Better Than Revenge | one shot
Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader
[ Robby’s Masterlist ]
Summary: Maybe having sex with your ex’s boss isn’t the best way to move on, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every moment of it.
Note: whoops🤭| WC: 3.1k+
Most of my works are 18+ due to adult content and language.
Warnings: age gap!!, cheating ex, afab!reader, situationship, smut!!! (minors DNI!!), p in v, oral (f! & m! receiving), overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex, nicknames (trouble, baby, honey), foul language, plot if you squint
not beta read !
You supposed you should have been less surprised than you were, finding out that your boyfriend was cheating on you with one of the nurses he worked with. You had stumbled upon them after bringing by his forgotten lunch. You had been calm, collected, reasonable, boxing up all your things at his place while he begged at the door.
Weeks blurred and the wound slowly began to heal. You had done so much for him to support his residency; packing lunches, sacrificing birthdays and holidays and an anniversary all so he could look his best to that chief attending he idolized. You had seen him in passing once, at a holiday party, alone across the room, sipping his drink like he wanted to be elsewhere.
You had heard your ex rave about the man nearly your entire relationship, Dr. Robby this and Dr. Robby that.
Even in the dimly lit bar, it was no wonder you had recognized him across the room. After spotting him, you sipped your drink as an idea curled around in your head. Mostly purely hypothetical.
Fucking your ex’s boss was not exactly a healthy coping mechanism, especially after some hard work to heal, but damn, if the idea of it didn’t thrill you.
He was handsome, even if he was so much older than you, with grey hairs in his beard and the saddest brown eyes you had ever seen. You could see yourself walking over to him even without knowing who he was, but you wondered if you would have had the courage. You knew you would have just quietly pined until you got home.
The opportunity had presented itself, a lull in conversation, a near empty drink and you sauntered over to him. Revenge was more than liquid courage, roaring hot in your chest and giving you a certain sway to your hips.
He had done very well to be a gentleman, dodged your advances, but still offered to buy your next round. He had introduced himself as Michael, which was interesting, as you had figured the Robby nickname stemmed from Robert.
One subtle look over your shoulder and your friends knew what you were up to.
You had talked for a majority of the night, cocktails turning to clear sodas to prove it wasn’t a drunken buzz that had led you over to him in the first place. Though, the alcohol had certainly got your legs moving.
“You know,” you said, looking away from him, “I’m pretty sure I recognize you.”
He raised an eyebrow over his beer.
“I think you’re my ex’s boss,” you said, supplying said ex’s name with a shrug.
Michael hummed, “That would be me. Is that what brought you over here?”
Your smile was all mischief, “Not exactly.”
Heat and teeth and tongue, calloused hands on your skin, leaving a fire in their wake. A blaze had ignited in your abdomen, crawling up your spine and pulling you deeper. Your shirt had been lost somewhere in the living room, your pants somewhere in the hall, and all rationale at the door.
One-night-stands had a habit of leaving you unsatisfied, but Michael didn’t even take his own pants off until you had finished on his tongue thrice. You were barely coherent in between whines and moans, and he offered to stop.
He had offered to stop.
You stared at him like he had three heads, confused as to why he wanted to stop before he even got his cock in you.
“Is that like an older man thing…or?”
He ground his very hard cock onto your overstimulated clit, savoring the way you had then grabbed hold of him.
“Definitely not an old man thing.” He said into your neck. “But I’m checking in…we don’t have to go all the way—”
Oh, so chivalry wasn’t dead. He was ensuring you still wanted him, that you weren’t looking to back out.
You tried to pull him closer, chuckling, “I’d be a fool…if that’s what you can do with your tongue, I really want to know what you can do with your dick.”
So he let you find out.
He kissed up your body, before gazing down at you like he was committing your face to memory. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he edged forward, tip breaching your entrance. Hazy in the pleasure, you had a nasty, not-completely-over-it thought:
Well, now we’re both looking up to him.
—
Robby figured you were using him to get back at your ex, and as just a man, he could hardly call your advances unwanted. After his week in the Pitt, he decided he could indulge in a vice or two. He charted it away in “one-night-stands”, but couldn’t stop thinking about you in the days after.
The thoughts spiraled to him having taken advantage of you, despite you making the moves on him. He thought he was stealing your youth, or crossing a line, or being a pervert.
It all seemed to quiet with a text:
You: I hope you don’t think I was using you.
He smiled.
Him: If that was you using me, we could do it again. To really make it count.
You: If you insist
The next few days were all flirty banter until he was able to carve out enough time to get you back to his place.
You had nearly pounced on him the moment you got through the door. His brain battled it out between, “I’m too old for this” and “damn it, let me have this”.
He had to pull you away so he didn’t finish too early after you got your mouth on him. The way your tongue had circled around his tip had nearly made his heart stop, and he was sputtering, pulling you away.
Frowning at him, with wide eyes and pupils blown, you looked like you had been scolded. “Not good?”
“Too good.” He supplied, pulling you in for a kiss. “Don’t wanna cum down your throat just yet.”
Your smirk told him everything he needed to know.
He had you beneath him, on top of him, head buried in the pillows, until you were cockdrunk and babbling about him filling you up.
In the afterglow, he stared up at the ceiling while you both caught your breath, and you came back to your senses.
“Your age doesn’t bother me, you know.” You said after a few minutes.
“It should.”
“Does it bother you?”
He grew silent and pensive. He should have been bothered. Hell, he should have turned you down, expressed he was flattered and then moved on. He wet his lips and echoed the only thing that actually made sense:
“It should.”
Because it really should. He should have been more bothered by it, or at least, more so than he was. It should have been a clear deterrent and boundary he had never intended to cross. In the back of his head, he knew he would cross it again and again if only to have you back in his bed.
He had only then come to the realization that he was so royally screwed.
—
You enjoyed the way your name left his lips, curled with desire like looping cursive letters, said like a reverence. His mouth, hot and fevered, devoured you like no one ever had before. He tasted like bitter coffee, and something sweet, and you had long since become hooked to the flavor of him.
The scratch of his beard pulled you back to your senses, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him as close you could get him. He had you up against the wall just steps away from his bedroom, clearly too lost in you to care, which had a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.
Moving your hips forward in search of friction, you caught his groan in your mouth. His jeans met your clothed cunt, the material doing little to hide the outline of him beneath it.
“You still have too many clothes on,” you said, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “Not very fair.”
His smirk was instant, nose nearly touching yours, “Maybe I should fix that.”
You hummed, “Very much not maybe.”
An eyebrow quirked, and his eyes glistened with a challenge. “That so?”
You tugged at his shirt, “I can happily go put my clothes back on, maybe go find someone else to give me what I want.”
“You’re welcome to try,” he said easily, hands never leaving your skin, “we both know you’ll be back in my bed by the end of the night.”
You shifted in his hold, twisting his words back at him, just as a tease, “That so?”
“No one else can fuck you like I can, baby.” He told you, all ease and ego, earned from how many countless times you had come for him. “Those immature boys you’ve been with before never got you to scream and squirm like I do.”
His words warmed your cheeks, “You’ve gotten cocky, Mikey,”
“Am I wrong?”
Maybe he wanted you to cave. Maybe he wanted you to beg. Maybe he needed the ego boost that he was better than your ex — the person who had more-or-less given you the courage to approach him at the bar in the first place.
“I don’t know, you gonna keep telling me how good you fuck me, or are you just gonna do it already?”
His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you back to him, the kiss much more intimate than your little affair called for. His mouth moved from your lips, to your jaw and then your throat, humming at your pulse point.
You fell into him easily, slotting in like a puzzle piece. Hands in his hair, he guided you further down the hall and finally into his bedroom.
Before your legs hit the edge of his bed, he whispered in your ear, husky and low, “I also just don’t share.”
The words were electrifying, striking down your spine and awakening every nerve. They buzzed around your brain, a possessive need for him filling up your senses until you could think of nothing else.
You fell back on the bed and pulled him with you, moving up enough to allow him room to slot his hips between your legs. He was quick to discard his shirt, thrown somewhere across the large expanse of his bedroom. His gold chain felt cool against your feverish skin.
He left hot, open mouthed kisses on your sternum, across your breasts, down your chest to your bellybutton. You squirmed, words lost on your tongue, fingers curled in his hair like it might anchor you.
Michael moved further down the bed, grabbing the back of your thighs, and pulled you down the bed in one swift motion. He moved to his knees, kneeling on the floor, your legs spread for him, your backside nearly on the edge of the bed, like you were an altar he had come to pray to.
“What’re—”
“Man’s gotta eat,” he muttered, pulling your panties to the side to reveal your soaked core to the cool air of the room. You helped him pull them all the way off.
You knew you never left his place even remotely unsatisfied, but this man liked to devour you like he was starving. He ate for his own pleasure, more so than yours, which was a turn on all its own. No one had ever eaten you out for more than a few minutes, especially not with the fervor that Michael seemed to. It was one of the more obvious reasons you had grown addicted to the man.
He licked a stripe from your pussy to your clit, moaning like you were the best thing he had ever tasted. A long moan had escaped your own mouth, throbbing core finally finding some relief.
Like a man possessed, he kept his face buried in you until you were a moaning mess. Lost in rolling waves of pleasure until you were twitching from overstimulation, but he kept going, fingers buried deep, like he barely noticed you had reached your climax. His tongue was masterful, learned from long nights like this, working you through your first like it was barely an appetizer.
“Mikey—” you choked out, eyes squeezed shut, tightly gripping the sheets.
He hummed, vibrations making you see stars, tears leaking from your eyes from the sensation. The feeling was building quickly again, and you were hard torn between letting him continue and begging him for his cock. But with the way he continued, you knew he was hardly through with you.
Squeezing the flesh of your ass, he pulled you down the bed a bit more, your ass now at the very edge. Your legs went from his shoulders until they were squeezing his head, using his mouth to chase your high as it began to invade every one of your senses. The tight coil of pleasure was winding up in your core, pulsing and burning, spurred on by the way his fingers worked inside you. They curled expertly and you were coming again, a pitiful cry escaping your throat, your walls pulsing around his fingers.
He still did not relent, slurping up a mix of his own saliva and your climax, and the haze of pleasure edged closer to pain, burning in a way that had you squirming. You could feel a third lingering, knowing he had pulled more than just two with his mouth before, but your pussy was aching to be filled by his cock. To be stuffed perfectly until you forgot your own name.
You lessened your hold on his head with your legs, hands pushing at his head.
“Mikey—” you whined, “too much, need—”
He released you with one last suck on your clit, making you jolt with a small cry, it rocking through your core like sweet heat lightning. You heard his belt buckle, and you knew he was discarding his jeans.
Looking up at him, you reveled in the way the gold chain glistened in the low light of the room. You enjoyed the view of his broad shoulders and his toned arms, and you were reaching for him.
“Please, please, need your cock.” You said, pulling him in for a kiss, thoughts frenzied from the taste of yourself on his tongue.
The smallest chuckle left his mouth before he was pulling away enough to stand. You scooted back up the bed, eyes never leaving him.
He was looking down at you, chin smeared with your spend, a cocky smile resting on his lips. His eyes were of a man made full, but still completely starved, if his cock straining in his boxers was anything to go by.
You felt you must have looked equally wrecked and ravaged, but he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A sheen of sweat on your chest, eyes wild and pupils blown, with a needy pout.
“Michael—“
“Poor baby wants to come on my dick, huh?” He said, pulling down his boxers, his hard length curving just slightly towards his stomach, tip flushed and leaking.
Your thoughts spiraled, barely coherent, saliva pooling at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Your pussy clenched around nothing.
He crawled up the bed, sucking on the skin of your hip then your breasts. Hips lifting off the bed in search of him, your wet center met his heavy cock, making him suck in a sharp breath.
“You’re trouble.” He told you with a grin, running a thumb along your cheek.
“You knew that right from the start,” you said, lips curling upwards. “I was hardly subtle.”
“Very persistent, if I remember right.” He told you, kissing the column of your throat.
“Is your memory going too, or—”
He snapped his hips into yours, bottoming out in one thrust, making you choke on your words.
He nipped at your skin, pulling back out just to thrust back in with the same fevered intensity. “Like I said, trouble. Only good when you get what you want.”
You bit back a moan to smirk at him, wrapping your legs around him, “Well, it is working.”
He reined in a scoff, kissing along your jaw until he got to your lips. His pace was consistent, strong and deep, tip kissing your cervix and making you see stars. Your pussy sucked him in eagerly, brought to heel by two orgasms and a need to clench around something.
You were already buzzing with your next, steady moans leaving your mouth with each thrust.
Feeling your approach by the way you were starting to tense around him, Michael brought a thumb between you to circle your clit.
“That’s it,” he said, “clearly needed this, huh, honey?”
“Mikey, mmfuck.” You cried, savoring the way your orgasm with building up in your abdomen.
The coil was pulling tighter and tighter, spurred on by his hips meeting yours, the heat of his mouth and the sweet little sounds he was making.
“You like that?” He asked after a particularly rough snap of his hips, “Yeah, you do.”
The dam holding back your impending climax broke, releasing all the euphoria in a flood of endorphins firing at every nerve. You cried out his name, tensing and grabbing him so tight you knew you were likely to be sore in the morning. The divine drag of his hips kept you pulsing around him until you weren’t sure it would ever end, mind going blank, all thoughts gone except for his name.
His was close, chasing after yours, head buried where your neck met your shoulder. His hips stuttered and he groaned out your name, followed by a few profanities. The warmth of his spend deep inside of you did little to quell the hunger, but you felt sated enough for now. Your pussy clenched again at the feel of it, ripping another groan from Michael, and you kissed his shoulder with a smirk.
You both rested still for a few long moments, heavy breathing matched with the feel of his heartbeat on your chest. He did his best to keep his weight off you, but you savored his skin on yours.
Pulling out, he laid down beside you, quiet and content.
You settled in next to him, and he brought his arm up as an invitation. You happily accepted, laying your head on his chest, knowing he would be up to get you a warm washcloth and a glass of water shortly.
Maybe you had no idea where this was going to lead, heartbreak or a happy future or something in between. If it would become commitment, or stay just a messy situationship. But you did know one thing:
This was so much better than revenge.
—
Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @diasnohibng @looneylooomis @happyfestpanda-blog @catmomstyles3 @deluluwritess @cari87 @madsmoviesbyyourselfclub @boundandbrews @starry-swan @thriving-n-jiving @lovingcatstudent
The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69 @moonlightmvrvel @andabuttonnose @boldlyherdream @cosmosnkaz @brnesblogposts @concentratedconcrete @satanxklaus @gardeniarose13
The rest of the Pitt taglist included in a reblog!