if you never showed him that photo of you and your friend. It was a whirlwind of what-ifs, more than enough to give you a headache.
The buzz of your phone, when it comes, is far too loud. And you, despite your exhaustion, are far too eager to see what it's from. The light of the screen nearly blinds you, but as you squint to look at the notification, your heart skips a beat.
It's Jack, with a simple message that responds to a specific one of your own. Replying to your earlier question about enjoying your videos, all he says in response:
Abbot: Yes.
Heat blooms throughout your body embarrassingly quick. Yes, he liked your videos. One, several, it didn't matter. Jack had seen you naked and whining, and he liked it.
You: wait which video
Abbot: Several.
Oh. So he really liked it. Must've been a hit in his browser history.
You: oh wow. okay
You: glad i could be of service then ;)
You plan to leave it at that and quit while you're ahead. Coaxing the confession out of him was precarious enough. Even though you were dying to know every detail and figure out exactly what he'd seen and what he liked best, you were content with just knowing he liked something about it. Teasing him was fun, but anything more would've been an HR disaster. It'd be interesting to see how Jack would explain that one.
But just as you're about to set your phone down, another message comes through:
Abbot: Yeah, you're really helpful.
Curiosity killed the cat and all that.
You: ?
You: with what?
You knew, in the back of your mind. Or, at least, you really fucking hoped. Every second drags out far too long for your eager nerves, itching to know how he'll respond. Thankfully, it's along the lines of something you were hoping for.
Abbot: Can I show you?
Always so formal.
You: yes please
Your heart was already thumping out of your chest. Working yourself up over whatever he was sending next, heat pumps thick in your veins and lands in your gut. You nearly chewed your lip raw lying in wait. You knew you were being impatient, but when the next message pops up on your screen, you decide every second was worth the wait.
It's an image (exactly what you wanted to see) taken awkwardly in the dark of a bedroom. In it is Jack's hand, which you recognize by the fine lines and freckles on his skin, wrapped loosely around the base of his cock. You assume the only light comes from the camera's flash when he'd taken the picture, but it highlights the pearls of precum welling at the red and ruddy skin of the fat tip. You realize he's still in his scrubs when your eyes trail down to see the waistband pushed down just underneath his heavy balls and the top bunched up to expose the soft pudge of his lower stomach.
It's no expert nude, but it's got a charm that undeniably fits him. And made you so absurdly wet in what you feel confident claiming is record time. You're throbbing at the sight of his cock on your screen. You were glad to see he also thought it fair that he show off in return after he'd seen you bare and desperate multiple times.
Your thighs press together to quell the incessant pulse between your legs as you hurriedly type out a response.
You: are you watching one right now??
Abbot: yeag
Abbot: *Yeah.
You: oh youre unbelievable
You laugh behind your phone screen. You aren't scolding him, just shocked at his audacity. Rolling over to reach your bedside, you flick on the closest light. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the camera's job a little easier and make the final product a little more flattering.
You rid yourself of a majority of your clothes and kick the sheets off of your body. When you're stripped down to nothing more than a pair of unassuming panties, you lift your phone above your reclined figure, angle it just right, and snap a photo. The golden light from your lamp makes your skin look warm. Of course, the angle cuts off everything above the neck—old habits.
You send the photo with a message attached:
You: why are you watching an old video when you literally have access to me right now??
His response comes back in seconds:
Abbot: Jesus Christ
Abbot: Yeah good point
Abbot: Take the rest off. Let me see how wet you are
The command alone is enough to make you throb. You could snap a photo of the outside of your panties, focusing in on the fabric where it clings to your wet skin as slick seeps through the cotton. But you're both, decidedly, too worked up for any more teasing. So you slip the fabric off, kicking it somewhere on your bed, and bring your phone down between your parted legs.
Trying to find a flattering angle reminds you exactly how difficult it was to film the same thing years ago. It takes an awkward grip on your phone, but the camera catches the sheen of your cunt where your slick sits. Your puffy clit, all swollen with arousal, peeks out when you run your fingers through your slit.
You send two photos this time—one with your fingers teasing the bud of your clit, the other with you spread open and dripping. You send both out, typing out a message one-handed.
You: been wet since you said you liked my porno
You: wish you could feel it
Abbot: Yeah?
The gap of time between messages tells you he's probably typing one-handed as well.
Abbot: You like knowing I was getting off to you?
Abbot: Love watching that pretty pussy cum baby. Wish I could feel it too
You throb against your own hand, cunt fluttering at the filthy words on screen. You could almost picture that rumble in his voice he'd get when he was annoyed. Your fingers swirl against your clit, still slicked up, and picture how Jack's hands would feel instead. You scroll up through the messages, seeking out the picture he'd sent earlier. His fingers are thicker than yours, so confident and sure when they work, you know they'd stretch your cunt perfectly. He'd have to if he wanted to fit that fat cock inside—
Abbot: Can you do something for me?
The message pops up, bringing you back to the present conversation. You're already shivering trying to figure out what else he could want. Far too eager—bordering on desperate—you fumble through more messages.
You: yes
You: what do u want
Abbot: Do you have a pillow you can use?
You: u want me to ride it
Abbot: Fuck yes
You smile to yourself at his zealous reply. You knew that was something you'd recorded once upon a time—multiple times, if you recalled correctly. Must've been one of his favorites of yours to request an updated version.
You drag yourself up until you're sitting in the center of your mattress. Once you settle on a pillow to sacrifice, you fold it over and wedge it between your legs. The first brush against your clit makes you shiver, hips jerking into the friction. Already you can feel your arousal seeping into the pillowcase, slicking your movements when you give an experimental roll of your hips. Holding the pillow between your thighs, you fish around for your phone to prepare a picture. You take one, angling it below the neck, but that's not enough.
Finding something to prop your phone against was a nightmare, but once the camera sits steady with your body in frame, you tap the big, red 'record' button. It's an oddly nostalgic feeling; worrying about what's in frame, trying to get the best angle, wondering if the lighting will ruin it. But Jack's waiting, and your cunt's throbbing with the need to get off.
You rock your hips into the pillow with a slow grind that sends zaps up your spine. It's not enough to get off, but it's enough to keep you worked up. Your hands fist in the pillow, grabbing it from different angles, holding it in place while you grind. Your thighs hide most of the action from this angle, but you have a feeling it's the motion of your body that he cares about most. The way your hips swirl and your ass ripples with the motion, the way your chest moves and your tits bounce when you rock down, the way your thighs tense when the fabric drags just right against your clit.
Along the line of curses and swears, you pant Jack's name in that same pathetic whine. Who knew if he'd watch it with the sound on or if the camera could even pick it up from this distance. But you wanted him to know you were thinking about him. All of this was for him, no one else.
Another minute ticks by and you capture the hurried, desperate movement of your hips against your pillow. You know you aren't getting off from this alone, but it's left you hot and dripping. You cut the video and end the recording, not bothering to check the quality before sending it his way. Quality clearly wasn't an issue he was too picky about.
In the minutes that follow—waiting for him to respond—you keep rocking into the soft plush of the pillow. Your head spins trying to imagine the look on his face. You wanted to see what he did when he heard his name drop from your lips. Maybe you'd get another photo—or a video of your own.
Instead, your phone began to buzz incessantly, rhythmically. Jack was calling you. The screen changed, his name in bold letters up top with the taunting 'Accept' and 'Decline' buttons below. You stared at it for a moment, unsure how to respond once the barrier of text was removed and you got to hear his voice in real time. Your thumb moves before your brain.
You bring your phone to your ear, panting heavier than you realize. You mutter a shaky "Hello?" that sounds more timid than you feel.
Jack's voice comes through on the other end, preceded by a heavy breath you feel in your bones. "Are you still on that pillow?"
"Mm-hmm," you whine, nodding along as if he can see you
"Good." His voice is raspy, thick with a kind of desperation you didn't know he was capable of. "Good, I want you to cum like that."
"Yeah? Fuck—you gonna make me cum, Jack?" You swirl your hips and drag your clit along the soft swell of the pillow. The wetness you've left behind makes the glide easy, slicking your sensitive flesh.
"Fuck," he groans, breath catching in his throat. "Yeah, been waiting...been waiting to make that pretty pussy feel good." You swear you hear the wet schlick of his hand moving in the background. If you closed your eyes, you could almost picture one of those broad hands pumping the length of his cock. "You got awfully wet for me, huh?"
Another mm-hmm sounds out from your throat. Your fingers tighten around the length of your phone, the other in the fabric of the pillow. "M'so fucking wet…bet you'd fuck me so good."
"Fuck, yeah, I would. Ah, shit—I'd give you whatever you want, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. The name settles somewhere deep in your gut, stirring alongside the heat pulling at your core. "Yeah, you know what this pussy likes, don't you?"
All Jack offers in response is another low, rumbling groan. The wet schlick, schlick, schlick of his hand sounds out rhythmically in the background of his audio. Somewhere in the mess of sounds is your name, breathless and heavy, on his lips. Your thighs clench tight against the pillow as you rut, chasing the friction of the soaked fabric.
"Bet you'd look so good full of me. God…" He huffs. You can tell his jaw's set tight, cursing spilling out from behind grit teeth. "Can't wait to feel you around me…" You moan at his words, too afraid to speak lest you interrupt his filthy train of thought. "You'd take it, wouldn't you? You'd take it so fucking good, huh?"
Your hips stutter in their rhythm, twitching in an effort to chase the mounting pressure building in your core. "Fuuuck, Jack…" You whine, barely able to catch your breath.
"You gonna cum for me?"
"Mm-hmm…"
"Say it, baby, tell me you're gonna cum for me."
"M'gonna cum for you, Jack."
You're rutting like an animal, grinding against your pillow with energy you didn't know you had. The desperation gnawed at you, frenzied and greedy, pushing you towards a high you needed more than anything else. Between the soft, wet plush between your thighs and the hot, needy sounds he made in your ear, you were barreling towards the edge alarmingly quickly.
Jack curses, the sound heavy and strained, "Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you." He urges you with a desperation that rivals your own.
Pleasure shoots white-hot down your spine, seizing every muscle in your body. Your thighs clamp tight around the pillow, keeping it close and in place for the frantic rock of your hips. You nearly double over as you shake and whimper. The last thing on your mind is your phone, but when Jack's breath grows heavier, your awareness focuses in on the noises coming from your speaker. The groan that tears from him is unlike anything you've heard from him before. You know he's coming down from the same high when he's left panting into the phone wherever it sits on his end.
You aren't sure how long the two of you stay like that. Eventually your spine straightens, a small whimper escaping your throat when your sensitive flesh grazes the pillow. With the adrenaline and ecstasy wearing off, an ache begins to creep into the small of your back.
Jack's the first to break the silence. "You alright?" He asks, still winded himself.
"Mm. Yeah. You?"
"I am now. You were…a pretty great help."
You laugh a soft sound, feeling a flush creep up to your cheeks. It felt ridiculous to blush over a compliment when you'd both cum from the sound of each other's voices. He sounded so…pleased. With you or himself, you weren't completely sure.
"Told you, I'm glad to be of service." Now he laughs, the sound heavy with exhaustion. "Can I ask…how many of those videos you watched?"
"Uh…four?"
"Really? Only four? Thought it'd be more than that."
"Yeah, well…" He interrupts himself with a groan that makes you wonder if he's aching the same way you are. "Didn't have the time. I'm a busy man."
"And here I thought you were my biggest fan."
"Oh, no doubt about that." He sighs, and a beat of silence passes between the two of you. "Sorry about…how I acted today."
You move off of the pillow, wincing at the ache in your hips, as you move to gather your discarded clothes. "Oh, Jack, it's fine."
"No, I…It was unprofessional. I'm sorry." You slip your clothes on while he speaks, just letting him speak the apology. He needed it more than you did. "I'll…make it up to you. How about that?"
"More than this?"
"Oh, absolutely."
You find yourself easing in the lulls of silence, not too pressured to fill it with mindless chatter. As you turn the lights down and crawl back into your sheets, you aren't pressured to keep up with mindless chatter. What else was there to say, really? The rhythmic sound of his breathing, the airy feel of the lingering high, made you sink into your mattress.
You both needed sleep. Desperately.
"Okay, old man, I'm…I need sleep."
"Old man?"
"You should sleep, too."
"Hold on, 'old man'?"
"Jack."
"Fine." Another groan sounds out from his end. "After I clean up."
"Actually, could you…" You trail off before the request can form, heat creeping back up to your cheeks. You can picture his face, that cocked brow he always sported, waiting for you to use your words. "Could you take a picture before you clean up?"
"A picture? Of what, the mess you caused?"
Your mess. If you were less tired, that might've reignited something inside you. "Yeah. Just…I wanna see."
"You wanna see…" Jack echoes your words with a sarcastic tinge, but you can hear the smile in his voice. "Alright, fine. But you better sleep right after."
"I will. Promise."
"Good." Another beat passes where both of you take a deep, settling breath. "I'll see you tonight?"
Tonight. Right. You had to face him tonight for your next shift. That was a level of embarrassment and awkwardness you weren't ready to acknowledge quite yet. "Yeah," you concede, "see you then."
The call ends with a beep sounding out from your speaker. The lingering high has nearly worn off, only coaxed along this far by the sound of his voice. You hoped the ache in your back and the meat of your thighs would right themselves by the time you woke up. It was hard to know what, exactly, you were meant to feel. Truth be told, you were too tired to process anything outside of your exhaustion. Maybe you'd regret it when you realized it wasn't a dream. Maybe you'd still be riding a high. You quickly decided it was a problem for a future you who was more rested and level-headed.
One last chime rings out from your phone. Yet again, the screen blinds you in the darkness when you bring the device close. But seeing Jack's name with the notification of an attachment made your heart skip a beat. He'd followed through—always a man of his word. A similar photo taken from the same angle, his ruddy cock dribbling white onto his skin. The mess of liquid is larger than you'd anticipated, pooled over the soft pudge of his stomach and dripping down to the wiry, pale hair that trailed downward.
Yeah, even exhausted, that was enough to make something stir.
You: thank you <3
You: wish i was there to clean u up
Abbot: You said you'd go to sleep.
You: yes, sir
Abbot: Don't start with that or we won't get any sleep.
He was right, but would it really be that big of a shame? You'd worked doubles on less sleep before. The more you thought about it, though, the less you wanted to face the possibility of explaining yourself to Shen. And as selfish as you were, you knew Jack needed the rest more than anyone else could've. For the sake of his job, of course. But as you drifted off and let your mind wander to every possibility of what your next shift could hold, you quickly realized you needed him well-rested.
You had a real goal now. A goal that involved him and proving you weren't the same amateur from eight years ago.
Pairing: dom!Brendon Park x best friend's sister!reader
Word count: 5.5k
CW: MDNI, 18+
Tags/warnings: D/s dynamics, f!reader, age gap (reader is 26, Brendon is mid 30s), minor injury, little angst from brendon, tinge ooc but like is it really if that man was only on screen for like 3 seconds?, yearning, kinky relationships, kinky dating sites, sub drop
Summary: Something's been missing in Brendon's life ever since his last relationship ended, and you might just be exactly what he needs…if he lets himself have you
a/n: okay, here’s the much awaited set up for this series!! lmk what we think
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND, USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI OR USE AI TO TRANSLATE MY WORK. FUCK AI.
Something gnaws at the back of Brendon’s skull, like a metaphorical breeze that he can’t quite seem to shake, irking him into a constant state of annoyance.
He’s getting irritable again, that much is clear from all the whispers and glances his interns, residents and nurses have been giving him all week. Hell, even Robinavitch has been more curt than usual, not lingering to engage with him outside of the strictly medical. It’s not like they were buddies to begin with, but the two extra words they give each other at consults are definitely missing.
Brendon knows what it is, that itching under his skin, that weight to his heartbeat, that cold deep within his bones.
He has tried to ignore it before and it had worked for the majority of his life. Contact sports, exercise, hell, even the rigorousness of med school had done wonders to dull the ache into a barely there whisper in the back of his mind. The need had just become a want, a little tingle that he could pretend didn’t exist.
But he can’t ignore it anymore, not since his last partner.
The breakup had been mutual, her moving away to another city and him letting her go because what kind of selfish monster would be he if he didn’t. But ever since then, the gust had turned into a storm, roaring and unashamed to freeze everything in its path.
Brendon threw his entire focus on work, on the medicine, on routine, structure but none of it has been enough to fix the heaviness of his heart.
He groans as he finally settles into the plush cushion of his office chair, the leather just the right amount of cool after being left alone in the air conditioned room all morning.
Six hour surgery, practically in and out, right when he clocked in and just a little after lunch. He should be proud, should be feeling the weight of hunger and exhaustion and accomplishment. But instead all he can feel is the weight of…emptiness.
He knows it’ll end in heartache once more, just pure dissatisfaction, but he can’t seem to stop himself as he pulls out his phone and opens that stupid private app that Robinavitch had so kindly recommended.
No new matches.
Great.
He’s not looking for much, nothing that he would consider unreasonable. Sure, he’s probably gone through every single profile on it in the few months since his separation, meeting a few of the ones who matched for initial compatibility assessment coffees, but none of them had stuck. They all felt like a chore, like he was adding more to their lives than they were to his. He felt awful about it for a while, tried to rationalize it, convince himself that it’s his role to provide for them so what he wants doesn’t matter as much. But that only made the times they’d made it into the bedroom that much more exhausting. It felt like a performance, detached and devoid of all emotional connection.
Needless to say, Brendon Park remains alone and the ache is slowly eating away at him.
His pager goes off as he stares into the distance, his brain giving him whiplash as he snaps back into the unfortunate reality of where he is, who he is and just all he isn’t. He groans, audibly, taking advantage of the empty room, the silence, the lack of prying eyes, and eventually pushes himself back on his already aching feet.
The walk down to the ED is quick and sharp, all business and forward momentum. People part like water as he swims through the hustle and bustle of the hospital, only slowing down in the elevator before resuming his swiftness the second the stainless steel doors open.
He catches the tired eyes of the head nurse above her glasses, giving her a subdued and respectful nod of his head as she intercepts him. His eyebrow twitches in confusion as she falls into step beside him, practically herding him into central eight.
"What've you got?"
Dana sighs, seemingly over whatever drama this patient has put her through.
"Just a really bad sprain from what I can tell but she insisted."
That makes Park stop cold. Her lip quirks into a soft smirk, somehow understanding something before he could even catch up to it, a hint of mischief breaking through her exhaustion.
"Oh yeah," she grins. "Asked for you by name too."
He pushes past her then, curiosity killing the big mean shark or however the saying goes.
And to say that he's surprised would be an understatement, his predatory gaze going from cold and calculating to one of shock, wiped swiftly by a softness that no one has ever seen from him.
"Sugar plum?"
"Nutcracker man!" your voice is like a shot of whiskey in a cold winter's night.
"What are you doing here?" Here at the hospital, here in Pittsburg, here, right in front of him, close enough to reach out and—
"Steven insisted I come over and ask for you by name," you huff, ever the indignant child. "I told him it was just a sprain but he got mad at me."
His lips instantly quirk into a full smile, completely ignoring the nurse in the room and Santos's bulging eyes.
"Cut your brother some slack, some habits die hard."
You roll your eyes. "Easy for you to say, your sisters are lovely."
That gets a chuckle out of him, easy and hearty, and he can practically see Santos almost falling out of her chair in shock.
"They're just as bad as you and you know it."
You smile brightly at that, innocent eyes with a devilish smirk that almost stops his heart.
“I don’t actually, I’m an angel.”
His lips instantly quirk into a full smile. Yeah right.
You chuckle softly at his reaction as he moves from the front of the bed towards you. Strong, confident hands hover over your elevated leg, as if trying to hold himself back from the temptation that is finally laying his hands on you, of confirming that you are real and not just another figment of his imagination.
He gets over himself quickly as Santos finally clears her throat, presenting the case before the room drowns in the downpour of your familiarity. He swallows thickly, willing his hands to just do their damn job, urging muscle memory to carry him through.
As Santos drones on, he can feel the searing fire of your stare, the way your breathing hitches ever so slightly as he picks up the ice pack over your purpling ankle, the way goosebumps emerge as he picks up your leg and gently conducts the same mobility, tenderness and pain examination that the intern in triage must’ve.
“…and that’s why I don’t babysit for anyone. Kids are a safety hazard.”
You chuckle lightheartedly. “It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have trusted a three year old to tidy up. I should’ve looked where I was going.”
“You’re looking after Tyler?” The words escape him before he can think twice about it.
“Yeah, I’m living with them actually,” you murmur, shifting as he sets your foot back down on the pillow. “While I…” you trail off, a little embarrassed as you look around the room at the three other pairs of eyes still glued to your interaction with Park like he’s grown an extra head.
He stiffens, his light hand over your calf tightening ever so slightly as he clears his throat. “Well you’re right, it’s just a sprain but I’d still like to be sure so I’m going to order x-rays and we’ll go from there.”
You nod, watching him intently as he icily glares around the room, snapping everyone back into action. When the fishes have scattered and it's only the two of you in the room, he pulls back his teeth and settles on the stool Santos was just occupying.
“It’s really good to see you again,” you tell him, shyly playing with your necklace.
He’s smitten by the habit, one he knows well.
“Me too,” he keeps his voice steady and even. “Whatever happened to…”
He doesn’t mean to pry, but he simply can’t help it. He needs to know, his heart practically doing somersaults in his chest.
You sigh, ripping your gaze from his haunting blue eyes and making yourself as little as you can before speaking. “Broke up.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“And your masters program?”
That gets you to look back at him, a tame yet excited smile curling your lips, causing a prideful shiver to course through Brendon’s body.
“Graduated with honors last year,” you beam.
“Atta girl, I’m proud of you,” he pats your thigh without thinking about it, the contact comfortable and familiar. He catches the way your breathing hitches, doesn’t mention it, sliding his touch to rest on the bed instead.
“What about you?” You recover quickly. “Whatever happened with that woman from Steven’s birthday party?”
Oh right, you'd met her. He visibly cringes and you instantly feel bad.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be, it’s okay,” the panic in your voice makes him violently ill, quickly returning his touch to your thigh to soothe you. “Didn’t work out.”
“Oh…I’m sorry Brendon, she doesn’t know what she missed out on.”
Your compliment is genuine, he knows it, he feels it, and it instantly puts him at ease. He gives you a soft, sorrowful smile.
“So what’s next?” He changes the subject, deflection always being easier to handle than truth.
You shrug. “Get x-rays done, prove to my brother that I’m fine and I shouldn’t have had to deal with medical bills, probably order takeout when I get discharged—”
Brendon chuckles, cutting off your rambling even if he doesn’t want to. “I meant with life, sugar plum.”
Your eyes widen in embarrassment, the panic that he’d seen in them earlier when he mentioned your ex returning tenfold.
It’s his turn to apologize, mouth instantly opening to try and fix it, when his pager goes off, cutting through the comfort you’d created for him instantly. Suddenly, the cold returns, the bright lights remind him of the headache, the loudness of the ED seep into his bones.
“Go,” you tell him. “Go be a hot, competent surgeon doctor man.”
He rolls his eyes, his eyes lingering on the sincerity of your voice. There had been a time when those words would’ve ended with your brother teasing the two of you relentlessly. But you never take it back. Even if the words don't mean anything more than the truth, Brendon could always count on you to remind him of the simple facts of life.
He is competent. He is a surgeon doctor man. He is hot.
Wait—
Before he can wrap his head around the word, around the meaning behind it, he’s being pulled away, this time by a 911. He gives your thigh one last squeeze, not really aware he’s doing but the warmth of your skin lingers against his palm all the way back upstairs into OR 3 and it relaxes him.
Complications with one of Garcia’s surgeries keep him distracted for the next four hours, the comforting practice of being just another set of hands that has no thoughts or feelings or yearnings aside from the medicine in front of him doing wonders to clench his thirst.
It’s late when he finally settles back into his body. The ache, the hunger, the exhaustion hits him like a tidal wave. He knows it was coming but actually realizing just how much he’s neglected himself in the hustle of the day always leaves him feeling worse about himself.
He cleans up as much as he can, changing into civilian clothes before he returns to his office to gather his things and get the fuck out of the sterile building.
His phone glares at him from where it’s been left, neglected and alone, for the majority of the day. He doesn’t panic, though. There’s no one waiting for him on the other end of the annoying device anyway. He taps the screen, however, a stupid habit that he too has fallen victim to like the entire human population.
One text from his sister in their family group chat. One weather notification. Two missed calls and a few texts from your brother.
The short interaction rushes back to him instantly, his body blossoming with the promise of something warm once more. He picks up the small device, returning your brother’s call instantly.
“Hey brother,” Steven’s voice is cheerful, even if Brendon knows better.
“Hey, long time no call.”
Steven chuckles at that, the lingering guilt from both parties only partially alleviated.
“Yeah, who’s fault is that?”
“Definitely mine,” Brendon concedes with a chuckle. “To what do I owe all this attention then?”
“Just wanted to thank you for taking care of my sister today.”
Brendon can’t help the smile that spreads at the mention of you, at the reminder that you’re actually real to other people too.
“Of course, man, she’s family,” he lets the feelings settle deep in his chest, resting against his desk before continuing. “How’s she doing?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me, she’s still at the hospital.”
The feeling expands, twisting into one of rage and shame.
“It’s been hours.”
“I know…but she just told me they’re discharging her.”
Brendon sighs, silently damning the entire healthcare system.
“I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”
“Thanks man,” Steven sighs in gratefulness. “Oh and bring a pizza over please.”
Brendon rolls his eyes at his friend’s lack of shame. “Of course. Still just cheese for Tyler?”
“You know it.”
With that, Brendon practically rushes back down to the ED, his hair fluffy from the sweat breaking apart his gel cast, the casual henley and dark wash denim combo making him unrecognizable to the staff as he walks through, giving Abbot a curt nod in acknowledgement before he enters the room you’d been in earlier.
Your eyes light up as you see him. “Hey stranger.”
“That’s doctor stranger to you.”
It makes you giggle and he’s certain his cheeks bloom pink at that.
“You taking me home?”
He nods once, walking over to the computer and scanning his ID so that he can take a final look at your chart. You gather your things slowly, watching how the man you’d seen a few hours ago has drastically transformed into the man you’ve known for the past seven years.
You’d met Brendon at your high school graduation, your brother having come back home from college with his roommate for the summer. You’d spent the entire two months before you left for college yourself convinced that the two of them were together together, the way they brought out the best in each other endearing.
It was when you’d caught them both at the same house party your friends had dragged you to, his tongue practically down the girl that had been a bitch to you all throughout high school’s throat that you realized that you had been deadly wrong. Jealousy bubbled in your stomach, ugly and upsetting, so much so that you had given him the silent treatment for a whole day before he finally had enough of it.
Brendon Park wasn’t yours, not even platonically, and yet, he couldn’t help but become one of the closest people to you that summer. You told him, the truth somehow spilling out of you in a way that had never happened before. And he’d apologized. The fucker said sorry and promised to never do it again. Needless to say, you’d ignored your feelings until college flings and serious boyfriends buried them deep within you.
Seeing him now is…a lot. You’ve always cared for him, always respected his opinion, his council, his everything. He’s Brendon for fuck’s sake. Accomplished, loyal, respectful, chivalrous, perfect golden boy Brendon. Your bother’s best friend. And the secret subject of your unbridled desires.
“Anything interesting?” You ask, desperate to break yourself from your thoughts.
“No break, healthy fibula…” he drones on, clinical and sterile, his deep knowledge of bones endearing at this point. He turns to catch your teasing smile and his cheeks blush the most adorable red as he realizes he’s been info dumping on you. “Everything looks good.”
“Thank you Brendon.”
He turns back to the computer, logging on his final notes for your medical history in an attempt to stop looking like a damn fool in front of you. Your smiles mean nothing more than what they are—comfort and familiarity. You’re a ray of sunshine to everyone that happens to be standing in your direction. He’s not the exception, he’s simply a part of the rule.
His phone vibrates from the depth of his pocket. Probably another text from your brother asking him to hurry the fuck up, impatience a running trait in your family. He pulls out his phone, his eyes slowly drifting to the notification. A flurry of emotions run through him as the next few moments play out.
At first, embarrassment when he notices it’s a notification from the app, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he hides it from view, who knows what you’d think about him if you only knew what it was.
Next, hope, dizzying and contagious as he reads the notification. One new profile found. The match strikes, an ember sparks. He’s almost giddy now, eager to get the evening over with so he can give the notification all of his attention.
And finally, he’s certain he’s going into cardiac arrest as he, because he’s a man and has the self-restraint of one, even if he prides himself on being everything but an eager motherfucker, taps on the notification and he’s instantly met with your beautiful face as the profile opens up.
Brendon can’t breathe anymore.
He manages a strangled excuse and darts into the private bathroom, his entire world both crumbling all around him with each exhale and being rebuilt into a utopia with every inhale. But it’s not enough, air is not enough anymore and he knows it. No, not when he knows.
There’s too much running through him that the only thing he can think of is how if he got this notification then you definitely did too. Panic and shame and every ugly emotion that reminds him just how wrong this is beats him up. Through trembling fingers he turns off the discoverability of his profile, praying to every god he’s ever learned about that you’ll never, ever get the full knowledge of just how deranged Brendon’s fears have convinced him he is.
Then comes the guilt. He should not know this about you. This is such a precious thing, vulnerable and honest, too honest, and he cannot help but feel like he’s betrayed your trust in some way. You’re Steven’s sister, curious and unapologetic, the girl who picked daisies and made flower crowns, the girl who spiked their ice tea with your dad’s whiskey, the girl who teased him relentlessly when he showed up with his first serious girlfriend to Christmas the first time your families met, the girl who baked him his favorite cake when he graduated from med school, the girl that tells him the truth and isn’t afraid to hurt him because you both have a mutual understanding that goes beyond acquaintances.
It’s because of this that the little ember nudges, whispering something much deadlier in his ear. Knowledge is power, so much so that the pull towards it becomes dizzying. What if you could be—
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
That is never going to happen.
No.
Nuh-uh.
He has half a mind to throw his phone in the trash and himself along with it. He can never allow himself to think of you that way, not again. He’s a heartbreaker, it’s what he’s always done. Overprotective, overbearing, possessive and cruel. He could never tie you down, could never ask you to fulfill those sick and twisted fantasies that he so desperately needs in order to feel whole.
No, he’ll damn himself to an eternity of solitude before he puts you in a position where you could actually be exactly what he’s looking for, because he knows that what he wants is not something that either of you can come back from, and he respects you too much to put you in a position where the relationship that you’re looking for can jeopardize the one you’ve got with your brother, with your family, with your friends and loved ones.
He will not do that to you. He will get his shit together, pretend he never saw what he saw, help you to his car, drive to Tony’s Pizzeria and get a half cheese, half pepperoni pizza, a huge homemade orange soda bottle for the four of you to share, spend an hour with your brother and nephew and then disappear from your life forever. It doesn’t matter that you’re here, it doesn't matter that you’re just as perfect as ever, treating him as if no time has passed, as if nothing has happened, as if his absence never happened.
He takes one last steadying breath, locking his phone, and stepping out onto the floor.
But then his eyes lock with yours and whatever plan he so masterfully concocted throws itself away in favor of this, that all encompassing feeling that blooms behind his heart and spreads all over his chest the second he comes into your spotlight.
It’s weirdly comfortable to be in Brendon’s car, the radio turned low yet steady, the confidence of his movements as he navigates night life traffic a little too sexy. The silence that lingers between the two of you isn’t uncomfortable, it’s simply…air.
You wince lightly as you settle further into the expensive leather, reveling in the comfort that is Brendon Park now being a big shot surgeon with doctor money. You chuckle at the thought, effectively breaking his constant stare forward, as if his only task right now is to drive as though he’s carrying precious cargo in his car.
He can’t help himself when he asks, “what’s so funny?”
You catch his softened gaze, a dopey smile still lingering. “You.”
The single word does something to him, constricting his heart until he forces himself to tear his eyes from yours as if they’ve hurt him.
“I knew you’d make it, you’ve always been determined,” you sigh. “I guess it’s just nice to see it for real now.”
He chuckles right back at you. “I could say the same thing to you.”
You scoff, self-deprecating. “Yeah right, I’m unemployed, living with my brother and his son because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life and person I thought I was going to spend it with broke up with me cause I was ‘too much work’.”
The car screeches to a halt in the middle of the road, causing you to jolt against the seatbelt across your chest.
“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” his voice cuts through the adrenaline pumping through your heart. “You will never speak about yourself in that way, do I make myself clear?”
It’s only after he says it that realization dawns on him like a bucket of ice water being poured over his body. He watches the way your body reacts to the authority in his voice, the way you shiver slightly, the way your expression drops into submission, pupils dilating, your legs rubbing together instinctively.
“I’m sorry Bren,” your voice is barely a whisper but he hears it nonetheless.
“It’s okay,” he settles back against his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “I’m sorry you’re going through so much, but that’s no excuse to talk down on yourself. You’d rip me a new one if I did the same thing, wouldn’t you?”
That pulls a smile back on your face. “Oh I’d do much, much worse.”
“See? So why would I allow the same?”
You nod, biting down on your lower lip ever so slightly as he starts the car again, both your hearts beating a million times a minute. You liked that, his rough voice, the way he instantly cut through all the noise in your head, reminding you that you’re more than all the self-destructive thoughts.
Your brain turns off so slowly you’re unable to spot it. You can hear him call your name, ask you a question, but all you register is that delicious baritone to his voice, how it reverberates against your ribs and makes you feel safe. As if understanding exactly what’s going on, he sighs deeply, wrapping his big, surgeon hand over your thigh. You barely register as he starts the car again, the comforting rumbling of the vehicle beneath you slowly lulling you to sleep as your body comes down from that adrenaline spike. You stare at him through hooded eyes, the warmth from his hand as the only anchor keeping you tethered in the ocean of your feelings.
A twisted thought turns in your heart, making you sick. Panic bubbles. You jolt into awareness, abrasive and shocking, and you’re certain he can feel the spike in your pulse from the death grip he’s got on your leg. You did not just drop in front of Brendon Park.
“You okay?” He asks, because of course he does, he’s always been attentive and kind and respectful.
You nod, far too quickly, but you pretend like nothing’s wrong, retreating so far into yourself until you can believe like it isn’t. You feel like a stranger in your own body as he parks the car, comes around to get your crutches and open your door, as the two of you go inside and greet every single person working tonight, as you busy yourself helping to marry the ketchups while your order gets made.
You can feel him watching you intensely, even if the kid working the register is still talking his ear off about last night’s hockey game. He replies half-heartedly, pays with his black amex which you only slightly tease him about, and let him carry everything back to the car while you settle back in the front seat.
You don’t say another word to him, not as he drives up your brother’s driveway, as he stands beside you while you unlock the door, as Steven brings him into a warm hug and Tyler runs up to uncle Brendon like a rocket ship.
No, you’re cold and distant, detached from everything going on around it and it breaks Brendon’s heart a little. He can’t stop chastising himself, over and over again, watching as you nibble at your food, as your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, as you avoid eye contact with him profusely throughout his stay.
Eventually, it’s time for Tyler’s nighttime routine and since you’re currently incapacitated, doctor’s orders, Steven wrangles the three year old by himself, making Brendon promise to wait for him so they can drink a few beers and catch up after.
The second that Steven leaves the room, Brendon decides he’s had enough.
He finds you aggressively washing the dishes you used for dinner by hand, mind off somewhere far away from him, from this, from now.
“Sugar plum?” He sees your body tense instantly, a shiver running through it that makes him cringe internally.
He takes a deep breath. You need him right now and he’s gotta be the bigger man and actually right his wrongs.
“Turn it off.”
You shiver again, legs rubbing together again, this time definitely intentional. You don’t dare face him, don’t dare breathe because if you do, you’re afraid it’ll choke out of you like a broken moan.
“Be a good girl and do as you’re told.”
That does you in. A clear command, fully open and honest, cutting through the noise in your head and letting you know you’re not crazy. Your shaky hand turns off the tab, the room falling back into an uneasy silence.
“I’m sorry if I startled you in the car,” he starts, voice even and apologetic. “It wasn’t my intention, I should’ve known better.”
Your brow scrunches in confusion but you don’t think much of it. Maybe you truly are that easy to read and your ex had been right, your disinterest in your “vanilla” relationship so evident in every action you took over the past three months that the only course of action was for him to cheat on you.
I can't give you what you need.
His words echo in your mind as a shaky sigh escapes your lips, your soapy hand coming up to slam over your mouth before he can hear the truth behind it, the rawness that he’s awakened. You’re not his responsibility, he should not have to deal with—
You don’t even know when it happens, all you do is feel his strong arms wrapping around you, turning your body so that you can hide your face against his chest as you can’t hold back the sobs anymore.
He shushes you gently, never crossing the platonic boundary your relationship has already established, and that only makes you that much more emotional. You don’t really remember how long you cry, all you know is that by the time the tears subside, there’s a wet patch right below his heart and his mouth flutters gentle praises in your ear, so close that his breathing makes you tickle.
You push him back slightly, getting your bearings straight enough to start feeling embarrassed that he just witnessed that.
“Hey, none of that,” he says, certain. “You’re okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
You avoid his piercing gaze as you wipe your face clean, one of the hands around your waist grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping after your fingers.
You can’t help the giggle that escapes you then, the absurdity of the moment not lost on you as a singular thought persists—Brendon Park would make an amazing dom.
“Thank you Bren.”
“Don’t mention it, kiddo.”
“Ew, rude,” you scrunch your nose in mock offense, finally looking up at him.
He almost folds, your puffy eyes, slightly red nose, the way you hold onto him like you trust him, like he’s safe…any weaker man would’ve folded instantly. And fuck it if he doesn’t want to be weak.
“What? City girl suddenly too good for a silly nickname?”
You roll your eyes, trying to pull back from his embrace fully now but he doesn’t let you.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me—”
Your breathing hitches, something shifts, your pupils dilate slightly.
Brendon clears his throat, letting you go then, aggressively shoving his hands inside his jean pockets. You blink up at him, the cloud slowly dissipating as you come back into your body.
It’s beautiful. So raw and vulnerable he doesn’t even think about his movements, he only does them, holding out his arms so that you can hold yourself up on them, something steady and grounding. And to his pure delight, you do, your grip not tentative or shy but fully trusting in him.
After a long, drawn out minute, the house returns with full force, Steven joking after a giggling Tyler down the hall, the hum of the fridge behind him, the clock ticking in the other room. You hum, shifting your weight around uncomfortably.
“You should go to bed,” he tells you, a gentle command that has you instantly nodding, as if only because he’s said it you’re now aware of just how tired you are.
You nod, brain so fuzzy you don’t think it’ll be able to handle words right about now.
Brendon can’t help but smile, a barely there smirk that desperately wants to turn into more but he fears if it does then you’ll know everything.
“Want you to take a shower, elevate your foot and text me if you need anything else, alright?”
“Yes sir.”
His heart lurches. He knows you’re only saying it teasingly but still, the ache almost topples him over, throws him off balance. You pull away slowly, taking your warmth with you, returning his soul to the ice age it has cultivated. He stares at you go, body turned to stone until he hears Steven coming back down the hall towards him.
He snaps out of it then, putting on his best Brendon Park, college friend mask on and indulging the single parent in a much needed hour of beers and ranting. By the time he’s sat back in his car, he can’t seem to push himself to leave. He sits there, staring out into the dark street before him, head buzzing with thoughts and feelings that threaten to consume him.
And somehow, through all the noise, his phone dings.
You: In bed now. Feet elevated. Thank you so much for today, you didn’t have to be so kind but I’m glad that you were.
You: And also…thank you for…that too.
You added a picture, your foot, wrapped like the nurses had taught you, propped up on a mountain of pillows. The ember expands in his heart, ignites that desperate yearning again, and he’s finally able to get himself to drive away, but not before replying—
synopsis you and Robby had been going casual for a while now, but when Jack comes into the picture and wants your attention Robby has to share, but with how much the two of them talk about each other while with you, you suspect they might be more than happy with the situation... (7.3K words)
warnings smut MDNI. Three ways kinda. fingering, breast play, handjobs, making out, p in v sex, pussy eating, getting frisky at work, three way kissing? langauage, age gap but no specified
author note consider this my sorry for no part two to golden girl.... there probably won't be a part two to this though either....
the pitt masterlist! other rabbot x reader work!
You had never known two men to be as competitive as Jack and Robby.
Two men who admitted to themselves they were both good doctors- great even, though they had different styles. They could look past each other's ways of doing things in order to support each other. One could lead with authority and drive, the other moving round his leadership with kind steps and guidance.
Except when it came to you.
When it was you, they were two teenage boys on the pitch trying to impress a field of girls.
When Jack had asked you for drinks you'd been overjoyed that your lingering glances and petty touches had been enough to convey your interest. However, you then had to explain yours and Robby's arrangement.
You'd been fucking quietly (as in on the down low, nothing about the way you fucked was quiet) and needed to make sure Jack was okay knowing that wouldn't be stopping just because he was taking you on one date. As much as you'd been looking at Jack, hoping for his attention, you couldn't stop the attraction you had to Robby. It had come first, afterall.
You'd said as much to Robby with his cock deep inside of you. Your hands on his shoulders as you bounced, the plap plap plap of skin bouncing off his bedroom walls. “Jack- Jack asked me for drinks,” you gasped.
Robby's skin glowed in sweat. His hands dug into your hips, helping you move up and down at a brutal pace. “My Jack?”
Something about the way he insisted Jack was his had you moaning out, your walls tightening around him.
“Fuck, don't do that,” Robby grunted, head thrown back on his headboard with a whack.
“Your-your Jack. Yes!” Your hands reached back to his thighs, fingernails digging into his skin.
It thrust your chest in Robby's face and he didn't miss a beat to trail his tongue messily across your chest, tasting your sweat and groping at your breast to take your nipple and swirl his tongue around the bud. He moaned around it, sucking like a baby and sending stimulation through your body.
“Fuck-fuck, Robby,” you moaned, dragging your core over him in delicious circles.
He hummed and watched you with encouraging nods. He pulled away from your breast and took your neck, bringing you in to him sharply. He nodded along with the movements of your body. “Come on my cock, scream my name, then we can talk about your date with Jack.”
Come on his cock you did, body shaking, mouth hung open soundlessly as Robby held you close into his chest and rutted up into you till he finished, painting your walls and biting down on your shoulder.
Moments later you were tucked into his side, Robby twirling bits of your hair with his head rested against yours.
“So Jack, huh?” he'd asked. “You want to go.” He wasn't looking at you but at the empty space at the bottom of his bed. There was a chest at the bottom with the essentials for such activities: towels, wipes, condoms, lube, maybe even some toys you'd slipped in as a joke all well within reach for him.
“Yeah I do,” you said. “We're only casual right, I'm within my rights to see who I want, aren't I?”
It was all teasing. You knew Robby didn't really want to share you but couldn't commit either so until then you'd be exercising your freedom.
Till he broke, because you knew he would.
That's how you ended up at a bar with Jack, crowded together in a small booth in the corner just days later. A few empty glasses sat around you, as well as an empty basket of chicken wings you'd shared earlier in the night.
Jack's arm was thrown around the booth, finger so close to touching, thigh almost pressed to yours but he kept just beyond touch. Either out of respect for yours and Robby's arrangement, or to drive you crazy.
“How long's this thing with you and Robby been going on?” he asked.
“Few months. We both needed a release with no strings attached kind of thing and it just happened that way.” You weren't ashamed of it. Not embarrassed that you'd given in to Robby the way you'd always wanted to. You didn't care that he was your boss or older than you by some decades. If stuff like that bothered you, you wouldn't have been sitting in the bar with Jack.
“You ever thought of asking me?” he asked with a smirk.
“If you were there that day, I just might have.”
It wasn't like you could ever ignore how attractive Jack was. Just as you couldn't ignore how attractive Robby was.
“And if I wanted to take you on more dates,” said Jack. “How would that work with you and Robby?”
You took your time in running your fingers over the rim of your glass.
The fact of the matter was you thought it wouldn't get better than Robby. Same hours and the same needs bled into sex that had your body shivering and never left you without pleasure. You liked it. You hadn't thought about changing it. You didn't know if you could find as deep a knowing as you had with Robby.
“I-I don't know,” you said, frowning to yourself at your own admission.
“Hey-hey,” said Jack, hand brushing back your hair and cradling your cheek. “I'm not asking you and Robby to stop.” Jack shuffled closer, finally touching you. “I'm just asking if you had room for one more.”
That's how you ended up in the back of Jack's truck pulled around to the dark corners of the bar, sprawled naked along the backs of his seat, legs spread and his mouth hot and heavy on you.
He'd got an orgasm from you pressed up against the wall, fingers curling and circling in the ways you liked like he'd been studying for this.
“Yeah... yeah...” Jack talked down to your pussy, your arousal coating his lips and almost dripping down before he dove back in, fingers spreading you wide and tongue slotting in.
“Jack! It's-it's too much!” you cried, desperate to close your thighs but his hands darted out and kept one high up on the back seats and the other limp on the floor. “Jack!”
His tongue fucked into you. “Just come. Come for me baby and I promise I'll stop, I promise-”
Condensation rolled down the windows of his truck, your body moving against the seats as you withered in pleasure. You had come on his tongue, not that it stopped Jack as he promised it would.
You had to explain to Robby the next time you saw him why there were bruises he definitely didn't leave at your thighs and why the pussy he'd memorised the taste of had something different to it.
That's how the challenge started.
Your time was split three ways: Work, Robby and Jack. Downtime was spent in Robby's apartment or Jack's place. You had a perfectly divided sets of your favourite clothes in each wardrobe, had given enough hints for each of them to get in your favourite snacks and a toothbrush in each bathroom.
You had, you would say, perfectly trained them.
They knew it. They knew they'd somehow become your toys. They knew if you weren't with one of them you'd be with the other and they used your body like a telegram to read each others messages, but as far as you knew they'd never brought it up with each other in person.
“What are you doing tonight?” asked Robby, hovering next to you, looking down at the tablet in hand.
Around the two of you the Pitt carried on moving. The doctors and nurses conversed and walked, the patients complained and crashed and nobody looked twice at the boss talking to a resident. If they'd looked too close they might have realised how often the two of you did speak in work.
You stood, staring at the board, trying to find a blank spot to slide into. “Uh, dinner with Jack.”
From the corners of your eyes you spotted Robby shifting his weight, head lowering as he huffs.
“Dinner with Jack, second time this week, huh,” he said. “Wonder how this place can manage without him.”
A smirk graced your lips as you turned to consider him.
“Someone feeling neglected?”
“Noooo,” he said, dragging it out and finding something on the tablet cover that was much more important than staring at you. He quipped his head to the side. “Just... you and Jack been going on dinners a lot, this week.”
“Our second one?”
“I could take you for dinner too.”
“But you never do.”
“Do you want me to?” he tried to sound casual but his brows rose at once.
You shrugged. “Ask me.”
“Got to book in time to see you now?” Robby asked. His head bent lower to your ear until you could smell the mint on his lips and feel the heat of his breath ghost the shell of your ear. He blew on it lightly, knowing how it sent shivers down your spine and made your body curl closer into his. “I was here first.”
You tried to hold back a smirk as you stepped back, turning to him. “Is someone jealous?” you teased.
Robby pulled his lips into a frown and shook his head, but he couldn't meet your eyes.
Casual was what Robby wanted, what he thrived on and the only thing he thought he was consistent at. So consistent it was his only relationship. Really, he had no right to be jealous and yet you saw the way his eyes narrowed when patients flirted with you. You knew he felt it when he fucked you hard after doctors on higher floors came down and stared too long at the way you leant over a computer. Casual was what Robby was good at, so he'd never admit he was getting it wrong.
“I'm a single girl,” you reminded him.
“That you are,” he trailed every word longer than it needed to be, saying it as if he didn't quite believe himself.
“And I'm allowed to have dinner with whoever I want?”
“It's not about the dinner,” he said, eyes following a nurse that walked a little too close to the two of you. “It's the fact that I want you in my bed tonight and you tell me you have plans.”
“If you wanted me in your bed more you could just make me your girlfriend?” you said, biting down on your lip to stop your smile.
You watched a glimmer of panic flash in front of his face before it gave way to relief. He knew you weren't really asking because casual worked for you too. Not having to remember dates, or buy anniversary presents or text constantly. It was what you needed. And yet, you loved to tease him with the G and B words.
“I don't have to. You'll come around,” Robby shrugged. “You always do. Tell Jack I said hi.” He walked past you then, hands grazing your elbows as he shuffled by like there wasn't plenty of space.
The small touches he teased you with through out the day was never enough to sustain you. That's why he did it: to keep you coming back for more.
Your dinner with Jack ended how it did almost every night, you in his lap in his apartment, lips moulding against yours, hands running up your back.
Jack always took it slow like the pleasure of you was something to savour, like he didn't believe he'd ever get the chance again. But it had been three months of going back and forth between the two, three months of your body bathed in their kisses and walking around with your head in the clouds.
As much as you loved being with Robby, Jack was new and you were still learning.
“Grinding down on my lap?” he teased slightly breathless, pulling back enough to speak.
You hadn't even realised you were until you felt your panties dampening, till you felt the tension in your hips and the smirk on his lips.
Jack seethed in a breath and went back into you, hand catching the back of your head to draw you in as he encouraged your movements. “Does Robby not satisfy you?”
You smiled against his lips, nipping. “You boys,” you muttered, shuffling closer into his hardening cock, hidden behind his jeans. “Really want to out-do one another, huh?”
“Just want to make sure you're not wasting your time,” he said. Jack pecked your lips over and over again as his hands found the buttons to your jeans, deftly popping them. “With either of us.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
It didn't take long for Jack's fingers to wriggle themselves into your jeans, running lines against your clothed pussy that cried for him. He loved to watch how you moved against his smallest of touches, how you reacted slowly, needy.
“Jack,” you gasped, tilting your head back as his thumb pushed down on your clit, circling slowly. “Robby-Robby says hi.”
Jack hummed. “Does he?” his middle finger slid past the elastic of your panties, finding a home in the warmth of your walls. “He can come say it to me, no good using our girl for messages.”
His lips kissed sweetly at your temple, his endearing move that would catch you off guard in the dirtiest of moments. When he was coaching orgasms out of you through curling fingers or driving into you with your cock, his lips would find your forehead and stay there, mumbling encouragements and compliments that had your body grow fuzzy in a different way.
It was the same way Robby pulled you into his side, fingers twirling around your hair or knuckles grazing your forearms.
They had ways of surprising you, still.
“I got you something,” said Jack, pulling back to get a look at you.
“Oh?”
Jack nodded and tilted his head to nudge against your hose like some horse begging for attention before he withdrew his finger from you. He patted your thighs and you climbed off, falling back into his sofa and letting the cushions swallow you.
You watched as he put his finger in his mouth, licking off the taste of you as if it was a taste of his favourite dish.
Your eyes trailed down his body as he disappeared. The swing of his hips, the pull of his pants over his crotch and the veins that pulled in his arms that had you drooling.
When Jack returned there was a small box in hand and he settled down next to you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa and offering you the box.
“What is it?” you asked without taking the box. The instinct to sit on your hands to not reach out was a hard one to fight against.
You didn't do gifts, at least not with Robby. His gifts came in litters of kisses and drawn out pleasure throughout long nights. The only present he'd ever got you was a set of lingerie that had only ended up in strips and tears of fabric sprawled along his bedroom floor.
Jack shrugged. “A puppy. You want him to suffocate?” he teased.
With a roll of your eyes you pulled the lid open as Jack tugged your legs into his lap, running his hands up and down.
A thin chain lay on a small velvet, black cushion, a delicate J hanging on the end.
You could feel Jack's eyes on you, watching and waiting for a creation. You were scared to reach out and touch it. Terrified that you'd reach out and the lid would snap shut, that the chain would strangle you. It was as if you'd never been given a gift so beautiful. You hadn't. “Jack, I... I don't know what to say.”
Was it too much? If you and Jack were as casual as you and Robby how could you wear his initial on a necklace?
But you didn't want it to disappear.
You thought about the J hanging over your heart, the chain dangling when you slowly sank onto Jack's cock. You imagined Robby finding it, the way his fingers would push down on the letter till J was etched in there. Or when you rode him, lingering over him to watch his pleasure, would he take the metal letter into his mouth and keep it warm?
“I think you should say-” said Jack, taking up the chain and slowly moving, resting it around your neck. “I love it.”
You moved your hair aside, allowing him to clasp it and relishing in the cooling metal against the flush of your skin. “I do. I love it.”
Jack kissed over the clasp against your skin. “Yeah?”
When your head turned his lips were there, waiting and kissed yours sweetly, hand crawling up to your neck to lay you flat against him. He tested the taste of you with his tongue. His hand ran down your front, pulling at your shirt and exposing the skin only just healing from your last night with him.
“This way,” he said, lips moving against yours with enough time to find words. “When you're with Robby, I'm there too.”
Robby caught sight of the necklace a week later.
“Hey,” he said, eyeing Samira who stood over your shoulder. “Can I borrow you? Ten minutes? Fifteen, tops?”
Sometimes with how well you and Robby played co-workers you couldn’t tell the difference between needing to see a patient and him needing you.
“Course.” Your chair scraped back as you bid a see you later to Mohan and followed after Robby.
He was making a hard line through the department, wearing out his trainers as he didn’t once look back to see if you were hot on his heels. You were.
“Everything okay?”
He led you out the doors and past the stairwell where the on call room was tucked in a corner. It was a room you’d grown familiar with. You knew the desk was rickety and wasn’t best for the kind of activities you and Robby got up to in the room. You knew it was best to cushion the headboard with a cushion, not because there were neighbours to worry about, but to stop anyone else passing by from hearing the thud.
Robby pressed his key into the door and held it open for you, checking the coast was clear before nudging you in and slamming it closed behind the two of you.
His hands were on you, fisting your scrub top, lips claiming yours like he wanted to share his very breath with you.
In spite of the patient you had waiting on discharge, the chairs that you never seemed to quite catch up on and the monitors still ringing in your mind, you held onto Robby with just as much fever. Your hands gripped his shoulders, finding his scruffy hair and pushed your tongue against his.
“You know better than to tease me at work,” he said.
You bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it out.
Robby guided you back to the bed with steady hands on your hips. “Or at least I thought you did.”
When the back of your knees met the bed frame you fell back, dragging Robby with you.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” you mumbled, hands winding under his top, scraping at the roundness of his belly and feeling the bristle of his hairs.
He hummed, pressing his weight into you. “No?”
“Nuh-uh,” you said.
Robby pulled back enough for you to catch the darkness in his eyes, your slightly tinted lip balm smudging his lips. “I thought you were clever, huh?”
Teasing. You'd only been leaning over charting, maybe jutting out your hips a little more. Maybe grazing against Robby more than you needed to.
There was little time to reply before Robby was licking into your lips again, groaning at the taste and the push of himself into you. He opened your mouth and sort your tongue, hands pushing and pulling up your scrub top until skin gave way to skin and he could feel the plains of you, the warmth you were giving off. He tugged and moved at the skin and pulled off your scrub top.
You knew how it would go. In ten minutes Robby would work you up, have you teetering on the edge of insanity and want then send you back out to the ward. He'd demand you to double up on patients and get them all discharged before you left. He'd get you begging by the end of the night.
Your scrub top was thrown to the corner and Robby's hands grabbed your breasts, groping and moving, licking over what spilled from your bra and nipping.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, tugging him in closer-
Then- he grew cold and still, his lips moving away from his chest.
“Huh? Robby, what?” You shook yourself out of your haze and looked at him.
“What's this?” his voice was low in his throat as he pulled back.
There was cooling metal rested on your chest. Your spine tingled as a finger traced the letter there.
Robby was staring down at the necklace with a frown, eyebrows pinched together and mouth twisting.
You'd imagined Robby finding out about the chain a dozen times, but you didn't expect the look of hurt or anger there. “It's nothing. It's just- Jack, a gift.”
“Gift?” he questioned.
You nodded and gulped, suddenly worried. What if Robby said he couldn't do it anymore? He couldn't share you? Would he insist upon you ending it with Jack to have you all to himself, or would he ditch you and leave you to Jack's capable hands.
The both of you shuffled. Robby swung his legs over the bed, running a hand through his hair as he hunched over and you sat up.
“It's nothing, just a gift, I promise, Robby. I promise,” you said, holding onto his shoulders and pressing a kiss into his shoulder.
Robby stared down at his hands. “It's pretty,” he grumbled.
“You're prettier,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder.
Robby turned and pulled a face at you.
You smiled and kissed his shoulder again. “Don't think anything of it.”
He inhaled, body moving against yours as he did. “Hard not to. His fucking letter of his name is sitting in between my favourite place.” His eyes flickered down to where your chest was lying in temptation.
You stilled as his hand darted out, picking up the J and fiddling with it.
There was an odd look to him. There was a clench in his jaw and you could feel his body tense but that familiar darkness was still in his eyes. He still licked his lips like he wanted to take a bite from every bit of your flesh and he wasn't letting go of the initial at your chest.
You'd seen the ways your boys acted. When you mentioned the dinner with Jack and watched Robby try to act like he didn't care. When Jack stripped you bare and eyed the bites Robby had left the nights before. Jack would give time to making those marks worse, deeper in colour and mixing Robby's dried spit with his own. How even with his cock deep inside of you Robby would go the lengths of asking for excruciating details on your dates with Jack.
“Well, I have a theory,” you said, swinging yourself into his lap. His hands fell upon you, working like velcro. “You quite like it, the challenge.”
His brows rose, hands casting up and down you. “Challenge?”
“You and Jack. Sharing me.” To test the waters, you rolled your hips against him and felt his cock answer. “The back and worth. Wanting to do better than the other.”
“Don't I?” he asked, kissing over the chain between your shoulder and neck. He picked it up between his teeth and dropped it back down.
“You both have your talents,” you whispered, tilting your neck back and grinding down on him.
“Yeah?”
“Your favourite things... your favourite parts...”
“Parts?” Robby's eyes were wide and pleasing, looking up to you.
You nodded and closed your eyes, chasing the feeling of him. “Jack... he likes to be down there more,” you said with a particular roll down on your hips. “You like to be up here.” You brought your hands up and squeezed at your breasts to bring them together.
Robby's eyes practically bulge out his head and he latches himself between them, groaning into your skin like this was the only rest bite he craved. The only place he needed to be.
“Jack's staking his claim,” you moaned. “Making sure... you see him.”
His tongue left a trail of his saliva over your chest. “Then I guess I better stake mine.”
Three days later, Robby's head was between your thighs, nudging his tongue in deep, rubbing his nose into your wetness.
You were calling his name, moaning his name when a new smaller cold chain wrapped around your ankle. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking through the haze of pleasure to see a band around your ankle, a delicate R hanging there.
Robby's eyes flicked up to you, smirking and your arousal wetting his lips.
“An anklet, huh?”
“You started it,” said Robby. “A necklace?”
Jack shrugged. “It was something nice.”
“It was a dig.”
Jack shook his head innocently. “No.”
The two of them were leant casually over the counter, stealing a few minutes of relative peace before Robby had to lead him room to room and tell him who was going home and who was not. Who had good chances of living a normal life and those that did not.
Their idea of peace was staring at you from across the floor, where you lingered with Dana. You were talking, just talking with the occasional smile but it was enough for the two of them.
They kept their conversations timid regarding you. They could say everything they needed to say by leaving little bits of each other on your skin.
It seemed the new gifts suddenly sprang on you was encouragement enough.
“So what do we do about it?” asked Jack.
Robby was reluctant to tear is gaze away from you as he slowly dragged his gaze to check on Jack. “On what?”
Jack nodded toward you. “We gonna do this forever?”
“Seems to be working,” said Robby.
“Forever?”
Robby nerves grew on him. He turned his body to Jack, considering him as he considered you. “Has she... said something?” Robby knew he wasn't what made boyfriends or husbands, but were you not happy with what you had?
“No,” said Jack, moving to look down at his hands. “We just gonna keep sharing her? I don't like the idea that I'm stealing your guys time from you.”
“We make it work,” said Robby.
The both of them returned to observing you.
“I like her,” said Jack.
Robby agreed. “Yeah. More than me?”
Jack's eyes ran up and down from you. “Only time will tell.”
“If you're worried about her time we can work something out,” said Robby.
He had the feeling you'd like something like that too. Your time together exhausted him in the best way possible before work so he wasn't sure how you managed splitting your time between him, Jack and work and supposedly getting some rest all between it.
“Work something out?” asked Jack, frowning at the words. It seemed the both of them were stubborn about you. “What? Like a schedule?”
Robby's head fell side to side. “Something like that.”
It took two more weeks of shared dates and beds before you, Robby and Jack could finally be in the same room that wasn't the hospital.
You'd noticed the two of them were talking about each other more. It wasn't unusual for one to bring up the other with arms firm around you, lips etched to your neck.
“Has Jack found that little spot that gets you whining yet?” Robby would ask, sucking on said mark with thick fingers curling into you.
Jack had but you didn't need to answer that for him to know.
“Mmh, mmh, I love this pussy,” Jack said one night when he'd already spent fifteen minutes in lucking and sucking up your pussy. “Can fucking taste Robby in here.”
It was becoming apparent to you, even if it wasn't them, that they really, really liked seeing each other in you. Liked kissing over the same marks and tracing the same path.
Robby had invited you over under the pretence of just casual drinks. You'd said you had plans with Jack (his nights off getting increasingly more likely) and saw the tick in Robby's jaw that you had plans again. Plans that meant his time with you was limited to what he could steal in the staff lounge and on-call room.
Which was why Robby had invited you and Jack around to his. For drinks. Casual.
It didn't stay casual for long.
“Oh, come on,” said Jack taking a swig of his beer, all sweaty from how he'd held it most of the night. “If both of us approached you at a bar, who you picking?”
“I'm not answering that,” you laughed.
You were sandwiched between the two of them on Robby's sofa, curled up between the meat of their thighs that were spread to touch you. Around the back of the sofa, Robby rested his arm while Jack watched you with his head rested on his arm propped on the back of the sofa.
“What? You have to,” said Robby.
“No, I don't,” you said again with a laugh, taking a sip of beer.
“We're big guys, we can handle it,” said Jack with a shrug of indifference.
You doubted they could, whoever you picked. The other would take you to bed and fuck you into the mattress and lick their name against your spine.
Robby's finger prodded into your shoulder for an answer.
“Okay,” you said. You leant forward and ditched your can on the coffee table before settling back with their bodies closer to you. “How does it work?”
“How does what work?” asked Robby, very intrigued by the prospect of who you'd go for.
You rolled your eyes and flattened your feet on the floor. “Dress it up for me. What's the bar like? Who am I with? What are the two of you doing?”
Robby made some sort of pfft sound and laid back.
Jack rubbed a finger over the bottom of his lip and dedicated time to think about it. “The bars dark, low, that kind of thing you'd find downtown,” he recited like he'd thought about this a hundred times. His hand comes to your knee, circling it till you jerked at the tickle. “You'd come with a bunch of your girlfriends and Robby and I-”
“- at the bar,” interjected Robby. His eyes drifted from Jack to you. “We met for a couple drinks, tired from work.”
“Oh, this is very realistic,” you smirked.
Robby gave his own back. “And then you walk in. Little dress, like that black thing you wear sometimes.”
“Practically begging to be noticed,” said Jack. “How could we not? Two old men, down on their luck and a pretty, young thing like you walks in.”
The tingle down your body ran deeper, fuzzier than ever with Jack's hand on you and Robby's eyes lingering. Their breaths and heat co-existing drove you slowly mad.
“Then you start throwing down favours? Is that it?” you asked quietly.
“Rest of the night carries on a bit,” said Robby, drawing your attention to him. He shifts his head side to side as if weighing up the different ways this hypothetical night could go. “Jack and I are having drinks, keeping an eye on you all night.”
“Some of your friends decide to call it early but you want to keep having fun,” said Jack, his hand travelling further up your leg. “Wild girl.”
You had no time to retort before Robby was reaching for you, talking again.
“Jack and I had been waiting for you all night, watching, thinking about buying you drinks every time you got out your card out.” His voice was low, body leaning into you.
“I approach you at the bar, some cheesy line I know you'd secretly like-” added Jack.
“You come sit with us,” said Robby, “Stuck between the two of us just like you are now.”
Robby's breath fanned your pulse thumping in your neck and Jack's hand travelled to the height of your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down. You could imagine it. The bar with the lights down low, catching the eye of the two men who leaned in to talk to each other. Maybe Robby would spot you first as he was saying something to Jack and un-able to take his eyes from you Jack would just have to take a look also.
From there you'd dance with your friends, swing out your hips more than needed, brush back your hair with every sway. You'd check they were watching, enamoured by you every once and in a while and of course they were. How could they not?
“I'm sitting with you now?” you ask, voice breathless as you struggled with knowing who to look at.
Jack's head nodded as his hand came up, popping the button of your jeans. You didn't rise to meet him, nor did you try and stop him.
Neither did Robby.
“Just like now. A good girl, sat between two men who are just slowly, slowly trying to get a taste.” Robby's voice dropped lower and lower, head ducking until he brushed hair from your neck and pressed light kisses along there.
You could feel your own chest heaving, see the the quick moves of it under your hooded gaze.
Jack's hand had slid down your pants and was making a slow observation of your clothed pussy, wet like he'd never known it to be.
You leant your head back for Robby as another warmth spread along the other side of your neck. “Do I let them?” you asked. “Get a taste?”
“Oh yeah,” said Jack, on the account of Robby finding a home in your neck and kissing and licking over his favourite spot. The spot that had your panties growing wetter. “Yeah you let them try, you're so sweet like that.” He pressed a kiss onto your clothed shoulder.
“Whose do we go back to?” you asked, your hands coming up to cradle each of their heads.
“Mine.”
Both of their voices were muffled from lips pressed to different parts of you, but both were just as possessive.
Your fingers curled delightfully around the backs of their heads.
The two of them retreated, looking to each other.
“No cat fights now, boys.”
You leant into Jack first just to grate against Robby's nerves. You pressed your lips into his, holding his face to yours as your lips parted his and you swallowed the sound of surprise he gave you. He groaned and moaned into your lips as he fingers prodded at the gate to heaven under your panties. You were sure he was making more of a noise and more of a show of it because Robby was at your other side.
You didn't know if you'd expected Robby to groan and complain about the show the two of you were putting on. Whether or not he'd get up from his sofa and demand you both leave, ending what you'd been teetering on for months.
Instead, you felt him remain steady and close behind you, his eyes burning into your skull.
You pulled back from Jack slowly, the wet smack of lips leaving the room.
Robby eagerly took you in his arms when you leant back into him.
He sighed at the taste of your lips but as soon as your mouth opened up he moaned at the taste of you mixed with Jack, some forbidden fruit he'd taken the first bite of and become addicted to.
“Oh my god,” Jack groaned from behind you, finally slipping two fingers past your panties and into you folds.
You gasped against Robby's mouth, teeth clashing with his. He held your neck, holding you in to draw out the kiss as his tongue flicked against yours.
You felt Robby's arm stretch out and you expect the feel of his warm embrace, of his hands cupping your chest or pulling back your hair. Instead, he moved past you and wrapped his fingers around Jack's wrist, urging him to move his fingers inside of you in a steady pace.
“Oh-” you moaned, back arching up into Robby was he dropped his head to your neck.
“You're squeezin' me like that, honey,” Jack mumbled against your ear. “Feel like you're already gonna come, huh?”
Robby made a noise into your neck. “We got her excited.”
With your eyes closed in bliss and focusing on not rocking into Jack's hand you blindly reached out. A hand gripped onto Jack's thigh that tensed under your claws digging in and the other to Robby's cock that strained against his jeans.
“Please,” you said, breathless.
Any other time maybe Robby would have put up a fight, make you work for just a glimpse of himself but he smiled and clicked his tongue before he shifted in his seat and started to pop the buttons slowly.
Jack bit down on his lip, his finger working you open and curling but eyes on where Robby's hands fumbled for the belt. “Yeah, that's what you wanted? Wanted Robby's cock?”
“Yes,” you said with a lick of your lips.
Jack brought out his fingers and spread you arousal all around you before circling that small bundle of nerves.
Your head was thrown back, stretching out the skin of your neck. “J-Jack!”
His teeth scraped your neck.
“Gonna come already?” asked Robby, amused at the state of you. He'd never had a front row seat to the effect Jack had on you and by what you'd felt through his boxers and jeans, he was enjoying it.
You shut him up when you bypassed his layers of clothing and wrapped your hand around his cock.
Robby seethed and laid back as you reached around for him, taking what arousal was leaking for the head and dragging it down him.
“You're so good at that, aren't you, baby?” asked Jack as set a steady rhythm upon you. “So good.”
“Jack,” you panted. “Please, I wanna- I wanna-”
He nodded against you.
“You wanna come?” asked Robby from behind you, a hand running up and down your back. “So soon?”
“Let her finish,” said Jack pulling back and staring at you. He worked his fingers over your clit faster, dipping into your heat to drag up your want and repeat it until you were starting to tremble. “Not her fault she's excited by the both of us against her.”
Robby grumbled but couldn't find the words to say much else as your thumb swept the tip of him repeatedly.
“J-Jack!” you came onto his hand with a breath of a moan, your hand squeezing Robby.
“Fuck!” he groaned as he watched you come down from your high.
Jack sent a smirk over your shoulder. “What? Gonna come so soon?” he teased, licking a finger into his mouth and cleaning you from himself.
You caught your breath, slowly taking away your hand from Robby's cock and sitting up straighter. Your heart hammers, your ears were left ringing like you'd just gone through something life changing. You think you had.
Both of the men at your sides shuffled to sit up on either side of you.
“What's up?” asked Jack. “No regrets?”
You looked between the two of them and shook your head.
Before you knew it Robby took to one side of your neck, Jack the other. You were left sitting there as they held you up for them to do their diligent work.
Your eyes closed as you focused on the rub of Robby's beard as he sucked a deep mark onto you. On the other side Jack's slight stubble grazed as he scraped his teeth against different spots of you, unable to settle.
Their hands were hot as Robby's ran over the length of your back, coming around to squeeze at your breasts and earn noises of relief as reward while Jack focused on pulling down your jeans, on pulling open your thighs, desperate to be slotted in between them.
You guided Robby up by his chin, kissing him with a heavy tongue and eager lips writing everything you wanted him to do to you. His cock was still out, protruding and begging for attention with every messy swipe of your lips.
Jack was still on you, making a work at your neck.
You pulled away from Robby, his eyes still almost black from need when you moved to Jack, to kiss him and give him a taste of Robby.
You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline of the two of them kissing you, working you open and apart but you swear you'd never felt the two of them kiss you like they did then. With the other watching, with the other just within reach and with their lips still on the soft skin of yours.
You kept like that for a while, in between them, kissing each one moment, the other breathing hard on you. At some point Jack had gotten his own hardening cock out, rubbing it up and down leisurely as if you had all night to enjoy everything.
Delicately, you dragged your nails down their necks, cupping their chins and kept them steady and like putty in your hands.
Enamoured and under you spell neither realised when there wasn't just one tongue but another. When your smooth skin gave way to stubble neither blinked and when the hands became gruff and coarse, they relished in it.
All until you could guide Robby and Jack's mouths in together, settling back on the sofa like you were about to watch your favourite show.
You watched as Jack's grey and Robby's brown brows furrowed in as they focused in on the new taste, the rougher lips and hotter tongue. Their hands were searching these new bodies with grips and grasps.
Their cocks bobbed with their movements and you watched, mouth salivating.
Noises you'd never heard them make before left them but you weren't even jealous. You were wet and trying to remember what they looked like caving into each other to keep in the back of your mind for months to come.
Only when their faces were reddening and you feared they might fait from suffocation and you'd have to call PTMC and explain why their cocks were out, you clapped your hands once.
Their eyes opened, mouths still against each other as they caught their breaths before looking to you slowly, eyes hazy and faces red, lips swollen.
“Well, this has been fun,” you said, patting their thighs and wedging yourself out from between them. “But I should call it, work tomorrow, early night and all.”
The two were frozen, dumb-founded like teen boys realising they might like their guy friend a little too much.
You were already at the door, throwing your hair over your shoulder and showing the beautiful litters of marks they'd left on you. “See you in work!”
You left gratified. You'd got to come by Jack's hands once and had watched them make out. And even though you were accustom to a drawn out night of pleasure, you were more than set up for the rest of the night with the image of the two of them safely stored away.
taglist (if you want to be added or took off just say the word!):
wc: 6k
mdni! cw: canon typical violence, childhood trauma, explicit sex, fingering, oral, p in v, rough sex with consent, hospital, the usual pope fanfic stuff, no doves anywhere, fix it fic, baz, canon divergence, reader insert, no use of y/n
Chapter 1 Can I Stay
-----
“Wait- Andrew Cody? Like CODY Cody?” Sasha dropped her pen and threw her hands up between you.
“Andrew Cody, yes. Only one ‘Cody’.”
After she set you up on the date from hell you stopped discussing your love life with her. But today you had shown up to your shift wearing the unmistakable shit-eating grin of a woman who was still a little bit cock drunk. She called it the moment you walked out of the elevator. It was time to fess up.
“God! I miss one girls’ night, and I’m completely behind. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t trust your judgement after that awful set up and because I’m, like, 10 years older than you- I’m not your personal dating show.”
“Start from the beginning, please. So the date was a bust- I’m NOT sorry, by the way. How did this lead to you fucking a Cody?”
“I saw him again and we just never stopped seeing each other… being together. I’m here at the hospital, or I’m with him.”
Sasha sighed as she continued writing.
“Wait… how do you know who he is?” you asked. “Everywhere we go people know him.”
“Mmm. So, that family is… it’s like a little Mafia. Very close. Very loyal. Very criminal.”
“Okay... don’t do that again. I know about the… crime stuff. It’s not really like that.”
It absolutely was like that but you had to move this along.
“I met his family,” you continued. “Most of them.”
“You met the family? So, it's serious?”
“Maybe? The boys I met hanging around the bar with him. I met his mom at the house.”
“The house? A house party?”
You regretted updating her at all.
“Yes, it devolved into a party.”
“And you didn’t tell me?!” She shook her head. “Can I go to a party?”
“Why?”
“Rumor is they get crazy and the boys are gorgeous.”
“You have a boyfriend.”
“I have a bore-friend,” she countered.
-----
“Oh, you’ve seen the light? Fine. I’ll bring you along sometime. But you have to promise you won’t fuck any of his brothers.”
“Swear!”
You made good on your deal, and you were leading her past the pool toward the house. Deran spotted you first and waved you over while he kicked two party crashers out of the lounge chairs.
“Relax, girls. Enjoy. Drinks are… everywhere.”
“Thanks!” you both said in sync.
Towels and bags claimed your chairs as you went off to dig through the coolers. You plucked two green bottles out of the ice when you spotted her.
“You’re here…”
The pit in your stomach formed instantly. You had never faced her alone. Your arm snaked around Sasha’s for support.
“Oh, don’t bother with those warm beers! I made these up just for you.” She handed over two margaritas that would have put any tiki bar to shame as she gave you Judas’ kiss on each cheek.
“Thank you, Smurf. This is Sasha.”
“Well, aren’t you cute?” Smurf purred.
“Oh, thank you.” Sasha was polite but crushing your arm with hers. Smurf peppered her with the same questions she had asked you the first time you met. It was clear she liked Sasha’s answers better. Smurf saw a younger, more pliable girl in her. No threat.
“Have you met all the boys yet?” Smurf let her arm run down Sasha’s arm to take her hand.
“Craig and Deran, yes.”
‘Oh, you have to meet Andrew. He’ll adore you.”
Smurf’s eyes flicked between the two of you before settling on Sasha.
“Lovely to meet you, dear. You’re so young and beautiful. Mmm. Well, drink up. Andrew should be back any minute, and I want my baby to enjoy himself tonight.”
Her heels clicked as she headed back across the patio.
“Did she kinda just…”
“Yes,” you answered, sucking your tongue against your teeth.
“Wow… She really hates you.”
“Yep. This is why the ‘no brothers’ rule exists.”
“Understood.”
By the time the glasses were empty your plus one was getting annoyed.
“No one is talking to us,” she whined.
“And they aren’t going to.”
“What? Why?”
“The Pope Effect.”
“I thought you’d be royalty here!”
“No. I’m his property here, and you’re too close.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“Girl, go fish. Just no brothers.”
“Promise.”
You got up too and headed the other direction back to the cluster of coolers to look for water. A hand on your hip and a new voice took you by surprise.
“I think you wandered into the wrong backyard, sweetie.” You hadn’t been paying attention, and now some new guy was in your air space.
“Excuse me?” You created as much distance as you could, and he closed it. His face was familiar, but his voice was not.
“You’re not dressed for a Cody party. Look around.”
You knew it was true. The pool was full of the tiniest bikinis you had ever seen. Soon a few girls would be topless. You wore one of Andrew’s shirts over your swim suit and had given it a tie at the waist when the sun was at its hottest. Cody parties got out of hand, and you did anything you could to keep Andrew from getting too possessive… which was about to become a pipe dream.
“Let’s start with that shirt,” he said, starting to paw at the knot.
“No. No. No, thanks,” you said, backing up farther. “I’m here with my boyfriend. You really want to back off.”
“Don’t worry! I’ll get rid of him for us. Where is he?”
You scanned the area for Andrew- his timing was always perfect… and then you saw it- the crowd parting like the Red Sea for him.
“Can’t miss him.” You pointed behind his back and then his face finally clicked. “Wait! Shit! Baz!?”
“I like the sound of…”
He turned directly into Pope’s fist.
“Did he fucking touch you?” he roared over the music.
“Well, kind of but-”
Pope swung again as Baz stood back up.
“There are 30 women here to wet your dick. You keep your hands off my girl!”
“I DIDN’T KNOW, POPE!”
“I’ll bet you anything that she said ‘no’, and you kept pushing her.” He glanced at you. You gave him a small nod. He knew in his bones that you would never have encouraged anyone, much less Baz. You took your place under Andrew’s arm.
“Shouldn’t have even kept talking to her!”
“Let’s take a break. Let’s go inside, hmm?” You tugged Andrew toward the house.
“Next time, you’re dead,” he spat over his shoulder. His fingertips dipped into your bottoms as you walked away.
You passed Sasha chatting up J in the hallway as you wove your way through the house.
“Nope! Not this one either,” you said loud enough for J to hear. You gave him a look as you pulled the drink out of her hand.
“Mom!” she shrieked in mock embarrassment. She clocked where the two of you were headed. “Are you kidding me? You're my ride!”
“Get an Uber! I'll pay for it,” Pope bellowed.
Pope herded you faster down the hall to his old room. You locked the door and sat on the bed.
“Since we were kids… since we were kids! He got everything. I got the responsibilities, and he got whatever he wanted.” He knelt at your feet between your legs with his hands on your knees. “You okay?” He searched deep in your eyes for shame or fear.
“Nothing happened. He just made a pass at me and tried to get me to take your shirt off.” You swore you saw smoke coming from his ears. “For what it’s worth, he didn’t know, but, I promise you, I’m fine.”
He turned and stared at the door. Andrew rubbed his hands on your legs in time with his breathing.
“It shouldn’t have been that way,” you told him. “I’m sorry he’s still behaving like that.”
You put a hand on the side of his face and gently pulled him to look up at you. Your legs automatically spread a little farther apart as you slid closer to his chest.
“He got everything he wanted?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he grunted in reply.
“He got everything you wanted.”
“Yeah,” he repeated, sadder this time.
He was lost in thought for a moment. A memory took its time with him. He eventually nodded. You knew there was history he would hold forever. It was his to share or keep.
“Tonight he wanted me… but I’m only for you.” You moved even closer to the edge of the bed. It forced his hands higher. His thumbs absently wandered under the hem of your bottoms. “He’s out there icing his jaw, and you’re here with me.” You untied your shirt, letting it fall open. You didn’t take anything off. He loved unwrapping you.
A low growl rolled in his chest.
“This is as close to your childhood room as we’re gonna get… don’t you think you should fuck me in here? All those people outside… do you wanna shake the walls with me? Show everyone who I belong to?”
His fingers dug into your hips.
“You deserve what you want, Andrew. No one can take me away from you.”
He looked toward the door again. Music blared from the other side.
“Mine?” he grumbled.
“Yours.” You leaned forward, your breasts in his face nearly falling out of your top. You did know how to dress for a Cody house party.
“Mine.” It was no longer a question. He tugged at your bottoms.
“Yours.” You put your hands on his shoulders, and stood just enough for Andrew to pull them off.
“Mine.” He gave you a strong shove to lay you back on the bed. The knot on the back of your suit bruised your spine.
“Yours,” you eeked in a whiny prayer. He bit and nipped you from ankle to pussy on one leg and then the other, tossing each over his shoulders.
You knew this was Pope. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them. He dove into you so hard it hurt. His teeth slammed into your clit as he sucked as much of your pink skin into his mouth as he could. It burned as hair pulled tightly between his lips. He pressed his tongue against your aching clit as hard as he could and shook his head like a dog with a toy.
“Ahh! Fuck!” It signaled the last bit of Andrew to check in.
“I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”
“Okay.”
“You sure?”
“Use me, Pope.”
You weren’t sure if he liked or hated you calling him “Pope” but he reacted to it. He lifted your hips to lick you from bottom to top. You squealed like an animal. His tongue shot straight into your center he swirled and lapped inside you like you were his first and last meal. He dragged his nose back up your slit and stuffed two fingers inside you. His fingers curled to find the spot he called his, even though all of you was his. He matched the rhythm of his tongue. Andrew was gone but Pope still knew his secrets. He spent exactly one second pulling at the ties of your top before giving you an ultimatum.
“Get this off before I shred it.”
You arched your back and found the correct ends to loosen it enough to pull the top off.
“Good girl. Flip,” he barked. His fingers were still inside you.
“Babe, your…”
“Flip. Over.” He shoved you over with his free hand. You used your legs against his body to turn fully, unintentionally kicking him in the neck at least once. He didn’t seem to notice.
He lifted your hips and spread you wide.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he said so close you could feel his breath on your skin. He put his lips to you and began to feast again. Your hips locked in the air by his arms.
You left small, wet rings on the sheets as you tried to muffle your screams. You were sure the sound still carried much farther than you wanted.
“Shit… Andrew! God… you… you should move. I feel…”
“Like fuck I’ll move!” he said and pushed his face harder into you.
“Really… you… I… ahh… gaaah!”
You felt your cum coat his chin. He laughed into you, dark and greedy. Your legs started to fold under you.
“No. No. Not yet.” He pulled you back up and got to his feet. You heard fabric hit the floor, then one of his hands held both of yours behind your back.
He teased you for a grueling minute until he finally buried himself to the hilt. His pace set you on fire. It was overwhelming as you rode the line between pain and pleasure.
“As hard as you can!” you cried. Pope wove his hand around you to play with your clit. He continued to pummel you until he lost all control, biting your shoulder leaving marks that would take weeks to fade. Desperate to feel you as close as possible, he pulled you up against his chest. As his pace finally slowed he released you to collapse on the bed. Andrew slipped into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth and the drink you had brought with you.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Spent.” You shook your head in disbelief.
He spotted the signature his teeth had left on your shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“Not yet.”
He kissed from the fresh bruise up your neck to your jaw, finally finding your lips.
“I’m good. I promise,” you assured him. You feel better?”
“I felt bad? Can’t remember a thing before this.”
“Shit. I’m a mess.” Embarrassment reddened your cheeks when you saw yourself in the mirror.
He put both hands on your hips to steady you while you pulled your bottoms back on.
“Walking out of here looking like you were fucked straight through the mattress really brings home the point you came in here to make.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re mine.”
You thought of the anger in his eyes when he confronted Baz and the pain in his voice as he skimmed through memories. He was right.
He curled his arm around your shoulders as you walked out. Sasha had been right after all– you were royalty here.
-----
You hated to give J the satisfaction but, eventually, you did start letting Andrew take care of things for you. The two of you signed a lease on a new condo. You just wanted enough space that he could spread out and feel at home. He wanted you spoiled in a nicer building in a better neighborhood.
He did his research and found a two bedroom in a building with a gym he could use when he couldn’t sleep and codes to open every door. You knew he and the agent were lying about the fee so that you would let him carry most of the cost. You let it slide. You weren’t here to take, but he was here to give.
You worried about him; his family wasn’t safe. He brushed it off out of loyalty, but you felt his resolve faltering. He loved you but didn’t know how to live a normal life.
You decided to just grit your teeth around his family, pray every time he left the house, and give him a good welcome when he came home.
His location was off. It always was on days like this. You wished you could watch him inch closer on the map. It was easier when you were working. The NICU kept you busy. There was no time to worry. But when you were home it was nothing but worry. The house was always spotless so stress cleaning wasn’t even an option. You meal prepped. You paid bills. You considered moving furniture, but you wanted to consult Andrew first. You looked at LPN programs. You’d always thought of going for it. Andrew was always encouraging you to enroll. He was nothing but supportive of you.
He was out on a job with his brothers. It had been hours. You were waiting nervously in his t-shirt, as usual. His key spun in the lock, and you met him at the door. He had you pinned up against it before it was shut all the way.
“Why do you bother wearing these?” he hissed, yanking your panties down with one hand and then holding your arms above your head.
“I like the way you take them off,” you said into his mouth. “I guess it went well?”
“Smooth as glass. On your knees,” he ordered.
You obeyed and dropped to the floor. You undid his button fly and dragged his jeans down to the floor with you. He was already hard for you. You sat back on your heels, and took as much of him in your mouth as you could. You choked a bit on his length. You knew he looked down to check on you as he peeled his shirt off.
“All good,” you slurred with his cock still in your mouth.
Your nails dug into his ass as you pulled his hips toward you. He knew exactly what that meant, and he took your invitation to fuck into your mouth. Andrew let his upper body fall forward bracing himself on his forearms against the door, pushing deep into your throat. You looked up at him wide-eyed.
“That’s a good girl. You’re taking me so good!” His hand was on the back of your head now. “Your perfect mouth was made for me, wasn’t it?”
Your answer was just sloppy, affirmative moans.
“Get up here.”
“Already?” You wiped your mouth.
“Can’t wait.”
You jumped up into his arms. He always showered after a job. He felt like it kept you and the home you shared together clean and safe. It was his religion.
Your legs locked around his waist. His hands secured under your ass. Squeals escaped you as his fingers worked their way into your slit. Once in the bathroom he put you down and started the water.
“Not too hot,” you told him as you tossed your shirt in the corner. “Leave the shower door open?”
“It’s gonna make a mess,” he protested.
“Please?”
“Whatever you say.”
You pulled him into the shower. He turned you around and pressed your chest against the cold tiles.
“You ready?”
“Please, Andrew!”
“Please what?”
“Please, please fuck me!”
“Good girls get what they want.”
He lined up with your pussy and drove himself all the way into you in one thrust. You yelped again. He knew it was pleasure.
The water made it hard to see or breathe. It made everything more intense. You loved every second of it. You were both always heightened when he came home safely, and you felt him getting closer to finishing. This was his favorite way to come down off the adrenaline high.
“Wait, wait. Stop a sec.” You pushed away from the wall.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing. Here- pick me up?”
You faced him again. He lifted you smoothly, and held you against the wall. You locked your legs around him again.
“Like this?”
“Yes!”
He got back to work fucking you.
“Oh god! Oh shit, Andrew!”
“That good?”
“Mmm… yes.”
Over his shoulder you were watching his back in the mirror. You swore he had muscles that medical school didn’t teach you about. He rippled and flexed in rhythm with his thrusts. Every vein stood out on his arms as his blood pumped for you.
You clawed at his back feeling the thin scar from the stitches you gave him. You smiled at the tan lines on his legs and arms while tracing the line his shirt collar made. Static creases were beginning to take their places on his beautiful neck.
You knew he had been a skinny kid. He built his body on purpose. The work. The weights. The fights. His body was a topographical map of every hard thing he had done. Your mind drifted to the laugh lines and worry lines you intended to give him. An image of him older flooded your vision. Going grey. Crow’s feet. Readers.
A sharp thrust brought you back to the shower in his arms.
He knew your angles, and he was hitting all your favorite spots. The specific sound of your breathing always told on you.
“You ready, honey? You ready to come for me?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m so close!”
“Come with me!”
Your cries echoed off the walls. His back continued to bulge as you finished together. His ass. God, his ass. His birthmark peeked out from behind your bare feet.
He held you up and stayed in you as you caught your breath. He always did.
Then he caught you staring.
“What are you looking at?” He followed your eyeline to the mirror over his shoulder. “Really? You’re a fucking pervert, you know that?” He slapped your ass as he put you down. “Dirty girl.”
-----
It was 3:17am. You had spent your break inside partially because it was raining but mostly because you knew Andrew wouldn’t be there. The boys had been planning a job. He was busy and didn’t want you out in the dark without him.
You sat in the nursery blissfully rocking a baby boy with a shock of red hair. He looked like he could have been Andrew as a baby. He’d finished his bottle a while ago, but it was a quiet night and the floor was still. You sat eyes closed holding his warm little burrito body against you. He was heading home soon. Hopefully tomorrow. You were so proud of every baby that went home to their happy parents. The soft tones of Brahms' Lullaby filled the room. This was one of your favorite sounds in the world. Somewhere in the building a new soul entered the world.
The floor nurse peeked his head around the corner.
“Someone wants you downstairs, hon.”
“I’m super busy right now. Hands full.”
“It’s the ED.”
“Why me?”
“He said to say it’s The Pope…? Do you know The Pope?” he asked with dramatic flourish in his voice.
You got up quickly and placed the baby in his arms.
“Not ‘The Pope’. Pope. It’s a code. Cover for me?” You didn’t wait for an answer.
Every step was a prayer as you ran. It was a miracle you didn’t fall as you panicked down four flights. You instinctively flung the side door open to see if you misunderstood and Andrew had brought one of his brothers to your spot. Nothing.
You took off running again. Winding through the fluorescent lit hallways ready to be strong for him. Ready to hold his hand and explain what the doctors were doing to help his brother, whichever one it was. What if it was J? He was so young but so enmeshed in the lifestyle his uncles had built.
You hit your palms on the nurses station. “Pope? Where?”
A nurse whose name you couldn’t remember told you Trauma 2. You were off again. The squeak of your shoes stinging your ears.
“Andrew! Andrew! Who…” Your eyes swept across the hall. You counted. They were all there. They stood there across from the door shaking and sprayed with blood. All except Andrew.
Pope wasn’t a code. Pope was the code.
“What the fuck happened? What did you do?”
Deran tried to hold you back from the large glass doors.
“You can’t keep me out!”
He should have. The attending ordered you out immediately. Andrew was pale.
“What. The. Fuck. Happened?!” You could have sworn you felt your teeth crack.
“It was a drive-by,” one of them whispered. “Someone was pissed at us. It was sloppy but… they hit Pope.” You couldn’t even put a face to the voice behind you. “He wanted to come here. He asked for you.”
You knew the Codys avoided hospitals. You were grateful they listened to him.
You stared through the doors wishing you had chosen emergency medicine so you could have your hands on him. You scanned the monitors and the faces of your colleagues. No sign of panic, but they’re trained to hide it.
“We’re fucking done with all of you.”
Baz scoffed.
“I am so serious. If anything happens to him, it might not be as flashy as a damned drive-by, but I can promise that you won’t end up here. You’ll be hopeless before anyone notices you’re missing.” You could see his vitals were picking up. The doctors looked less rushed. The nurse hanging more blood mouthed to you that he would be okay. “I love your brother. I can’t help it. I need him. And not for the fucking blood money you animals think I want. We could have stayed in my shit apartment and lived on cereal. I just need him alive. I’m not sorry boys, I need him away from you.” Your voice finally cracked knowing that the time had come. It was you or her.
-----
After trauma care and surgery he was in a beige hospital room. He was lucky. The damage was minimal even though he lost a lot of blood. The repair was simple, and his heart was steadily pumping donated blood, including yours, strongly.
You heard heels click behind you.
“Get out,” Smurf spat from behind you.
“Fat fucking chance,” you replied without looking up. You could hear someone outside the room. You assumed Baz was her watchdog.
“I want to see my baby alone.”
You finally turned to look at her.
“No… Janine.” You decided you were equals. You decided you weren’t afraid.
“He should be with me. You want too much from him. He should be mine. If he wants to be around you that’s fine as a side dish. But I’m the whole fucking table for these boys– I won’t let that change.”
“You’re that scared? You raised these boys, these men to believe they are nothing without you. You raise them to believe all they had to give was money and blood. What the fuck did you do to them? You think you know them, but all you know is how to control them. You love that fucking power.” You were fighting sobs by now. “All you know is to keep him docile for you. He’s more than just muscle. He’s so beautiful, and all he wants to do is love me. He just wants to know he’s good. He wants someone to love him without a contract.”
“Listen…”
“He is so fucking sedated right now because his fight-or-flight is all fight, and it won’t turn off. We can’t trust him to wake up and not hurt somebody. Because of you. All the shit you made him do. Because you raised him to be a damn sledgehammer. We could have been home by now, but he wakes up in a rage.” You composed yourself with one deep breath. “He’s coming home with me. He’s going to have a choice to make. Janine, he’s not choosing between you and me. You are not my competition. He will be choosing between life and death. Now get the fuck out.”
You heard a sharp exhale from the hall as you turned to look at Andrew again.
Her heels clicked again as she walked to give him a kiss on his cheek. Far too long, and too close to his lips.
“My baby,” she purred as she rubbed his chest and let her hand drag down his stomach over wires she couldn’t see.
You never called him “baby” again.
-----
Andrew hated having to recover. It all felt like weakness. To you, it was a very sweet time. It was just the two of you. You kept his brothers away for as long as you could. Deran texted you every now and then to ask how he was doing, but the conversations were always very short… until he started calling Pope.
Smurf was furious. “We’re your family!” she yelled. He held strong for a long time before they got him to show up for a meeting. They knew exactly how to play him.
He started getting quiet and jumpy. He started disappearing. You couldn’t stomach it.
You called out of your shift to wait for him. He came in at 4am. His knuckles were split. His face was starting to swell. You didn’t bother to ask. You got the first aid kit, and went to work on his hands.
“Andrew… no.”
“Ugh, listen…” he interrupted.
“No. I’m not doing this again. I won’t live through it a second time. I can’t.”
“They’re my family.”
“Are they? You might share some blood, but all they do is use you! They drain you dry! They almost got you killed. You’re the pitbull they keep up chained up until they need you. Enough, Andrew! Don’t forget, you share my blood now too- because of them!”
He stood close, glaring down at you. You realized his instinct was taking over. He was automatically trying to intimidate you. It was a habitual path worn deep throughout the years. All fight; no flight. But you could never fear this man. You stood too, tossing the remaining gauze and tape into the sink.
“I’m not afraid of you, Pope!” You spit his familial name at him like it was a curse. He knew what it meant from you. His breathing was out of control. He slammed his hand flat into his chest in an attempt to steady his heartbeat. His eyes were glassy.
“But I’m not going anywhere, Andrew! You own me. You own me, body and soul. But not if she owns you.” His breathing became louder. Almost wailing. You pressed your hand against his. He instantly tried to kiss you. Like your mouth would put air back in his lungs. He had never been this forceful with your body before. You had to shove with all your might to move him an inch.
“Andrew, no. No. We’re not ignoring this. We’re not medicating this. We’re dealing with it now. Look at me. I’m not leaving you. Look at me…” You put his wrapped hands on your face. “I am not leaving you. I need you to think about everything. I need you to decide for yourself, and then for us… Where do we go from here? I will not live this life. I want to be with you. I’m yours. But you have to be mine.”
He turned his back to you and headed toward the door.
“Andy?”
He stopped in his tracks. You hardly ever called him that. You used that name, that sound, at your lowest.
When the two of you flew out for your dad’s funeral.
When your favorite, tiniest patient didn’t get to go home.
When you had been in a car accident that was not your fault but the man in the other car was screaming at you like it was. Andy had put him flat on the pavement.
At the lowest points of your last 18 months, you had called to the tenderest part of his heart that no one else knew was there.
“Would you let anyone use me like that?”
His dropped head was the answer.
“What happens to you happens to me now. I… want to marry you. I want to make a family with you.”
You tried to keep talking, but your voice was gone. Lower than a whisper.
He walked straight to his truck.
No kisses. No shower. No blue dot to follow as he pulled away.
-----
Pope spent hours going to banks, apartments, and storage units. He emptied every account, and found every paper. Everything was crammed into two huge duffle bags. He drove his truck on to the Cody property, tossing his phone in the pool as he crossed the patio. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen.
“Pope! Hey!”
“You made it!”
“There he is!”
He heard nothing. He stomped over to Smurf dropping the bags at her feet. Cash spilled out. He ripped the bloody gauze from his knuckles and threw it on top.
“That’s the last you get from me.”
-----
Andrew drove through the night. Your car was hitched to the back of his truck. It held on like you held his hand in a crowd. Both cars were loaded with whatever they could hold.
You slept on his shoulder between rest stops.
Your best friend from nursing school was a few states away. You were her maid of honor and the godmother of her oldest boy. Annie didn’t think twice when you called.
You shared a bottle of wine while Andrew sat on the front steps and searched the windows of every car that passed. You told her everything. Your year and a half together… the gun shot… his mother. She cried.
“You can stay as long as you need to.” And she meant it.
Andrew watched her boys play. He watched her give them praise and kisses. She gave them love and boundaries. It took Annie‘s husband a while to relax around him. He kept asking you if he was really okay.
“This is kind of like when people see snow for the first time,” you answered. “This is good for him.”
He walked their dog a couple times a day to get a mental map of the neighborhood.
Two weeks later, you felt terrible to be squatting this long, but the universe can be kind. Annie said that a family from their church was moving for a year to teach in another country. They offered for you to stay in their house in exchange for keeping it up and paying the utilities. Your only question was if you could get a dog. Yes.
Annie got you in at the hospital, and the church hired Andrew to make some repairs even though you didn’t attend services.
Eventually, you realized this was home. You bought a house with a yard large enough for the dog and a view of the lake. You both wanted to live near water.
You were careful with many things but careless with others, and soon there were three of you. Andrew cried when you told him. He woke you in the night to tell you he was so happy to be making a family with you but afraid of the kind of father he would be. Afraid he couldn’t bring up a child to be good.
“Honey, this baby is made from the part of you that loves me. And that part,” you told him, “is very good.”
He worshipped your pregnant body, never letting you drive anywhere and buying everything you craved in bulk. He was the happiest, in all his life, lying under your weight holding your belly while you tried to induce labor. You were uncomfortable and swollen but a goddess to him.
Annie is godmother and stood with you at the courthouse when Andrew took your last name. “Cody” was easy to discard. Someone else could pass it on.
He painted the house twice because you didn’t like the first color. He insisted the baby be christened in the church that helped you at your lowest and flew Sasha in to surprise you for the occasion.
He mentors kids in the “Sk8 Club” at the middle school. He’s there at 2:30pm every day because “it keeps them out of trouble.” He lights the birthday candles. He feeds the fish. He makes fresh paper chains for the tree every Christmas.
Every so often a ghost haunts his dreams, and he has to tell you his sins. You offer the only absolution you can: you have only ever known him to be good and so he is.
-----
Chapter 3 Next Week! 💕
Songs that set the mood:
Can I Stay by Ray LaMontagne
Trouble by Ray LaMontagne
All The Ways by The Secret Sisters (feat: Ray LaMontagne)
I have been dying for some Robby x virgin!reader please 😭 with reader being a resident or nurse
My loss is yours to keep
i am so sorry this took so long. I love virgin fic’s so I really wanted to make this special. Thank you for requesting and being patient!
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: fem!reader. Virgin (I tried to make it so she wasn’t very stupid?) oral!fem receiving. Piv, unprotected sex. Mentions of masturbation. Blood. Age gap!! Age gap!! Age gap!! Slight corruption kink if you squint really hard. Mdni. If you don’t like don’t read!
Robby is enchanting and enticing . Pretty and gorgeous.
He’s skilled and precise. He knows exactly where to touch probably because of his vast knowledge and years of experience.
He’s perfect.
At least you think so. Nobody else has ever tried eating your pussy like a waterfall of whiskey before.
It’s a little embarrassing to have him so close down there. Literally touching your insides with his tongue. But what’s more embarrassing is how good it feels.
Fingering yourself feels fine, good enough to get your rocks off. But this— Robby’s not even putting his fingers inside, instead sucking on your clit and biting at your pussy lips. The feeling is crazy. Immense.
The moans spilling from your lips aren’t even prompted. Robby genuinely pulls them out of your throat through licking your pussy. Usually you can keep quiet when your just playing by yourself. But all his movements are so unexpected that it’s a shock with every touch.
“Robby—“
Your breath hitches. There’s a familiar coil starting to form in the lower part of your stomach, but it’s just so much more intense than usual. It’s almost scary.
“Robby please—“
Your thighs didn’t mean to close around his head, but it felt like your legs had to do something. Toes are curling and abdomen clenched. Your hands in his hair are scratching maybe too hard, But that’s just how much he makes you feel.
When you cum Robby groans, like it’s his achievement, you coming is his personal reward. Your muscles tense and spasm and Robby’s eyes close like he’s the one in heaven, not you.
You try and catch your breath, head feeling empty despite the thought of telling yourself to relax. Legs falling back open when Robby sits up. He wipes the slick— your wetness from his mouth with the back of his hand before hovering over your body. His brown irises boring into you.
“You okay?”
“Yeah I….”
That was a lot. Your mind tries to scream at you. But you’re so close to getting your virginity taken away. And if it’s anything like oral you might get addicted.
“You’re just really good at that.”
Robby smiles a little blushy flustered smile and avoids eye contact for a second. It’s not like you have anything to compare him to. But you’re sure he has to be the munch of the decade.
“Glad I could be of service.” Robby’s fingers swipe through your folds, it’s sensitive, so you jump. But the pleasure comes back quickly and soon you’re melting. “You need a minute?”
“No.”
You whisper quickly. If you stop now to get a drink or— anything. You might think about the repercussions, remember all of your friends horror stories about their first time back when they were in high school. You really don’t want to leave Robby with blue balls because you’re too chicken to have sex.
The best thing to do is just get it over with.
“No, I’m fine. Please hurry.”
Robby laughs softly, mumbling “Eager little thing.” Before pressing a kiss to your mouth. It’s soft and you can taste yourself on his lips. Sweet and tangy. Definitely not something you’d eat for hours but Robby does it like it’s a competition. And baby he’s winning first place.
He pulls back to undo his pants. There’s shifting and more uncomfortable shifting, you sit there and watch because the air is already prickling at your cold exposed, naked skin. So you’re forced to ogle as Robby takes his boxers off and his dick springs free.
It’s girthy. Flushed pink and has a shine of precum at the tip. It looks so hard like all the blood rushing down wants to escape. His hairy tummy is only a preview of all the trimmed hair he has near the base.
It should be scary. it is. That it’s supposed to go all the way inside you? It’s bigger than just your fingers. It could hurt. But it could also feel amazing. Hitting that spot deep inside you that has your walls clenching at the thought.
If just looking at it makes you start to second guess yourself, getting excited and scared at the same time. You decide to just turn your head. So that your decision doesn’t change. Shimmying down the bed so he can reach you better.
Robby’s body hovers over you for a moment. His hands on either side of your head getting close, hot breath landing on your chest then bouncing back at him. sharing oxygen, But his hand takes one of your leg’s gently, grabbing at your thigh and pushing it up until eventually stops when theres too much resistance.
Your knee is pushed up to your chest and you feel incredibly exposed. Vulnerable with the way Robby’s looking at your pussy like he might ruin it.
When the tip of his dick touches your clit for the first time, it’s cold with slick and then sensitive. His cock is so heavy when he moves it to go up and down your pussy lips.
It feels good, nice. But that doubt comes back as soon as he pushes the tip in. He’s so warm and wide that you already know it’s gonna stretch. And this is a new position for you.
Maybe… maybe if you just tell him he will take it easy on you.
You don’t want him to give you special treatment. The position doesn’t have to change but as long as he goes slow in the beginning all will be okay, right?
“Robby—“
You breathe in a little bit of a panic. You can feel how he pushes the tip in and out not even all the way inside yet, there’s a little resistance each time and Robby watches as if mesmerized.
“Hm?”
“Just… just be gentle. I haven’t… done this before.”
And as soon as you say those words you feel like a complete asshole. Robby’s eyes flicker to you in a flash of surprise and he’s pulling back. Dropping your leg gently onto the bed. Fuck. This isn’t what you wanted! He should continue despite your inexperience, whatever he does is bound to feel good.
Robby— he almost laughs. His hands smooth up your thighs and looks up with you with such disbelief. It’s hard to be scared of him because even when he’s taken off guard and a little pissed. He’s still beautiful.
“You’re a virgin?”
He says it with a pretty amused smile that makes your heart flutter but your stomach cold with embarrassment.
“Well… I… I mean I know the basics.” He raises his eyebrows as if curious, telling you to continue. “You know… like fingering and hand jobs.”
Robby does laugh now. He’s good at doing that in bad situations. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not when he pulls farther away, running his hand over his crinkled forehead and into his hair as if stressed.
“Oh my gosh.” He breathes and now you definitely feel guilty. He’s probably thinking about how you’re so much younger. Still so much to experience and shacking up with a much older guy like him. Or maybe he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore. Determined to give it away to someone your age.
The relationship is only five months in. And so far it’s going great. Spewing out I love you’s maybe too fast but that’s how you feel with Robby. Safe and comfortable. But you weren’t expecting him to get like this when you told him about your inexperience. Was he upset? Would this be the thing that would make or break your relationship?
Robby sighs, more relaxed but still has that squinting near his eyes he does when upset or confused.
“And you were just going to let me take it? Just like that?”
His question is surprising; that’s the thing he asked? Out of all of the questions?
“I mean… yeah.”
Robby scoffs at your answer. He’s probably thinking you’re childish and dumb. How could he ever end up with a loser virgin like you.
“You could have told me sooner.” His voice is soft. Much softer than earlier but still holds that annoyance, like bitter chocolate melting in a fountain. “Fuck— i could have ruined you right there. Taken you like any other girl—“
He looks up, jaw clenching. Again, you don’t want special treatment. Taking it like any other girl sounds fine, thinking about what he might do to you has your legs clenching again. He could be rough or mean. Pushing you past a limit you didn’t even know you have yet. It sounded sexy. For the most part.
Yet Robby didn’t seem to agree. His hand slides up your thigh all the way up your sides gently. So gentle that it’s like your whole body was made of paper and you could rip easily.
“You can—” Your breath shakes when Robby looks up, hesitant voice above all the other noise in the room. “You can treat me like any other girl.”
He shakes his head. It’s immediate like he’s already made up his mind with you.
“No. Your first time should be special.”
You roll your eyes, maybe because he’s being annoying or maybe because that sentiment is really sweet.
“I’m serious!” Robby pinches your side and you squirm away. “Being rough is— amazing. But sometimes being gentle is just as important. It can feel just as good.”
“You’re not mad are you…?”
Because he doesn’t look mad. In fact if you sneak a glance right between his legs he still looks pretty excited. Dick hard and practically begging to be tugged, which is great. Hand jobs are what you did excel at in high school.
“I’m not mad.” Robby shakes his head. Probably mad while his fingers brush over your pussy again. Sticky and loud echoing off the walls. “It would have been nice to know before hand. I could have prepared you a little better.”
You swallow a hard breath. “No— no this is fine.” It’s especially fine when one of his thick fingers goes deep into your pussy, just testing but you can still feel every ridge he smooths over. His fingers exploring.
He adds another one and the stretch is deep, burning in the nicest way. Like when you spill tea on your skin but it’s not boiling hot. It’s more than pleasant.
“We’re gonna go slow.”
Robby purrs in your ear, kisses all the way down your chest, his fingers stretching you open with every in and out motion. It sends your head up into the clouds. No thoughts just this. Robby taking care of you.
Your breath hitches when his fingers go deeper. It’s different then your own maybe because you don’t have to feel the slick getting under your nails, or maybe because you can’t predict the next touch. But theres no doubt that Robby is a jack of all trades. Weather that be sucking an orgasm from your clit or beckoning it out of you with his fingers.
With every curl of his joints, slick feels like its running down to the sheets. If this is what working you open feels like. Its better then imagined, much softer too. His fingers pull out with a wet squelch, you feel empty, walls already missing something to grab onto.
This time when Robby settles between your legs he lets your limbs fall freely wherever you want. He’s pushing the head of his cock in more precise. It’s still heavy and feels as if he’s stuffing you full, it has your chest expanding with air as he pushes in slowly. Scared for what’s to come.
“Oh fuck.” Robby moans. He looks elegant above you. His face twists in what you can only assume to be overwhelming pleasure, and honestly you feel the same. If you could get past the uncertain and newfound feeling.
“I think—“ his hips still, only halfway in. “I think I would have known your a virgin.” He looks down and your eyes follow. Pussy practically caging him inside, stretching around his dick and feeling so full.
“You are so fucking tight.”
He says the last words breathlessly. His eyes trying to figure out if they should stay on you or shut them. It seems like it’s extreme anyway. You’re having the same problem, face morphing because of the sensation. You can’t control it. It’s tangible.
Robby pushes just a little deeper. Inch by inch. You swear you can feel him in your throat, rubbing over all those places you could barely reach with your fingers, let alone too scared to try and put some silicone up there.
“Robby—“ you tense suddenly. It burns. Is it supposed to burn? Just on the sides where you’re nearing the base. His balls are so close to touching your ass, it feels like a thrill. You could just persist through the pain. But Robby’s disappointed voice rings through your head.
“Stop, stop— please.”
It doesn’t take Robby more than a second to still inside you. His pleasure face turns worried as he examines you. Quickly you have to answer or else he might feel as much guilt as you.
“It— it just hurts a bit. Can we please just… rest like this?”
It’s very overwhelming. Having something so heavy and girthy protrude inside of you. Your limbs feel like shaking, whole body buzzing. About to sprout wings and just fly away and do a few laps around the neighborhood. Yet too staked in one place to do anything about it. One wrong move and you feel like you could split in half.
“I won’t move.” Robby promises. He leans in close, pressing his lips to yours. His lips taste like something you’ve never had before.
Robby kisses with a passion that makes you dizzy. Head always moving, always guiding in just the right way. It’s enchanting.
They’re soft and pillowy against yours. Even if his hands weren’t on your body beckoning you to come closer, you think you’d drift towards him on your own. Like when you swim in the ocean not noticing you’re already halfway out in the water, that’s how natural it feels with him.
Your hands travel into his hair while you kiss, feeling the slight tickle of Robby’s hand trailing up your sides. You don’t know if you’re really ready for all his dick yet. But if you don’t say yes now it will scare you for the rest of your life.
Instead of breaking away for air your hips move up, Robby understands and continues to push inside. It does burn but it’s faint. There’s a small pinching sensation but overall it’s just bulking, Even eating a large meal wouldn’t be as good as this.
Robby groans when he gets to the hilt. His bush rubbing against your clit if you move enough. Your legs wrap around his back because it feels natural, hooking your feet together as if locking them, making Robby stay inside you.
“You okay?” He asks.
“Feels good.”
Robby half smiles, he pulls halfway out and slowly pushes back in. It’s crazy how you go through all those senses again, and again with every slow thrust.
It’s flustering when you can hear the noises your pussy is making. Singing a song of enticement. Every time he bottoms out there’s a squelch and every time he pulls away there’s a slick noise.
Robby’s hips move in a tiny circular motion, it’s perfect with how your walls clench together on him and he hits so far back in your pussy.
“That’s it.” Robby moans. It goes through your ears and sends little hearts to your brain. You never knew he could sound so pretty. Of course he’s always pretty when yelling orders but this was different. “Oh baby… I can feel you loosening up.”
A small whimper slips from your throat. Finally it starts to feel better then fine or good. It starts to feel immense, pleasurable to your whole body not just between your legs.
“Robby….”
Your breathless. The switch from pain to pleasure was gradually increasing, and Robby is so close on top of you. Running your hand up and down his chest, He’s solid. You put all this trust in him to let him do this.
“It… it’s S’good.” You mewl.
“Yeah.” Robby throws his head back just for a moment. Shutting his eyes while his hips pick up just a fraction. “I know.”
He’s been having sex since the first time you’ve played with yourself. Having had so many more orgasms than you. He’s had his dick in a handful of girls yet your pussy had taken only his.
Robby stops abruptly because the thought could make him cum too fast, which would totally ruin your first time.
His head falls and he looks between you two where you’re connected. Physically connected together. Inside one another, the closest any human can be. Also emotionally, there’s no doubt you’re both tangled up in the red string of fate. Like you both belong together.
“Look at that…” Robby’s fingers swipes through your folds and around his dick. He brings those fingers in between you two enough so you can see. Your mortified.
There’s blood on his hand.
Just a little bit. And it’s mixed with milky white streaks from your previous orgasm, but that doesn’t stop it from being less embarrassing.
“I… I’m sorry. I thought—“
“Shhh shh.”
Robby shakes his head, he’s cool, collected, calm. He’s not grossed out or worried so your body relaxes. Chest releasing all this tension. He’s a doctor, he’s seen worse.
“I would have thought you’d broken that hymen yourself. How far does your fingers go inside you?”
“Not…not far.”
You admit. Is it a little embarrassing how you basically just told him you prefer the old rubbing one out trick instead of the shoving my fingers so far up there the tops turn pruney. But Robby doesn’t take this information for granted.
His hand goes back down in between your body’s and he finds your clit easily. First up and down, then side to side. Watching your face for any hitch of breath or slight twitch. Robby almost smiles when he starts to rub slow circles and you bite on your lip.
“Like that?”
You nod. “Just like that.”
Robby nods and he keeps rubbing the bundle of nerves for a little while longer. His hips start to slowly go out and in once again, and with this newfound dragging technique you feel every mind-numbing ridge of him. You’re on cloud nine. It’s an okay feeling when you’re touching yourself but it’s even better at the touch of another persons hand. Taking care of you.
The pace gradually increases over time. There’s a perfect rhythm to Robby’s hips just getting lost in the motions, His kisses start to messy with spit, pressing everywhere and anywhere trying not to rock off his pace.
The headboard creaks just slightly and your chest catches against his, breasts pushing up against his skin and adding just enough stimulation to your tits. Your hands go in his hair and lips crash against each other. Biting just a little bit, it feels like heaven. Better than a pleasant walk in the park and better then sitting down to watch a show with your favorite food. Being with Robby is better than anything and to be so vulnerable with him now is life changing.
That sounds dramatic but it’s true, your whole life will change after this. The dynamic too, and you won’t have to be flustered when naked around each other anymore. Because it will already be a sight that you know.
When his pace picks up there’s a small pinching sensation in your core. Robby sees— or more like feels your walls clenching too hard too fast and slows down back to that steady rhythm. It’s comfortable and he’s whispering an im sorry but his voice is so deep against all his other moans that you hardly catch it.
“Can you feel it?”
Robby breath is warm on your neck and he’s using his other hand to lock your fingers together. Holding your hand above your head.
“Feel me stretching you out?”
“Uh huh.” You nod quickly. Probably dumbly. You do feel him stretching you out. Walls tight around his cock and a ring of slick and cum accumulates around the very base. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” Robby practically purrs under the compliment. “I’m glad.”
Another kiss to your neck, a squeeze to your hand. A moan slipping away. You never knew Robby could grunt and groan like that. It’s very arousing.
There are so many sensations that climb on top of one another. One second you’re focused on the circles on your clit and the next it’s how hot your body’s are close to one another.
A coil starts to form in your stomach. That’s a feeling you know and are familiar with. Having spent countless nights actually getting off to the thought of Robby getting you to the edge. Late nights in bed, nobody’s eyes but the moons when your hand slipped off into your panties. But now it’s Robby’s doing— he’s unraveling you.
Your breath starts to stagger. Moans getting slightly louder. “Robby I—“ you’re close. With every one of this thrusts that high runs closer like an ongoing train into a house. “Can I cum?”
Robby laughs. Breathless and with a click of his tongue, you might be able to see a tint of pink at the tips of his ears. He squeezes your hand once In confirmation and rubs your clit a little harder. But never changes his pace of thrusting into you.
“Yeah.” He whispers into the junction of your neck. “I wanna feel you.”
He is feeling you. He’s feeling all of you, all your insides that are warm and made just for this. He can have any part of you if he wants. But when your walls flutter, clench, squeeze his dick hard. You understand.
He’s feeling you come undone at his touch. And it’s breathtaking.
On one hand you might be drowning. It’s just an orgasm, nothing you haven’t had before. But this one’s different when you’re so close to another human body. You dont have time to worry about if your face looks right or if you’re making the right sounds. You just cum. And it feels tremendous.
Your legs might be shaking and you immediately unclench your hand on his back in case of scratching Robby. That’s the last thing you want when he’s sending you over the edge. Foggy mind and blissed out head. Eyes shut but throat still moaning.
The one thing that was a little different was when he kept going. Your movements would have stopped by now or at least slowed but Robby kept going. He’s enjoying the feeling of you cumming around him.
It shouldn’t be a shock but it is. Very faintly you feel his dick twitch inside, just like how you can faintly feel the veins on his shaft. But what was unexpected was the warmth that filled up your body.
Robby’s own cum shooting inside you in ropes while this thumb slows down and movements still to a hilt against you. Your body feels warm like getting in the hot tub. He came inside. You’re full of his seed and now— officially not a virgin.
Everything quiets and slows. Your mind comes down leisurely just like your breath. You’re not regretting your actions but your replaying them. Thinking them over while your body rests.
Robby doesn’t pull out. Not right away. Before you can even get a good read of his face he’s kissing you. Same as always sweet and passionate. You relax into him, softening against him like he’s the sun and you’re melting.
The kiss sadly breaks and Robby’s looking at you. At your body and feels like maybe a little bit in your soul. Before he starts laughing. And then he doesn’t stop chuckling, making you second guessing your every action the last ten minutes to understand his fit of giggles.
“What….” You ask. Trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He looks beautiful when he smiles.
“Nothing— you just. You asked for permission to cum. They only do that in pornos.”
“No they dont….” Embarrassed you try and steer the situation away. Because yeah, maybe you read up a little bit too much about sex. Heaven forbid a girl do her homework.
“Nah don’t get flustered now. It was cute. It’s not like I was going to say no.” His fingers that were previously in your hand touch your jaw. “Especially to a girls first time.”
You kiss him. Because there’s this feeling in your chest that’s just so overwhelming with the thoughts of Kiss him kiss him kiss him
“Now her second time—“ you kiss him again before he can joke anymore. Even though you just lost so much energy you feel ecstatic to have lost it with him. A different kind of buzzy feeling where you only want to snuggle into him.
“Okay, I’m gonna pull out.”
He does and you immediately feel his seed dripping out of you and onto the sheets, it’s to be expected but that doesn’t make you feel any less gross and sticky. Robby’s eyes catch on your cunt but he doesn’t linger, no matter how badly he wants to.
He falls right next to you and wraps an arm around you head. Bringing your body in close and not caring that there’s at least three different bodily fluids on his bed. Robby presses a kiss to your forehead and grips at your skin. His cock softening between his legs.
“So, how’d your first time go. Five stars? seven stars? It has to be up there right?”
You hum. A smile playing on your face. Robby looks just as enchanted and enticing as when you started.
“It was okay.”
“Okay? I just saved your ass from any virgin sacrifices and it was only okay?”
You bite back something bigger than a smile. Pressing a kiss to Robby’s chest and setting into him for a long nap.
Summary: You take Robby off guard from the very beginning and continue to do so throughout your entire relationship. The first time he fucks you is no exception.
Warnings: +18 mdni, age gap, size difference, inconvenient boners, groping, car sex, oral (both m! and f! receiving), choking (but not rough he just holds u by the neck), dirty talk, explicit consent given, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, semi-public, the glasses stay on (and come off so he can eat u better), talk of alcohol consumption, lightly edited
Note: this was supposed to be a drabble so i'd written it in all lowercase but then it spiraled and i had to go back and edit so if there's some missing capitilization that's why :') also huge thank u to @thykingdoncome for taking a looksie at this (and for putting me on to this sad-eyed man good GAWD)
WC: 3.6k
Robby wasn't used to having a younger girlfriend.
He had never really been the type before you. Had always preferred the maturity of an older woman or one his own age.
But when Trinity jokingly set him up on tinder and he used it seriously one time, he stumbled across your profile. You're so pretty and sweet, with those cute photos with your friends and the one on the back of a boat in a polka dot bikini.
He took a risk. Told himself it was just to try it out. He wasn't doing it seriously or anything. He just needed to get laid.
But that first date? Robby left three hours later than intended, drunk on the ambrosia of your affection and he realized that maybe a younger girlfriend is exactly what he needed.
He used to want to come home to the quiet of his house, to feed the stray cat outside and maybe read a little before bed. He used to like to sleep in on his off days, to spend the time couch rotting with a good book or some mind numbing TV. He used to like ordering takeout and never leaving the house unless he had to.
He saw enough action at work, anyway. no need for more of it.
But you are living life for the very first time and taking advantage of every second of it. Occasionally you'll sleep in until ten, if he's lucky. But you're out the door by eleven. Shopping or visiting museums or driving three hours to a store for some product that finally says it's back in stock.
And Robby—god. He loved to trail behind you the whole time.
He liked to carry your shopping bags and watch you try on clothes just to put them back. He liked to watch you order something new at a restaurant and see your reaction. He liked to watch as you take a hundred photos on your phone and even let you pose him so it turned out exactly like the vision in your head.
He liked hearing your giggle when you turned your phone to show him some silly TikTok he doesn't understand.
He even liked staying out late now, because you're always at a bar or a club. Always on the dance floor with a drink in your hand. Robby liked to watch you dance wildly, liked to watch the lights reflect in your eyes, liked to come home covered in your body glitter and your coconut perfume and your love.
In truth, Robby had been a little nervous thinking about the first time you'd sleep together. Worried he couldn't keep up with you, that you'd want him more often than his age would allow.
Cause, ya know—he's twice your age, and his stamina isn't what it used to be, and you're so alive and so bright and he's so…him. A little grumpy and a whole lot tired.
But what Robby discovered after some time is that his desire for you overshadowed all else.
He looked at your smiling face and all the nerves settled in his head, going from a raging storm to still waters in an instant.
He wanted your first time together to be romantic. Maybe he'd cook you some pasta and the two of you could get wine drunk and stumble up into his bedroom late one evening, and he'd be real sweet and soft. He wanted to make love to you. Wanted you to know just how much you brighten his life, wanted you to know just how cherished you really are.
But what actually happened is far from romantic.
It's not in his bed or even his house. It's in the back of his car, in broad daylight, on a random side street one rainy, Tuesday afternoon.
You'd asked him to stop and try that new coffee place downtown before you went to meet Trinity and Dennis for lunch. The downpour had intensified while you were inside ordering, and by the time you'd ran back to the car you'd both gotten drenched.
An event that would've irritated Robby before you, but how could he be upset about the rain and his wet hair and the droplets on his glasses when you were laughing about it? How could he be upset or irritated when you wore the sweetest smile?
You'd leaned across the center console, took his face in your cold hands, and pressed your mouth to his. you always tasted so sweet, and the combination of your warm tongue against his and the cool, wet slide of the rain on your lips—god. It had him weak in the knees.
Arousal pooled low in his gut instantaneously. He tried to think of other things. Gross things, terrifying things, of anything but you. None of it worked to erase the intensity of his desire.
He was ten minutes away from the diner when he pulled over and admitted what was going on. "Sweetheart, I'm…I'm really sorry, I know you were looking forward to this but I think we might have to cancel."
A crease formed between your brows, and it pained him to see it. "What? Why? What's going on, are you okay?"
Robby's face warmed, and he knew he should probably lie. Make up some fluke of an excuse as to why he'd suddenly had a change of heart and needed to return home at the very last second. But the look in your eyes was full of true concern, and Robby knew he'd never be able to lie. Not to you.
So, he took it on the chin. Swallowed down his embarrassment and said, "Yeah, yeah. But…uhm—when you…when you kissed me, it was really…" he laughed, fingers fidgeting. "It felt really nice. Too nice, actually, and—"
"Oh," you interrupted. "You're hard?"
The words are said so plainly, as if there's nothing wrong with the fact that he'd gotten this worked up over something as small as a kiss. Robby shook his head. "I've tried to get it to go away, but," he scoffed. "It's not—uh, not working, so—"
"Well, let me help you." Your lips turned up at the corners, a knowing smirk forming. you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved closer, leaning over the center console until your mouth is a breath away from his. "Is it okay if I touch you?"
Robby's head turned, glancing out of the rain-clouded windows. There was no one around, and he very much wanted you to touch him, but— "Are you sure? Here?"
Your nod is both certain and enthusiastic. "What better place than here and now?"
He laughed. "Anywhere would be better than here," he said. "My bed, your bed, the damn couch, for christ's sa—"
You palmed at his bulge through the too-thick fabric of his jeans. "Yeah? That's where you wanna fuck me, Mikey? The couch?" Your voice was low and teasing in his ear, sending shivers up his spine.
Robby swallowed, muscles slackening beneath your touch. You squeezed his length in your hand, stroking him with your thumb.
"Or…" you began. "Do you wanna fuck me here?" Your other hand joined the first, aiding so you could unbutton his jeans and slide your hand down the front of them.
He's not wearing boxers—Robby can't stand the extra fabric and the way it bunches—and suddenly your hand was wrapped tight around his aching cock. His head tilted back against the seat, eyes closed as you whispered against the shell of his ear.
"You're even bigger than I thought you'd be. Gonna feel so—so full, when you're inside me." you said, stroking his cock with the perfect amount of pressure. "I think about you fucking me a lot, Mikey. You're just so strong and so big and so fuckin' sexy. You remember when I asked you to send me those pictures when you were in the shower? I've touched myself to them so many times."
It killed him to hear it. To imagine you with your fingers on your clit or buried deep inside you while you're thinking about him. His cock pulsed, throbbing with desire. "This isn't—fuck—this isn't how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to—to be sweet. Dinner and wine and rose—jesus—rose petals and—"
"I don't want rose petals today," you murmured. You licked at his neck, wet tongue sliding up over his pulse, over the stubble there that he's gone a day too long without shaving. "What I want is to suck your cock. Can I do that, Mikey?"
Robby was nodding before he could think any better of it. He lifts his hips just enough to pull his jeans down, cock springing free and resting against his belly, reaching just below his navel. It's thick and aching for you, resting just on top of the dark hair of his happy trail. "'Course you can, baby."
The smile you gave him in response is nothing short of earth-shattering.
Robby doesn't think anyone has ever seemed this eager for him. No one's been so desperate for it. The realization made him feel dizzy with affection for you and the way you worship him, the way you trust him.
You leaned over the center console, took his cock in one hand, and pressed a wet kiss to his tip. Your mouth is so soft and so sweet and so warm. Your tongue swirled around his length as you eased him into your mouth, tracing each vein over and over as if for memorization.
Robby didn't know where to put his hands. He wanted to touch you, to smooth your hair back away from your face. He wanted to reach over and squeeze the supple flesh of your ass through your leggings. He wanted to reach lower, to press his fingers against your folds through the cotton fabric until you moaned for him.
But he didn't know what was too much, or what wasn't enough, and—
You suddenly swallowed him down, taking all of him in your mouth, nose pressed to the thick hair at the base of his cock and it felt so fucking good that he nearly finishes right then and there.
And Robby, on instinct, grabbed the back of your neck to steady himself. "Oh fuck," he choked out. "Careful, pretty girl. Careful, careful—"
You slowly leaned back, mouth sealed tight around him, sucking hard until his cock pops out from between your lips. You turned your head to look up at him, slapping the underside of his length lewdly against your tongue. Spit bubbled at the corners of your mouth, sliding messily down your chin. "I love sucking your cock," you said.
A smile stretched across his face. Real and true and happy. "Yeah?"
You nodded in response, teary eyes alight with desire. "Mhm."
"Well, it's not fair for you to have all the fun now, is it?" Robby's fingers curled around the back of your neck, pulling you up and off of him. He guided your mouth to his, the kiss wet this time in a whole different way. His free hand found your neck, bracketing your throat completely between his big hands.
You moaned against his tongue and Robby smiled against your lips.
He pulled away only to instruct, "Why don't you go ahead an' get in the back seat for me, baby."
A grin formed on your face—pretty and submissive and alive with hunger. Robby could get real addicted to this, he thought. Real addicted to you.
He let go of your throat, and watched as you hurriedly did as told. Obedient little thing, so perfect.
Robby followed closely behind. He reached tbeneath the passenger seat to push it forward. The space is too small for him; cramped even when he bends on aching knees to the floor of the back seat.
Kneeling between your thighs, Robby hooked his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and pulled them down, over your high top sneakers. His hands come to feel the softness of your exposed skin, roaming up and beneath your shirt, feeling you this close for the very first time.
Robby palmed your breasts over the fabric of your bra, thumbs running over the subtle swells of your peaked nipples. "You're so pretty," he mused, leaning forward to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss just above your navel.
His mouth traveled downward, peppering kisses across your belly until his lips met the fabric of your panties. Robby delighted in the shiver you gave as the warmth of his breath fanned across your cunt. He pressed a kiss right over your clit and grinned to himself as your spine arched.
"Let's take these off, yeah?"
You nodded eagerly, and Robby didn't waste time before pulling your panties away.
"Oh, look at that," Robby muttered. He brought his hand between your legs and slid his fingers gently through your arousal. "So fuckin' wet, isn't she? This all for me, baby?"
"Yes," you breathed out. "Need you, Mikey. So bad."
"I know you do. S'alright, I've got you." Robby took his glasses off and set them on the leather seat beside you, before leaning forward and kissing you right where you needed him most. A shallow breath stuttered out of your chest, but he doesn't give you a moment to gather yourself. His tongue darts out, licking you from your entrance to your clit and then circling.
Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Robby obliged your silent instruction, suckling your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the pulsing nerves.
His heart was beating fast in his chest, his cock aching to be inside you. He had one hand on your breast, and brought the other to your cunt. Robby finds your opening with two gentle fingers and pushed them in.
"Oh god," you cried out. "That's so good. You feel so—fuck."
Robby curled his fingers inside of you, pushing hard against the softest spot."Talk to me, pretty girl," he urged. "Tell me what feels good."
"M-maybe a little…hmm—a little faster?"
He quickened the pace of his fingers and licked at your clit more feverishly, humming when you give a little gasp in response.
"Fuck—yes, yes. Like that. And—your fingers just a little deeper—just—"
Robby listened like a trained dog, heeding your every beck and call. He pressed deeper, thrusting his fingers upwards until—
"Ohmygod, yes—just like that, just like that please. Don't stop, don't stop—"
He doesn't. Robby licked and sucked at your clit until his spit dripped down onto the leather seat below you. He groaned low at the taste of your arousal, ambrosia made just for him. sweet and youthful and delectable.
He didn't deserve it, Robby knew. Your desire, your love, your light. But he'll eat it all up for as long as you continue to give it.
You clenched around his fingers and Robby pulled his mouth away, strings of saliva snapping against his chin. "You about to cum, baby?"
"Yes, yes, please, Mikey I need it—!"
"Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head. He pulled back fully, sliding his fingers out of you and rising to his full height. "M'gonna watch the first time you cum for me. Wanna see it on your face. Wanna feel you milk my cock 'til I fill up that sweet little pussy of yours."
A whimper left your mouth, and Robby could do nothing but smile cause he knew. He knew how needy you feel, how frantic that desire made you. He knew because it lived in him, too.
He pressed your legs upwards, setting the soles of your sneakers against the edge of the backseat. He grabbed at the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head before picking up his glasses and setting them back on his face. "Take it all off," Robby ordered. "Let me see you."
You do as told, quickly adding your hoodie and bra to the growing pile of discarded clothes.
Robby took a minute just to absorb it all; to memorize the way you looked, spread out for him in the backseat of his car, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. You're the prettiest little thing. Half his age, half his heart.
That four letter L word flitted across his mind, but Robby doesn't give life to it.
Not yet, anyway.
He dragged his hand down the center of your chest instead, but thought you must be able to feel the love in it, manifesting at the very tips of his fingers.
"I want you inside me," you whispered, bringing your hand to his against your chest, holding tight to his knuckles.
Robby nodded and took his cock in his free hand, sliding it through the syrupy wetness between your legs before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pressed his cock in, just the head at first. Enough for him to notch himself there so he can wrap his hand around the back of your neck instead.
He forced you to look at him, eyes locked together as he slowly pushed all the way inside.
You breathed out synchronized sighs of relief the moment he's seated fully inside you, cock pressed right up against your womb.
You're so tight around him, so wet and warm and perfect. Robby began to gently rock his hips, keeping you steady with his heavy hands. One on your chest, the other at the back of your neck. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm, pulse elevated in the way his likely is.
"God, Mikey—"
You don't need to ask him to quicken his pace, not this time. Robby heard it in your voice. And some old dogs could certainly learn new tricks.
He finds a rhythm that has your eyes threatening to roll back. The perfect tempo, filling you up and fucking you deep. "My girl," he muttered. "My pretty girl. So good to me. Fuck."
Your spine arched off the back of the leather seat, chest pressed more firmly against his hand. "That's so good, so'fucking—mmm."
"Touch yourself for me, baby," Robby said.
You find your clit and circle it with deft, practiced fingers. Robby took note of the direction you move, cataloging the information for later. "It's so—so big—"
"I know, sweet girl. But you can take it, hm? Can't you?"
The words are broken in your mouth, overtaken by a wanton moan.
"I know you are," he whispered. "Can feel her squeezing me real tight. You gonna cum for me already?"
He'd said it as a taunt, but in truth Robby was no better. He'd been fighting off his own release from the very moment he'd slid his cock inside you.
"Look at me," he ordered, fingers flexed around the back of your neck. And once you do, a satisfied smile formed on his mouth. "Good. Good. Now cum for me, baby. Give it to me."
Your breath halted, the exhale stuck in your chest. And then Robby could feel your cunt pulse around him, and you let out a ragged whimper as your release rocked through you. "Cum with me, please," you cried. "Want you to cum inside, Mikey."
That's what did him in; the sound of your voice, whining out his name. A moniker he only ever allowed you to call him. So fitting, coming from the soft, bright thing you are. "Shit," he hissed, his own orgasm clouding the edges of his vision. "Takin' it all, huh? Yeah, that's it. That's my girl."
He didn't stop, not until he was well and truly spent. Until he'd fucked all of his release into your cunt, until his cock was sensitive and your breathing evened out beneath his palm.
Robby pressed his mouth to yours tenderly and could feel your smile as it formed. He pulled away, stuffed himself back into his jeans and asked, "What's so funny?"
You shook your head. "Nothing, just…I think Trin is calling me."
It's only when you say it that Robby finally heard the buzzing coming from the front seat. He reached towards it, taking your forgotten phone in his hand and examining the screen to find a photo of Trinity with her head in your lap.
Robby remembered the night he'd taken the photo, some third shift party at John's place you'd insisted on crashing. You'd made friends with Trinity in two seconds flat when she'd confessed her part in his Tinder profile to you, much to Robby's dismay.
He passed the device to you. "Wanna answer it?"
You took your phone, clicked the screen once, and pressed it to your ear. "We're late, I'm sorry, I know," you laughed. "We're on our way. Got stuck in traffic. Order me one of those strawberry lemonades."
Robby helped you find your clothes, tugging your panties back over your legs and righting them around your hips. Your leggings were next, and he tried not to think about his cum that slowly spilled out of you to avoid another stop on the way to the diner.
Robby couldn't fight his grin as he found his shirt to pull it back over his head.
"Trin, no. A shot? It's not even noon—well, yeah, now it is, but—!"
You both climbed to the front of his car, and Robby reached over to buckle you in.
"Well…I mean, if it's a mimosa…"
Robby laughed as he turned the key in the ignition. Knew right then and there he'd probably spend half the afternoon taking care of you, but knew good and well that he'd love every moment of it.
He promised himself he'd give you those rose petals later.
But for now, the vibrancy you've painted in his heart is enough.
Summary: Three years ago, Andrew Cody saw you while he was serving his sentence at Folsom State Prison. Although his interaction with you was brief, you stayed in his mind the entire time and unbeknownst to you, he pledged his devotion to you. Now that he’s out of prison, he’s going to show you just how far his devotion goes for you.
Warnings/tags: 18+, smut, minors do not interact, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s and Andrew is late 30s), freak 4 freak, season 1!Pope, perv!Pope, toxic!Pope, limerence, yearning, parasocial behaviour, stalking, voyeurism, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m and f), breeding kink, praise kink, degradation kink, erectile dysfunction, controlling behaviour, angst, mental health issues, toxic behaviour, obsessive behaviour, obsessive compulsive behaviour, unhealthy attachment, jealousy, prison, violence (related to Cody family business), toxic families, Smurf, mention of death, unhealthy coping, swearing, drinking, smoking, strip club, stripper, mental anguish, childhood trauma, family trauma, fluff, comfort, no use of y/n
Author’s note: Going back to my roots and writing for Pope Cody again! If you’ve read my other Pope Cody series, Cody’s Girl, and notice that I’m kind of reheating my nachos (just for some parts), it’s okay because I made the nachos. I also took some scenes I had written for Cody’s Girl and added it to this series instead. Also, thank you guys so much for 800 followers! I love you all so much! This community means so much to me and you truly make every day so much better for me! I hope you guys enjoy it and thanks for reading!
Chapter 1: Instant Attachment
Summary: The first time Andrew Cody sees you is within the confined walls of Folsom State Prison. You’re volunteering with a prison library program, helping inmates read and providing educational support. One look at you is all it takes for him to become instantly attached to you and he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.
Chapter 2: Obsession
Summary: The first thing Andrew does when he’s out of prison is track you down, the object of his obsession. At first he tries to stay away from you, observing from a careful distance, but when his desire to be close to you gets too strong, he gives in and makes contact with you.
Chapter 3: Party 4 U (coming soon)
Summary: It’s the day of Andrew’s birthday. His brothers take him out to a strip club where he overcomes a personal issue he’s been dealing with since he got out of prison. That evening, you go to the Cody house for the first time for Andrew’s birthday party.
Chapter 4: Tempest
Summary: After a tumultuous birthday, all the emotions Andrew has been harbouring finally comes to a head and he learns how well you understand him.
Chapter 5: Reciprocation
Summary: Andrew finds out how you feel about him when the truth comes out.
Last updated: July 26, 2026
Dividers by @strangergraphics and gif by @wesandresons
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୨ৎ pairing .ᐟ.ᐟ michael robinavitch x psych fellow!reader
୨ৎ summary .ᐟ.ᐟ robby was three months shy from his sabbatical. the amount of loose ends he had to tie were creating a dreadful to-do list he felt obligated to address before hitting the open road. one of the many things on his list is ensuring you'll be the newest addition to the behavioral health department to assist down in the pitt. the longer the two of you toe the line of professionalism, he realizes there are other things to broach with you.
୨ৎ tags/warnings .ᐟ.ᐟ female reader, no physical description, no use of y/n, SMUT MDNI!, unprotected p in v, handjob, making out, dirty talk, medical inaccuracies, mentions of gun violence, suicidal ideation, substance intoxication, physical assault at the workplace, robby being slightly jealous
୨ৎ authors note .ᐟ.ᐟ woah...getting hot and steamy here! honestly, first piece of smut on this app. apologize if it sucks, lol! i actually was pretty satisfied after writing this, so i had to post it. anyways, i love them and they obviously had to come together eventually.
୨ৎ word count .ᐟ.ᐟ 13 k
prev: two against three
Another shift down, Robby mentally reminded himself. Another day closer before he’d be walking out those doors and learning the endless sights of the road. He was officially three months away from his sabbatical.
Every time he walked into his garage and admired the bike, he spent months reconstructing, he told himself to hold off. There was a buzzing noise in his ear during shift change recently, with the anticipation crawling. Eventually it would be his last for a while. Longer than he had been gone before.
Despite the fact he was tempted to go on his trip earlier, he knew there were responsibilities he’d be ignoring if he did. He never would have opened the reinstatement paper for Langdon to repeat his last year of residency due to ‘unforeseen circumstances.’ He never would have witnessed the renderings of the shiny plaque commemorating their efforts in the wake of the PittFest shooting. He would’ve also missed the invitation for the farewell party hosted by Princess and Perlah for Collins.
He would also be oblivious to the close proximity you shared with the night shift attending by the nursing station.
If anyone were looking in his direction, they would have noticed the quick double flick of his head as he walked out of Trauma 2. It was close to 8pm and by this time; you would have made your way out. It was rare you stuck around late. Robby knew from the few times you two ran into each other in the parking garage elevator.
While discretely keeping his eyes on the two of you, he noted how you leisurely leaned against the counter. One elbow resting on station while holding a coffee in the other. A clear cup with orange lettering. Shen was listening intently to you ramble about something. Your eyes fluttered and brightened as you continued with your story. Shen didn’t tear his eyes away for one moment.
Robby tried to make out what he could from across the station. He pretended to be engrossed in the patient board, arm crossed and head craned back; but if anyone paid closer attention, they would see his eyes fleeting back to you and Shen.
“So the tinman does have a heart.” He heard someone mutter from behind him. He twisted his neck to either side before seeing Santos come up on his right with an amused smile. She had on her jacket and one strap of her backpack slung over her shoulder.
He furrowed his brows at her, feigning naivety. She motioned over to the sight of you now laughing at something Shen said. Robby smiled awkwardly, “I don’t think she would appreciate that.”
Santos snorted, stuffing her hands in her pockets. She leaned back and forth gracefully. “She’s chill with it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Robby breathed out with a chuckle. There was a slight resemblance between you and his intern. He wasn’t surprised you two could hit it off under the right circumstances and if Santos could learn to trust someone outside the workplace, then he was in greater support of it. “Chill with the idea that my residents consider her a heartless individual.”
“It’s a joke, Dr. Robby.”
The small rebellious streak in her eyes simmered when the two looked over once more. Shen had put aside his ice coffee and digital chart as he showed you something on his phone. Your shoulders lightly pressed together, and your head leaned in closer. It could have been attributed to the loud sounds of machines and staff walking by, but it seemed scarcely intimate for you.
“I’ve seen them hang out more.” Santos acknowledged, crossing her arms to mirror the stance of her superior. Robby hummed lightly while still observing the newfound dynamic between you and Shen. “Javadi caught them once at a café walking a golden retriever.”
Robby shook his head. There was no plausible reason to be discussing a hospital staff’s personal life—let alone their romantic one. If you wanted to go on dates with people, even those within the hospital walls that was fully within your rights. There wasn’t much overlap between your positions and if you continued staying at PTMC as an attending, there wouldn’t be any concern of a power imbalance, despite being a couple of years older.
“I think they could work. In their own weird way.” Santos concluded. The sound of Whitaker calling her name pulled her out of the parasocial analysis of her colleagues. It also ruined the illusion Robby was starting to make up in his mind.
With Santos disappearing from his eyeshot, his mind wandered back across the nursing station. He saw Jack pat Shen on the shoulder, mumbling something incoherent. Compliant, Shen pocketed his phone. Once Jack stepped away, Shen collected his things, still speaking with you. There was a smile on your face as you let him brush past you, attending to his duties. You walked in the opposite direction and Robby willfully saw himself moving as well. He kept his head down to remain inconspicuous.
When the two of you rounded the center by the behavioral rooms, Robby saw the slight raise of your eyebrows with a small grin. “Robby, are you avoiding going home or do you just live here?”
“I could say the same about you.” He mused, hands hiding in the pockets of his blue zip-up. He shrugged, shying away, “You aren’t typically found this late.”
Taking a careful sip of the coffee, you hummed, “You kept giving me patients to visit.”
Robby chuckled, shaking his head at the playful blame. It was the current dynamic the two of you settled on. Playful banter that only made sense to the two of you. The past month has forced you two to spend more contact outside the hospital. With the review from Admin, there were reasons for the two of you to continue texting and calling.
The review had closed a week ago and Robby thought there would be a drought after. With the blow up between you and Mrs. McGuire and that of your own colleague, Robby was not sure you would trust yourself to be human in the workplace. Watching you, talking with Shen was seeing the white shell of an egg crack. The yolk wasn’t pouring out, but steeping out through the crack as the part of yourself Robby had seen briefly came to fruition under Shen’s graze.
“I apologize then.” Robby mumbled, scratching the side of his beard while turning his face away.
“I’m messing with you, Robby.” You responded with a slight whisper, before walking over to one of the workstations. You put down the coffee before briefly logging in.
Robby was staring at the back of your head, and he saw you pull up the chart for the patient in North 4. He carefully stepped closer, leaning forward slightly to capture some of your attention. “Have you heard anything?”
He saw the pinch of your brows as you continued typing. He then placed his hands on the side of the desk beside you, leaning in to keep the conversation private. There was enough space between the two of you, compared to how you stood with Shen. Robby didn’t think you’d be fine with an intrusion. “From any of the places you applied?”
You lightly opened your mouth ahing as it hit you what he was referring to. In response, you shook your head. “Still awaiting a response from Presby and Mass General.”
“And what about here?” Robby dragged the words, hoping to ease the conversation slowly.
There was hesitancy in your fingers. Although you were already stretching them in between keystrokes, your hands paused completely before continuing. Carefully licking your lips, you nervously laughed. “I am working on it.”
You eyed him from the corner of your eye, holding back the curl of your lips. Robby shook his head, “I’ve noticed. I’ve been eagerly expecting an email from Admin about my thoughts as ER chief.”
“What do you plan to tell them?” You asked easily, while keeping yourself physically busy.
He could see how interested you were in the response, but something still held you back from taking a leap. PTMC was more than a safe choice, in his opinion. There was a lot of work done outside the hospital that you could benefit from. Educational seminars, academic work, even humanitarian efforts. Robby didn’t have time to smile for the cameras, but you could definitely do the work better than him.
“That this hospital has more to lose than gain if they didn’t hire you.” Robby admitted shamelessly. He didn’t have anything else planned, because that was the only truth Admin needed to know.
He knew they would dig for any liabilities to hiring you. During the internal review, there were a lot of questions of who failed to do what, but he knew they were covering everything that was pertinent to document. Although upset from the publicity that came from the incident, and the fact you had been assaulted while attempting to do your job, Gloria was slightly more uptight than usual. Nothing new in Robby’s eyes, and nothing that should concern you about the hiring procedure.
‘That’s generous.” You commented with an even tone.
He struggled with the same acceptance as you did. With your recent streak of bad luck, you were having an even harder time accepting accolades for your work. Robby didn’t mind reminding you, especially if it meant you’d give yourself grace to make a decision meant to benefit you. “I’m not the only one who believes it.”
With raised eyebrows and a crooked smile, you finally turned to him, staring up to meet him in the eyes. “Did Caleb send you to sniff out my intentions?”
Robby chuckled with a toothy grin, one hand scratching the side of his beard. “No, I guess we just happen to think alike.”
You finished typing a couple more sentences before logging out of the computer. You spun the chair lightly, standing up beside him. He took one careful step back, but there was still little space for anyone to interfere. “Like I told Caleb and Shen, I will submit a formal application for an attending position. I just want to test my options first.”
You shrugged, grabbing your coffee. “I don’t exactly look forward to packing up my life after finally getting rid of all my boxes.”
He saw you shift slightly, ready to leave, but something kept you in place. You stared at him thoughtfully, “Truth is, I haven’t exactly done anything to prove I’m worth keeping around.”
“That opinion is subjective.” He remarked, lightly grinning to prevent you from disheartening yourself.
“If you say so,” You scoffed, pushing the chair into the desk, one hand still grasping the back. “Caleb has tried. Shen and even some of your residents.”
“At the end of the day, it’s my decision to make.”
Offering him a tight lip smile, you slipped around him, barely brushing his shoulder.
The Pitt was at a standstill for once. No one would dare say the Q-word aloud, but everyone was in silent agreement of the fact. There was a lull in traumas and they were making steady progress with their patient in chairs. He thought they were surviving for now. It was only 4pm after all.
He was sitting down at the nursing station, getting some charting and other administrative emails done. It was boring to say the least, but he had put off enough of his duties. He knew he needed to get done as much as he could before leaving for his sabbatical.
Some of it though, didn’t pertain to the work at PTMC. He had a personal interest he currently endeavored himself to prioritize. Making sure his residents were well equipped for their next phase in their education—and although you weren’t his resident (let alone a resident)—he felt as responsible for your future.
After everything that had occurred in his department under his guise, he owed you that much.
If everything with Richman hadn’t occurred, you wouldn’t feel as insecure as you did. You were under the notion that this hospital wouldn’t want you, and Robby wouldn’t tell you, but he felt you were blinded by your own narrative. A narrative that was self-sabotaging.
He knew Caleb would notice. While preparing for the internal review, they had a moment alone and Caleb had confided in Robby what he hadn’t told you.
“I don’t think I’ve seen someone as driven and enamored with her patients as she is, and I don’t think I could trust anyone else to teach the residents besides her.”
When Caleb smiled, Robby knew it was the truth.
Robby didn’t argue that fact. He could trust in you to advocate for your patients. You’d fight him over the right plan of care if necessary. He learned to respect that fact, challenge it when necessary, and relent to your decision when you were right. If there was anything Caleb could equally respect, it was that.
It would be a challenge for Caleb to relearn how to navigate without your help.
Robby continued searching his inbox in relation to you and a new emergency psychiatrist. He didn’t have much of a powerful say as to whether or not you’d be hired for the position, but he knew Gloria would want his input; especially considering he wouldn’t be here after you started as an attending physician. They would need to know he can trust in someone to navigate for three months without his presence.
He didn’t find anything when he searched your name in the search engine.
“Hey Robby.”
When he lifted his head, he heard Lupe approaching him to where he sat. When she mentioned your name, that piqued his interest more. “I have a girl, Stephanie Robles, in chairs looking to speak with her. I tried calling for her, but got nothing.”
Robby sighed out heavily, leaning back in his chair. “I can call her down. Did she state the reason?”
Lupe shrugged, “She said she was told to stop by if there was ever an emergency. Poor girl looks like she’s been through it.”
He furrowed his brows at that. He was wary about the sudden visit. With the aftermath of the Richman case, they were all told to be on high alert for anyone trying to sneak in a statement; but Robby doubted this was the case, from the way Lupe put it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. “I will let her know. Put Miss. Robles in the family room for now.”
Lupe nodded, stalking away with urgency to attend to her duties. Robby clicked on your contact, bowing his head slightly to obscure the outside noise. It rang a couple of times before clicking to life. “Hi, is there an emergency?”
“Sort of.” Robby started off, noting the serious tone in your voice. “Someone came in chairs looking for you by the name of Stephanie Robles. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah, is everything okay?” You huffed out; he could hear wind gushing through the speaker as if you were speed walking.
“I’m not sure. Lupe said she didn't look so great. I had her put Miss. Robles in the family room for you.” Robby informed, standing from the chair to walk over to the family room. He thought it’d be a better idea to meet you there before letting you walk in alone.
“Perfect. I’m on my way down.” You rushed out before hanging up.
There was urgency in your voice and based on what he heard, you were rapid in making your way down. He had only stood by the door for a couple minutes until you came over, practically striding. He had his hands in his jacket pocket, watching you carefully. Your eyes were focused on the room, ignoring his curious looks.
When you caught the brunette girl, curled on the couch, clutching her knees close to her chest, you sighed. The relief was perceptible from where Robby stood, and he was even more interested in what your connection was. With your hands on your hips, you finally acknowledged him. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I missed any previous calls, I was in a meeting with Caleb.”
He hummed, pulling his hands out to rub them together. He would ask what the meeting was regarding, but there were other pressing matters to question. He watched Stephanie, before returning his gaze on you. “She hasn’t been here long, but Lupe was right. She seems like she’s been crying nonstop.”
You frowned, obviously personally afflicted by the information. Even if you wanted to tear your eyes away from the solemn girl, you couldn’t. Something was compelling to keep a close eye on her. Robby hesitated for a moment, before he got the courage to ask. “How do you know her?”
Chuckling nervously, you faced away from the door to focus on Robby. “I lead a support group for survivors of traumatic events like PittFest. After that happened, I thought this would be a great way to connect with the community since I moved.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. He thought the idea was good. The city had been through tragedy before and the only thing that reunified the affected communities was the unison of people. He could see from the way you spoke that it meant a lot to you personally. It was evident in how you cared for Stephanie like she was more than an attendee of the group.
“I didn’t know.” Robby mentioned, shaking his head. His chest ached with shame. Had you not trusted him to tell him as much?
Furrowing your brows, you smiled. “Not a lot of people do. It’s one of those things I wanted to do for my sake.”
“Why’s that?”
There was a brief pause. You sighed, thinking for the appropriate answer. He knew there had to be a reason you didn’t bring it up. The two of you had only recently become friendly, but if it was only professional on your part, it wouldn’t be sacred. You readjusted your badge on your collar. “I guess I had to prove to myself that I wanted to do Psychiatry. Not because I lost the ability to do what I dreamed of doing since I was ten.”
Had he met you under less hostility, he wouldn’t have doubted your passion. He always knew the patients were a priority, even when he thought you were overstepping the ED to do so. He might have seen it differently at first, but he was convinced now.
“All the more reason for you to stay,” He joked, smiling and he could feel the wrinkle around his eyes.
You playfully rolled your eyes, letting your hands fall to your side. You peeked back inside the family room, sighing. “Thank you. I will reach out if I need anything.”
He nodded, taking a step back. You twisted the handle of the door, peeking in first so as not to alarm Stephanie. Robby could see her sit up and when her eyes landed on you, she almost burst into tears of relief. You closed the door behind you and he could make out the muffled voices. He lingered, staring through the window, to make sure nothing immediately alarming were to occur.
You approached her on the couch, taking the spot beside her. Wordlessly, she fell into your arm, letting you embrace her while hiding her face in the crook of your neck. That’s when he walked away. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, and he felt the moment was too intimate for him anyway.
While he was passing by the North station, he caught wind of Dana approaching him. She tossed her hands, grinning. “You do realize we still have people in chairs?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you ran this ship.” Robby joked, pumping his hands with sanitizer.
Dana leaned against the north station, one arm resting on the counter. “How else do you think this place stays afloat.”
“And I greatly appreciate everything you do.” Robby assured, cheesing harder while shaking his head. He observed around the north beds, noticing most of them full except a couple. Then his eyes went back to the family room, desolate from the outside world, the perfect place to isolate from the travesties waiting outside.
Dana noticed him staring off somewhere. She tried following his line of sight with raised eyebrows. “Everything alright, Cap?”
He shook himself, facing Dana with a tight lip smile. “Yes. Do you mind keeping tabs on the family room?”
“Sure. May I ask why?” Dana questioned, not as defiance, but genuine concern with the way his voice quieted.
He put his hand on his hip, rubbing his forehead with the other hand. He sighed out your name, “She’s in there with a visitor, who seems distraught over something. I want to make sure there are eyes on the situation in case of anything.”
Dana agreed, her furrowed brows relaxing. In a motherly fashion, she examined him up and down with an approving grin. “Okay, I can do that. You know, it's nice seeing you two get along.”
He snorted, narrowing his eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I remember when you two used to want to bite each other’s heads off.” Dana chuckled, endeared with the memories like there was something fond about it. Robby was personally glad the two of you could work in peace after he resigned to the concept of a chaotic department. “If she stays, it’ll make answering consults easier.”
Dana patted him on the shoulder before brushing past him. That was an understatement. He kept dreading the idea of having to familiarize himself with someone new, assuming the hospital found someone appropriate for the job. Even then, there was still a gamble at risk. Any doctor could look impressive on paper, it was their bedside manner and teamwork skills that mattered most.
You had paid your dues, and more to gain his respect along with everyone else’s. In his mind, there was no replacing you, and he wanted you to see that before you decided to run off again. He still had some time to do just that.
Robby had meant to keep an eye around the family room. When he did pass by a couple hours later, you were nowhere to be found. With a few back to back traumas, he wasn’t on the floor as much as he wanted to be. You must have slipped away a while ago. It was nearing shift change, and the chances of catching you before you left was slim. Robby always stayed later than necessary, but he had to make sure the night shift was calm to give him some peace of mind.
He had finished up with a trauma almost ten minutes ago. Jack was there watching the patient until Surgery took him upstairs. Robby was making rounds, checking patient rooms and around the hallways for anyone from the day shift. As he finished his rounds, circling back to the nursing station, he caught paramedics transferring a patient in.
Shen followed alongside the bed with Ellis. Robby paused, listening to the obscenities the patient was yelling. Shen and Ellis were attempting to get a report from the paramedics, but the man somehow yelled louder. Robby saw them walking into the open trauma room, and under the light, he saw the restraint on the patient.
Without hesitation, he followed behind a nurse, slipping into the trauma room. He was able to see the restraints more clearly. Shen noticed Robby standing by the door, with a concerned look on his face. “What happened?”
“This man assaulted an officer during an arrest and almost clipped me and my buddy here.” The paramedic announced, hesitating to transfer the patient onto the gurney. There was rattling as the restraints were tugged, echoing through the room.
“Methamphetamine intoxication. Classic signs of excited delirium.” Shen followed, blinking every time he heard the rattling noise. The patient continued yelling and trashing, even with his legs and hands restrained.
EMS and Ellis were exchanging vital signs. He was burning up. His heart was beating too fast and his pressure was sky rocketing. Without a second thought, Robby was gloving up. “Okay. We are going to have to make this quick.”
“We should chemically induce him.”
The response from EMS was drowned out from the sight of you coming in from the opposite side. The force you had pushed the door told him you came running down. “How’s the patient?”
“I didn’t know Psychiatry was paged.” Robby announced, trying to make his way towards you. The paramedics stood in between you and him.
“EMS said he was experiencing excited delirium.” You yelled over the man, watching him still thrash and yell. Grimacing slightly from the noise, you focused on Shen. “What did I hear about chemical induction?”
“We have to transfer the patient now before he goes into cardiac arrest.” Shen explained calmly. He was standing back from the patient, waiting for any indication of the next move.
Robby knew they needed more hands to transfer the patient. While he was still on the EMS gurney, his nurses were doing what they could to get initial vital signs, monitoring him before the worst were to happen. Robby was preparing to call for ketamine, enough so to induce him lightly. They couldn’t treat him if he kept bolstering.
“Just wait.” You called, extending both hands.
“What—“ Shen asked, furrowing his brows at how professional you sounded. It was like you were called to intervene. Everyone in the trauma room watched you skeptically.
“Let me try something.”
Robby couldn’t stop you though. You were now standing at his bedside. The EMT’s had stepped back, refusing to stand in the way of a doctor. Bending at the hip, you were close to the patient. He was still screaming profanities, circling his head to look at anyone in the vicinity.
“Hello,” You spoke up, loud but not demanding. He had heard you, looking you in the eyes before looking away. “You’re in the hospital.”
There was a pause and all Robby kept focusing on was the rattling of the binds. It was like a death march, and you were too close to the danger. He should be standing in between you and the patient, because the last time he had failed to, you were hurt. There was a domino effect of issues after, and he could’ve prevented it. Even though he slipped his way close to you, he still didn’t pull you back.
“No one is trying to hurt you.” You reminded the patient. There was nothing intimidating in your presence. It almost soothed Robby of his worry.
You had easy control of situations, always alert and calm when necessary. The switch between methods was seamless and when Robby heard the patient’s voice quiet, and his bound wrists and ankles ease up, he truly believed you were a miracle worker.
But Robby had experience with chaos. What seemed unpredictable sometimes wasn’t.
In an instant, he saw the patient’s right hand pull at the restraint, even more aggressive than before. That's when it all played out like a movie. The part tied to the gurney popped off, and Robby jumped quickly. He wrapped an arm in front of your body, over your chest, pulling you back quickly. You hadn’t expected the action, tripping over your feet as his mass pulled you in the direction of EMT’s, who also stepped back.
With an arm free, he winded it back, hitting the monitor one of the nurses brought around to get his heart rate and blood pressure. The metal crashed to the floor and a couple of nurses along with Shen attempted to hold his arm back, restraining it again.
Shen eyes flicked between you and Robby, who still had an arm around you, trying to keep you away from the chaotic environment. One of your hands ghosting his arm, convincing yourself of what just occurred. Doors were opening, with more nurses and security coming inside to attend to the emergency.
The patient was transferred with the added staff, everyone holding onto a limb to keep him in place. The minute he was put on the hospital gurney, the binds were adjusted rapidly, permitting him to thrash without harming anyone.
When Robby concluded the area was safe, he dropped his arm, resting his hands on his hips. What the fuck were you thinking?
“Are you hurt?” You asked, raking your eyes over his exposed arm. He had the sleeves of a gray undershirt rolled up his arm. He sensed a burning sensation on his arm, the impact of the leather irritating his skin.
Before you could dote over him, he pulled his arm away, and stared at you. “Out.”
The command was demanding without being loud. Shen and Ellis were watching though, and the hardened stare in his eyes told him he was peeved with the way the situation went. You opened your mouth, but he strided past you, brushing shoulders. He held the door open, watching you expectantly. Without argument, you followed.
He made sure to stand in front of the door as you two stood outside the trauma room. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“He was responding.”
“No—“ Robby cut in, shaking his head vigorously. “He was intoxicated.”
Both your hands fell to your side, head cocked slightly while you stared at him with raised brows. “You can’t be sure he wasn’t responding to me.”
“I know excited delirium.” Robby let out a dry chuckle.
He was annoyed. More so of the potential of a situation than your blatant attempt at doing your job. Had he not been there, had he not seen what was coming undone, you would’ve been struck again. Robby knew you did your job knowing of the potential risk, so it didn’t make sense why’d you throw yourself into the danger.
“He already assaulted an officer. He wasn’t deescalating.” Robby recited, clasping both hands behind his head. He couldn’t look at you without thinking of what could’ve gone wrong. He was more than annoyed. “What were you trying to prove back there?”
When the question stroked you, there was a pause. You had stopped glancing between him and the patient. With your sights straight at him, you were stunned. “Nothing—“
“You stood too close to an agitated patient.” Robby replayed, hoping the situation would alarm you as it did him. Why didn’t you care?
“What are you trying to make up for? Richman?”
You glanced away then, tensing your jaw instead of attempting an argument. It was futile, but he rather heard he was wrong; have you berate him over an absurd accusation than be right for once–because if that was the case, then you were looking for danger. As a punishment, or worst, retribution for what you might’ve seen as shortcomings.
Sighing, you shut your eyes briefly. “Everyone keeps telling me I did the right thing. Even Admin didn’t tear into it during the review, after it cost them some publicity.”
Robby bit his tongue. He wanted to shake you by the shoulder, wake you up to reality. No patient would be like Richman, and after what Admin considered a ‘freak accident,’ there was no reason to put blame on anyone. The doubt and lingering questions you didn’t ask about you staying as an attending in a few months made more sense. There was still a cloud lingering over you and you hadn’t addressed it.
“But what if they’re just telling me that because I only had a broken nose and nothing worse?”
Robby could see your skin shiver. All that was left after was faint scars on your hand from where the scratches were. He would see you absentmindedly touch or gawk at it. He could understand the impulse, but now, he knew it was just an awful reminder.
He shrugged, frowning. “It wasn’t a failure on your part.”
Robby imagined hearing those words. He heard it from Adamson, Dana, even Jack (when he was feeling wise). It seemed redundant at times. He was set on the type of man he was. Not worth the hassle of worrying for. He tried to make up for it, as if everyone were holding it against him. He was sure some of them were, but he did wish for the reminder at times.
“I don’t think anyone sees it that way. Not Admin or Caleb.” He listed off, self-assured because he had to be. For your sake. “I don’t see it that way.”
With a blank stare, you wrapped your mind around his words. He knew when you were listening or not. It was like your brain actively tried to read into words the way he’d assess a trauma in the midst of blood and chaos. You didn’t have to read into anything because Robby had meant it.
A small grin grew on your face. “You’re not giving up.”
He crossed his arms, glancing down at the sensation tingling in his arm. There was much, just red patched under the hairs on his arm. A mark from the impact. He chuckled at the implication of your words. “I don’t plan to, no.”
“I’d like to know I’d be leaving my patients and staff in capable hands.” He responded, glancing up at you curiously. Maybe he could pull it from you, but the situation was like pulling teeth. You were fighting the truth.
“No pressure.” You joked, looking back at the patient.
“I don’t think it’s anything you can handle. I’ve known that since the day I met you.”
With a raised brow, you bit back the coy smile tempting to spread. “Does flattery tend to get you everywhere?”
“Not without some effort.” He shrugged.
There was something mystifying, like the idea of toying with something no longer professional was more than entertainment. You two had tried to keep work about work. Even when the arguments got nasty, it was all still professional. That was until he spoke with Mrs. McGuire.
He could try to tell himself that the conversation they had was professional. That he was offering support for his colleague because that was the unspoken rule, but it didn’t feel like just a professional obligation. For Robby, it was the most personal he had been with a patient. After what happened with Leah, he had vowed to never treat with a personal affliction on his sleeve.
There was nothing objective when Jake came in the bed of a truck, cradling Leah and pleading with her to wake up. He didn’t follow his obligations when Jack argued about the amount of blood he was trying to supply to her limp body. And it didn’t feel impersonal when Jake refused to look him in the eye after notifying him of Leah’s passing.
Since then, he hadn’t heard of Jake, and he couldn’t blame him for it; but Robby promised to leave his baggage at the door.
Except, that day when Mrs. McGuire bordered the line of smiting you for doing your professional obligation, he was infuriated for you. It felt like no matter what either of you did, it didn’t please anyone. You, who had always maintained healthy professionalism with the fellow doctors and genuine empathy with patients; ideal professionalism. He almost envied it.
Robby was known to lash out in a bad mood. Langdon could attest to it. Dana picked it out the second she saw it. Jack would jab him, in hopes to get his point across. Yet, you didn’t let yourself be known by anyone else. Even with the quiet displeasure of how quick your life detoured, you did it with the same dedication. He didn’t see you lash out that resentment to anyone else, and he wondered why couldn’t do the same.
“I got a response from Presby.” You commented, gently gnawing at the inside of your cheek.
He cocked his head slightly, the grin gently coming off as he anticipated elaboration. “What did they say?”
“They made an offer. Still waiting for a couple more before I make my decision.” You shrugged. Would it be so simple to uproot and move? Presby wasn’t too far, but it was like moving to the West Coast for Robby.
PTMC was nice, despite all the shit Robby would complain about. Someone who was articulate and methodical as you could survive. Even when he itched to uproot and leave the dust the horrors he had seen within the walls, a piece of soul didn’t feel complete. “You said you had a meeting with Caleb earlier? Does that have something to do with it?”
You opened your mouth before closing it again. It wasn’t a shock that he picked that up. Truth was, he was relying on his assumption to be correct; because if it wasn’t, he might have to put in more effort. “If you must know, yes, I made an official submission for a permanent position. Still has to go through all the official channels first.”
His chest deflated and suddenly, relief. It was a step. He knew Admin would have a response before some of the other hospitals you could’ve applied to. Most of his correspondence with Admin and Caleb was looking for a psychiatrist to help with the load from the ED. “Perfect. I’ll be looking forward to the email.”
“Don’t get too excited. You’re not the only deciding factor in this.” You warned, chuckling with the sight of his crinkled eyes.
“Well you already have Caleb’s stamp of approval.” He shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’d say his opinion carries some weight.”
“I don’t doubt it, but all they're doing is making an offer.” You clarified, shaking your head. “Nothing becomes official until I say so.”
“Why did I get a page for a trauma?” You called, jogging over only minutes since the page came your way.
Robby was already standing outside of trauma 2, hands on his hips, as he seemed exasperated. He motioned his head to the inside of the trauma room. When you stared through the glass, you finally saw the young male--no older than twenty--laying on the gurney. He was obviously distressed, tossing his head from side to side, tears falling down his cheeks unrestrained.
What stood out most to anybody looking was the mangled look of his left leg. The bone was protruding out and it seemed almost impossible to reattach and salvage. You frowned at the sight, clearing your throat then turning back to Robby. He sighed, “19-year-old, Jason Bergs, Motorcycle vs SUV. Partial amputation on his left leg from the accident.”
“Looks bad.”
“That’s not the worst part. He’s refusing treatment because he’s an athlete on a scholarship.” Robby sighed, keeping his voice controlled, but the circumstances were not great.
He was a victim in an accident, too young to be expected to make a heavy decision without counsel. Robby knew from the moment he was wheeled in that he was a patient who would need extensive treatment. The sooner the possible the better, but no one had expected him to fully reject it, when it could very much save his life. “Park had come down, and said there is a high possibility of an amputation. That's when he started rejecting treatment.”
“Not surprised.” You responded, keeping an eye on the patient. Inside, Whitaker and Mohan were becoming a bit restless with the verbal rejections he was making. Garcia was even in the room, taking a back seat as she restrained herself from making an obvious remark. “Does he have any relatives?”
“Dana is contacting them, but I don’t think they’ll make it before the inevitable.” Robby sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
You remained quiet for a moment. Something was oddly familiar in the situation. A young, aspiring individual working hard to accomplish what they had spent years aspiring to do—then have it ripped from their possibilities. He was fighting reality. Robby knew if the kid saw it from the clinical perspective, he would understand the gravity of his physical condition, but he was overwhelmed with the fate waiting for him.
“So, what’s the concern? That he’s incompetent to make rational medical decisions?” You questioned, entering into the clinical aspect of your involvement.
Robby shook his head, crossing his arms. “He made comments about preferring to die rather than amputate his leg. He even told some of the nurses to stop administering the pain medication.”
It was a cry. He wasn't wailing for his parents, or for them to get rid of the pain, he was begging for them to keep the one mangled limb attached. Robby couldn’t make the executive decision, and he didn’t want to provide false hope, but even he could tell what the chances were. Most people would focus on the pain, but while being a teenager with a physical dream, it meant ideally keeping all limbs.
You widened your eyes in horror. “You’re thinking a suicide risk assessment? I think the situation is too dire to perform that—“
“In order to send him up to surgery, we need him to at least agree with the procedure.” Robby interrupted, passionate that came with his predicament. He was disheveled from the arguing back and forth with an emotionally distraught patient. “Garcia doesn’t feel comfortable transferring if he proceeds to be volatile and Park won’t operate until the patient consents.”
It was only 2pm, but he could use a break—or at least some assistance with his current issue. He was exhausted. You stared at him with uncertainty. Time was of the essence and he needed to exhaust all his options, ASAP. Robby chased the look in your eye, moving his head slightly to remain in your line of sight. “Look, I know I’m asking for a lot, but I could really use someone who could empathize with his current situation.”
You glanced at him one more time. He was being earnest with his plea. Robby as of late, didn’t find a reason to argue. It was like the trauma of the Richman cases bonded you. His empathy wasn't pity or just convenience, it was a reaction after watching your challenges. He had watched you be hard on yourself time and time again. He could oppose every judgment you made about yourself, or he could help you see it the way he and your attending do by providing a stage for you to perform.
You pushed through the doors first, holding it for Robby to follow behind you. Heads spun in your direction and something like relief washed over them. Whitaker and Mohan were still on the bedside, their voices quieting. You motioned them over with your head. “Has there been any progress?”
Mohan shook her head while Whitaker fidgeted with his hands. She sighed, “He is still refusing the treatment. Garcia said she can’t wait until he dies on the table to operate.”
Robby glanced over at you. While you let out a small sigh, you acknowledged the three of them, slowly making your way to the bedside. You pulled over a stool, to be leveled with him on the table. Sitting down, you noticed him continuously stare at the ceiling. “Hello, Jason.”
“I already said I don’t want surgery.” Jason groaned, his forehead dabbled with sweat. “Not if you’re going to cut it off!”
His voice boomed off the walls. You didn’t flinch. Robby knew you were typically unfazed, even when you had reservations about a case. His body was tense though, already playing out every worst-case scenario from where he stood by the doors.
With your hands visible on your lap, you sucked in a breath. “Let's slow down a bit.”
“My concern right now is you’re in pain.” You mentioned, speaking softly yet firmly to capture his attention. He had labored breathing, and apart from the machines, you were the only audible person in the room. “I understand you refused the pain medication. Can I ask why?”
“Because I know you guys will do the surgery once I’m knocked out.” Jason accused, spitting the words out with spite.
“The pain medication is meant to block the current pain your body is experiencing. They can administer a dosage that will keep you awake.” You explained, “And trust me, no one here wants to go against your wishes. We are here to aid you in the best way we can.”
Jason's breathing became heavier, a mix of the pain and resentment of the situation. He was in between a rock and a hard place—except there was no visible escape that benefited him at all. “Which means cutting my leg?”
You bat your eyelashes. Robby was now heavily focused on your reaction. Something had struck on your heartstrings, because for a brief moment, you had looked away from him. He imagined you envisioning yourself on the table. From what you’ve shared, the weight of your diagnosis was more than any ambitious surgeon could handle.
There was a choice for medication, which would provide a comfortable life, but you never want to live comfortably. The excitement of being a prosperous neurosurgeon had been stolen from you, and even though Robby was convinced Psychiatry was your calling, he was sure it stung.
“Look, I’m not a surgeon, but what I can say is our surgeons make the best assessment with the most desirable outcome.” You assured, leaning forward to try and reach into Jason’s reason. He was too emotional. Too invested in the future to acknowledge the problem he was currently in. “They aren’t making judgments lightly, and if they think amputation is necessary, it’s because all other options have been exhausted.”
“But Jason, this doesn’t mean you can’t have an equally good quality of life afterward.” You continued softly. Robby grasped his arms tighter, feeling his own chest constrict within itself.
“You can’t tell me it gets better.” His voice wobbled. His lips were trembling and he was fighting the rest of his tears. His cheeks were still stained, but he was withholding himself. “You don’t know what this feels like.”
If time weren’t an issue, Robby was sure you would’ve sat there and told him everything. About how you had wanted to be a neurosurgeon since you were 10, but life had thrown you a curveball that made it impossible. He could see you hesitate with the decision, before you sagged your body further. “You’re right. I have no idea what this feels like.”
“But I do know what it feels like when your life changes so suddenly that you don’t recognize yourself anymore.” You assured, nodding your head to try and remain professional. Nurses and the couple of residents in the room were staring. Robby’s weighty gaze burned on your skin more than the rest.
He was the only one aware of what you were alluding to. It was an intimate detail that told everyone why you were closed off and only clinical in the workplace. It wasn't because of your displeasure of your work, but because you were preparing for horrible fear to repeat itself.
You rubbed your hands on your slacks. “And maybe it won't get better at first, but with time, there are still endless possibilities for you to make the most of your life.”
Although shaky, Jason was taking evener breaths, he was still in obvious discomfort. “I won’t be able to walk anymore.”
“Not the way you did before.” Robby intervened from the foot of the bed. He still had his arms crossed. He looked away from you before you could blatantly notice his staring. “But with rehab, a prosthesis, and a lot of work, there is a very real chance you can walk again.”
“And what if I can’t play soccer?” Jason questioned, choking back tears.
Regardless of whether he could see it or not, you smiled softly. “Then we help you figure out who you are besides soccer.”’
He started nodding his head, more breathless than before. Mohan asked him if they could administer pain meds and he finally agreed. You stepped away to allow them to work without interruption. Robby noticed how you strayed off in the corner, watching Jason more agreeable to the treatment.
Robby had saddled up beside you, staring at you thoughtfully. Keeping your attention on Jason, he positioned himself in front of you. “I don’t think I could’ve convinced him without you. I know Mohan was racking her brain with every method taught in med school.”
When you finally looked up at him, he had a soft smile. His crow’s feet made him softer, and he was genuine with his compliment. You shrugged, offering a closed smile. “He needed someone to tell him the truth, and someone to tell him he could survive it.”
“I couldn’t have done both either.”
His eyebrows twitched. He wanted to add something, but the door across the trauma room opened, and Garcia wandered in. She looked down at the patient, then at you and Robby huddled in the corner. “How are things looking here?”
“Jason, do you consent to the procedure?” Mohan asked, standing over him. From the corner of the room, Robby and you saw him catch his breath.
He nodded vigorously, “Can that doctor come with me? I don’t want to be alone.”
Garcia, Mohan, and Robby looked for you. Taking a step forward you went around the other side of the bed, putting a careful hand on his arm. “Of course. We have someone contacting your parents, so they should be here soon.”
Jason gasped lightly, the tears streaming down his face again. Garcia, rigid and detached, pulled out her spectra link. “Surgery is a go. I’ll get the transfer team down.”
She turned her back to the patient, speaking in a hushed voice. You stared down at Jason's leg. Then, looking up from his leg, Robby raised his eyebrows at you with a silent question. You gently pulled away from Jason, walking back to Robby. “Are you sure about this?”
The last thing you needed to do was reassure him, but he felt morally responsible since he dragged you here to pull him out of a sticky situation. If the case was too emotionally charged, he wouldn't blame you for pulling away. God knows there were times he should’ve.
“I’ll stick around until they get him in the OR.” You whispered back, checking back to Jason over your shoulder. “Once he’s out and awake, I can do a proper suicide risk assessment, just in case. I’ll work with his case manager to follow up if anything of concern comes up.”
Robby agreed silently. Behind him the door opened and Santos stuck her head in, looking up to Robby. “Are you busy?”
Before he could respond, you put a careful hand on his bicep. He glanced down at your hand before meeting your eyes. “We should be fine.”
“The transfer team should be here in a couple of minutes.” Garcia noted, putting her spectralink away.
Pausing for a moment, he took in Jason’s calmer body language. He was redirected to you when you pulled your hand away. He gave one firm nod before following Santos out of the trauma room.
Robby groaned, stretching his hands over his head. The clock was nearing the time night shift would be coming in, but they couldn't come in any sooner. His feet were achy and there was a kink in his back from when he transferred a patient earlier. He tried stretching as much as he could, but he couldn’t get rid of it.
He had spent all day on his feet and he was waiting eagerly for Shen to come in. While staring up at the patient board, he mentally analyzed what the day shift had weeded through. It wasn't a lot. The patient board was still lit up with a long list of patients. He was only glad he was almost on his way out.
The sound of doors sliding and wind gushing in hid under the noise of nurses, doctors, and techs passing around the ED. Robby didn't move his head until he caught a familiar figure walking towards the central station. Jack trudged in, carrying his backpack with one strap. Robby crossed his arms, furrowing his brows. “I thought you had tonight off.”
“I did.” Jack confirmed, he slipped off his backpack, putting it on the desk to dig for his stethoscope. “I switched with Shen. He had some last minute dinner plans or something that came up.”
Robby raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by the news. Shen was punctual, taking his new responsibility as an attending seriously, even with his Dunkin. He didn’t take days off, except the one occasion he was sick and Robby told him to stay home. He especially didn’t make last minute switches in schedule.
“I think the kid has a new girlfriend. He’s been acting stranger than usual.” Jack offhandedly said, adjusting his badge on his shirt. He approached Robby with a small smirk. “I’ve noticed him hanging around that psych fellow. Do you know if she’s single?”
Robby froze. Why did Jack think he knew anything of your intimate life? Because you worked on the day shift? It was a premature assumption, that Robby was somehow looped into your personal life. He couldn’t have been the only one you got along with, considering some of his residents seemed fond of you. It would be absurd to think he was the only one who knew anything concerning you.
If there was any truth to Jack’s insinuation, Robby would also like to know the truth. There wasn’t ample opportunity for you and Shen’s schedule to align; and if he was willing to take a night off, there had to be something serious between the two of you.
Jack stared at him weirdly, his smirk settling wider on his face. “You good, brother?”
Before Robby could respond, Dana came up beside Jack, looking at the two attendings.”EMT’s en route. Two victims, GSW after a robbery attempt.”
Jack immediately reached over to grab gloves from the desk. After Jack yanked some out the box, Robby followed in suit. Jack stared at him, watching him slip them on. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll leave after this one.” Robby assured, both of them walking over to the ambulance bay. Jack had yelled out to a couple of the residents, telling them to wait on stand-by.
When the double doors opened wide, there was a slight breeze that hit them both in the face. It was only a couple minutes until the first ambulance parked in front of them. Jack advanced first, waiting for the back doors of the ambulance to open up. EMT’s announced vital signs, and the scared teenage boy moved his head in bewilderment.
“Where’s Gabby?!” He called out. Jack and Robby noticed the blood stain on his pant leg. It had already been cut to access the source of the bleeding. “Please tell me she is okay!”
“Who is Gabby? Was she with you when you were shot?” Jack questioned while they brought down the gurney. He was grasping onto the handles, leaning over to speak with the kid. He had a wide eye stare of someone who witnessed something they shouldn’t have at his age.
“Yes! Please, you have to tell me where she is!” He exclaimed, his lips trembling as they began wheeling him inside.
Robby and Jack heard sirens approaching, coming in loudly. They both stared at the direction it was coming at and Robby waved him off. “I’ve got it, Jack!”
The ambulance parked behind the other, and Robby rounded his way to the back. The doors clicked open and the EMT in the back stood up. He heard the voices, describing her blood pressure, the source of the bleeding, and her current heart rate. As they lowered the gurney, he saw the semi-conscious teenage girl. Her brown hair was splayed around her face but what concerned him was the centralized bleeding coming from her abdominal-chest region.
“Are you Gabby?” He asked, staring down at her face. She was stirring a little, her words slurred as she attempted to stay awake.
It was a punch in the gut. The resemblance between her and Leah. Even Matthew, the boyfriend, had the glossy, wide eye stare Jake had sitting on the bed of a truck. When Robby finally saw Jake after endless texts and calls trying to locate him, it felt like breathing for the first time. Then he saw Leah, and he knew something that Jake didn’t know.
The gruesome loss. The blood stains and the coldness touch of life giving up.
He wanted to keep Jake from that, and even when things didn’t work out with his mother, there was a bond between them that worked because of it. All of that went away once Leah was pronounced dead. Robby became the person he always was due to the cost of his job.
That’s why when Gabby was pronounced dead, his hands trembled. He didn’t cry. He didn’t have enough tears to do any of that. Instead, he stood in front of the plaque thanking the frontline first responders who aided during the PittFest mass shooting. It was recently installed and Robby hadn’t been there for the unveiling, obligations be damned. He didn’t need the reminder, but Gloria kept insisting it was one step towards healing, not regressing to the painful memory.
Robby tried steadying his breathing. His eyes skimmed the engraved message, but he was hardly reading what it said. All he knew was he didn’t need ‘thank you’s’ for failing. It was immoral in his opinion.
“Hey, you’re here pretty late.”
He turned his head at the sound of the voice. It was approaching, and when his eyes landed on you, he noted the satin dress hanging around the curvature of your body. You stood out, mostly because it wasn’t everyday a woman sauntered around in a beautiful dress.
Rubbing at his jaw gently, coarse hair scratching his fingers, he hummed. “So are you, it seems.”
You stopped beside him, but instead of looking at what he was staring at, you kept your eyes on him. “There was an emergency with the patient we transferred from here earlier.”
“Are they okay?” He asked reflexively. He could vaguely remember sending patients upstairs. The whole day had become a blur and he couldn’t distinguish what happened before this last trauma.
“Right now, they are.” You responded curtly. There was a lingering question ghosting your lips. He stared down, avoiding the way your eyes were burning holes in him. “Are you?”
He didn’t even bother to respond. There was an understanding that neither of you had to say what was on your mind, because the other picked up so clearly with what wasn't being said. You were acutely aware of what was wrong without seeing him as often as the rest of his staff. Some of them did check in, but nobody lingered their eyes on him like they could offer salvation.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked quietly.
When he finally met your eyes, you seemed anxious for an answer. Maybe it was your professional nature, always trying to figure out someone’s mind before they even opened their mouth. Yet, he didn’t feel scrutinized or cornered enough to be defensive. He was aware there was gentleness he missed, and it lured him in.
“You don’t have any plans after this?” He motioned to your dressy attire.
You stare down at your dress, laughing. If you were tired, he wouldn’t have known how put together you were; unlike him, where his body was driven by exhaustion. “I did at some point. Canceled them when I realized I wasn’t going to make it.”
“At this point, I’d rather go home than to some fancy date.” You sighed, your hands falling lazily to your sides.
He stood still, letting your brush past him to the elevators off to the side. His eyes followed the movement of the dress, noticing it swayed lightly. You looked back at the lack of sound following you. “We can both drown out sorrows with some beer and wine.”
Robby hadn’t thought you’d welcome him inside your home. He had expected to go to the bar by the hospital. Quick and easy. Except when you sent him for the address to your apartment, he was taken aback. He had it in his recently searched location on his maps app, because he had dropped off ailments for when you were sick. He didn’t realize the two of you were close enough for that. He could count the amount of times he had been to Dana’s house with one hand—and he considered her a confidant.
He followed behind you, memorizing the path from the instructions you gave him. He noticed the new ‘Welcome’ mat outside your door. Walking in was a small hallway you led him down, before turning right to where your living room and kitchen were.
It was cozier than he expected. He wouldn’t have known you had just unpacked. There were filled bookshelves, plants, and a decorative rug that made the apartment feel like home. You motioned to the couch, “Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to change out of this.”
You motioned your arms to the satin dress you were wearing. He had noticed it the entire walk up to your apartment. It was hard to ignore. Not that you stood out in a bad way, but it was different from your usual attire. The last time he saw you wear a dress was when Caleb had set you two up for a blind dinner date. He spent a long time thinking about you in that dress as well.
“So a date?” Robby called out, dropping his bag beside your kitchen island, making his way around.
“Yes. Caleb is always telling me I need to open up, be more social!” You responded from somewhere in your bedroom, he assumed. He rather stood awkwardly, unsure whether he should sit down or wait for you to come back.
He had stared at your living room, drinking in all your decorations. A couple frames, flat screen TV, and coffee books on the oak center console. He heard a door close behind him, and you had a small grin on your face. “I agreed to go on a date with a guy. I should’ve known that it wasn’t going to work out.”
Robby nodded, noting the sweats and tank top you were wearing. You wandered over to your kitchen opening the fridge. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, coming up to the island to lean against it. “Is he someone from the hospital?”
When you turned to face him, you raised an eyebrow at him, curious. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
You extended a canned beer at him. He took it grateful, cracking the seal to break the awkward silence. He noted the second can in your hands, following his action. “Sure.”
He took the first sip while you hesitated, “So, what happened today?”
His eyes were now on his feet. There was a lot that had happened, but he couldn’t put it into words. It required too much context that Robby wasn’t comfortable sharing. It was like asking him to open a Pandora box of all his misery. It was bound to be messy and more trouble than anyone asked for. Your handles cradled the beer, but made no movement to drink it. “I heard about the trauma. Two teenagers, right?”
He furrowed his brows when he gazed at you. The art of you knowing was a mystery to him. You shrugged, “I ran into Kiara before I left. I assume it didn’t end well.”
“One of them died due to the extent of their injuries.” Robby responded, coldly calculated, protecting the source of the grief. He didn’t want to lay it on too thick just yet. He didn’t want to scare you away yet. “She was a 17 year old girl. Gabriella Lopez.”
You took a sip of the beer. He kept twirling the can in his hand, as if he were looking for the best position to hold it. He could see you in the corner of his eye, the way you continued to admire his side profile. “And the other?”
“He had a couple of grazes on his leg. Abbot stabilized the bleeding.” Robby sighed out, immediately picturing Jake. Despite being told to sit down, to stay away from the chaos of the red zone, he had tried to make his way to Leah, seeing the horrific sight of Robby performing CPR on his girlfriend. What should’ve been a fun time at a festival became a horror show and Robby wondered if Jake had the same type of nightmares.
“The worst thing to happen to him was losing his girlfriend.”
Robby’s composure was unraveling. He assumed he didn’t have any more tears to cry but he felt his eyes tearing up. He faced his head away, trying to hide the shame that had been metastasizing in him. You had put the beer done, rubbing them against the fabric on your thighs. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned, repositioning his head in a direction where he could slightly see you. “What for?”
You crossed your arms. “I guess this brought up some bad memories for you.”
That was an understatement. He bit back his tongue, sucking in a sharp breath. You continued after a beat. “I’m guessing something that happened during the PittFest shooting.”
The accuracy didn’t fail to amaze him. You knew him without him having to say a word. It was a relief to be seen without the effort. He was tired of trying, and with your steady stares and words, he could just let himself trust in you to figure out the rest. “Look, you don’t have to talk about it now, but whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
That caught his attention. The firmness in your suggestion. He lifted his eyes, his eyelashes slightly damp from the few tears that sat on his eyes. You planted a hand on the counter, leaning in slightly. Offering a small smile, you drank up his expression. “You didn’t fail anyone then, and you didn’t fail these kids today.”
Coming out of your mouth, he could believe that. He wondered if this was the type of comfort you provided to your patients; or if you had softened for him with the time you spent working with him. He was unrestrained now, and he could confidently say you had managed to break down the wall he thought he put up months ago.
He sniffled lightly. There was still some rosiness on your cheeks. He could tell it was blush applied that you hadn’t taken off. “This date of yours, was it with Shen?”
You didn’t question the redirection. With the corner of your mouth curling, he sensed you liked him questioning his observation. The beers the two of you were drinking had been forgotten. The buzz in the room had nothing to do with alcohol and neither of you were fighting it. “And if it was? He’s single. I’m painfully single. It’s an ideal situation.”
Ideal. Not desirable. It sounded more like a step in a 5-year plan and less of a choice driven by the heart. He didn’t know what romance tasted like with you, but he could imagine it being like this. Banter under the warm kitchen lights, pretending not to notice a spark burning up into a flame. “But not what you want?”
You hummed, straightening his back. The action brought the two of you closer. If he moved just an inch, your chests would touch. Something about that thought made his chest warm. “I don’t know what I want, Robby.”
“Michael.”
He saw the twitch in your brows. He put down the beer still in his hand, “We’re not at work, so you can call me Michael.”
“That hardly seems professional, Michael.”
When the name escaped your lips, it sounded like a purr. You must have known what you were doing, tempting a man with low inhibitions. Anyone who spent enough time with you would feel the tension, and being alone in a room was asking for the burning sensation of heat.
“I think we’re past that.” He responded, his eyes tracing every curvature of your face. The space between your lips and nose. The curving of the corners of your lips.
It was an imposition on his part, to be so close in your intimate space. There was a reason he hadn’t been let in the door before, but today, something must have been different.
You were still leaning against the counter, your hands making no movements. His hand was curled, resting on the cold marble. He tried to focus on that sensation to hide the buzzing bodily heat under his scrub and long sleeved undershirt. It was impossible.
So when you leaned in slightly, he was picking up on something that was unrestrained from you. Stripping you of the title you put before what was personally you.
And he didn't know how to process the sensation of your lips on his. Suddenly, the warmth was an extension of your body latching on to him and even though your chests were still inches apart, he could feel it radiating lower in his body.
You detached yourself, staring at him through your lazy eyelashes. A part of you must have regretted it, but the surge in Robby to continue the connection was fervent. He pressed his body against you, bringing your lips back together like some battle for control.
He pushed you up against the edge of the counter, hands cradling your face. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he had even had a simple hook up. The twitching of his cock had made it apparent it had been a long time.
Soon both your mouths were opening, tongue and saliva mixing like some cocktail of previous suppression. He could taste the lingering barley from the beer, but the sensation of your hands gripping his shoulders was more intoxicating than the alcohol.
His lips kissed down your neck and your breathing was heavy. You craned your neck farther back, giving him access that felt illicit.
“Do you want me to–”
“Don’t stop.”
That was all he needed to hear. He was helping you yank off your top from your head, momentarily pulling away only to continue a trail of his DNA down your chest. His warm breath gave your skin goosebumps and it was until his tongue licked your pebbled nipple that you made an audible moan.
His hands had caged you against your kitchen island. When your hands pushed against his chest, he forcibly pulled himself away.
“The couch.” You jerked your head, pupils blown.
He was walking backwards, letting himself be guided by you as you helped him out of his scrub top and what he wore under it–tossing it aside to decorate the floor instead of his body. All he felt was the back of the couch, stumbling down onto it. You crawled onto his lap, slotting your knees on either side of him. When your lips connected again, it was hard for Robby to decide whether he wanted to focus on your hands traveling down his chest or the taste of you.
Your hands were making quick work of his button and zipper. His hands grasped your before you could unzip it completely. “Are you sure?”
In between the feverish kisses, your lips were smiling. You affirmed, “Just fuck me, Michael.”
He groaned, lifting you to stand. He barely hovered over the couch, just enough to pull out both his pants and underwear to pool at his ankles. While you slipped off your pants and he kicked his shoes to the side, he caught the cute lacy print of your underwear, seemingly one half of a lingerie set.
With amused eyes, he craned his head back while you settled yourself back on his lap. “Did you wear those for Shen? Hoping to get lucky?”
“Shut up.”
You smashed your faces back together. It was hard to distinguish who was more eager.
With your bare chest flushed against his, your fingers grasping at the ends of his hair, his hands gripping onto your hips, it was a blur of movements. He was bridging your pussy near his throbbing cock. It was almost standing with a mind of its own from how desperate he had become in five minutes.
This had to be a record for quickest erection in his fifties.
One hand traveled down between your bodies and his thumb immediately found itself on your clit, rubbing small circles. With the material of the lace against you, it added more pleasure. Your mouth was agape as you attempted to keep a steady breathing. Robby was enjoying the small whimpers that came with your breath ghosting his cheek.
“Are you that desperate?” He chuckled lightheartedly. The pad of his thumb could feel a dampness and he had to assume you were already wet before his fingers got anywhere near your pussy.
“Don’t act like you didn’t want this too.” You whispered, before burying your head in the crook of his neck.
Seemingly still aware of how to use your body, one of your hands tugged at his hard cock. Your hand barely wrapped entirely around him, but determined and with the premature cum on his tip, you jerked him off.
The groan that came from the back of his throat made your body vibrate. He was too inebriated to stop, but knowing the warmth of your pussy was right in his hands, his brain had other priorities.
He pulled his hand away, gripping your hips and rubbing your skin to catch your attention. “I don't have a condom.”
You pulled your hand away, lifting your head to admire the lust blown look in his eyes. “I’m clean and I take birth control.”
Robby nodded, tugging you closer. With ease, he grabbed his cock with one hand, positioning it right at your entrance. Pushing your underwear to the side, he took a steady breath at the bare sight of your pussy. It was glistening with wetness and he knew he was in for a night. Starting out slowly, his tip broke the tension first.
Your hands, that were holding onto Robby’s shoulder for dear life, tensed further. Your nails dug into his skin, but the stinging only made the pleasure better. You moaned loudly, and he suspected it had been an equally long drought for you. He paused when your walls tightened. He wasn’t sure he could push the rest of it in, but the way you looked down mesmerized, he knew he had to try.
“Fuck me–”
“Oh my god, Micheal!”
He was just thrusting the tip into you, working the rest of it in gradually. Your head was thrown back, moaning and gasping for air the further he pushed his cock inside. His own grunts and groans mixed with the sound of your bodies connecting.
“You feel so good, baby.” Micheal grunted out, completely enamored by how close he was to bottoming himself in you. The name slipped out, but in the haziness you both were in, neither of you paid much mind to the words spilling instinctively. “I won’t last long if you keep–fuck–squeezing me.”
Your back arched inward, your bodies impossibly closer. He heard the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in your apartment. He didn't need to look to know he was hammering the entire length and girth of him inside of you. His arms hugged around your middle, pulling you in to wrap your own arms around his neck.
“Michael, I’m so close–” You whined, and he swore he could feel something damp against his shoulder. Whether it was saliva or tears from the overwhelming thrust of his cock going in and out, he was pretty satisfied. He could almost feel your cervix with each push inward.
“Yeah? I’m almost there, baby.” He reassured, cooing in your ear. He was breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Something floral yet fresh.
He was lifting his body from the couch, keeping you in place while he did the work, trying to reach maximum pleasure in the position. With each moan ringing in his ear, he could sense your body was close.
“Micheal, please. Please.” You reverend
His own cock was twitching with the sounds of your quiet voice and the feeling of your walls closing in on him. He sucked in a breath, hands grasping your ribs, feeling your heart accelerate.
“Fuck!” He called out, losing his patience. “Come on. Let go.”
You both moaned loudly reaching your climax simultaneously. Robby released into you, and your body was twitching in his hands. Catching his breath, he slowly relaxed into the couch, your bodies still molding against each other. He could feel the mix of you both running down his thighs.
There was a moment while you two sat in the humidity of the two of you where it was just your hearts filling in the noise.
Eventually you chuckled, slowly pulling yourself away, keeping yourself up with your hands on his chest. He craned his head, resting it back on the couch, smiling in confusion from your reaction. You brushed some of his damp hair from his face, "That's one way to convince me to stay.”
With his cock softening inside you, he was still wasted with the sensation. Now that he thought about it, this was a long time coming. He chuckled, rubbing the back of your head. “All it took was some effort.”
Boyfriend’s dads x reader where Robby and Jack are married and adopted a son who’s dating reader. And of course reader brushes off their advances because they’re gay and in a relationship, it’s just their personality to be flirty (except they’re only flirty with reader and each other) and it isn’t until they corner reader and make their advances crystal clear that she succumbs to the dilfs
*takes a drag of my imaginary cigarette* yeah that's some good shit
Tags/warnings: perv!Jack Abbot, perv!Robby, perv!Rabbot, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Rabbot is however old you want them to be), manipulation, cheating, guilt and shame, threesome, flirting, inappropriate touching, groping, dry humping, fingering (f receiving), somno, intox reader, cnc, hand jobs, wet humping, slight D/s dynamics, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, Rabbot being terrible parents but like their son fucking sucks
Summary: You're supposed to be spending the 4th of July weekend with your boyfriend but he leaves you with his dads instead
a/n: this one's not for everyone but my god did I have fun writing it
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
The day is actually perfect.
You can’t believe it.
The sun is shinning bright, perfectly warm and burning for your skin to get a nice tan.
The pool in front of you glistens under the light, rippling almost seductively.
You can't wait to get in.
But right now you're practically toasting yourself so that the change in temperature will be that much more satisfying.
You're perfectly waxed, body lathered in sunscreen and tanning oil, the tiny little bikini you have on leaves nothing to the imagination.
You've laid yourself out like a sultry present, stomach turning itself in knots as you wait for your boyfriend to wake up, to come out to find you.
You can barely contain yourself with anticipation sparking your nerves, the slickness between your thighs only becoming more and more prominent as you hear rustling through the house behind you.
You shift in your sun lounger, positioning yourself again so that every single one of your assets is in full display.
The glass door slides open.
Your heart does a leap in your throat.
You turn towards the noise and—
"Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart."
The yelp that pours out of your throat is almost unnatural as you instantly heat up everywhere, and not in a good way.
You pull the towel over your body, quickly covering yourself up, absolutely mortified as you lock eyes, again, with one of your boyfriend's dads.
You’ve been dating your current boyfriend officially for a little over two months having met both Jack and Robby, in this very house, a little prior to that.
They'd been complete gentlemen, open and kind, absurdly in love with each other to a point that it made you swoon.
You'd ridden their son aggressively that night, his hot dads the only thing in your mind as you came around his cock, making sure to pull him out of your tight hole before he could finish inside.
You'd brushed it off as having forgotten to take your birth control that morning but the truth was much more nefarious than that. You simply couldn't let him do that when all you wanted was for his dads to fill you up instead.
Having not seen them until now had helped to alleviate some of those feelings. You had been ovulating then, clearly, and there was no way you were going to listen to what your thoughtless, horny mind wanted.
So when he suggested you take advantage of the Fourth of July weekend to take a trip to his parents' home since he knew for a fact the two of them were going to be working instead, you agreed.
A whole three day weekend where you could lounge by the pool, fuck on every surface imaginable, and not have to come into contact with the two of them?
It was the sexiest plan you've ever heard, especially after your summer research job at the university had been kicking your ass and your brain was definitely fried.
Well, unfortunately, none of those things have come to fruition.
You're still unfucked, barely tan and now definitely not not coming into contact with the hot doctors.
You watch as Robby comes rushing out onto the deck, instantly bringing a hand over his eyes unlike his, honestly, worse half, as he catches even the slightest glimpse of your uncovered skin.
There's nothing to look at now, you've made sure of it, but Jack's gaze lingers on your legs, as if he keeps thinking about the memory it'll somehow become real once more.
Heat explodes in your core at the thought of him memorizing what your body looks like, his hungry gaze almost predatory in nature, as if he's waiting for a reason to strike.
"Jack—" Robby's not subtle about it, slapping his husband's arm in embarrassment.
Jack gives your body a once over, subtle enough if you weren't also staring intensely at him, before he casts you a wink and turns slightly so that you can finish wrapping the towel around your body.
Once you're covered up you return to staring, taking them both in before you let them know you're done.
They've both put on slight weight since the last time you were here, their bellies budging out over their scrubs. The bags under Robby's eyes look somehow deeper, a detail that makes your heart constrict in a desperate desire to fix it. And Jack...he just feels unhinged, like he's holding in so much energy he honestly doesn't know what to do with.
"Okay," you whisper. "I'm decent."
Jack is the first to snap his eyes back to you, pouting slightly, teasingly or not, you simply can't tell, but your lips are instantly curling into a shy smile.
Robby peeks through his finger first, earning himself a little giggle from you which causes his cheeks to flush a satisfactory pink.
"Sorry about that, honey," Robby apologizes profusely. "We didn't know the two of you would be here."
You frown. "Well I was told you would be working so..."
Robby cracks a smile as Jack moves to sit on the lounge chair beside yours.
"Damn kid never tells us anything," he complains, causing you to laugh, airy and warm. "I tell ya, the only reason we know he's been here is cause half the fridge is empty and there's an absurd amount of laundry we gotta do."
You bite your lip, watching as he settles into the hot mesh, resting his leg for a little respite which you're certain he hasn't had in the past twenty-four hours, especially since you know he insisted on driving the two of them here from the hospital.
"I promise I'll do all the laundry and wash all the dishes and go grocery shopping before we leave."
"Absolutely not," Robby cuts you off. "He's the one who brought you, he's the one that has to do it."
Your cheeks heat up instantly, the desire starting to bubble over into your stomach.
"Where is he anyway?"
And as if talking about the devil will make him appear, your boyfriend finally makes an appearance, stepping out to join the three of you on the deck, dressed up in his golfing attire?
What the fuck?
"Dad, what're you doing here?" He stumbles over himself, coming over to give both of his parents a little side hug.
"Holiday weekend," Robby answers. "What are you doing here?"
"Same."
Jack scoffs. Yeah right. If anything this looks like three days of uninterrupted fucking and drinking and more fucking.
Ah to be young and in that carefree phase of their relationship.
Only...
Jack's eyes drift back to you as his son walks over to place a chaste kiss over your lips.
You lean into his touch more than he leans into yours. It's subtle but the vet picks up on it right away.
Last time they saw the two of you, it was impossible for him to behave, always needing to have a hand on your body in some way.
But now?
Barely a hand over your leg to steady himself.
Weird.
"Where are you going?" Jack asks his son, gaze narrowing.
He gulps in response, stepping away from you, leaving you practically deflating as he removes his touch without a second thought.
"Golf with some friends from high school."
You instantly snap your gaze up to his, pouting like they've never seen anyone pout ever.
"What?" you whine. "What happened to pool day?"
If your boyfriend feels guilty in any way, he doesn't let it show, instead your words are processed like an inconvenience, as if you have no right to demand his time and attention now.
"Sorry babe, change of plans. But I'll be home for dinner, yeah?"
You open your mouth to complain, to keep fighting back against the plans that have been made without your knowledge or input, but he doesn't let you utter a single word.
"Don't start, please. I haven't seen these guys since spring break, we'll still have one more whole day together before we have to head back."
You don't want to be clingy, he's right, he hasn't seen his friends all summer, he deserves to spend time with them too. You've gotten to see him every day, even if it’s for a few minutes or a few hours.
So you simply nod, forcing a tight lipped smile that he clearly doesn’t process as anything but your blessing to do whatever he wants.
It makes Robby’s blood boil and Jack’s gaze sharpen on their boy.
Have they truly raised such an emotionally unintelligent man?
“Thanks babe,” he claps his hands. “I’ll see you later,” he moves to leave before swiftly turning back to you. You light up again, thinking he’s going to kiss you again, give you any kind of attention before he leaves you for the entire day. “Could you make that roast chicken I love, with the broiled veggies for dinner?”
If Jack wasn’t in so much pain he’d leap to his feet and beat the shit out of his son.
For a split second Robby’s convinced you’re going to fight back, to get up in his face and curse him out.
But you don’t. You just smile again, the picture perfect face of complacency.
“Of course.”
“You’re the best,” he turns around and leaves. “Later pops.”
And with that he leaves. You hear his dad’s truck engine starting and the vehicle leaving the property a few minutes later.
You don’t acknowledge any of it, staring off into space as you process what just happened.
You’re so completely and absolute embarrassed.
Who the fuck does he think he is? And to make that type of scene in front of his dads.
You’re mortified.
And now you’ve got to spend the entire day with them?
Alone?
Fuck.
You’re so flushed, the shame practically rendering you into a dumb mess, so much so that it’s made Jack so fucking stiff in his pants that his leaking tip is making uncomfortable contact with his clothes.
"His loss," Jack winks at you again, positively breaking the spell you’ve been under. "Y'want a beer?”
Half an hour later you've got a nice buzz going on.
Robby’s been relegated to kitchen duty as you and Jack continue to lounge outside. It’s like he's made it his personal mission to keep you company, to include you in whatever vague plans they had for coming over to their house today.
You let your laughter die out as Jack finishes telling you a story of how he made Robby look a fool a few shifts ago.
“Stop that’s so mean Mr. Abbot,” you playfully chide him but you simply can’t stop laughing.
You’re unsure if it’s the sun hitting him directly in his eyes or if maybe you’re seeing things, but you can swear his eyes darken ever so slightly.
“If you’re not gonna call me by my first name at least call me doctor, sweetheart.”
He winks, playfully, causing your cheeks to heat up instantly.
You roll your eyes as Robby comes back out, handing you and his husband fresh, cold beers.
“Don’t let him charm any more clothes off you, kid,” Robby jokes and you’re certain you’ve stopped breathing.
You watch in stunned awe as Jack huffs an offended breath at his partner, pulling him down to place a soft kiss on his lips before the chief attending settles down on the lounge chair by Jack’s legs.
God, they’re so—
Your thighs shift together slightly as you sit up, tilting the bottle against your lips, suddenly thirsty as all hell.
You try not to look at them as they definitely watch you gulp down the amber liquid. There’s no way they’re flirting with you. They’re fucking married and you’re dating their son, you’re just sun drunk and horny as fuck.
Right?
You set the bottle down on the ground before you reach out towards the little plastic table separating the lounge chairs and picking up the sunscreen.
Standing up from your seat, a sudden rush of alcohol to the brain makes you dizzy with courage, stupidly so honestly, so you simply smile down at him, stepping up to stand in front of his outstretched legs.
“Can I charm you into taking some clothes off,” you turn to Jack briefly. “Doctor Robinavitch?”
Robby becomes a fucking tomato and you and Jack both know that you’re gonna take that as an excuse to lather him up in sunscreen.
Fuck you’re good.
You’d been flirty when the three of you met but it was a tame, meet the parents type of casualness that didn’t pierce through their defenses, only lingered on their minds enough for them to actually want to see you again. At the detriment of their son, but who could care less about him now?
Jack nudges Robby with his leg and it’s like the older man comes alive, swiftly and uncoordinatedly discarding his t-shirt.
Your eyes definitely darken as you take in his soft, hairy belly, the little patches of scattered tattoos decorating his skin, the freckles and spots that claim his body with age.
Jack snorts beside you, forcing you to blink out of the spell Robby’s got you under.
Self-esteem has never been an issue in the Robinavitch-Abbot household. Jack is…practically a greek god carved from decades of dedication to his body, the ingrained routine of military life and an honest to god ego that forces him to keep looking his best for himself and those he chooses to invite into his bed.
But with Robby, it doesn’t matter how many times his husband has told him he’s beautiful, has taken his time kissing down his body and worshipped every single inch that he believes will never be perfect enough — the way your eyes rake over him like he’s a delicious piece of meat is enough to make him feel like he’s the most desirable person in the world.
His chest puffs out slightly, muscles flexing as he reaches out for your hand, grabbing the sunscreen and handing it back to Jack.
“Do you mind, handsome?”
Jack smirks, sitting up and placing a lingering kiss over Robby’s shoulder, eyes never leaving yours all because he needs to see you react to them.
And boy do they get a treat as you actually shiver.
Jack squirts a big dollop of sunscreen on his hand, rubbing the two together before he begins to run them all over Robby’s expansive back, digging into the muscle, causing him to moan and groan at the diligent action.
You find yourself taking a step back, literally forcing you to stop staring at the two because if you stay there, if you so much as give them another second of inaction, you will definitely find yourself planting your core against Robby’s practically tented cock and that’ll be the end of your story.
So instead you pretend to not care, to not desperately want, with every fiber of your being, to ogle at them as Jack makes his parter feel good, to fight the urge to get your hands tangled within the mess as well.
You take another swig of your beer, enjoying how the cold washes through your insides and now you desperately need your outsides to match. Without a second thought, you sprint towards the edge of the pool, jumping in gleefully.
The older men watch as your ass and breasts jiggle satisfyingly, water splashing them as you breach the pool before them.
“Oh we are so fucked,” Jack huffs through gritted teeth.
“You think she’s torturing us?” Robby mumbles as they watch you resurface.
“Are we not doing the same thing to her?”
Robby’s gaze snaps back to his partner. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”
Jack doesn’t answer, only grins before he spreads more cream over Robby’s face.
“There, all done,” he kisses Robby’s nose. “Why don’t you go join her?”
Robby’s entire body tenses, swiftly erasing any and all playfulness from Jack’s face.
He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Robby he doesn’t have to do anything that makes him uncomfortable. He was just teasing, sure, he’s wanted to be gross and weird since the opportunity presented itself, but—
“Could you pass me my hat, please?”
Your sweet, angelic voice stops them both dead in their tracks.
A long, electric beat passes through them as Jack searches his husband’s face for any more uncomfortableness. But he surprisingly finds none.
“I got it, honey.”
Robby gets up on tired knees, shuffling over to your discarded seat picking up the silly little animal bucket hat he’s certain you got a few months ago while on your trip out to see your family on the west coast.
What? He’s definitely not been stalking your Instagram. He just wants to know what his son is up to since he definitely won’t tell them.
He walks over to you, leaning down to hand you the adorable garment but just as you’re about to grab the fabric, your delicate hand wraps around his wrist and you’re pulling him into the pool.
Robby never even saw it coming, but Jack did. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes, the sly wink at him before you used every ounce of strength you have to pull the bigger man into the depths with you.
You’re a laughing mess as Robby resurfaces, a bright smile threatening to take over his entire face as he tries really hard to not let it pierce the faux frown of disappointment that he’s shooting your way.
The hat floats its way towards you and you pick it up, putting it over your head.
“Thank you for the hat, doctor Robinavitch.”
That has Robby erupting into a Santa Clause laugh, menacingly moving across the pool towards you.
“Oh, you are so not welcome, kid.”
You yelp, trying to get away from him but you’ve practically cornered yourself against the wall.
His large hands are on you swiftly, one grabbing your waist while the other digs into your leg, picking you up over his head, turning around and tossing you towards the other end of the pool.
“You sure you’re not doing it too?” Jack calls out to Robby as your body sinks for a few seconds.
The older man turns back, cheeky grin now adorning his own lips as well.
“She’s really soft, Jack.”
“Oh fuck off—”
You flail to the surface, determination on your face like never before.
You leap against Robby, hands digging into his shoulders as you lift yourself out of the water to try to sink him back down.
But he’s too strong, like an unmovable tree.
The two men watch you struggle for a while, laughing warmly before Jack cuts in.
“Put her out of her misery, please.”
Robby turns back to you, expression soft yet bordering on patronizing.
It takes him no effort to pull you off him, trapping your arms in his big hands and wrapping you up in his embrace, your back pressed tightly against his front.
You try to thrash against him, barely, as he shushes you, calming you down instantly as you allow your body to finally catch its breath again, panting deeply against his neck.
“You tried your best, kid,” he murmurs. “’twas a good game.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “‘m still gonna be a sore loser.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
The second he feels you chuckle against his skin, his hips press further into your round ass. Curse his body and the way it reacts to your warmth.
He pushes you forward then, almost too quickly, almost as if he’s ashamed and is in desperate need to hide something.
You don’t dare turn back to him because you know what he’s trying to bury so deep within himself.
With flushed cheeks, you get out of the pool, pulling yourself up, breasts pressing together for Jack to ogle as you jump up on the ledge.
You watch Robby start to swim, doing grueling laps as you too take a second to calm the fuck down.
You simply can’t think, can’t try to make sense of it because if you do you’ll literally go crazy.
So instead you get up, dry yourself off a little, and join Jack in your favorite activity of being lazy fucks together, unashamedly staring out at the water at Robby’s gorgeous body cutting through the water powerfully.
Jack doesn’t try to engage in small talk. He knows that if he opens his mouth now you’ll shut yourself off for good. It’s a delicate balance, teasing you and also making sure none of you feels bad for it.
None of you wants to think about it, but it’s a looming threat, consistent and present, one that he’s determined to not think about once until the three of you get what you clearly, desperately want.
When Robby finally comes back out of the pool, he’s like a wet dog, shaking the water off himself right above Jack who groans loudly at the little droplets of iciness disrupting his warm glow.
Robby goes to sit next to him but Jack is quick to push him away.
“Go somewhere else,” Jack barks. “You’re too wet.”
Robby practically pouts at his husband. “There’s no more chairs out.”
“Not my problem.”
“You can share with me,” your voice is mousy but clear.
Both men stop their bickering and turn to stare at you as you shift towards the other end of the lounge chair, making a tiny little space for Robby’s massive frame to somehow fit.
Robby’s tentative at best, almost shy as he crosses the small space towards you.
He sits on the edge by your feet at first. It doesn’t matter that his back is aching and he wants nothing more than to lie down and enjoy the sun for a little while like his husband and you have been doing.
It’s only when you grab his bicep and pull him back that he lets himself fill the space.
He lies down awkwardly at first, trying to make himself as small as possible, the minimal contact with your skin driving him mad again.
Fuck, he just spent the past fifteen minutes swimming like his life depended on it so that his disgusting erection would subside and now you’re—
And then you get up and place him under your body, getting him comfortable before you turn onto your side and place your head on his shoulder.
It’s barely there, just enough for the two of you to fit, but your breath dances over his pec, inching too close to his heart with every exhale, and he knows for a fact that you can feel just how fast the blood is pumping through his body.
Jack practically bursts with raw and unbridled pleasure beside the two of you, his pupils swallowing his eyes whole as his hand begins to tease the stark outline of his cock over his swim trunks.
Robby shoots him a darkened look to stop and for the first time in his life, Jack listens.
If Robby can’t get himself off then neither can Jack.
They’ll be tortured together, just like their wedding vows definitely did not intend.
Jack turns away, eyes closing. That’s that then.
Robby does the same, comfortably getting lulled into slumber by your own steadying breath.
Before he succumbs to it, he drapes a towel over your heads, at least some respite from the fire burning everywhere else in his body. And yours. Not that he knows that yet.
He finds out just how hot you are about half an hour later, when he’s awoken by your leg draping over his.
He cranes his neck slightly to see you’re still fast asleep. Embarrassingly so.
You’re dreaming.
Clearly.
Thankfully.
Your hips begin to move slightly over Robby’s crotch, his cock springing awake at even the smallest form of contact.
He bites back a groan, the feeling so incredibly delicious.
Jack needs to see this too—
He pulls the towel off his head and turns to where his husband has already pulled himself out of his swim trucks.
Robby shoots him a disappointed look but Jack doesn’t give a fuck, can only shrug as he continues to pump himself in tandem with your movements.
And then something snaps in Robby’s brain, primal and possessive.
He softly cradles your body in his hand, pulling you further onto him so your barely covered core can make full contact with his erection.
You snuggle further into him.
Must be one hell of a dream.
Most definitely, as you pick up your movements slightly, hitting your clit against Robby’s head with every roll.
Robby sucks in sharply, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming out in pleasure.
Jack smirks, making a show of spitting on his hand as the slick mixes with the oozing precum leaking from his own slit.
The men stare at each other as they let you have your way with Robby.
It’s only fair.
You’re family after all. And family takes care of each other, right?
You mumble a strangled moan against Robby’s chest, your body shivering slightly as a surge of electricity washes over you.
You just came.
You definitely just came and Robby feels like a teenage boy at how the way your body sparks sends him hurdling towards his own release.
He cums in his pants shamelessly, biting down on his fist so he doesn’t make a single sound.
Thankfully the dark blue fabric is still damp from the pool so his spend just blends in with the blotches of wetness already there. But the smell of sex is in the air, a disgusting reminder of what he’s just done, what he’s let you do.
Fortunately he doesn’t have a second to think about it as he catches Jack making his way over on his crutches, standing just beside Robby and aligning his crotch towards his husband.
Robby dutifully opens up his mouth and Jack wastes no time jerking himself to completion over his tongue. He hisses, allowing himself that simple pleasure as thick ropes of cum paint Robby’s throat white.
Neither of them feel you still as you wake up, peeking through the little hole in towel up at them, practically having to stifle a moan as you watch Jack’s eyes close in pleasure.
Your heart thrums in your chest as if you’ve just ran a marathon and yet you can’t look away.
Robby rolls his tongue over his husband’s tip, placing a cute kiss on it before he stuffs Jack’s dick into his swim trunks.
And then Jack, very loudly, states— “I think something’s burning in the kitchen, handsome.”
Robby leaps out of your embrace swiftly, rushing into the kitchen as your hazy brain plays catch up.
Were you just…draped over him?
Why do you feel so sticky down there?
And then it hits you.
The dream. The way your brain is just the right amount of dizzy and light.
You’ve done this before. Many partners have told you. But the shame of now having done it to your boyfriend’s dad sends an embarrassed chill down your spine.
You take the disruption as a blessing, practically running after Robby and hiding in the guest bathroom instead.
What the fuck is going on?
Jack and Robby almost look disappointed when you come back out with a t-shirt and the shortest denim shorts they have ever seen, the slightest sliver of your ass hanging out from underneath the trim.
Jack’s already sat at the table and he has to fight back the urge to tell you to come sit on his lap, you know, just to tease you.
But instead he lets you sit down beside him, his status as head of the household one that he’s never taken seriously, not until right now.
He can see how your gaze shifts from him to the empty seats beside him. One for you and one for Robby, almost equal in a very weird way, forming a triangle.
“What’re you having, kid?” Jack asks you, pulling a rolling cart towards him, their portable bar as your boyfriend has so literally described many times.
You desperately want some liquor to help dull the shame boiling in your stomach. It doesn’t matter that it’s the root cause of why you’ve found yourself in this particular situation, no, you just need to stop feeling like your heart is going to leap out of your mouth for three seconds.
Maybe all you need is to be buzzed all day so hopefully you won’t remember a drop of this tomorrow.
“Vodka tonic with a lime please.”
Jack smiles devilishly. “Coming right up.”
You watch as he reaches over to grab one of his whiskey glasses, portioning out two ounces of vodka…and then two more into your glass. He shoots a smirk your way and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Either he’s trying to keep you tipsy so you’ll loosen up or he’s just being a good host and making sure you at least have some fun on your day off with them, you can’t tell, secretly hoping it’s a mixture of both.
He tops your glass off with tonic water before pouring a handful of ice into the mixture. Your cheeks heat up as you watch him work, deftly fingers working a pairing knife into a ripe lime and peeling a garnish before he cuts the fruit in half and squeezes it in.
Lime juice drips down his hands and you practically have to force yourself not to lean forward and lick it up. His eyes darken as you lean forward for a millisecond before you quickly straighten back up in your seat, catching his knowing stare as he tops it all off with the little garnish.
He sets the glass in front of you before bringing his hand up to his own mouth instead, his tongue skillfully cleaning up his freckled skin.
Your eyes practically bulge out of your skull as you watch the sinful display before you.
“Drink up,” he murmurs, settling back as if he’s just done the most casual thing in the entire world.
Your chest is practically heaving, whatever mental faculties you've got left practically screaming at you to not show him just how much your hands are shaking as you reach down for the glass and bring it up to your lips.
Savoring the cool drink and letting the alcohol do its thing, you hum contently as you swallow the bitter yet refreshing liquid.
“It’s really good,” you beam. “Thank you Mr. Abbot.”
He huffs out a ragged breath at your teasing, bringing his own beer back up to his lips.
You settle back, getting comfortable as the two of you wait for Robby to finish up in the kitchen.
“D’you do anything wild today?” You ask before taking another sip of your drink.
“We performed an emergency c-section. Saved a mother and her baby,” Jack tells you, not boastful, simply proud.
Your eyes widen in excitement. “That’s incredible.”
Jack beams. “Glad you think so, sweetheart.”
He swears he can see your cheeks heating up at his comment, suddenly becoming shy and trying to hide behind the liquid courage of your drink.
“What about you?” He inquires next. “How’s your research project coming along?”
The smile you throw back at him is so bright it could rival the summer sun. He remembered what you’re doing, that’s so kind of him.
“It’s going well,” you try to maintain his own humbleness. “We were almost finished last week but one of my peers found a research paper that practically blew a hole right through our main argument so we’re having to reconstruct a bit unfortunately.”
Jack groans, feeling your pain. “Hate when that happens, why can’t academics just keep their logic to themselves?”
You giggle, shaking your head. “It was a valid point sadly.”
“Yeah, they usually are,” he shrugs. “Hope you’re not having to work overtime because of it.”
You sigh. “It’s…been an issue.”
Jack eyebrows shoot up, a silent encouragement for you to continue.
“I’ve been having to spend more time at the lab and with…your son working late as well…it’s just been difficult to see each other is all.”
You’re being vague on purpose, wishing upon every star that Jack won’t prod.
Unfortunately for you, the sky is very, very clear right now.
“So that’s what this weekend was,” he smiles into his beer. “A honeymoon of sorts, tryin’ to reconnect.”
You’re certain your entire body is now set on fire with just how hot you’ve become.
Jack chuckles. “Hey, I’m not judging. We all need to do that sometimes. Hell, I know Michael and I are trying to do the exact same thing this weekend.”
Trying not tried. The truth settles deep in your stomach, igniting that desperate pit of want back up again.
Did they…are they…
Oh god, what if you cock blocked them?
You down the rest of your drink as Jack relishes in your embarrassment. Something deep inside of you pushes then, like its reacting to a dare that hasn’t been issued yet.
“Well I mean, have at it, God knows I won’t get any action so you might as well enjoy.”
The second the words leave your mouth you desperately with you could go back in time to take them back.
Jack opens his mouth to reply, practically beaming with glee at the newfound information you’ve served him up on a silver platter, but you beat him to it, leaping across the table and slapping your hand over his forearm.
“Oh my god please forget I said that,” you blurt out.
Jack lets out a hearty laugh, his own hand coming up to rest atop your own, holding you hostage with both his touch and his gaze now.
“Don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me.”
Luckily, you don’t have to think about it much longer as Robby returns with plates overflowing with the BBQ takeout they got for themselves.
If you weren’t completely dying of mortification, you probably would’ve caught how Robby’s own face was deeply crimson, how Jack ran his hand along his husband’s leg, how the two of them came to a silent agreement over you.
There’s honestly no better feeling than your stomach full and your blood coursing with the perfect amount of alcohol.
The sun is high up in the sky, the water perfectly cold against your skin.
You’re back in the pool the second your twenty-five minutes are up after finishing up your lunch, Jack and Robby following out after you and returning to the scene of the crime boldly now.
It’s Robby’s turn to observe as Jack settles on the edge of the pool, helping his husband lower himself into the pool before he retreats back to the shade, settling down against your discarded shorts and shirt.
He watches, almost drunk on your skin, as sunlight reflects off the surface of your supple body, how the rivets of water caress the expanse of your back down to your ass and then further south across your legs.
He’s never been so thirsty as he is right now, his tongue begging him to move, to touch, to allow himself to clench his need for you and just—
“Mr. Abbot!” You squeal, positively breaking the spell he’s been under.
Robby instantly flinches, body jerking forward in case he needs to step in.
Jack’s never been one to shy away from his needs. It’s what he most admires about his partner. He knows what he wants and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go after it.
And right now…well let’s just say he’s going after it alright.
The two of you seem to be engaged in a very physical fight, his front pressed against your back as he tries to steal the beach ball from your grip.
He’s not shy about it either, doesn’t feel any kind of shame, at least not one that’s as noticeable as Robby’s.
It took Robby a good fifteen minutes of hiding in the kitchen to get himself together after you came against his thigh, another ten to convince Jack to get him a new pair of swim trunks, and then another five as his husband took him in his hand and jerked him off again to the thought of you.
Robby has never wanted for anything ever since he and Jack got together. Sure, they’ve dabbled with bringing people in to share their bed, but it’s never been like this.
They should not want you.
They certainly cannot have you.
It’s not just morally wrong, it’s…
Another yelp erupts from your throat as Jack throws himself over you, causing you to lose your grip on the ball and drowning dramatically as Jack pulls the ball towards him, swimming to the other side of the pool to “score a goal”.
Robby watches as you resurface, spitting water from your mouth as you wipe your hair off your face.
It’s then that Robby notices it.
Your top has come undone and your breasts are now…
He clears his throat. “Uh, honey?”
You look up at him like he’s hung the moon, eyes wide and your chest practically pushing out towards him.
Robby blushes instantly, a sheepish smile adorning his lips as he points down. He just can’t say it, doesn’t dare himself to bring any more attention to it.
He watches, practically drooling, as your spacey brain processes it, another yelp escaping your lips, this time followed by an embarrassed giggle that brings Jack’s attention back to the two of you.
At the sight of your bare back, the SWAT medic crosses the pool in what feels like two powerful strides, swiftly pulling the strings back around your neck but not before shamelessly stealing a peek at your hardening nipples.
He sucks in a breath sharply, using the excuse of contact to have his fingertips linger over your overheated skin.
He’s unsure if you’re even aware you’re doing it, but the contact makes you hum contently as you pull your hair off your back and almost make daring eye contact with Robby.
You may be tipsy but the way his eyes definitely darken now and the way Jack’s touch lingers more than necessary confirms whatever doubt still lingered in your brain—
They want you.
And fuck it if you don’t want them too.
It’s unfortunately you who ends up getting out of the pool first and retreating back into the house.
The sun is still out and proud but it’s getting to that time when dinner prep simply must get started so you make your way into the guest bathroom and take a thorough shower, flinching in pain as you realize you’re definitely sunburnt.
So much for being careful.
You do your best to be gentle and wrap a fluffy towel over your body before you go back out into the common areas of the house. You’re sore everywhere so the longer you can stay without having to put on actual clothes the better.
You start on dinner prep, preheating the oven, cutting up vegetables, prepping the chicken, readjusting the towel cause it just keeps coming undone and almost flashing—
“Damn, kid,” Jack sucks in a breath behind you. “You’re really burnt.”
You turn to him and nod, annoyance clear over your features as you watch him set the two beers he’s taken out of the fridge on the counter.
“Does it hurt?”
You nod, your brain somehow emboldening in mischief as you respond.
“Yes, doctor Abbot.”
Jack doesn’t even hide the Cheshire smirk that pulls his lips.
Oh, this is how it is now, huh?
He steps forward, cold hands coming up to rest just below the base of your neck where it meets your spine. You moan at the contact, the iciness the perfect contrast to your burning skin.
You can feel his lips ghosting over your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt down your back and arms. He hums satisfactorily before he guides you out of the kitchen, pushing you towards his bedroom.
You don’t question, you just do, falling down onto the soft, cold comforter as he retreats into the bathroom. It’s only then that you realize he’s put his prosthetic back on, able to move himself and yourself wherever he needs. It sends a thrill down your spine, most definitely.
He comes back a minute later, a bottle of cooling gel in his hands.
“Towel off,” he tells you. You hesitate for a split second, the sudden realization of where you are and what he’s asking almost too much to process. “Doctor’s orders.”
It shouldn’t have worked, but it just does.
You lift off the bed just enough to pull the towel off your body, throwing it beside you on the bed for easy access before settling back down on the bed, doing your best to cover your front as much as you can.
“Good fucking girl,” Jack groans and you hear him adjusting beside you, the mattress dipping from his weight and the gel squirting over your skin.
You hiss at the change in temperature but quickly relax as his hands begin to massage it into your skin.
Your eyes close in bliss as Jack takes his time, making sure to cover every inch of your skin, from your upper back and arms, the pads of his thumbs digging into your sore muscles, all the way down to your lower back before trailing the expanse of your ass.
You moan into the sheets as his hands travel lower, barely ghosting over your slit, your legs opening up for him slightly. He smirks at the action, teasingly continuing their path down your thighs and calves instead.
You huff in annoyance causing him to chuckle.
“What’s wrong, kid?” He spits meanly. “There something you want?”
“No,” you pout.
“No?” Jack continues his movements, making sure to press a little deeper, returning to the swell of your ass. “Okay.”
He stops his movements abruptly, picking up your towel and wiping his hands.
You whine then, your hand coming up to grab his wrist, turning your face to look up at him.
You give him the most intense puppy eyes you’ve ever given anyone in your life and you’re certain if he were Robby instead, he would’ve caved instantly.
But he’s not.
And doesn’t.
“Aw, poor baby,” Jack coos. “Just say what you need and I’ll be happy to give it to you.”
You huff, staring back at him defiantly for a total of five seconds before you’re spreading your legs wider, your left knee bending up to rest over his own.
“Please doctor Abbot,” you whimper. “I need your fingers.”
It’s the bare minimum but it’s enough to spring him into action.
His clean hand instantly slides against your soaked folds, causing him to groan at the contact.
“You’re so wet, kid,” he whispers.
You roll your eyes, letting yourself go to the pleasure. “Duh, I just got out of the shower.”
He chuckles. “The mouth on you.”
He slips two fingers into your entrance without warning, curling them forward as they bottom out to the knuckle.
You wail then, your grip on the sheet and his bicep tightening.
“What?” He leans down to whisper into your ear. “No comeback?”
You let out another moan as he starts to move his fingers in and out of you, settling on a thorough pace that quickly has you tightening around him.
“Such a needy little girl,” Jack huffs into your ear. “Is he not treating you like you deserve?” Another curl of his fingers. “Leaving you so pent up you have to go ask his dad for help?”
You moan louder at that and Jack sheathes his fingers deep inside of you, focusing on wiggling his fingers against your spongy flesh.
“Touch yourself baby,” he commands, the hand clutching the bedsheets slithering in between your body and the bed without question.
You’re so close, so freaking close—
Robby clears his throat at the door and you freeze, your orgasm taking you by surprise as you cum around Jack’s fingers.
“One second, handsome,” Jack tells his husband as he continues his ministrations, fully working you through it as you writhe and pant against him. You try to pull away once, overwhelmed and sensitive, but Jack’s having none of it, grabbing you tightly and pressing you against him as you squirm.
“Jack, you’re gonna break the girl,” Robby chides, his heart beating a million miles a second as he watches you contort in pleasure.
“Just one more,” he turns to Robby. “Please.”
It’s at his husband’s plea that Robby comes over to the bed, his large hand coming down to the small of your back to soothe you as he pulls Jack’s own out from inside of you.
You jerk at the feeling of wetness pouring down your entrance, brain so fuzzy you can barely make out what’s happening as Robby turns you over onto your back, displaying everything they hadn’t been able to see until now.
You don’t try to hide, instead you simply lie there, completely at their mercy.
“Doctor Robby,” you whine for him, your hands greedily coming up to grab at him.
“‘M here honey,” he soothes, coming down to place a kiss on the side of your mouth sweetly before he trails a path of kisses down your neck, your chest, your tummy, all the way down to your hip and then—
His mouth is hot over your clit, his lips unbelievably soft as he starts out slow, chaste almost.
Jack settles back on the bed, watching Robby as he finally takes what he wants, unhurried and unbothered.
Your hips buck up against his mouth and it’s all the encouragement he needs to grab your legs and pull you down so he can kneel in front of the bed and bring his mouth over your slit.
You scream in pleasure at the gesture, hand coming up to grab his hair, the other tangling itself on Jack’s swim trunks.
Robby doesn’t slow down then, his tongue swirling over your entrance before it comes back up to your clit, hungry lips sucking and biting and swirling, repeating the pattern until you’re writhing against him.
Jack is entranced by the sight, palming his cock over his pants as he watches you react to his husband.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he reiterates his earlier sentiment, causing your hand to unfurl from the fabric on his body and trail up under the waistband, tentative fingers wrapping around his leaking tip.
He hisses at the contact, causing Robby to smirk against your clit, the two of you in cahoots now.
“Make him feel good, honey,” Robby encourages you before he slides further down your body, his tongue breaching your entrance without any more preamble.
So you do.
You pull Jack’s impressive erection out of his clothes and wet your palm with his precum, your hand barely able to wrap itself around him entirely.
He barely contains himself, moans spilling out of his mouth almost instantly as he leans forward into you, his lips catching yours passionately.
You moan into his mouth as tongues clash sloppily, your movements only intensifying in tandem with Robby’s.
When he feels your attention pulling away from him too much, he slides two fingers into you, his mouth returning to latch itself around your clit.
You wail into Jack’s mouth and the vet lets you go, wrapping your hand with his and picking up the pace to his liking.
“Handsome, spit on my cock,” Jack commands Robby who detaches himself momentarily from you to come up and spit a large glob on his spit and your wetness over his husband’s tip. “Thank you.”
Robby smiles hazily before returning to the task at hand, making you cum.
You clench around his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out so deliciously you squeeze Jack’s cock accidentally.
The man beside you tenses, erection twitching as his hips thrust up into your grip.
He pulls you further into him, his strong arm wrapping around your body so he can pinch your nipple.
“Oh my god, please,” you mewl. “I’m so close—”
“Cum for us, baby,” Jack groans in your ear. “Let go and I’ll be right there with you.”
You focus on the feeling of it all, on the knowledge of Robby between your thighs, on the way Jack’s cock feels in your palm, on the power you hold over them right now.
It’s all too much, Robby’s breath on your pubic bone, Jack groaning into your ear, the wet, slurping sounds echoing through their bedroom—
Your body succumbs to them happily, flooding with bright, hot pleasure as you cum for them. You spasm blissfully, grabbing onto them tightly as they work you though your high. You can feel hot spurts of cum drench your hand as Jack lets go after you, his hand taking control over your limp one as he strokes himself through the aftershocks.
But it’s his hot breath against your ear, the way he whispers praises that are only meant for you to hear that cause you to let go completely. You press into him tightly, whimpering against his skin as Robby removes his fingers from you, holding them out for Jack to wipe them clean with his tongue.
You barely register as the chief attending gets off his knees, the joints popping hilariously before he settles on the bed behind you, pressing you tightly in between their two bodies.
“Such a good girl for us,” Robby praises, kissing over your shoulder, neck and jaw dotingly as Jack runs his fingers down your thigh. “You’re all good honey, did so good.”
It takes you no time to let sleep take over, so content all you can really do is just let it happen.
You wake up after the sun has set, disoriented and naked underneath the thick comforter. Your body feels sticky, the cooling effect of the gel the clear indication of the culprit. Surprisingly, your inner thighs do not feel wet, no more than normal and you’re almost able to pretend like what definitely happened was nothing more than a dream.
Except you don’t want to.
Not when you hear warm laughter outside the room—their room.
Called to them like a moth to a flame, you groggily get out of bed and search their messy floor for one of their t-shirts, forgoing underwear entirely since you’re pretty certain you know where the night is going to lead.
Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you approach the dining room, dread already creeping as you half expect you-know-who to be back.
Relief floods your system like a drug as you take in the two men before you. They’re wine drunk, their cheeks the perfect shade of pink, the dinner you started to cook laid out on the table before them, their plates already empty.
You’re unsure if it's the warm glow from the overhead lights or the way their laughter settles richly in the bottom of your stomach or the fact that you feel so satisfied for the first time in months, but you simply cannot stop smiling, staring straight at them as you try your best not to break the spell.
A girl can get used to this…and that’s what scares you the most.
Unfortunately for you, your traitorous stomach gives you away, a loud enough growl as the smell of that buttery chicken fills your nostrils.
Their laughter dies, replaced by a different kind of hunger.
“Hi sleepyhead,” Jack greets you first, beckoning you forward towards him.
You smile shyly at him before you turn your attention to Robby who is looking oh so bashful. He tries to hide behind his glass of wine, a hand over his mouth to shelter the glowing smile from view.
You’re instantly drawn to him, making your way towards him first.
“Hi,” you mumble, standing next to the man before you lean down to press your lips to his.
He’s shocked at first, definitely, but you simply need to know what his lips feel like on yours after all that happened, after how good he made you feel.
He swiftly loses himself to the kiss, humming against your lips before granting you entry.
The kiss is gentle and comforting, shy and honestly tame in comparison to how Jack practically staked claim when it had been his turn.
Robby’s the first to pull back, his hands running up and down your exposed thighs as he jerks his head back towards Jack, a clear command to do your due diligence.
You giggle, leaning down to press one last sloppy peck as he smacks your ass playfully before you can make it around his seat to Jack.
“C’mere kid,” Jack doesn’t hesitate, pulling you onto his lap as his lips claim yours once again, one hand around your neck while the other playfully slips under your—his—t-shirt.
Your own arms fall against his chest, fully relinquishing control over your body for him to do what he pleases. It’s only when your stomach growls again that he finally lets you go, your lips puffy once more.
He doesn’t release you entirely, opting to twist your body and have you settle on his lap facing Robby and the dinner table instead. You squirm, rolling your hips teasingly before Jack smacks the side of your thigh.
“No.”
You huff dramatically yet settle as Robby serves you a piece of chicken, some steamed veggies and those creamy mashed potatoes that you were supposed to make yourself earlier.
Jack’s hands continue to roam over your body as Robby cuts up your food, sticking his fork into the soft flesh before holding it up to your mouth.
You open without hesitation, humming contently as the richness hits your tongue.
“What’ya say?” Jack pipes up.
“Thank you doctor Robby,” you say sweetly, causing Robby to blush once more and Jack to hum approvingly against your ear.
They keep this up until the majority of the food is gone, Jack going as far as to top off his own wine glass so that you can take a sip every time he does.
By the time you politely decline another bite, you’re full, warm and fuzzy, practically melting against Jack.
You feel so…
A dopey smile pulls your lips upward. This truly is everything you’ve ever wanted.
And then Jack’s phone lights up on the table beside you, reality sobering the three of you like a sharp knife to the heart.
It’s a text, from him.
You tense against Jack, panic flooding your once peaceful body with dread.
It suddenly becomes too hot, too hard for you to breathe. You heave as Jack picks up the offending device and reads the message.
You take advantage of his attention going elsewhere and leap out of his lap. Unfortunately, you’re crowded by the table you’re not swift enough, your brain short circuiting long enough for Robby to stand up himself, his strong frame tightly wrapping itself around you.
He shushes you gently. “It’s okay, honey, you’re okay.”
You fight against him, slapping the sides of his body to get him to let you go, to stop caring, to stop—
But he doesn’t, he just lets you do whatever you need to in order to calm down.
“I have to go, I can’t be here, I need to—” you cry against his chest.
“No you don’t,” his tone leaves no room for pushback. “Just follow my lead, breathe in,” he inhales deeply. “And breathe out.”
He exhales until there’s no more air in his lungs.
It takes you a few seconds to finally relinquish to him but ultimately you follow his lead, following his breathing until your arms go limp to your sides, until you rest your head against his chest willingly, until you step into his body and cling to him.
You can feel Jack’s hand trailing your back gently, another comforting presence as you come back to yourself.
“‘M sorry,” you mumble against Robby. “I just…I don’t know what to do.”
Robby sighs, the first and only admission of guilt he’s allowed himself. “We don’t either, honey.”
Tear brimmed eyes look up at him and he honestly wishes that he could somehow snap his fingers and make everything okay. This is so fucked and yet he simply cannot feel anything other than gratefulness at the twisted circumstances that brought you all together.
“Whatever this is,” Jack chimes in. “It stays between us, sweetheart. You don’t have to keep going, you don’t have to see us ever again, hell, we’ll disappear from your life if it’ll make it easier—”
“No!” You practically wail, turning to face him as Robby loosens his grip on you. “I…I don’t want that.”
Jack smiles brightly, relief flooding his body as he grabs your hand, pulling you back to him as Robby settles back down on his seat.
“We don’t want that either,” Jack states and the air in the room turns electric once more. “How about we focus on tonight? Huh? Use the time we’ve got left and leave our brains to decide tomorrow.”
You nod, interlacing your fingers with his as he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles softly.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Did you like dinner, baby?”
You nod, a sharp thrill running down your spine as your brain realizes what he’s about to ask you to do.
“Well then shouldn’t you say thank you to the chef?”
You match his mischievous smirk, turning in your heels to face Robby as Jack lets you go completely, sitting back to enjoy the show.
Robby watches you like a deer caught under headlight as you approach him, your hands coming down to grab onto the chair handles for support as you lower yourself to the ground, on your knees, between his open legs.
He hisses in anticipation as his brain processes what you’re about to do.
“Thank you so much for dinner doctor Robby,” your hands slide over his lap now, teasing him over his pajama pants as you all notice the tent that has swiftly grown at your barely there touch.
“You’re very welcome, honey,” he pants, causing you to giggle sweetly.
Oh you truly are a little devil, just like Jack.
“Enough teasing, kid,” Jack snaps. “Get to it before he cums in his pants again.”
Your brow scrunches slightly until you remember. Your face heats up instantly, sharply turning to look at Jack with wide, shocked eyes.
“Oh yeah,” Robby groans, leaning down to grab your chin and pull you back to him. “And Jack oh so kindly came in my mouth. You made us so hard with your little sounds, we simply couldn’t resist.”
You’re sure the room is spinning now, your head instantly going fuzzy and dizzy as their confession practically pulls the rug from under your knees.
“Now, baby,” Jack breaks you out of your haze. “Robby was mighty generous earlier, return the favor like a good girl.”
Snapping out of it for real now, you slide your hand under his waistband, pulling out his even larger dick and staring at it in awe for a few seconds as saliva begins to pool in your mouth.
“You can take it, honey,” Robby coos.
You nod, lifting off your heels and leaning over his purpling tip to let all the slick drip from your mouth onto his length.
He hisses at the contact, causing Jack to chuckle darkly behind you as he pulls out his own cock and begins to slowly pump himself.
You waste no more time, coating your hands with your combined slick and swiftly jerking him off at a moderate pace. The second his entire length is coated, you lean further down, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue over his slit.
Robby can’t hold back any longer, his hand fisting your hair possessively as his hips begin to jerk up into your mouth, causing you to gag with each thrust, but you don’t slow down, don’t tell him to stop, you simply let him have his way with you.
Saliva drips down the sides of your mouth as you desperately relax your throat, the sounds filling the room obscene. Robby’s moans mix with your throat constricting as you desperately try to swallow, to work your hands faster, to open up for him.
But it’s no use.
He’s too big, too long.
So instead you just let him do what he needs to do.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Such a good girl, such a good fucking mouth.”
Jack spits on his hand then and Robby’s attention swiftly turns to his husband, the display before him so lewd he forcefully pulls you off his dick so that he can turn you around to face Jack.
You moan as you stand up, gasping for air desperately while Robby turns you around and pulls you down onto his lap, his erection and his chest caging you against his body.
You watch as Jack’s hand pumps his length again to the sight of you coming undone by Robby, your wet folds sliding against his dick, mouth hanging open as you pant.
“Robby please,” you whine and the man behind you effortlessly lines himself up with your entrance, thrusting his tip inside of you before he finally cums inside of you.
You moan at the intrusion, burying him further inside of you as his hot spurts paint your insides. He moans against your ear, his fingers digging into your hips bruisingly as his body spasms in ecstasy.
“So fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “You feel so good, honey, such a—” a strangled moan escapes him. “Such a perfect girl, so tight and warm.”
You hum happily, staying right where you are until you feel his cum dripping out of you that you make an effort to move off him.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Jack demands and you shuffle towards him on shaky legs, straddling his hips as you take him in your hand and ease him inside of you instantly.
His hands wrap around your lower back, pulling your shirt over your head swiftly before he leans down and wraps his mouth around your nipple. You moan loudly as his teeth pull on your sensitive bud, your hips jerking at the pain mixing in with the pleasure.
You start to move then, the sounds of your body and Jack’s coming together a choir of wetness as the knowledge of Robby’s cum and your own arousal being used as lube for Jack to easily slide in and out of you makes you clench around him.
As if knowing exactly what thought led to your reaction, Jack smirks against your nipple, releasing it with a pop before he hovers his mouth over yours, teasingly.
“You like it when we both use you like this baby?” His breath is so hot against your lips. “Yeah, so cock drunk you can barely speak,” he turns to Robby. “I think we’ve created a monster, handsome. Such a spoiled brat.”
You whine, unable to take it any longer and pressing your lips to Jacks desperately. He chuckles into the kiss, letting you take control up there while he rolls your hips back and forth to his liking.
He’s so deep inside of you, hitting every single spot that makes you see stars. You could honestly stay here forever, satiated and cared for, all the attention you could ever want directed exclusively at you.
Robby comes up behind you, his tall frame adding extra support before his hands snake in between your bodies, fingertips rolling over your clit expertly.
You moan into the kiss, detaching yourself to look up at the man behind you with such devotion it honestly makes Robby forget he’s ever felt bad about himself.
He leans down to kiss you then, soft and caring, the perfect contrast to Jack’s rawness.
“Cum for us, honey,” Robby asks against your lips, pressing his fingers harder against your needy bud and just like that the floodgates open.
You tense over Jack like your life depends on it, clenching around his dick, causing him to shoot his load inside of you without warning.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jack curses into the night, holding you firmly against him, not letting even one drop go to waste.
Robby continues to kiss you, his hands running down your arms soothingly as Jack slumps against the chair, spent and silent for the first time all day.
You lean back into Robby, enjoying how he’s towing over you.
“You feeling okay, honey?”
You nod, pulling back from his kiss to pepper even more against Jack’s jaw.
“And you?” Robby chuckles at his husband, the blissed out expression causing Jack to look adorable you can’t help but giggle.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jack pants. “Calm down.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah Robby, gotta give the old man a second—”
Your laughter dies instantly as Jack jerks his hips upward, nudging his tip against your cervix.
You fall forward against him, a string of unintelligible apologies falling from your lips.
He smirks proudly, leaning forward and giving you a quick peck on your lips. You smack his arm playfully in return before hiding your face behind your hands, heart definitely beating out of your chest for a completely different reason now.
“What…um…” you stammer. “What did he say?”
“He won’t be home tonight,” Jack answers as if it’s the most normal information ever. “Staying over a friend’s house.”
Happiness blooms through you once more. “Can we cuddle?”
Robby kisses your temple. “Of course, honey.”
“And maybe we’ll be ready for round two.”
“Speak for yourself, old man,” Robby leans down to kiss his husband lovingly.
“Oh I definitely am.” He winks at you and just like that, everything is just as it should be.
a/n: this turned out way sweeter and way longer than intended but idc. lmk if you have any requests for them or any other dark!rabbot scenarios
dividers by @/enchanthings
for @autisticoscarpiastri
i want to be sexy to someone
is it too much to ask?
sexy to somebody, it would help me out
– sexy to someone, Clairo
summary: you finally put yourself back out there and set up a date for your night off. to your utter humiliation, you get stood up. the night takes a turn when you see your attending, Jack Abbot, who suggests you have dinner together since you're already all dressed up.
tags/warnings: age gap (reader is a resident), oral (f + m receiving), dacryphilia, protected piv sex, dry humping, crybaby!reader, idiots in love, ER references because I can't help myself :), the tiniest hint of puppy play, discussions of jack's amputation,
wc: 10k
a/n: I'm realizing that I have a tendency to write about jack abbot saving reader from mediocre and shitty men... and you know what he would!!!! genuinely thought this would be a cute lil 5k fic and then... oh well!! being short-winded is not my thing lol
credits: gif credits to @wesandresons
8:21.
You checked your phone for the millionth time.
You were supposed to meet him at the restaurant at 7pm, and he was almost an hour and a half late.
Well, you hoped he was late. You hadn’t yet accepted the probable fact that you’d been stood up. I mean, you were no stranger to chaotic schedules, unplanned overtime, and last minute catastrophes that had to be dealt with. Residency often rendered your social life moot; you could barely keep up with your commitments at the hospital, let alone a vibrant dating life. Maybe he had an equally demanding job; maybe there was a plausible excuse for why he left you stranded in this Italian restaurant without the decency of a “sorry, not interested anymore” text.
You looked at your phone again–8:26. Okay, you’d give him 4 more minutes before you decide to pack it up. You try to subtly survey the restaurant for any sign of him, but are met only with the pitying looks of the waitstaff, who would, in all likelihood, be the only ones benefitting from this humiliation ritual. The hostess checked in with you at the bar regularly, the bartender had given you a glass of merlot on the house, and a very kind server brought you a charcuterie board to nibble on–had even brought you extra olives when you commented on how they were your favorite. They were all getting fat tips–or at least as fat as you could afford.
8:31. Despite your best efforts you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your throat got that tight, achy feeling that precedes a sob. You felt so foolish.
You looked up at the ceiling, blinking the tears away and tried to even out your breathing.
You didn’t even want to go on this date. You’d all but sworn off of dating, the ROI not worth the emotional whiplash you were subjected to more often than not. It was becoming harder and harder as you got older to open up to people, expose your vulnerabilities and greatest fears, only to have them spit back in your face when things didn’t go their way.
So you stopped with the apps, stopped the meaningless dates that were nothing more than a hookup vehicle for most. But your friends had convinced you that you needed to get back out there, that things would be better in Pittsburgh–the proverbial ocean filled with different, better fish than your hometown. And perhaps they were tired of hearing you wax poetic about the hazel-eyed night shift attending that you had no chance with.
But you did want to find that person. As much as you were an independent, capable woman–doctor, even–the truth was you were lonely. Your days consisted of going to work, where you spent 12+ hours caring for Pittsburgh’s sickest, and coming home to microwave whatever sad frozen meal you had in your freezer. Sometimes you had the energy to join some of the night shift for post-shift breakfast, but that was about it.
You wanted someone to share your life with, to ask about your day or if you’ve eaten. Someone who knew that your favorite flower was lily of the valley, but since they were too expensive you would settle for a bouquet of peonies; that you loved horror movies even though they scared the daylights out of you; that knew you loved olives but hated pickles. Someone who knew you, inside and out.
There was a chasm in your chest that ached, that yearned for someone to take care of you–not financially, though you wouldn’t be opposed to that–but emotionally. To tell you that you were good, worthy, that you weren’t too much or too clingy. That wanted you as much as you wanted them. That felt the tension leave their shoulders when they looked at you, because you just being there made things better.
Was that too much to ask for?
It’d been so long since someone had even flirted with you, and even longer since you’d hooked up with anybody. Your dry spell was bordering on sahara levels of arid. Hell, at this point, you think you’d cum for the next guy who called you pretty.
You shake yourself out of your pity party, dabbing your eyes with a napkin and gathering up the courage to ask for the bill, when you hear someone calling your name. Great. You’re halfway to a breakdown over some stupid guy who stood you up, and now you would have to sit through pleasantries with someone when you desperately wanted to go home and cry into a bottle of wine.
You turned, fake smile plastered on your face.
The person you least expect to see is the aforementioned hazel-eyed attending. He’s standing by the hostess stand, off to the side, dressed in dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt. It was unfair, really, how good the man could look in the most basic outfit. His shirt was pulled taut across his chest, muscles straining against the fabric and outlining the planes of his pecs. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his strong, freckled arms on display, and sinful thoughts ran through your head at how those arms would feel around you.
You smiled and waved at him, reluctantly making your way over. It’s not like you can avoid him at this point, though these are less than ideal circumstances to meet him outside of work.
“Small world,” he joked as you approached, a soft smile gracing his features.
“I guess so,” you said sullenly, not up to your usual banter.
“Big plans for the night?” he asked, eyes skating over your form, taking in the pretty red dress you’d donned for the evening, the light coat of makeup you applied, the hairstyle you wrangled your locks into. In any other scenario, you’d be preening under his watchful eye, giddy that he was eyeing you up and down.
Now, though, you wilted under the attention. The humiliation from the night and the tingly feeling pooling in your gut at his gaze swirled together in some rancid amalgamation of emotions. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry or both, but ideally not in front of him.
Your silence, apparently, concerned him. He looked at you seriously now, his eyes getting that clinical, assessing look in them as he took you in, “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his features.
It was the one question you did not want to be asked. Because, for some reason, you could keep it all inside, bury the feelings as deep as they’d go, as long as someone didn’t ask if you were okay. The barest expression of concern had your lip trembling, throat tight as you managed to squeak out a meek, “I’m fine!”
You could feel a tear tracing down your cheek, and you wiped it away furiously. Your eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder, unable to bear the pitying look that was undoubtedly on his face.
“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, hand coming up to rest lightly on your upper arm.
You shook your head, powerless to staunch the flow of tears now running down your face. “Sorry, I just, uh, I had a date tonight and he didn’t show, so,” you made a helpless gesture, your shoulders shrugging in feigned nonchalance. You felt ridiculous, crying over being stood up in front of your attending who was just trying to make small talk with you.
You let out a garbled laugh, “Shit, sorry,” you hiccup, “this isn’t your problem, I don’t wanna interrupt your night any more than I already have. Have a good night,” you said, moving to push past him and scurry out the door.
He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle, his body blocking your exit.
“You’re not interrupting. I was just about to place a to-go order,” he said, a hesitant look crossing his face before he continued, “But, uh… would you like to have dinner with me instead?”
You're taken aback. It’s the last thing you expected him to ask you. I mean, it’s not like you haven’t thought about him in this context. On the contrary, Jack Abbot had been the subject of many a ‘boyfriend’ dream over the past year you’d worked with him. He was kind and generous and funny, his humor as dark as yours. He was steady in the face of chaos, a lighthouse in the foggiest of days–a man you could depend on when shit hit the fan. It’s part of the reason you switched to nights. You always felt calmer in his presence, more assured of your capabilities because he believed in you.
And he was undeniably gorgeous–his fine wrinkles and graying curls set your body ablaze each time you looked at him, your panties soaking through in record time. You loved especially when he went a day or two longer without shaving, his scruffy cheeks looking like a delectable place to sit.
Your mind was plagued by obscene fantasies of him, the sinful images assaulting you at the most inopportune times. You knew he’d treat you right, wouldn’t prioritize his pleasure over yours. He was older, experienced, not a kid fumbling around in the dark, searching for your most sensitive spots and coming up empty. You imagined the way his stubble would feel on your skin, his jaw scraping down your neck as he pressed kisses there, moving lower and lower until he was nestled between your thighs, mouth hot against your aching pussy. The way he would stretch you out and fill you up, have you desperate and begging for more.
You’re snapped out of your lustful daydream when he says your name, an inquiring tone meant to prompt a response. Oh right, he asked you a question.
You shook your head, not because you didn’t want to have dinner with him, but because you didn’t want to do so under these conditions; you didn’t want to be a charity case.
“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to have a pity dinner with me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little rejection.”
“It wouldn’t be a pity dinner,” he shook his head immediately, “come on, you got all dressed up, let me at least buy you dinner for your trouble.”
He cleared his throat, “Unless you really don’t want to, obviously, and I’ll let it go,” he said, “but I’d hate to see you go home cryin’.” And he looked so sincere, his pretty eyes so soft and squishy, all but pleading for you to accept his offer.
You chewed on your lip, considering it. It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend your night. As of now your plans for the rest of the night were getting sadder by the moment. Things could only go up from here, you supposed. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure,” you nodded.
“I’m positive,” he said, hand coming up to rest on the small of your back, guiding you back up to the hostess stand. “Table for two, please.”
The two of you were sat at a corner booth near the back of the restaurant, the section secluded and not too loud. It was a classic Italian restaurant–warm, dim lighting illuminated the space from antique sconces on the wall, the walls were a beautiful exposed red brick, and the tables were candlelit and laid with red and white checkered cloths. The leather of the booth was soft but worn, the cracks spidering out and indenting into the back of your thighs a sign of how well loved this place was.
The booth forced you close together, your thighs not quite touching each other, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. His scent is intoxicating, all warm amber and oud, mixed with a hint of citrus and his natural musk. It took all your power not to burrow your nose into his neck and inhale deeply.
You were lucky to have the same waitress that checked on you at the bar, though you did have to assure her that this was not the man who stood you up. You were honestly a little concerned at the death glare she gave him at first–a true girls girl.
“So, Dr. Abbot, how was your day off?” you asked, fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress. Despite your easy rapport at work, it felt awkward to be sitting here with your attending, especially when you were desperately trying to keep your feelings for him at bay.
“Oh it was fine, picked up a shift with the SWAT unit and didn’t get shot at, so, you know, all things considered,” he said, then waved his hand dismissively, “and please, call me Jack. We're not at work,” a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Okay, Jack,” you laughed, the tension easing a bit as you threw formalities out the window.
“I would ask you how your day off was, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” he said with a teasing lilt.
“Yeah, not my best moment. This is partially why I stopped dating, I hate getting my hopes up,” you said, a little more vulnerable than you intended but you supposed you were past that now.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think whatever man decided to let you slip through their fingers is a fuckin’ idiot.”
You sputtered a bit at that, your cheeks heating up. It was a kind platitude, and you wished that it made you feel better, but it did little to alleviate the pit in your stomach that made you feel small; that screamed that you weren’t good enough.
“But enough about that asshole. Do you want to order an appetizer?” he asked, scanning the menu.
“Oh no, I’m okay, thank you.”
“You sure? My treat, remember, don’t worry about prices.” he looked up, concerned.
“I’m fine, really,” you bit your cheek, reluctant to spit it out, “our waitress may or may not have given me a pity charcuterie board at the bar.”
His face was still for a moment before you saw the edge of his mouth betray him, quirking up in a suppressed smile.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” you warned, your own resolve already breaking as you took in how pathetic the situation actually was. “It’s not funny!” you laughed, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with the menu.
“No, no, definitely not,” he intoned, a look of mock-seriousness on his face before he broke out into a laugh, “I’m sorry! But it is objectively a little funny,” he hedged, hands held out defensively to block another menu attack.
“It is not! It means that the poor waitress had to go talk to her boss and ask if they could comp an appetizer for the miserable sad sack at the bar!”
“She probably didn’t call you a miserable sad sack. Maybe sad puppy dog girl, but not miserable sad sack,” he teased.
You gasped exaggeratedly, “I am not a sad puppy dog girl!”
“Oh yes you are. It’s the eyes. And the general obedient demeanor," he smirked.
Oh. Your tummy twisted at that, but you quickly filed it under things that I simply do not have enough time to unpack right now.
“You’re mean,” you pouted, lip jutting out and arms crossed. You weren’t really upset, but it felt fun to play it up a little bit.
“Aww,” he pouted back at you, his tone just a tad condescending, “let me make it up to you. What do you say to some good wine and garlic knots?”
You gnawed on your lip, considering his offer, “what the hell, let's do it. It’s not like I’m going to be kissing anybody tonight anyway,” you said, a little bitter, before realizing that was probably not an appropriate joke to make in front of your boss.
“You never know, we could always pull a Lady and the Tramp,” he joked, not looking up from the wine menu.
You were a little stunned at that. Was he… flirting? No. Definitely not. This was a strictly platonic date. Right? I mean, the puppy comment you could explain away, but this… this was different, wasn’t it? Who just jokes like that about the most romantic canine kiss in history? A joke, you settled on. Because you’d already gotten your hopes up enough for one night.
Dinner was nice. Really nice.
Conversation flowed freely, starting out in neutral territory with updates about patients, work gossip, whatever the fuck was going on with Robby. But you soon moved out of the work realm and into personal matters. You told him about your childhood–where you grew up, your favorite childhood pets, how much trouble you got into as a teen.
And you learned a lot about Jack. That he came from a military family that moved around a lot, but spent a large chunk of time in North Carolina. He had two sisters, both older than him. One stayed in North Carolina and the other lived in West Virginia. Both married to military men, and both notorious for giving Jack shit about everything. But they were his rocks when he lost his leg, and then again when he lost his wife, and he was endlessly grateful for them.
You both loved 90s alternative rock, which surprised you because you took Jack to be more of a classic rock fan, to which he merely glared at you and said that he wasn’t that old. You both had childhood crushes on Winona Ryder; his borne from her role in Heathers, and yours from Girl, Interrupted. He surprised you with the fact that he was a good cook, a fact that seemed unfathomable to you based on his general vibe.
Now, though, you’d moved to med school stories, and Jack was regaling you with stories about him and Robby back in the day.
“We must have been… god, I must have been a third year med student, and Robby was… an R2? and he had really pissed me off that night. I don’t even remember what he did, I just remember being so annoyed at him,” he laughed, shaking his head at the memory, “It was a quiet night, so he snuck off to the on-call room to catch a few hours of sleep, leaving me to do all the scut. So, I recruited the help of the charge nurse, Carol, and our attending, Mark, and we applied a cast to his right leg while he was knocked out.”
He’s cackling now, almost unable to finish his story between wheezing gasps of air, “we paged him, like, 10 times until he answered, and next thing we know he’s bursting out of the on-call room and onto his ass before he even realized what happened!”
You’re laughing hard now, too, trying to picture a younger version of Robby gracelessly tripping over an unnecessary leg cast in his hurry to answer his page. It sounded so unlike the self-assured, stoic version you knew him to be.
“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “how mad was he?”
“Oh he was pissed. Not because of the cast, but because 5 minutes after we paged him, a 15-car pile up came in and he got benched until he could get the cast off. He had to wait for it to dry before he could saw it off, and the whole time he just sat there glaring at me.”
“Did he get you back?” you asked, hungry for more crumbs of their life before you, before the Pitt as it was now.
“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “the fucker taped nails to his shirt, took an x-ray, and switched out the real film for the fake before I noticed. I was freaking out to Mark, yelling about how this patient needed surgery before they perfed. Meanwhile Mark was in on it, and made me feel crazy when he pulled out the perfectly normal x-ray for my patient. He said, ‘I don’t know what they’re teaching you in school these days, but this looks like a perfectly normal x-ray,’” he said, in an impersonation you could only assume was Mark.
“That’s fucking crazy,” you giggled, “can you imagine someone doing something like that in the Pitt? I think Robby’d actually have an aneurysm.”
“Yeah, the old man’s lost a bit of his whimsy over the years,” he shook his head.
“Old man, huh? Those are fighting words from a man merely 3 years younger than him,” you teased, “and much grayer,” you added with a wink.
“Watch it, missy,” he warned, then, quieter, “not too old to teach you some manners.”
Feeling emboldened by the wine, you leaned a little closer, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tracing the rim of your wine glass, you looked up at him. You swear his eyes drifted to your lips, but before you could do anything about it, he cleared his throat, steering the conversation back into safer waters.
“So, why did you get into emergency medicine?”
You thought about it for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be. “I wanted to meet people where they were at, help them in a real, immediate way. The traumas are great and exciting, and there’s nothing like making a pickup that saves someone’s life. But I like the less exciting stuff, too. The mundane care that doesn’t save a life, but makes someone feel better. Helps them get over a cold, or helps soothe a burn; suturing up a lac, or removing foreign objects from patients and not making them feel worse about their predicament. That stuff is just as important as the traumas.
Especially with how fucked healthcare is in this country, people come to us when they’re at their most vulnerable, and usually don’t want to be there. I just hope that I can make things less scary for patients when they come in, make sure they feel like they’re cared about and not being judged for coming to us.”
It’d been a long time since you’d answered that question honestly. Usually, you had your stock answer that you pulled out, which was a more eloquent version of “I want to save lives!” And that was still true, but there was so much more to working in the emergency department than just saving lives. It was paperwork and insurance and bed shortages and nursing shortages and all the other fucked up shit in the world that inevitably contributed to the cases you saw come through the doors at the Pitt.
“What about you? Was emergency medicine always it for you, or did you ever consider going into something else?” you asked.
He shook his head, “Not seriously, no. Considered switching to critical care after my leg. I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for the hustle and bustle of the emergency room after that. But it was the only place I wanted to be, so I figured it out, did what I needed to do to get back to where I was before the accident.”
“Well, for what it's worth, I’m glad you stuck with EM. I couldn’t imagine working at the Pitt without you. I don’t think I’d be half the doctor I am without you,” you said, looking up at him.
You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten, his arm slung over the back of the booth and your thighs pressed against each other.
“Don’t sell yourself short, you’d be amazing with or without me,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, I’ve taught a lot of residents in my years, and you… you’re really cut out for this. Not everyone is.”
The praise made you preen, the proximity of his hand to your face doing nothing to calm your rapidly beating heart. For a brief moment, you think he might lean in, might press those pillowy pink lips to yours, kiss you until you can’t think stra–
“Hi, sorry to interrupt but we’ll be closing in 15 minutes. Here’s your check when you’re ready,” the waitress said, setting the check down and scurrying away.
You checked the time on your phone: 11:15. Did you really spend almost 3 hours talking to Jack? It certainly didn’t feel like it.
“I guess we should get out of here before they kick us out,” Jack said, sliding out of the booth and offering you his hand.
You’re giggling at another one of Jack’s jokes as you leave the restaurant, the bill graciously paid by him despite your best efforts to split it. Your limbs were loose from the wine, goosebumps springing up on your arms from the early summer air turned chilly.
“Thank you for dinner. You salvaged an otherwise shitty night,” you laughed.
“It was no problem, really. I had a nice time,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed.
You mirrored him, shoulder scraping against the gritty brick, and looked up at him.
“Hold on, I think you have a little sauce on your face,” he said, and before you could grab a tissue from your purse, he reached out. His thumb gathered the sauce at the corner of your lips, going further to brush the pad of it across your bottom lip. The movement dragged your lower lip down slightly, your mouth parting involuntarily with it. You’re not sure why, but your tongue darted out, licked the pad of his thumb and the residual sauce.
Jack’s breath hitched, the sharp intake of air the only thing you could hear despite the sounds of car alarms and drunk party girls on a Friday night in downtown Pittsburgh.
You looked up at him, tongue still pressed flat against his thumb, and searched his eyes for a sign that the heat building between you is mutual.
Fuck it, you decided.
Without thinking about it too much, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. And god, did they feel nice. They were soft, but firm, and he tasted faintly of the wine you’d shared earlier mixed with the slight acidity of the tomato sauce from his dinner. Your hand tangled in the curls at the base of his neck, and they’re so soft, but also a little stiff. You wondered, briefly, if he uses mousse, or hairspray, or if he’s got a whole curly girl routine down before realizing that oh my god he wasn’t kissing you back. Oh no, oh fuck.
How did you misread this situation so horrifically? You thought you were getting all the right signals, thought that he liked being with you, that he was flirting with you. But maybe it really was just a courtesy, a pity dinner.
Your cheeks are hot when you pull away from him, shame sitting thick and heavy in your stomach, numbness prickling up your arms in staticky goosebumps. And Jack is just standing there, the dumbfounded look on his face doing nothing to assuage your embarrassment.
You backed up, trying to create some distance, to lower the temperature between you that apparently only you felt.
Looking down at your shoes, unable to make eye contact, you babbled out, “I-I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate and I don’t know why I-” your voice cracked and it felt like your lungs weren’t properly inflating with oxygen, “I don’t know how I misread things, but I guess I did so again, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna go home and pretend this never happened,” you said, turning around and starting down the street, despite the fact that you most certainly needed to Uber home, not walk.
You’re trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that night when you hear him calling your name, “Wait!”
He caught up with you, only a few strides away from where you were standing, and grasped your arm gently. “Wait, I’m sorry,” he said, a little breathless, “I just… you surprised me.”
“Surprised you?” you laughed, “I damn near sucked your thumb, Jack,” you said, genuinely confused how a man like Jack Abbot could be surprised that a woman would try to kiss him; that the next logical step from erotic thumbsucking would be a kiss. “And you flirted with me all night! You made a Lady and the Tramp joke! How else am I supposed to take that?”
He rubbed at his jaw anxiously, a slight blush coating his cheeks, “I mean, yeah, I was surprised. I’ve liked you for a while now but then I heard you talking to Santos about how you didn’t want to go out with that cardiology attending and just assumed I didn’t have a shot,” he admitted sheepishly. “And maybe I got a little brazen with my flirting because I thought you didn’t see me like that anyway, figured it couldn’t hurt.”
It’s your turn to be surprised now. You hadn’t realized he heard that conversation, or that he’d taken the wrong idea from it; the opposite idea, actually.
You took a step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers finding his curls again, “Well, if you recall, snoopy, I said that part of the problem was that I just didn’t want to fuck that cardiology attending,” you said, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes, “that isn’t the case with you.”
He looked shocked, but recovered quickly, his confident air returning to him. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, lips quirking up into a smile as he backed you up against the rough brick wall. His hand rested on the wall next to your head, the other on your hip, stroking you through your dress.
“In that case, please allow me to make up for my rude behavior,” he said, dipping down to kiss you properly this time.
You’d pictured this moment countless times before, but nothing compared to the real thing. Jack Abbot is a no nonsense man–a wartorn vet who understands more than most the importance of not wasting time. You expected your first kiss with him to be hungry, maybe a little sloppy, but when his lips meet yours, he’s achingly tender. It wasn’t uncertain–there was no question underlying his kiss–it was deep and languorous, like he was content to take his time up against this brick wall and savor the slide of your lips against his because he knew he had you right where he wanted you, finally.
He commanded you, his hand cupping your jaw to angle your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened up for him. The slide of his tongue against yours was delicious, the slick muscle curling around yours before moving back to your lips, sucking at your bottom lip and biting down gently. Your mind felt fuzzy at the way he handled you, guiding and taking you how he saw fit.
Some of his restraint dissipated, your mouths moving feverishly against each other. You couldn’t get enough of him; you pulled him into you and hooked your leg around his waist to draw him as close to you as possible. Pathetic, embarrassing whines and whimpers escaped you involuntarily, your body unable to mask how this man was making a mess of you.
His hand fell to the thigh wrapped around him, calloused fingers sliding up under your dress and gripping the bare flesh. He pulled you close, his pelvis rolling against yours sinfully. You could feel the hard outline of his cock against your cunt, your hips thrusting forward to meet the friction. A frustrated moan fell from your lips at the clothes separating you, at the inability to feel his skin against yours.
You pulled away only when air was necessary–and because you were very close to being cited for public indecency if things went any further.
“Sorry, I probably taste like garlic,” you said dumbly, fingers tracing over your spit slick lips, numb and swollen from Jack’s attention.
He laughed, forehead resting against yours, “you taste incredible,” he said, pressing a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, and then under your ear. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but my place is a couple blocks from here, if you’d like to come home with me.”
You nodded, a giddy smile breaking out across your face, “I would very much like to go home with you,” you said, already grabbing his hand and dragging him down the street.
The entryway is dark as you stumbled into Jack’s townhouse, the walk talking longer than it should have due to your need to drag him into searing kiss after searing kiss every dozen or so steps.
Jack navigated the two of you through the dark, your bodies unceremoniously plopping down on his couch. You fell onto his lap, knees sinking into the leather cushions and thighs stretching over the wide berth of his hips. Your kisses had devolved from slow and deep to fast and hungry, teeth nipping and clashing against one another, your breathing ragged from the exertion.
He was rock-hard and throbbing under you, the outline of his cock pressing deliciously against your pussy. The only articles of clothing separating you were the thin, lacy excuse for panties you were wearing and his jeans. Your eyes fluttered closed as you ground your hips down on him, the combination of rough denim and the drag of his cock on your aching cunt forcing loud moans and whimpers from your lips.
Jack was just as loud, his hips canting up to meet your rolling hips. His hand travelled to the back of your dress, fingers playing with the zipper, “this okay, sweetheart?” he asked against your lips. You nodded, too caught up in his lips to give a verbal answer.
He chuckled as he pulled the zipper down, easing the sleeves down next and pulling away to get a look at you. He let out a sharp breath, the air stolen from his lungs as he took you in, hands gripping your waist tight and rolling his hips hard against you.
Your pretty tits were held up in an unlined white bra, your hardened nipples peaking through the barely there lace. He threw his head back against the couch, pupils blown wide as they fixated on your chest. ““My pretty, pretty girl. Was this all for him?” he asked, thumbs running in circles around your areolas. You nodded shyly, a bit embarrassed that you’d put on your good lingerie for some random guy. But it wasn’t all for nought, if Jack’s reaction was any indication.
“What a fuckin’ idiot,” he mumbled before enveloping your nipple between his lips, sucking the bud through the lace. He captured the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and pinching it, then soothing it over in soft circles. The sensation was dizzying. His mouth was hot and wet against your skin, and he knew exactly the right pressure to ride the line between pleasure and pain.
But the lace was getting in the way; you couldn’t feel the scratch of his stubble like you’d dreamed of for so long. You unclasped your bra, tugging on his curls and pulling his face back just enough to let the garment fall down between you.
A guttural sound left him as he dove back in, lips suctioning onto your nipple and sucking hard, cheeks hollowed out and tongue swirling around the bud. Your hand tightened in his curls, arching your back and pushing your chest against his mouth. He alternated between the two, sucking, licking, and biting at one and kneading, flicking, and pinching the other. You could finally feel the scrape of his stubble against your sensitive skin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hips doubled their effort, grinding hard against his cock.
He released your nipple with a wet pop, “you know how hard it’s been keepin’ my hands to myself, pretty girl? and all this time you’ve been hidin’ this pretty set of tits under your scrubs,” he shook his head in disbelief, “don’t think I’ll be able to think about anything other than stuffin’ my face between these tits when I see you at work.”
His lips returned to your chest while his unoccupied hand moved under your dress, his rough palm gripping the fat of your ass and guiding you over his length faster. Every grind of your hips had your clit bumping up against the head of his cock, the pressure exquisite. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and seeping into his jeans, the schlick schlick schlick steady background noise among your moans and groans.
You didn’t realize how fast your orgasm was building until you were nearly on the precipice of it, letting out a strangled moan and, “I’m gonna–” before the wave crested. Your thighs trembled, a dull ache forming from keeping them stretched around Jack’s bulk, but it only added to the pleasure that zipped through you. That staticky feeling radiated through you, your pussy contracting and fluttering around nothing.
You’re panting into the crook of his neck as you ride out the aftershocks, your hips still grinding against his clothed cock, your lips letting out tiny gasps and whines.
“Did you… did you just cum, sweetheart?” Jack asked, a stunned look on his face.
You could feel how hot your cheeks were, shame curling through you because yes, you did cum from a little nipple play and grinding on his cock.
“I-i’m sorry, it’s just been a long time and no one’s touched me in so long and you feel so good, I didn’t think that would happen so quickly,” you said, panicked, “I’m sorry if I ruined things.”
“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he said, thumbs brushing away the embarrassed tears you weren’t even aware had fallen, “you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I was just surprised, is all. I’m sorry if anyone’s made you feel that way, but you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Never,” The sincerity of his words triggered a new bout of tears. You buried your head in the crook of his neck again, his scent a calming balm to your nerves.
“Plus, do you know how much of an ego boost it is to know I had such a pretty girl cummin’ on lap in under five minutes? That’s the stuff of dreams, baby,” he teased, pulling you out from your hiding spot and pressing kisses to your cheeks.
You laughed, still sniffling a bit, “gosh, I’m sorry I’ve been such a crybaby tonight.”
“It’s okay, honey,” he said, then, teasing, “but I can think of much better reasons for you to be cryin’, and none of them have anything to do with you being sad or embarrassed,” he said, kissing you properly now, tongue licking deep into your mouth.
You moaned into his mouth, then squealed as he hoisted you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He set you down at the edge of the bed, then properly removed your dress from where it was awkwardly gathered at your waist.
He didn’t waste any time, dropping to his knees and parting your legs, pushing them up toward your chest. “Hold 'em there for me, baby, wanna take a good look at you,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the damp fabric between your legs. You did as he told you, hooking your hands under your knees and spreading yourself open for him. You felt exposed, but the awestruck look in his eye as he examined your pussy sent shockwaves through your body.
“This all because of me?” he asked, thumbing at your center over the fabric, pressing lightly against your clit with each stroke. Your panties were soaked through, the tiny scrap of fabric doing nothing to obscure your puffy folds that were sticky with a mix of your slick and cum. “What a mess you made, honey. Guess I’m gonna have to clean you up,” he said, pulling your panties to the side and licking a broad stripe from your hole to your clit.
You moaned, hips lifting off the bed and chasing his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue on your cool flesh was blistering. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft skin there and stopping any movement of your hips. You whined at the restriction, your hands fisting in the soft sheets instead.
“Waited so long for this honey, shit, fuckin’ dreamed about how you’d taste,” he moaned into your pussy, mouth lapping and sucking at your folds, gathering all the spend and slick and swallowing it down like nectar. His face was nestled deep into your cunt, tongue exploring every crease and crevice your cunt had to offer, licking, sucking, biting–and taking note of what made you scream.
And once he discovered it, he didn’t just eat you, he devoured you. He was a man possessed, with no regard for his own need for air. His tongue assaulted your clit, alternating between rubbing tight circles around it, short kitten licks, and long, languorous licks that had him shaking his head between your thighs. Every now and again he wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled it, the light leaving your body every time. Your hips rocked against his mouth despite his hold on you, wrecked moans falling from your lips.
“Fuck, jack, please–r-right there!”
“That’s it, baby, let me hear you, tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he said, pulling back just far enough to spit onto your cunt before running two fingers up your slit, pushing them in without preamble. The stretch was delicious, his thick fingers curling deep into your wet heat and finding that sweet spot in no time. He exploited it mercilessly, massaging it with the pads of his fingers. His lips returned to your clit, sucking harshly now, giving you no reprieve from his ministrations.
“Feels so good Jack! Never felt this good before!” you cried.
The slurping and squelching was lewd, your moans and breathless cries of his name intermingled to create an obscene symphony that you’re sure the entire population of Pittsburgh could hear.
“You gonna cum on my face, honey? Gonna give me another one?” he asked, fingers massaging your g-spot. “Wanna–fuck–wanna feel this tight cunt squeeze my fingers when she cums.”
“Y-yes, please Jack, ‘m gonna cum, feels sosososo good” you cried out, your second orgasm crashing over you. Stars burst behind your eyes, back arching uncomfortably off the bed and walls clenching so hard around his fingers you’re not sure how he hasn’t lost circulation. Your legs clamped around his head, trapping him there as you rode out your orgasm, hips rutting against his mouth and fingers. He didn’t mind, licking and sucking you through it, his fingers keeping pressure on your g-spot until you were pushing him away.
He peppered your body with kisses as you came down, starting at your thighs and making his way up over your tummy, ribs, and breasts. He came to rest above you, a dopey smile on your face as you pulled him in for a lazy kiss. His face was soaked with your spend and you could taste the tang on his tongue when he kissed you.
“You’re stupidly good at that,” you whispered, body still boneless and floaty.
“Yeah? Want me to show you want else I’m stupidly good at?” he asked while finally shucking his shirt off.
“Yeah?” you said absentmindedly, eyes glazed over at the majesty that was Jack Abbot’s chest. You immediately began pressing kisses across the newly exposed skin–to his neck, collarbone, pecs, and tummy. You’re even able to scrape your teeth across a nipple before he holds you back at arms length, laughing.
“Yeah, honey,” he laughed between your frantic kisses, “but you gotta let me breathe for a sec, gotta take care of my leg.”
“Let me,” you said, slipping down to the floor and sitting back on your heels. You ran your palms up his thighs, hands coming to rest on his belt before going any further.
“You don’t have to do that, honey.”
“I know,” you said softly, “but I want to. If you’re okay with that.”
He cradled your face in his hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone. You turned into it, kissing the palm of his hand to assure him that you wanted to do this.
“I care about you Jack, and this is part of you. I just wanna help you, wanna make you feel good,” you said earnestly, giving him your puppy dog eyes.
“Yeah. Okay, honey, go ahead,” he nodded, sitting back on his elbows to watch you. You grasped his belt again, unfastening the buckle and pulling the belt through the loops, discarding it somewhere behind you. You moved to the button of his jeans, deftly popping it open and hooking your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down with Jack’s help.
Your breath hitched at the sight of his dark gray boxers, a wet spot front and center that made your mouth water. You learned forward and kissed the damp fabric, moaning at the slight taste of precum that danced across your lips.
“Careful, sweetheart…” he warned, but there wasn’t much heat behind his words.
You just grinned up at him before getting back to the task at hand. Your fingers travelled down to the sleek metal attached to him, getting a feel for the mechanism before unlocking and twisting it off. The liner came next, tossed to the side before you pressed your fingertips into his skin, massaging the skin to get some blood flow back into the residual limb. You pressed sweet kisses to his flesh, from the front of his knee to the scarred flesh of his leg, tongue dipping out to trace the prominent scar just above his amputation site.
Jack breathed heavily above you, tiny groans escaping him unbidden. A look flickered across his face, and you think, briefly, that this may be the first time you’ve seen him truly vulnerable. It wasn’t a secret that he’d lost the lower portion of his leg in the war, but he didn’t flaunt it either. You wondered if there was an insecurity that lay deep within him, despite his overt confidence; if other women had reacted differently, cruelly even to the sight of his prosthesis. It made your heart ache to think about it, to think of someone doing anything but worshipping his beautiful body the way he deserved.
“So pretty, Jack,” you whispered, kisses inching higher up his thigh now, “wanna taste you now.”
When you’re met with the sight of Jack’s cock, you’re well and truly speechless. You knew he was big from your time on the couch, but seeing it was different. He was thick and veiny, the tip flushed a deep red and leaking precum furiously. It rested against his belly, curving slightly to the left. And did you mention that he was thick? Mouth agape, you wondered how you were going to fit him in your mouth. Or pussy.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there, hands perched against his thighs, just staring at his cock, until Jack tilts your head back, fingers tightening in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck.
“Thought you wanted a taste, honey. You just gonna sit there and stare at it all night?” he asked, a smug smile on his lips.
“Maybe,” you mumbled, tongue darting out to wet your lips.
Before you can do anything of your own accord, his hand is guiding your head forward, the head of his cock pushing gently against the seam of your lips. You take over from there, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his tip, the precum gathered there salty and sticky against your lips. Your tongue dipped out to caress the spot just below his head, running the flat of your tongue along it before moving back to his head, spitting a glob of spit onto him and wrapping a hand around his base. You started with long, slow strokes, squeezing and twisting on the upstroke, your hand meeting your lips where they suckled at his tip.
You moaned at the steady stream of precum invading your mouth, “taste so good Jack,” you said before taking more of him into your mouth. You're only about halfway down and your lips are already stretched tight around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth in filthy waterfalls. You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, your tongue massaging the underside of his cock.
“Fuck, baby, who knew you had such a filthy fuckin’ mouth on you,” he groaned, hips rutting up slightly.
His tip occasionally hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag and tears to prick behind your eyes, but you don’t care; the feeling of him weighing heavy on your tongue is reward enough.
You feel a light pressure applied to the back of your head, “deeper, baby, know you can take it,” he groaned. You obliged, breathing deep through your nose and sinking down further onto his cock until you felt him hit the back of your throat and your nose was nestled in the trimmed grey curls at his base. Your hand grappled for his where it was perched on your head, using it to push harder against your head, trying to convey to him that you wanted him to take over; to fuck your face.
He groaned, hips jerking involuntarily as he realized what you wanted. He gathered your hair in his hands, hips shallowly trusting into the wet heat of your mouth. His mouth was slack, grunts and groans loud as he fucked your face. His pace builds, his cock roughly pistoning in and out of your mouth. Tears are falling freely now, your mouth stretched to capacity and throat being used and abused by his fat cock.
“See? These tears are much prettier, baby,” he huffed out, thumbs brushing the trails where they fell. “So fuckin’ pretty, crying with my cock in your mouth.”
You moaned around him at that, the praise and shame swirling in your tummy. Your hand came up to cup his balls, massaging and squeezing them gently between your fingers.
You’re suddenly pulled up off his cock and into his lap, spit stringing from your shiny, swollen lips. You whined at the loss of him, your mouth feeling uncomfortably empty now.
“Fuck–you feel too good, honey,” he grunted, setting you back against his pillows, “can’t cum in that pretty little mouth tonight, need to be inside you.”
He grabbed a condom out of his drawer before moving back to you, sitting back on his knees and rolling the condom on. You let out an annoyed whine. You’ve never hated the more rational side of your brain more than you do right now. You craved to feel him bare inside you–to feel him cum deep inside you, the hot white ropes painting your walls. And while you trusted him implicitly, you knew safety was of the utmost importance, so condom it was.
“Don’t worry, baby, soon as we get tested, you won’t be able to stop me from fuckin’ this pussy raw,” he groaned, settling between your spread thighs. His body was a soothing weight above you, the warmth he emanated relieving any anxiety you had.
He gripped the base of his cock and ran it through your sopping folds a few times, the tip catching slightly on your entrance on each pass. “Please, Jack, need to feel you,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him close.
He cursed before giving in, notching the head of his cock against your entrance and entering you slowly, letting you feel and adjust to every inch on its own. Your head fell back into his plush pillows as he sank fully into you, your mouth open in a silent scream. Your walls were tight around him, clenching viciously at the intrusion–you’d never been stretched so wide, or filled so thoroughly. It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs and replaced by his cock. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your short nails biting at his skin.
You were still for a moment, both your chests heaving as you adjusted to the feeling of one another. Then, once Jack composed himself, he started to move–slow, shallow thrusts at first, your pussy still clenching tight around him, sucking him in greedily with each thrust.
“Relax for me, honey, that’s it, doin’ so good for me,” he grunted, eyes closed, “pussy feels so good.”
You willed your body to relax, for your muscles to go lax around him. You shifted your legs up higher, the heels of your feet digging into the soft flesh of his ass.
“There you go, so good for me,” he moaned, “knew you’d be so good for me.”
He pulled out again, easier this time, until only the tip remained inside you, then snapped his hips forward. His thrusts were slow but hard, his hips slamming against you each time he bottomed out. The drag of his cock against your walls felt so good, his thick, throbbing length rubbing up against every sensitive spot. You felt every thick vein and ridge, as if they were imprinting into your walls, making a home there. You moaned at the thought of eternity, of Jack making your pussy his again and again and again.
He was watching you with a wondrous look on his face, his eyes flitting between your blissed out face and bouncing tits. “So fuckin’ sexy, baby, you don’t even understand how fuckin’ gorgeous you are,” he groaned, hips picking up speed, fucking you faster and harder.
The adrenaline and emotions from the night came crashing down around you. The feeling of his cock dragging through your walls mixed with the sweet words he was whispering into your ear had you feeling exposed and vulnerable, made you feel seen. Your hands were frantic, running over every bit of skin you could get your hands on, needing to feel his skin against yours. You pulled him impossibly closer, his chest now flush against yours, the friction it provided to your nipples dizzying.
You didn’t notice the tears until Jack was kissing away the salty tracks, his tongue sneaking out to lick up the length of your cheek. “You’re my little crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked, a sweet hint of condescension in his tone, “just can’t help babbling over my cock, huh, baby?”
You could only whimper at that. The words should feel shameful, degrading, even, but the fondness on his face, the constant reassurance he’d been giving you all night only made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Because you weren’t a crybaby, you were his crybaby.
The coil in your stomach tightened, your orgasm fast approaching. He was fucking you hard and fast now, his balls slapping against your ass with a wet smack. “Jaack, I’m gonna–fffuck–I need–” you gasped at a particularly hard thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
But Jack knew what you needed before you did, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against it, and you were done for. Your toes curled, heels pressing harder into his ass as you came, white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Your walls spasmed wildly, your orgasm crashing through you in waves. You were absolutely drenched, your pussy gushing around his cock, leaking down your ass and onto the bed.
Jack wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as your walls seized his cock in a vise grip. “F-fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, his hips going into overdrive now, chasing his climax and fucking you hard and deep.
"Cum for me, Jack, wanna make you feel good," you cried.
He ground his hips into one last time, cumming with a loud moan, cock buried deep inside you and hips pressed flush against yours.
He collapsed on top of you, head resting on your chest. He pressed lazy kisses to your sternum, collarbone, the soft flesh of your breasts–whatever he could get his lips on from this angle. Your fingers carded through his curls, the motion soothing as you tried to catch your breath.
Eventually, though, you had to part.
You whined as he pulled out, your cunt empty and cold now that he’d taken his warmth away. He grabbed his arm crutches, disposing of the condom and retreating to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and began cleaning you up, gently wiping at your swollen pussy and sticky thighs, making sure you were comfortable before tossing the rag in the hamper.
He slid back into bed when he was finished, laying on his side and pulling you close against his chest. Your head was cushioned by this arm as you curled into him, your sweat slick bodies cool to the touch now that the heat had dissipated.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he said, fingers brushing up and down your ribs, the touch featherlight.
“Mmm probably as long as I have,” you said, snuggling closer to him.
“Really? When did you realize you wanted to kiss me?”
You didn’t have to think about it at all. “My birthday, on the roof. I gave you a cupcake and you got frosting all over you,” you giggled at the memory, “and all I could think about was how bad I wanted to kiss it all off of your stupidly handsome face.”
He laughed with you, the creases around his eyes deepening as he did. He was so pretty, you thought for the thousandth time that night.
“I remember that,” he smiled, “I remember being so proud that I made you laugh that night.”
“What about you?” you asked.
He thought about it for a minute. “I think the need to kiss you has been simmering in me since I met you, but the first time I had the conscious thought was when you patched me up after that patient clocked me in the head,” he said, his hand now on your cheek, stroking the bone there, “you were standin’ between my legs, stitchin’ up my forehead, and all I could think about was pulling you close and kissing you until I couldn’t breathe.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He sighed, “I’m your superior and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn't feel the same way.” You knew he didn’t want to delve into the ‘superior’ thing right now, didn’t want to have the long, complicated conversation that was sure to come in the following days.
“And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself once I started,” he said, lightening the mood a bit.
You giggled at that, rolling your eyes affectionately. But something nagged in your head about what he said.
“Wait…” you said, piecing together a timeline, “that was nearly a year ago! You’re telling me we could have been doing this for a year!?” you exclaimed, slapping him on the chest lightly.
He shook his head at you, a sheepish look on his face. You were both idiots.
“Well, I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for, then, don’t we?” he said cheekily, capturing your lips again and pushing you onto your back, determined to make you a very happy woman.
a/n: thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it <33
theory crafting - billionaire!jack x fake wife!reader
word count: 9.2k
warnings: dead dove: do not eat, extremely dubious consent, somnophilia, fem!reader, fake relationship trope, he calls you “baby girl” and you call him “sir”, age gap (25/50), reader is a genius quant with a huge ego (but secretly shy), boss/employee relationship, you fall first but he falls harder, surveillance (jack looks at your internet history!), possessive!jack, sadistic!jack, forced proximity, there's only one bed!, mutual pining, loss of virginity, praise kink, dry humping, unprotected sex, breeding kink, forced orgasms, mild cnc/rape roleplay, squirting, fingerfucking, edging, biting, he makes you beg, some angst, another “slow” burn
summary: being married to a billionaire is easy when it's not real. but when you slowly grow feelings for your husband, you start making mistakes that are losing him millions.
but he'd be willing to lose his entire fortune if it meant he could actually have your heart…
a/n: I've been rewatching one of my favorite shows, billions, and gah I just could not get my mind off of jack being a billionaire, so here it is!
hope it's a sick read ♡
You watch the interview again in your free time. The one after your boss Jack Abbot announces that he'd be marrying you, “his favorite quantitative analyst".
“She's my most valuable asset.” Jack says to the interviewer with a smile that could sway millions to invest in anything he tells them to. “Falling for her was the easiest thing in the whole world. I fell in love with that brilliant mind of hers and then, just like that, I wanted to marry her. I am very lucky that she said yes.”
You like to rewatch this interview mainly to ponder that last sentence. You know the rest is a lie. He isn't actually in love with you.
But does he truly feel grateful that you said yes to marrying him for the sake of his image?
People love a good love story. And you were the one who convinced Jack it would sell.
You did the math.
The math is never wrong.
It sold more than either of you could imagine.
It saved his firm from getting thwarted by a merger that nearly halved Jack's net worth. Not that anyone would've ever found out, given how good you are at your job. You singlehandedly clawed the numbers back up.
But you could only achieve it by playing dirty.
That's how this whole thing started.
With a dirty little secret…
It was an emergency meeting. There was no reason for you to be there but you were dragged into it.
You are, by far, the best quant in the firm. Maybe even the world, but you don't stroke your own ego that much.
Everything is a numbers game at the end of the day. You picking to work for Abbot Financial was not because he paid the most. He certainly does not have the best base yearly salary. But, he had the highest percentage ratio for bonuses, meaning you could make more money by making him more money.
And there was no way in hell you weren't going to make him money.
So, you picked his firm based solely on there being no cap there.
And you've made him millions.
Subsequently meaning you've made yourself millions.
Money you don't really care for.
You do this for the love of the craft itself. To see the numbers spike in ways that give you the kind of high that no drug could ever replicate.
It makes you good at your job.
Maybe a little too good.
Because when Jack asks everyone at the meeting what to do about the failing merger, you're the only one who doesn't spew out an idea that sounds like it was typed into an AI chatbot and regurgitated out to seem appealing.
None of these ideas would work. You knew this.
Jack could tell you were bored. He could tell you were thinking the same thing he was.
Who the hell are these people trying to fool?
He was in a room of idiots, of yes men, of people who wanted to keep their jobs but refused to risk it for the chance to climb the ladder of his interest.
You were none of those things. You don't even know why you're here.
Not until Jack singles you out and asks, “are you not going to share any thoughts?”
Your blank stare back at him slices through him in ways no one has dared to do in years. You look like you couldn't give less of a shit about answering him. Because you know what he knows.
Jack can't fire you.
You're his greatest asset.
Which is why you have the gall to say back, “none of the thoughts I have are shareable with a crowd.”
You won't speak the things on your mind with an audience.
Jack scoffs at that, an amused half chuckle leaking from his lips as he says back, “are you afraid of being judged?”
“I’m not the one who should be afraid.” Your blank stare converts back to a bored expression, accompanied by a yawn. You're tired of all this sitting around. “Are we done here?”
“We aren't.” He points to you and him, then the rest of the crowd. “You're all dismissed. Make me my fucking money back.”
They scatter immediately, leaving you and Jack alone in the conference room.
“Say your piece.” He gestures that you have the floor to speak.
But you shake your head. “It's lunchtime.”
“Excuse me?” He has no clue what to make of you.
You're mentioning food, now of all times? When his company's value could halve at any second if there's even a single bad trade?
“Can you drive?” You pull out your phone, making a reservation. “There's a restaurant I like. Always has an open table for me. I'll tell you my idea after lunch. But only after lunch. You're paying by the way, sir. ”
At first, Jack had thought this was quite a strange request. He never eats with employees, which is why all eyes are on the two of you when you're both spotted at the restaurant together for lunch.
Jack watches as you pull a bottle of some kind out of your bag. You apply it to your hands, so it must be some kind of cream. It's colorful but becomes clear once you've pressed it into your palms and warmed it up. He stares for longer than he should at your odd behavior. You seem engrossed in the action of rubbing your hands together.
“It's not polite to stare, sir.” You look up at him, again with that rather bored expression you always have on.
“What is that?” The question leaves his lips before he can stop himself from asking.
“It's a hand cream from a Korean boutique I visited a few months ago.” The same trip you went on with the firm for that failing merger. The one you knew Jack should've never convinced himself to do but you weren't going to stop him.
It's not on you to tell your boss how to run his company.
Your job is to make him money and that's all you’re focused on.
“Do you always apply it before eating?” Jack asks mainly because he finds it counterintuitive since you'll be handling utensils.
“If you think I'm putting this shit on for the sake of softening my hands, then there's no wonder your firm is failing.” You say your words with such a blunt harshness that Jack is taken back.
“Excuse me—” Jack is quickly cut off by the server joining the two of you.
You switch up your behavior so quickly that your boss gets whiplash when you politely order your food and thank the server with a smile.
He's never seen you smile before…
Why does he seem intrigued by the sight of it?
Jack orders his lunch and then looks back at you. There's no longer that smile on your face. You're sifting through your bag again before pulling out a small colorful container full of pills. You pour out one of the small tablets onto your palm then drop it into your water glass. With a few simple swirls of the glass, the water turns a lovely shade of lavender. You take a sip of it, looking content at the now flavored water.
Neither you nor Jack ordered any drinks. You definitely don't drink at all, since you believe it clouds your mind, but you certainly wouldn't during work hours. Jack feels like he can use one since you're acting so weird…
When the two of you are back in his car after lunch, Jack finally asks, “are you going to tell me now?”
To which you reply, “not yet.”
Your eyes are glued to your phone. He wants to make a comment about how people your age are so obsessed with their phones but he refrains.
Why? He doesn't really know.
He doesn't really understand you at all.
He had always known you were different from other people. That's what makes you so good at your job.
But he never realized how different you were until he sees you scrolling through data on your phone all the way from the restaurant to his office.
You tell him you have to do something on your computer before you can meet with him privately and you're gone before he can tell you no.
So, for the first time in the many years Jack has been a billionaire, he waits for someone. Usually he is the one that people wait on.
However, in this case, his curiosity has the better of him. He just needs to know what is keeping his firm stagnant.
And when you return to his office, you answer his question, “it's you, sir.”
“Excuse me?” He feels like a broken record saying that again but your words are constantly baffling him. He can't quite wrap his head around what you could mean.
Not until you detail it out for him, “you are the reason your firm is failing. It's because you're single. People don't want to commit to an investing firm where the head of it can't commit himself to one person.”
You exude a type of arrogance that Jack normally never entertains. He should just fire you on the spot for insubordination. But no one has ever had the courage to speak to him like this, not even back in his medical school days or his time in the military. He had always been wealthy so most people wanted to stay on his good side.
You could care less. You have plenty of money. You do this because it's entertaining for you and you're good at it.
Really good at it.
Because you show him the money you just made his firm and Jack's jaw nearly hit the floor.
“How did you—”
“The hand cream I used had certain ingredients that very few companies produce, including in the eco-friendly packaging. I bought in before lunch. I sold after lunch. Same thing with the flavor tablet.” You knew that if you were going to be spotted with a billionaire known for being a bachelor, you had to play your cards well.
The house never wins when it comes to you. That's why you're banned from several different casinos. It isn't your fault that you count cards. It's a reflex at this point, to see the numbers and where they could go.
All the possibilities align exactly as you intend them to.
Including your proposition to your boss. “If you want to rebuild your image into something truly profitable, then we should start dating.”
“You want to date me?” He almost laughs at the thought of dating someone just for optics.
But then you convince him by saying, “I want to make money. Don't you?”
Of course. It's all he wants, ever.
Because making money is simple. It isn't like sewing someone back up in an emergency room or out in the field. He likes to keep things simple now that he has lost his leg.
Can dating you truly solve all his problem? Could it really be that simple?
You show him an article on your phone. A tabloid has already published a whole piece on you and Jack. They've done most of the heavy lifting for you two, implying that your outing was a “soft launch” of your relationship with him.
Which is how you figured it would go.
Again, you're rarely ever wrong in your predictions.
Jack starts to see that now more than ever. The brilliance that is your mind.
Everything you predict comes true. The world eats up the relationship the two of you have. They like that you're distant and purposefully avoidant of the spotlight because it heavily contrasts with Jack, who is constantly being shoved in front of a camera.
Opposites attract, after all.
You and Jack go out on dates that you plan strategically to manipulate your portfolio. In the few public dates the two of you have been on, you have made Jack enough money that the merger flop was miniscule in the grand scheme of things.
You're thinking bigger.
That's why when you're interviewed for the first time about your relationship and they ask you what you love about Jack, you tell them in that nonchalant way of yours, on live television, “that he didn't make me sign a pre-nup and he let me pick my engagement ring.”
An agreement the two of you never made but you simply cornered him into.
Jack can't possibly marry you without a plan in place. Definitely not without a pre-nup to protect his money.
So, he snaps at you when you get to his penthouse apartment, where you've been living for the last few weeks, from that interview. “We never agreed to get engaged. And if we were to, you will be signing a pre-nup.”
“No, I won't.” You shrug off your jacket, hanging it at the coat rack by the door, completely ignoring the irritation building on your boss's face.
Jack never had a coat rack before. You brought yours here. You brought a lot of your things here.
You actually live here now, which is something Jack is not used to at all…
He has always been alone. A bachelor at heart. He had thought once of maybe settling down, having children, etc, but then life got in the way.
Jack made his first billion investing in the medical field and his second billion after he lost his leg overseas.
He's about to make his third billion by marrying you.
Somehow you've accumulated that much value, at least in social currency. People love how straightforward you are. No bullshit, despite it all being bullshit.
Jack won't win this fight. He'll slowly learn that he can never win when he comes to you.
You will always be several steps ahead.
You convince him against a pre-nup. You convince him to elope with you. You convince him to go on a honeymoon to a place specifically where a luxury chain you have a stake in owns every hotel on the island.
Your money is now Jack's money. Much to his surprise, it ends up being a lot of money. Still not as much as he has but enough that anyone would find you well within the 1%.
You don't need to make any more money. You could live the rest of your life comfortably.
But what's the fun in that?
Jack learns your habits over the year the two of you have been in a fake relationship.
You wake up early. You read the trends. You scope out options that you might want to look into. And you always, always make him money.
He definitely doesn't need any more money but your abilities have allowed him to create a more relaxed workplace with plenty of safety nets. He is able to convince several private health companies to invest their employee pensions with Abbot Financial, a trend that continues to grow as your decisions create a healthy cushion for any possible mishaps.
His firm is juggling megatons of money now, more money than most firms will ever see in countless lifetimes.
Jack has everything he has ever wanted.
That is, until he wakes up in the morning and sees you sitting on his couch, in his home.
And he realizes he doesn't have you.
Not truly.
He looks down at the wedding ring on his finger then turns his attention back to you. He can see the matching band on your finger, along with the engagement ring you picked out and billed to him, not that it cost anything all that substantial to a billionaire like him.
The two of you are married but…it's not real.
Your eyes shift to him, furrowing your brow at the sight of him staring at you. “You do that a lot, sir.”
“Do what?” He feigns ignorance.
“Stare at me.” You don't like that he stares so much.
Makes you feel things you shouldn't towards your boss.
Things that a wife would feel towards her husband, if he were actually her husband.
Like the desire to ask for a kiss in the morning.
You shake that thought away, going back to looking at your laptop, staring at the numbers for the day.
Numbers are safe.
The thoughts that just swarmed your mind were not safe…
Because he fuels those delusional thoughts when he responds like he always does, “am I not allowed to stare at my wife?”
“I'm not your wife.” You answer the same way you always do to this joke of his.
“You'll have to be my wife for the charity gala tonight.” It's Abbot Financial's annual charity gala.
The first one since you and Jack got officially married, which means you will indeed have to be by his side then.
“I know.” You've been dreading it.
There is too much to account for. While your distant act worked well when you and Jack were “dating”, you can't do the same act now that you're married to him.
You have to act like you're in love with him and that disturbs you because…you won't need to act.
You are in love with him.
You've never felt anything for anyone before but over these last few months, you've grown to care about Jack more than you've ever cared for a person.
And it has you making mistakes you shouldn't be making.
Like when someone asks you what you'd like to drink at the gala.
But you don't drink, so why did you tell them to get you Jack's favorite drink, the one he always has when he's at home, his favorite brand of double barrel whiskey…
You figured since you were asked, you might as well get him something.
Big fucking mistake.
You have no stake in that brand and neither does Jack. You should've ordered something you had a stake in because now, your trends will be off. People will invest in that whiskey brand knowing a billionaire enjoys drinking it, which means they'll be investing in the materials that make up the bottle and the wax label. None of which you had accounted for in your projections…
The weight of that glass of whiskey felt heavier than it was in your hand once you received it.
It feels even worse when you give Jack the glass and he exclaims rather happily, “my favorite! Thanks, baby girl.”
And he kisses you on the temple, causing your stomach to do flips…
You don't like that he chose that nickname for you. It's playful because of your age difference. The media eats it up whenever he calls you “his baby girl” when he talks about you. People love how “affectionate” he is when it comes to talking about you.
You hate it. You hate knowing that it's all a lie and that all the pretty words he says about you are just to keep this ploy going.
So why did you care enough to get him his favorite drink?
That's when you catch the truth.
The calculated truth.
That your subconscious mind knew he'd give you a kiss for it because that's what a husband would do if his wife thought of him dearly enough to bring him his favorite drink.
You feel sick realizing this…
“Is my baby girl feeling alright?” Jack sets his glass down on a nearby table so he can cup your face in his warm palms, which only has your heart beating faster than it already is.
He can feel your rapid pulse. He wonders what's wrong—
“I feel a little nauseous.” You say in a fake attempt to whisper. You speak loud enough for the crowd around the two of you to hear you say, “it must be because…you know…”
Jack doesn't know what you could be implying. Not until he reads the news the next day after the gala and people are speculating that you're pregnant.
But he knew your nausea was not pregnancy related. He's never touched you.
No one has ever touched you…not that Jack knows that.
Jack does know, however, that you were actually feeling unwell.
So, he asks you when he sees you in the living room on your laptop, like you always are in the mornings, “should I get you some medicine?”
“I’m fine.” You aren't fine.
Your trends are off.
They're never off.
But they're off today…
They're off for a whole week before you can level them back out properly.
Jack wouldn't be able to notice the things you do, so he has no clue why you've been glued to your laptop for days on end. He just worries that you're working yourself sick.
“You need to rest.” He tells you when, for the eighth day in a row, you've been barely sleeping.
“I'm fine.” Again, you lie.
“You are not fine. There's obviously something wrong. Just talk to me.” Jack goes to sit next to you on the couch and he flinches when he sees you stare at him with a startled expression.
He has never ever sat down next to you at home. He has never been this close to you in private before.
It causes you to snap your laptop shut and stand up quickly. Too quickly.
You clutch your head, the blood rushing out from it, making you dizzy enough to stumble.
And your heart stops in your chest when you feel Jack's hands on your arms, steadying you.
He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, reminding you that he just woke up and he's wearing what he usually does to bed. A high end brand of athletic shorts and a shirt that clings a little too nicely to his upper body, showing off that he trains in his free time with a specialized workout instructor for people with prosthetics.
Your eyes shift down for a second because you feel something brush against your thigh.
Is that his…oh fuck!
You scramble out of his hold and without saying a word, you run off into your room.
You don't come out for an entire day.
Jack knocks several times to make sure you aren't dead in there. He, again, has no clue why you're acting so strange. He hadn't realized he was sporting a hard on from waking up and it had casually poked at you through the fabric of his shorts.
You have to tell yourself that it's just something that happens with men in the morning. It had nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.
You shouldn't want it to have anything to do with you! Why would you want your boss to get hard for you!
This is…beyond horrific.
You can't look him in the eye, which is fine because usually you can't anyways.
But you forgot about the children's dinner.
It's an event for children with disabilities that Abbot Financial hosts. It's a community cooking event and you're supposed to cook alongside your husband Jack.
The entire time, you act the role of the shy wife beautifully because whenever Jack touches you casually or gives you a kiss, you react with such shock that everyone around finds you adorable. Including Jack.
He's never seen you act so cute before. Every time he kisses you, you look at him with the most surprised expression that he can't help messing with you for the rest of the event. Especially when the two of you bake some cookies and he tries one and they're so delicious that he picks you up and twirls you around in front of everyone, telling them all how talented his wife is.
“My baby girl is brilliant in more ways than one.” He says to the crowd before pressing a kiss against your lips. You can taste the flavor of the cookie on his lips.
And to his shock, you lean in and kiss him.
Just so you can memorize the feel of his lips against yours.
You shouldn't have done that. You really shouldn't have done that. You didn't think it through.
You always think things through.
You always play out all the possibilities.
But in that moment, you didn't.
And now everything is uncertain…
Like how you don't have a plan for when Jack is driving the two of you home from the event and he asks, “what was the reason behind that kiss?”
“Hmmm?” You pretend not to understand what he's asking.
“You always have a reason behind everything you do. I'm just curious what the reason was there.” Jack can't wrap his mind around why you decided to kiss him back. You've never shown him affection before, which is what you're known for.
So, why did you kiss him?
You shrug, not answering verbally, leaning your head against the tinted window.
His eyes shift over to you, to your lips, to the memory of you kissing him for the first time.
And he hopes you'll do it again.
A hope he shouldn't have because he has no clue that you have feelings for him.
He isn't sure you could have feelings for anyone and if you did, it would have to be well within your calculations.
You would never just fall for anyone.
Whoever you fell in love with, it would have to be someone who fits into your numbers.
Someone who definitely isn't him…
But, little does he know, you only have eyes for the man who is playing the role of your husband in the public eye. The man you consider your boss even though you've been his wife now longer than you've ever been his employee.
Three years have gone by and…your feelings for your fake husband have only grown by the day.
You find yourself looking forward to the events where you have to be seen with Jack because during those events, you can enjoy being loved by him. It's not real and it makes your heart ache when it's over and you're reminded that it's all an act, but you try to enjoy it in the moment.
Try as you might, it doesn't aid in the lump that forms in your throat every time Jack asks you why you do certain things, like hold his hand the whole night or give him a kiss. You simply shrug and so far, that's enough. He doesn't push for an answer past that.
He believes you must have your reasons. In his mind, he can't fathom that reason being that you just want to hold his hand or kiss him. It has to be a piece in a puzzle that only you can see somehow.
But then, one night, you slip up.
And you hold onto his hand even in the elevator up to the shared hotel room, where there are no eyes to see the two of you.
No reason for you to still be holding his hand.
Jack stares down at the way your fingers are interlocked with his. At the way your thumb is casually brushing against his skin. At how relaxed you seem. At how content you are to be holding his hand.
Until you realize what you're doing and you quickly slip your hand out of his, hoping he hadn't noticed.
It's the first time Jack sees you clearly.
He sees that you're just a shy girl who seems to like him, though you'd never say anything about it.
Not even when the two of you are legally married and there's no reason for Jack not to grab you and kiss you right now.
You are his wife, after all.
No one would bat an eyelash if he pinned you to the wall of this elevator and grinded his body up against yours until a moan slipped from your lips.
What's stopping him now that he knows you feel something for him? How long have you been hiding this from him?
Is that why you're never in bed when he wakes up on the rare occasions you and him have to share a bed, like tonight?
Are you nervous about what would happen if he slid a little closer to you in your sleep and touched you?
Would you…let him?
Thoughts race through his mind that are sinful and perverted. His lovely wife is interested in him. Maybe even the whole time the two of you have been married…
Jack starts feeding into the delusion that perhaps this has all been a ploy to make him fall in love with you. A clever girl like you would think that far ahead, after all.
While that isn't true at all, it doesn't matter.
It's what Jack believes now.
And you hardly prove him wrong when the two of you share a bed that night and you don't push him away when he spoons you.
Why don't you shrug him off? Why don't you move?
You can't figure out why you're letting him hold you…
Maybe it's because you actually enjoy how his body feels pressed up against your back. How good he smells when he's this close to you and his scent wafts in your direction.
You and Jack are currently attending a five day long retreat, run by an eccentric billionaire who thought it was a good idea to rent out an entire ski resort just for a handful of people.
Jack usually declines by booking something to overlap with the retreat dates but this time, he hadn't. Because he told you about it and you said that it would be a good idea to go. To show people he's in a happy relationship, as many billionaires are not.
He would be in an even happier relationship if he could sink his hard cock into you and hear you beg for him to cum inside.
Your heart starts pounding in your chest when you feel how hard he has gotten in his sleep. His cock is resting between your thighs…and you have to stuff your face in your pillow to stop yourself from making a sound when he rolls his hips against your ass.
You don't know what to do. He's surely asleep. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing this.
You should scoot over. You shouldn't keep letting him dry hump you like this in his sleep.
But he is asleep…right?
So, can't you pretend that he has no clue this is happening so you can cum from the feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against your clit over and over again?
Jack swears he hears you moan. It's so faint but it had to have slipped from your lips.
And now he has to hear it again.
He keeps fucking your thighs, humping you like an animal in heat, and you bury your face further into your pillow, digging your nails into the sheets to hold yourself steady so that his cock can rub up against you where you need him to make you cum.
The orgasm that shoots through you feels better than when you've touched yourself. You've never been this wet before. There's an ache between your legs. You wish he'd just slip his cock inside of you and start fucking you.
Wait, what? No, you shouldn't be thinking that. He's asleep. He's probably having a weird dream.
You need to just go to sleep and—
Another moan slips from your lips when you feel him draw a line down the length of your slit with the tip of his finger before dipping inside of you. He curls his finger just right as his palm applies pressure on your clit and suddenly, stars flood your vision. You can barely keep in your voice anymore.
And nothing can stop him when his name leaves your lips all breathy and nervous, “Jack?”
No “sir”. Just Jack.
You never call him Jack.
Now, he needs to hear you moan his name again. And again.
In that soft, shy, scared voice of yours, so lost in the pleasure he can give you.
You don't know how long he bullies your pussy with his fingers. You've cum so much that you feel hollow when his fingers finally free you from their grasp and your pussy is left wanting more.
Then, before you ask him anything, Jack feigns a little snore before flipping over, his back now to your own. He mainly did that so he can lick the taste of you off his fingers without you catching him. But it also helps him hide the fact that he had done that all consciously and you let him.
You don't mention a word about it in the morning.
Like usual, you aren't there in bed when he wakes up. But his hand slides over to where he had fingered you last night and there's a dampness there that tells him that it really did happen and he didn't just dream it.
He can still taste you on his tongue.
Jack wants to bury his face between your legs and hear you moan his name from his mouth ravaging your pussy.
But, first, he needs you to admit that you want him.
Something that proves almost impossible.
Over the rest of the retreat, you're much more cautious around Jack, especially in private. You do the bare minimum of affection. You don't push the bounds like you had before with holding his hand or kissing him. You try your best to maintain a proper sense of decorum.
Until the two of you lay down in bed together.
Then, everything gets thrown out the windows.
Because you don't stop Jack from touching you in his sleep.
You let him grope you under your sleep shirt and pinch your nipples while his cock grinds up against your ass. You let him finger you into multiple orgasms that have you reeling by the end of them, your body tense and aching for him to go further. He never goes further.
You won't get his cock until you beg for it. That's what he has decided. Jack will play your game of pretend for now but he knows one day, you have to cave.
Either you will, or he will.
And for once when it comes to you, Jack likes his odds.
Because now, in the corner of your eye when you look at him, there's a heat that wasn't there before.
Even if it isn't love, Jack will accept your lust. He can turn that into love. He can make you truly his.
He wants you to be his wife, his actual wife.
So, he starts asking you to go on more “business” trips with him. Excuses to force you into the same bed as him disguised as necessary ventures for capital.
Excuses you allow because your body has grown a bit too attached to the pleasure he spoils you with in his sleep.
You miss his touch when you sleep alone in your bed at his penthouse. You wish he'd slide into bed with you and make you cum and just fuck you already.
You know that this can't be some strange type of sleepwalking. Jack is actively touching you and he knows you're letting him.
But neither of you will admit to the other the truth.
That you want each other, in a way that is deeper than just momentary pleasure.
Despite all your genius, you can't reason the “correct” approach to confessing this to him.
It feels like it's too late, or too impossible to do now.
Your feelings for him are growing to be too overwhelming. You find it hard to focus when you're slick between your legs at the thought of him.
You've never been like this before so you never had a reason to fathom the possibilities. Your logical brain assumed that something like this could never happen because why would you ever let someone touch you the way Jack has been touching you?
Why are you letting him…
Why does it have to feel so good?
This is fucked up.
You're not his wife. You're not even in a relationship with him. You're practically a stranger he shares a bed with on occasion.
You're a toy he likes to play with. That's the conclusion you've come to because you can't reason that he loves you too. Such a thought is more than unlikely, even though it's the truth.
You've never been so wrong before.
But your judgment is clouded heavily by the idea that he only agreed to be with you for money.
The moment you're no longer useful to him, you'll get thrown out. It's inevitable.
That's why you start looking for back up plans. You should've done this earlier and built your own safety net.
But you couldn't have known you'd fall in love with your boss of all people…
You would've never suggested this if you thought for a second you'd feel something for him.
Feelings make everything more complicated than they should be.
Like the jealous rage Jack gets when he checks what you've been searching for on his internet. He had been keeping tabs on your internet history. He owns the provider so it wasn't difficult for him to get the information he needed.
You're looking for ways out.
He finds it adorable that you think you can get away from him of all people.
Don't you know what he did for the military?
Jack was a combat medic but he was special ops first, specializing in surveillance.
There's not a corner of this Earth you could go where he couldn't find you.
You can never leave him. Hadn't you calculated that in your head?
Why would he ever let you go?
You're his.
Whether you want to be or not…
He just needs to make sure you're aware of it.
So, Jack buys a new apartment. He buys an entire building, actually, where the penthouse suite is rather large but only has one bedroom. On purpose. He built it that way.
And he makes a grand showing of how he curated the building for you, his lovely wife.
You had no clue about any of this, which is why you had no idea that he built you a cage.
A cage you walked right into with a smile for the world to see…
“Why is there only one bedroom?” That's the first question you ask when you walk into the new penthouse for the first time.
And for once, Jack is the calculated one. “Because the design plans are available to the public and we don't have a need for a guest room so it looks better for our relationship to only have one bedroom.”
The logic is sound. You can't argue with that.
Jack figured you wouldn't. He assumed that maybe you'd even look forward to having to sleep next to him every night.
You do look forward to it, for all the wrong reasons…
You can't keep letting him touch you. You try to just fall asleep, to ignore how easily Jack can make you cum but to no avail. He knows your body better than you do at this point and that's only with his hands.
Imagine what he could do to you with his mouth or his cock. If only you'd just tell him how you truly feel about him.
But the fear of losing him completely prevents you from ever mentioning it.
It prevents you from giving him more than a polite nod in the morning even though the night before he made you cum so hard on his fingers that you squirted all over the new bed while crying out his name.
You're beginning to test the limits of his patience. He can't keep cumming in his hand and wasting it when he could be buried deep inside of his pretty wife.
You're his baby girl, who has no need for protection because you never thought you'd ever have sex so why would you be on birth control?
He could put a baby inside of you.
That would ensure you're his forever.
Maybe he should just take you. Rip the choice from your hands. It's not like you'd stop him. He knows you want it too.
If you won't admit it to him, then he'll just have to make you…
Jack hasn't touched you since he made that decision. You're confused by it.
You're uncomfortable with the fact that you miss those late night aggressive touches from him. You haven't cum in what feels like weeks. Your own fingers can't get you to the same pleasure Jack can so you don't even try.
You've been left desperately wanting to ask him why he stopped.
Is he…tired of you? Has he lost interest in you?
You knew the time would come eventually so you prepare yourself to leave him first. You won't be here for the heartbreak.
You'll end this on your own terms.
Or, well, you try to.
Only for Jack to laugh in your face. “You can't be serious.”
“Our marriage has run its course.” You tell him with that bluntness of yours, trying to maintain that cold, calm expression you usually have on. “We'll divorce amicably. I already have other firms lined up to hire me so there won't be any mess—”
Your back is against the wall in an instant and you can't hardly register the feel of Jack's lips on your own until he forces his tongue into your mouth. You squirm, shoving him off of you but failing miserably when he grabs your wrists and pins them to the wall, holding you steady there with his body pressed firmly against your own.
Jack has never kissed you like this before, where he's purposefully stealing every breath you take, making you feel lightheaded. It's so aggressive that your knees start to buckle from how much you want him to keep going.
But you can't let him do this.
What is he doing?
“Sir, I—!” You let out a yelp when Jack bites your neck all of a sudden. “What are you doing!”
“Marking my wife.” His words have heat rushing to your core.
“Your…” You stare at him in disbelief. “I’m not your wife.”
Again, he lets out a laugh that is so sinister, goosebumps form on your skin. Though, that might be from the words that decide to leave his lips with such menace, “I wonder how many times I'll have to rape you until you finally admit that you want to be my wife.”
“W-What?” You must've gone crazy.
Did Jack really just say that—
He grabs you and drags you to the bedroom, locking the door. Then, he tosses you onto the bed before kneeling down and ripping your bottoms off completely.
You hold in a shriek of surprise when Jack buries his face between your legs and starts eating you out like he has been dreaming of doing since the moment he first got a taste of you. And you cum way too quickly…
Drawing yet another sadistic laugh from his lips. “You really like it when I make you cum.”
Heat shoots through your whole body when you realize he's trying to get you to acknowledge all the times he has touched you up until now.
“Oh, don't be shy, baby girl.” He says as he drags his tongue along your slit, causing your legs to tremble in his strong hold. “You're allowed to like the pleasure your husband can give you.”
“You're not my—” You clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from letting out a scream when Jack seals his lips around your clit and starts sucking the life out of you until you squirt all over his face from the intensity of his actions.
Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest at the sight of him licking his lips and smiling up at you. “I am your husband. We're legally married. It's finally time to consummate our marriage.”
Jack stands up then, slowly unbuckling his belt. You're too stunned to move. Your eyes are glued to the bulge in his pants, to him pulling his cock out for you to finally see.
You hadn't realized how big he was.
There's no way that's going to fit inside of you.
You're scrambling to get away from him the moment you realize he's actually going to try to put that monster inside of you. But he snatches you by your hips and drags you back towards him, lining his cock up with your entrance from behind.
That's when you scream, “I'm a virgin!”
In your mind, that was supposed to get him to stop. But again, your predictions have not been accurate.
Because Jack simply pushes forward, sinking the tip of his cock inside of you before saying, “you won't be for much longer, baby girl.”
“Please, sir, stop this!” You try to claw yourself away from him but he's too strong, his hands digging into your hips, holding you steady as he thrusts more of his cock inside of you.
And again, you had no clue how easily your body would swallow him up…
You can't believe it when Jack hilts inside of you, his hips meeting your ass, his cock fully seated inside of you.
Jack can't believe it either. How did he last so long without knowing how warm and wet your pussy would feel wrapped so tightly around his cock?
He needs more. He has to hear you begging for his cum.
So, he slips out of you. Then back into you. Then out again. He repeats this devilish movement over and over until you're trembling beneath him, your body desperate for an orgasm that refuses to build from the lack of stimulation.
“Please, sir.” You can't take it anymore…
“Say your husband's name properly.” He won't let you call him “sir” anymore.
“Please, Jack.” The moment his name leaves your lips, he pushes his cock back inside of you and you let out a whimper and plead, “please don't pull out again.”
“Why not?” Such a surge of pleasure rips through him when he slides out of you and you bury your face in the sheets, muffling your cries of disappointment.
“I want to cum.” Your words are suppressed by fabric but Jack still hears you clearly.
“You don't need my cock to cum.” He dips two fingers inside of you and you tense up immediately. “You've cum plenty on my fingers. Don't you remember?”
Of course you remember. Your body remembers all too well because it only takes a few thrusts and him curling his fingers just right to have you making a mess on his sheets like always.
Jack pops his fingers out of you before lining his cock back up, the tip of it teasing your slit back and forth, making you so needy for him to be inside of you that you've lost all rationality.
He's fucking you stupid, which is uunbelievable, given that you're a genius. You can't be so swayed by the pleasure he can give you.
But you don't know how to do the math for this.
What will get Jack to fuck you other than you completely giving into his every whim?
He's in control here. You're smart enough to know this for a fact.
That's why your hand slips between your legs and you spread your pussy wide for him and tell your husband, “please fuck your wife, Jack.”
And you can't see the smile on his face but you can hear it in his response, “so you're finally my wife now?”
You nod. “I've been your wife. I've been all yours.”
“Since when?” He demands answers and you'll give them to him because he will reward you if you do.
“Since that first time I kissed you.” All those years ago…
Jack flips you over so he can look at you. So you can look at him as he strips completely, letting you see his bare body for the first time.
“Take it off.” His voice is so commanding that you listen without hesitation, pulling your top off until you're naked too. “My wife is so beautiful.”
Jack climbs on top of you, grabbing a hold of your face, kissing you the way he has needed to for years. Happiness floods his system when you moan his name on his lips from his hard cock grinding against your pussy.
“Please.” Your hand slides down, positioning his cock back at your entrance. “Please fuck me, Jack.”
That draws a laugh deep from his belly that you feel so prominently on your lips. “I can see the gears churning in your head, baby girl. Is that what you thought would get me to give you my cock? Try again.”
You bite your lip. He's right. You did think that would be enough.
And it could've been if Jack wasn't a more patient man. If he was more desperate for you. But he has you now.
He needs you fully committed to him.
He has waited a very long time to hear you say the words that finally leave your lips, “please put a baby in your baby girl, Jack.”
Your eyes roll back when his cock thrusts back inside of you, filling you up so deep that you can feel the tip of it grinding against your womb. Jack presses his hand down on your lower belly, massaging where his cock is resting inside of you, making the feeling of him more vivid than ever.
“Eyes on me, baby girl.” Jack won't let you get too dazed. He wants you present for when he pumps a baby into you.
“I'm here.” You reach up, cupping his face, brushing your fingers along the stubble that has grown on his jaw. “Can I kiss my husband?”
“Of course.” He never thought he'd be so happy hearing you say that but when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek, he realizes just how much he loves you.
Only you could give him such a light peck and it would be enough for him to want to give you the entire world.
You are his whole world. Everything he has ever wanted and dreamed of.
He'll have to spoil you rotten if he wants to keep you looking at him with so much affection like this.
So, Jack spoils you with the one thing you weren't certain about, by telling you, “I love you.”
And he fucks the shock right off your face, your expression going from startled to pleasurable in a second.
“Wait, Jack—” You need a second to think.
He can't just drop that on you and then start fucking you!
But he does. Because he likes how panicked you look, all flustered and adorable, unable to comprehend his words combined with the pressure coiling in your core.
You feel like you could cum at any second.
He won't let you cum, though. Not until you say it back.
“Come on, baby girl. Tell me what I already know.” He slows his strokes when he can feel you tightening up, your body wanting to cum but he stops moving right when you're close.
You cover your face with your hands, feeling so shy, completely unprepared to confess your love for Jack.
So, he slips out of you and you reflexively yell, “no!”
And then you scream into your hands, embarrassment filling your body when he lets out such a sadistic chuckle in response.
“If you want to cum on my cock, tell me you love me.” He pushes your thighs together, fucking them like he would when he was pretending to be asleep, your pussy aching to be filled.
It takes every ounce of courage in you to say, “I love you, Jack.”
Only for him to go, “say it to my face, baby girl.”
You move your hands away, anxiety consuming you when you see the smirk on his face. He is way too happy about this development.
You're in danger. There's nothing safe about what's about to transpire.
If you were smart, you'd find a way out of this. You know better than to give yourself up to a billionaire crazy enough to marry you for money and then make you into his actual wife.
The math is there. It proves you're going to be stuck with him for life. There will be no escape.
You're going to be his.
But you knew that, didn't you?
From the very first moment you laid eyes on Jack, you knew that he was capable of this and you still chose to go through with it.
You can pretend all you like that you didn't see this coming but the truth is, you had known this outcome could happen from the very beginning.
And you still chose him.
Because you really are as crazy as he is.
“I really love you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to you, grinding your hips up to meet his. “So please make me yours, Jack.”
That's what you've wanted this whole time.
Your true goal in all of this.
It was never about the money.
It was about getting this man so whipped for you that he’ll eagerly give you anything you'll ever want, including the kind of sex you never thought would be possible for you to have.
You had to find someone who matched you in every way and make sure he had no idea that you've lured him into quite a snare.
Jack may be fucking you stupid, but you're fucking him right back.
You give him what he wants, to hear you beg for him to make you cum. And the orgasms he draws out of you are so incredible that you know you've made the right choice.
You whisper words of adoration and affection that have him so elated that he's kissing you all over and eagerly fucking you now. You giggle at how cute he can be for an older man who is very much in love with his baby girl.
“I'm not going to last much longer.” Jack may have great stamina but seeing you so consumed with pleasure has him wanting to fill you up right now.
“We have all the time in the world.” You pull him in closer, giving him a kiss before telling him, “we don't need to waste time making money anymore. We should spend our time making babies from now on.”
And just like you predicted, Jack groans and starts fucking you faster, full of need and desire to do exactly as you said.
“I can't wait for you to get pregnant, baby girl.” He slips out of you and shifts downwards, laying his head on your belly, peppering your skin with kisses.
He seals his lips over yours when he cums inside of you, capturing your moans from the feeling of how warm it is coating your insides.
You could get used to this...
You rest your hand in his curls, loving the look of the grays scattered in between his reddish brown locks. You love the look in his hazel eyes when he looks up at you.
Jack loves you so dearly.
Just as you predicted he would.
a/n: I have a thing for a reader who secretly has a few screws loose (maybe bc I have a few screws loose LMAO!) and also just love writing jack batshit crazy ~
this one was a super fun one to write. it's been a while since I wrote something a little longer! I've been experimenting a lot lately writing wise so this one had a bit more…idk how to describe it, like more internal monologue? I always have such a blast trying new things out in my writing hehe!
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ┄┄┄ the nanny!reader x single dad!robby ; life turns upside down in the robinavitch household when robby hires you, a nanny with zero experience, a heart of gold, and too short skirts.
quick notes: reader is referred to as miss honey on accounts of— well, you'll see ♡ dennis and trinity are the same age (13) and victoria is 6, all three are adopted!
"dr. robby? you called for me?"
robby lifts his head from where he's pouring over paperwork and tuition invoices for the kids when you stick your head into his office. as always, his gaze drags down your tight little outfit, a matching set of a blazer and skirt that looks like something from a wet dream. despite the fact that it doesn't quite feel appropriate for your occupation, you still manage to make it work even after stopping trinity from throwing wads of gum into her brother's hair.
"miss honey, come in," robby sighs as he removes his glasses to rub at his eyes.
"you know, the kids call me miss honey. you can just call me 'honey'," you quip without missing a beat, hips swaying as you circle the desk to hop onto his desk.
robby releases a long suffering sigh, still rubbing at his eyes although he snags a peek of exposed thigh when your skirt rides up a centimeter or two. "miss honey, please."
the nickname itself had nothing to do with your real name but a happy accident when you've shown up on his door a year and a half ago with the full intention to just sell girl scout cookies with your niece. your niece and victoria had hit it off instantly, tugging you and her inside just around the same time robby had been waiting on a nanny from the agency to arrive.
one thing had led to another and robby had been taken instantly with how quick you were able to work with his kids. victoria, a genius in her own right, had been able to make a friend her age with little interference. trinity had found her match with you and your quick wit. dennis found his voice when you give him the support he's been seeking.
sure, you're unconventional and perhaps prettier than the nannies he's been interviewing but your lips had tasted like honey when the kids had locked you into a closet thinking you could be their new mommy.
when victoria had eagerly called you 'miss honey', the nickname stuck.
"alright, alright. what is it now?" you sigh as you absentmindedly push back his hair. by now, robby knows better than to swat your hands away.
"there's a hospital and foundations gala happening this weekend," he replaces his glasses back on, leaning back in his leather chair. "i know saturdays are usually your day off but i was hoping—"
"aw, dad, why can't you bring miss honey with you? you can make uncle jack watch us instead!" trinity crows, sauntering into the office with a little grin that tells you and robby that she means trouble.
"because uncle jack is attending the same gala," robby answers.
trinity smiles like she's gotten exactly what she wanted. "then maybe you could leave us—"
"you three alone? absolutely not. miss honey will be staying here and watching you."
you raise a brow, legs crossed temptingly. "on my day off?"
"there'll be a shopping spree in store for you the following day, miss honey."
"throw in a movie date with you and i'm sold."
"... deal."
———
the gala goes by swimmingly. as in, he and jack schmoozed up to high-profile investors and stuffy rich folks for exorbitantly priced donations with still a shred of their dignity left. it's more than they can say the last time they attended one of these things.
"want a drink before you go?" robby asks as the town car rolls to a stop in front of his home. jack hums, unbuttons his tux jacket and loosens his tie with a nod.
"sure, why not."
both men enter to a dim living room with just the light of the TV illuminating three sleeping children while the credits roll for finding nemo.
(victoria loves the movie, especially after jack confirmed that it's the most scientifically accurate disney movie made. trinity and dennis won't admit that they love it just as much.)
the four of you are curled up together on the long sectional, you in the middle with victoria on your lap, trinity and dennis asleep on either side of you. you're halfway to dreamland when you look up to see both men staring. jack, looking like a tired but doting uncle who comes in to gently pick up dennis, and robby (who has an odd sense of deep longing in his eyes that you refuse to acknowledge) who carefully lifts trinity into his arms as well.
you smile and gently maneuver victoria to easily carry her up the stairs first with robby and jack following. both men disperse to tuck the kids in while you enter the last room down the hall to tuck victoria in yourself.
"love you, mom..." victoria mumbles as you bring the covers up to her chin. your heart gives a resounding thud as you stifle back your tears.
"good night, sweetheart," you whisper and press a kiss onto her forehead.
"don't let... don' let trini take my snacks," she mumbles one last time as she curls into her side, hugging her stuffed animal to her chest before sleep finally pulls her in. you bite back a soft chuckle.
behind you, robby smiles at the sweet moment before his eyes catch onto your backside again, your silk bathrobe doing very little to disguise your perky ass. a self-satisfactory smile before he sees movement in her peripheral; jack has joined him and he's also staring at your rear.
"that's my nanny," he mutters with a sharp jab to his friend's side.
jack chortles under his breath.
"seems like she's becoming more to you than that."
thank you for reading ! this is just a little brainworm from after binging the first two seasons of the nanny but my inbox is open if you have any ideas or blurbs you'd like to see between nanny!reader and robby!
the nanny taglist : @ceriseangels (throwing you in here my love bc this is for you!) @thethyri
u/dr-abbot.j: AITAH for provoking my girlfriend because i think it's hot when she acts crazy?
+18 mdni, age difference, fem reader, bratting/brat taming, jealousy (from both jack and reader!), lowkey ragebaiter jack, size difference, 'i'll pay for it' jack abbot, oral sex (f! and m!receiving) semi public, cum swallowing, finger sucking, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessive behaviour, one use of the word daddy said unseriously, unprotected piv, clit stim, begging, creampie, written in one day and bareeely edited!
┊MASTERLIST┊AO3┊
everyone always tells jack abbot that what he needs is a real nice girl to settle down with. someone who will bake him sweet treats and warm dinners, who will make cozy nights in alluring enough to get him to stay home every once in a while.
but the thing is, jack likes the chaos of his life. he likes working twelve hour shifts and then clocking in to dodge bullets immediately after. his therapist says it's a coping mechanism—can't relive old ghosts if you're fast enough to outrun them.
and that might be true for some things, but not with this. not with you.
sure, jack can't deny that he loves the little rush he gets when you somehow manage to look down your nose at him even though he towers over you. he loves that crazy look you get in your eye. he loves when you raise your voice and point a perfectly manicured finger in his face (a manicure that he paid for, mind you).
but more than that, he loves what follows. he loves the groveling apologies and the soft makeup kisses. he loves taming that craziness of yours and soothing you back into that sweet little thing you truly are.
he loves it so much, in fact, that he occasionally finds himself pushing your buttons just for fun.
sometimes he turns his location off in the middle of a shift and make bets with shen about how long it'll take for you to show up to ptmc.
jack comes out of a trauma half an hour later to find you talking with lena at the charge desk, and he thinks you look real cute wearing a pair of his boxers, a hoodie, and your house slippers.
he smiles big and says, "hey, baby. what're you doin' here so late?"
lena snorts and mutters under her breath, "give him hell, kid."
you give him that scowl jack knows all too well, saying, "don't hey baby me. why the fuck did you turn your location off, jack?"
he wraps his arms around your waist and sneakily slides his hands just a liiitle lower than what should be acceptable in a place like this. "just wanted to see you, sweetheart. that so bad?"
"me, or your other girlfriend?"
it makes jack laugh. the idea alone is insane—there would never be anyone else for him but you. his pretty little brat. "c'mon. let's go talk about this somewhere quiet, hm?"
you let him lead you to an empty room, and jack locks the door behind him because he knows good and well what comes next.
he admits he'd stopped sharing his location because he knew you'd show up, and he'd just missed you sooo much. jack sets you on the hospital bed and stands between your legs, his hands roaming down your shoulders, over the curves of your hips, thumbs massaging little circles on the inside of your thighs.
"just been such a long day, baby," he tells you, pulling over the stool to sit between your spread legs. jack presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, mouth moving upwards until he's pressing kisses against your pussy through the cotton fabric of his boxers that you've stolen. "m'sorry i upset you. just missed you so much, you know? can i make it up to you, hm? you gonna let me do that?"
and you do, of course. let him pull your bottoms off so he can lick and suck at your clit until you're writhing, moaning so loud he has to stuff his fingers in your mouth to quiet you.
there's something addicting about it, about having you like this. you're always so strong and sure of yourself, yet you turn to putty in his big hands. so pliant and perfect for him.
jack makes you cum with just the warm slide of his tongue against your clit, circling the pulsing nerves until you're begging him for reprieve, so overstimulated there's not a trace of that attitude left behind.
when he does finally come up for air, his chin is slick with your arousal and he wears a knowing little smirk. "that's better, isn't it? hm?"
you roll your eyes, but the action is full of playfulness instead of irritation and jack knows he'll get through the rest of his shift a whole lot easier now that he's had a little pick me up.
by the time you leave, jack's sharing his location once more and he's twenty dollars richer (much to shen's dismay).
jack's favorite button of yours to push is the jealous one, though. and he knows it might be a little mean, but god. he just can't help it. you get so territorial and it's not like it's his fault that it makes his dick hard.
the two of you will be out shopping one afternoon. jack has the things you've already picked out draped over his arm, and you're carrying a few items you're not sure about when you find a employee to ask for a fitting room.
the woman is nice enough—she wears a tight-lipped smile and leads you to the back of the store and opens one of the rooms for you with the key around her neck.
but then she turns to jack and her smile brightens. "one for you too, sir?" the words are sweet and soft and overly bubbly, and jack fights the grin that starts to form on his face when you turn rigid at his side.
your fingers find his bicep, curling around the thick muscle. "uhm, no. he doesn't. thanks," you answer for him—tone stiff and final. not rude exactly, but something pretty close.
you then pull him into the fitting room and lock the door, already shaking your head as he sits on the little bench across from the mirror. "she was just being nice, baby," he says, but it's a lie, and you both know it.
"yeah, sure. too fucking nice if you ask me." you scoff. "i bet you she was hoping you'd say yes so she could go in with you and suck your dick or something. i mean, seriously. what the fuck is her problem? she didn't see me right next to you? you guys offer eye exams at the ED? i bet she'd love to come see you sometime, jack—"
"okay, hey. come here." you do as he says, coming to stand in front of him with your arms folded tightly over your chest. jack takes your hands in his and untangles them. he's grinning up at you—he can't help it. jack thinks you just look so sexy all riled up. "don't care what she wants, cause i only want you. hm? yeah? you listening?"
you still sport a crease between your brows, but nod in acknowledgment.
jack reaches up with one hand and takes your jaw gently between his fingers. "i only want my dick in this mouth for the rest of my life," he says.
you giggle and try to hide your amusement by shyly turning your head into your shoulder. but there's nothing shy about the way you kneel before him and reach for his belt buckle. there's nothing shy about the way you pull his cock out, already hard watching you indulge those strong feelings of yours.
jack's hands are tender as they stroke your hair away from your face while you swallow him down. your tongue swirls around the tip, your saliva collecting and dripping down to the base of his cock. his muscles go slack at the sensation when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking him hard.
"you look so pretty like this," he murmurs. "taking it so well, baby. feels so fucking good."
he lets you take what you need, lets you prove yourself the way he knows you need to.
"so much better than anyone else could ever be," jack encourages, cock throbbing between your plush lips. "yeah, there you go. that's it—shit—"
he finishes at the back of your throat, groaning as his cum fills your mouth. he slides out slowly, but keeps a firm hand on the back of your neck.
"show me," he instructs, and you obey immediately, sticking out your tongue and looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes. jack feels himself twitch at the sight of what he's made of you. filthy little thing. "mmhm. good. swallow now."
you do, swallowing his release like the perfect girl you are. a small drip spills down the corner of your mouth, and jack swipes it away with his thumb and makes you lick the digit clean.
he tucks himself back in his jeans while you stand. you reach for his hand next, pulling him to his feet to lead him out of the dressing room.
jack tries to grab the clothes you'd picked out earlier, but you tell him to leave them. "over my dead fucking body am i letting her check us out while she checks you out," you grumble. "we're leaving."
he doesn't argue, but he does ask parker to go back a week later with his credit card to pick up the things you liked.
that jealousy appears again a few weeks later when trinity invites a few people out for drinks at a new bar that just opened a short drive from the hospital.
but as it turns out, it's more of a nightclub than a bar—not exactly jack's scene. not for the last twenty years, anyway.
you and trinity have always gotten along so well, and jack thinks the invitation might've only been given to him in hopes that you'd attend, too. robby shows up late, his invitation given from dennis, of course—and the night quickly turns into drinks and a show.
jack and robby sit at the bar, nursing a couple of sweating beer bottles while they watch the group of you dance together animatedly. there's strobe lights and poppy synth music playing. you're wearing a pretty sequined dress, giggling and twirling victoria around in a circle.
and try as he might, jack can't keep his eyes off you—so passionate and full of life, young and carefree in a way he wants to soak up. he could stay here for hours, jack thinks. just watching you have your fun with a smile on his face.
later in the night, you come over to order another one of those garnished pink drinks and a round of green tea shots. you've got your arm around jack's shoulders and his is bracketed tight around your waist, pulling you into him, close enough he can smell your sweet body spray and the faint scent of you underneath.
the bartender is a young guy—far closer to you in age than jack is. he's got a shaggy hair cut and a nose ring and when he sits your drink and the shots on the bar in front of you, he grins and says over the music, "i like your nails."
and jack…well. jack doesn't think it's funny at all, when he's on the other end of this.
you immediately glance at him, at the amusement that falls from his face—and then you turn back to the bartender and say, "thanks! my boyfriend paid for them!"
jack's arm tightens around your waist. he's never considered himself a jealous man, not really. but the way the bartender's looking at you doesn't sit well at all.
you take a drink from your glass and swallow the shimmery pink liquid. "mm, it's so good, jack. here, try some."
at first, he thinks you're going to pass the glass to him to take a small sip. but what you do instead is take his jaw between your manicured fingers and kiss him hard. your tongue slips lewdly into his mouth, sliding against his own. he can taste the alcohol and the sugary sweetness on your lips.
jack doesn't think he'd be able to fight off his big ass grin if he tried.
you pull away, laughing girlishly, and then turn his head to playfully lick the stubble on his cheek. "thanks for the drinks, daddy!"
jack squeezes his jaw and chuckles low as you gather the shots in your hand before returning to the dance floor.
the bartender mixes someone else's drink now, jaw feathering as he pointedly avoids jack's gaze.
beside him,robby shakes his head before taking a slow swig from his beer. "you've got your hands full, brother."
it makes jack laugh.
because yeah, he does. and he fucking loves it.
and later that night, back at your apartment? well, jack's got his hands full of something else.
you're bent over the mattress, dress pushed up around your hips, panties pulled to the side. he palms the pillowy globes of you ass as he fucks his cock into you, pussy slick and dripping for him.
"yeah, there you go. fuckin' take it," he says, hips snapping forward. "my girl. my girl, baby. no one else can fuck you like this, huh?"
"only—hmm—only you," you whimper. you're a trembling mess beneath him, fingers clutched tight in the sheets. your moans echo against the four walls, the obscene, wet slide of his cock making him throb.
"say it," he orders, a low sound rumbling in his chest. "tell me who you belong to."
"m'yours, jack—oh god, oh—yours, yours yours—i'm your girl—fuck—"
"that's right, sweetheart," he says, slipping a hand around your hip and beneath you to find your clit. he circles it gently, applying the perfect amount of pressure. "can feel you squeezing me. you wanna cum, baby? hm? you like the way i fuck you?"
"yes, jack—oh god, so fucking good, please please—"
he drives his cock deeper, spreading you open so he can watch it go in. he can feel his own release threatening, a white hot bliss coiling tight at the base of his spine. "give it to me," jack says. "mmhm. yeah, that's it. this pussy belongs to me. my pussy. my fuckin' girl."
the sticky walls of your cunt tighten around him, pulling him in impossibly deeper, and it sends jack over the edge. he fucks you through it, filling you up with his release, fingers circling your clit until you're shaking beneath him.
when he's spent, jack falls forward, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he tries to catch his breath. he presses sweet, soft kisses to your skin, whispering all the while. "did so good for me. my favorite girl. so pretty."
he feels you stiffen beneath him, and jack stands to allow you the space to move. you turn over, tugging your dress up and over your head to discard it on the floor.
you're still panting and your thighs are still trembling, but jack can see the irritation in the way you move.
with his moth turned up at the corners, jack asks, "what's wrong, baby?"
and he knows the answer before you narrow your eyes at him and say, "your favorite girl, jack? how many girls do you have?"
