Apr 10
Al-Hashimi was practicing medicine in a war zone with a seizure disorder and you think she can’t handle an emergency department? Be fr.
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Al-Hashimi was practicing medicine in a war zone with a seizure disorder and you think she can’t handle an emergency department? Be fr.
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ I’D DO WHATEVER I COULD DO | 𝓜 ❝ robby ❞ robinavitch
part 2 ╰┈➤ lynnie's coffee shop ╰┈➤ request guidelines
SUMMARY ⋮ ⌗ ┆Your father calls you mid-shift to make you feel how he always does: Like he couldn’t care less about his only daughter. You try to push through and keep your head up, be the lovergirl everyone knows you as, but you can’t help but crumble, because all you want is to be enough for your father. Special to him.
Who’d show you just how special you really are but the day shift attending?
PAIRING ⋮ ⌗ ┆grumpy!michael robinavitch x sunshine!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ ⌗ ┆18+ SMUT AHEAD. MDNI. age gap (r! is in her 20’s, robby’s in his 40’s), r! is heavily implied to have anxiety. panic attacks. hurt comfort. r! is sort of a social worker but also a doctor. medical inaccuracies. other pitt characters featured. #alsomadeupcharactersfortheplot. small description of patient fall and sustained head injury. brief mention of blood. r’s father’s a deadbeat. briefly established backstory ⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ dom!robby. sub!reader. afab!reader. quick escalation. big dick robby. . .unprotected piv sex. tummy bulge. praise. cunnilingus (r!receiving). fingering (r!receiving). major daddy kink. two uses of little girl. slight fauxcest? (if you want to read it that way). pussydrunk!robby. use of pet names (kiddo, kid, sweetheart, babygirl, and honey are all used). palming. brief handjob. kissing. creampie. slight breeding kink.
WORD COUNT ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 6.7k
LYNNIE'S TEA ⋮ ⌗ ┆☕︎ started this on a plane ride and did not expect it to go as far as it did. . .everybody thank my own paternal issues for this one. . .i’m also not 100% i like this buuut hopefully someone else does ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა
ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ I'D RUN AWAY .ᐟ ꒱
AND HIDE WITH YOU.
“I NEED EXTRA HANDS in Trauma 2,” boomed the unmistakable sound of Dana’s voice across the ER. “Where the fuck’s our lovergirl?”
That was usually your cue, but you didn’t catch it at first. If you had, you’d’ve probably bolted the other way, extending your already too long break that’d went from a five minute call to a fifteen minute panic attack. One more stressor and you’d be down for fucking the count.
“Right here,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, approaching the center desk. Too late to back out now. “What’s the case?”
“Six-year-old fell from her treehouse. Robby’s already in there,” said Dana. She gave you a quick once over, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Y’okay, hun?”
You blinked back tears at the genuineness of her tone. “Yeah. Fine. I’m on the case,” you said with a nod and a tight smile. Not too obvious, nor too shallow.
This was your poker face. This, you had to be good at. Because with even half the things you went through on the daily, it’d be foolish not to have mastered it.
You felt like an idiot for letting your father make you feel this way. For giving him so much leverage over your outlook on life. The people around you thought you loved wholeheartedly because you’d learned it from someone else, but the reality was far more complicated than that.
You loved the way you did not because of someone you knew, but someone you wanted to. Someone who loved like the word had no limits, like the way you did.
Your father was incapable of such treatment. When you left Boston for Pittsburgh years prior, he barely bat an eye. Just wished you well and asked you come back for the holidays, but never complained when you didn’t. Never cared that you didn’t. The man hardly cared about you, period.
And so he calls sometimes. Tries to be a father. Tells you he’s thinking of you, but it always feels like you’re a check on a to-do list. An afterthought. Like talking to you is an obligation, a thing he does because he has to, not because he wants to.
He’d called you in the breakroom the minute you got the door closed. You’d forgotten about the juice you were about to indulge in before answering the phone, wondering what he wanted. The man had promptly asked for help with the bills, and you being the angel you were, unable to ignore someone in need, no matter how salty, sent it without complaints. He hadn’t even told you he loved you when he hung up. Just told you this is what your responsibility was as a daughter now. He’d taken care of you, nurtured you after your mother had left. So you should be thanking him.
Man, you thought. Your old man had a twisted sense of family.
That call had you questioning your own validity. What had you done to deserve the loneliness you’d accumulated? To have a father who used you like an ATM? Friends who knew you but didn’t see you? It felt like the world was on your shoulders, too heavy for one person to carry, especially for someone so young.
The last place you wanted to be carrying all these feelings was the PTMC. But life didn’t stop just because you were having a go at it. So neither could you.
You all but sprinted to Trauma 2, not ready to get back to work, but at least able. Eleven in the morning was early for a fall out of a treehouse, and you’d hate to be the little girl who’d taken the damage, so you made quick work of your feet, willing them ahead until you arrived.
At the bedside were Doctors Santos and Garcia, as well as Langdon, Javadi, and your attending, Doctor Robby. Behind Santos and Garcia were the parents of the children who were in inconsolable tears, being comforted to no avail by Doctor Javadi.
“Still no consciousness,” said Santos with her lip between her teeth, her hands working quickly at the bleeding gash across the little girl’s forehead.
“How high’s this fucking treehouse?” said Garcia, ever the blunt one. You shook your head.
“Garcia,” you chided, because that was often your role. Keeping the flow of empathy in a room at any given time alive. Especially when that room contained people in dire need of it.
“Am I happy to see you,” said Robby. He excused himself from the bedside while the other doctors worked, handing you a chart. “Talk to the family before you jump on. Girl’s named Hailey, mom and dad are Janet and Carl Atkins. You know the drill, yeah?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, Robby,” you said with a nod. You tapped your fingers against the cardboard of the chart as you read its contents, like that’d somehow snap you back into doctor mode.
It’s the thought that counts, right?
“You’re an angel,” Robby said.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins,” you said when you approached the parents, introducing yourself. “Why don’t we take a step outside?”
“We’re not leaving our daughter,” said Mrs. Atkins, who was still in tears.
“I understand your pain, Mrs. Atkins, but these doctors are doing everything to care for your little girl. Soon, that’ll mean lots of blood and sights you won’t want to remember of her. I promise you can come back in as soon as they’re finished.”
Mrs. Atkins, Janet, looked at her husband with teary eyes. He nodded and turned to you. You took that as your cue to lead them out of the room. Robby nodded as you made your exit with the parents.
“What happened this morning?” you asked gently, keeping any accusation out of your voice. You knew from experience that families of patients never responded well to that.
“H- Hailey wanted to play outside. It was beautiful out. We went into our backyard after breakfast, a- and Carl and I were having a bit of coffee after helping her into her treehouse. She’s a smart girl, so I thought—“ Janet stopped her sentence short to heave a sob. Carl rubbed her back.
“You thought you could trust her, like all parents do,” you finished. “She’s six. Still small, but she’s learning about the world in her own way, and you want to let her. There isn’t anything wrong with that. Then, what?”
“We didn’t even see her get out. Usually she stays inside and calls for one of us when she’s ready to come down. But this time, I guess she thought she could do it on her own,” Carl said. “She’d just hit the ground when we ran over. And we called 911.”
“I see. It’s to my understanding that Hailey’s very lucky,” you said after taking a good look at the chart. “No noticeable fractures, minimal chance of long-term brain damage. The worst she should walk away with is a concussion and a sprained ankle, but apart from that and her visible wounds, she should be back to health in no time,” you said.
“Then why is she not waking up?” said Janet.
“Her age and nature of the impact are likely to blame for her unconsciousness. Falling hard on your back is generally more dangerous, especially for teenagers and children. That doesn’t mean her injuries are severe,” you said calmly. “Hailey’s your only child?”
Janet nodded. “She’s the best little girl in the world. She was everything we prayed for.”
“Your love for her is palpable. You’re first time parents who are navigating the ups and downs of what it takes to raise a child. Mistakes don’t negate your progress. There’s no benefit in being hard on yourselves,” you said. “This wasn’t your fault. Children are naturally curious and occasionally unpredictable. That doesn’t mean you’re to blame for what happened today. The most you can do now is be there for Hailey. That’s all you can do.”
Janet sniffled, moved by your words. That was just the effect you had on people.
Most people, anyway.
It was your job at the PTMC to provide comfort to families in time of need, as well as finding balance in being a good doctor all the same. But it occurred to you more often than not that you had yet to acquire that same balance in your personal life.
As per usual, that wasn’t the matter at hand right now.
The other woman took your hand in hers and squeezed. You squeezed back.
“Thank you. You’re a great doctor,” she said.
You smiled. “No, thank you. Now, why don’t you two take a seat over here? I’ll come back out with any updates on Hailey.”
After the parents sat on a bench outside Trauma 2, you braced yourself and went back in. Robby eyed you as you returned.
“Worked your magic out there, kiddo?”
You gave that same fabricated smile you’d offered Dina not too long prior and nodded, grabbing a pair of sterile gloves. “Sure did.”
He didn’t have to know that was just more of your magic.
After half an hour or so, Garcia finally threw her hands up, exhaling a sigh of relief. “My services are no longer required.”
You’d been helping keep Hailey stabilized beside Robby, while Santos had been next to Garcia. Javadi and Langdon had since left to handle another case. You checked the monitor to view the girl’s heart rate and blood pressure and nodded your agreement.
“All set. Thanks for your help,” you said.
“Sure thing. Call if you need the jazz hands again,” Garcia said before heading off.
“Good work, you two. Couple hours and she should be waking up,” said Robby.
“Great. I’ll give the parents the good news,” you said.
You discarded your gloves and put some hand sanitizer on before turning to face the parents who were still seated outside Trauma 2. They both stood up with urgency, looking frantic at your return.
“How is she?” said Janet.
You smiled. “Little Hailey’s going to pull through. She’s still unconscious, but we’ve completely stabilized her and she should incur no lasting brain damage from this incident. She’ll wake in a few hours.”
Janet threw her arms around you, and you responded with a little “Oh!” before reciprocating the hug.
“Thank you so much,” Janet said.
“Can we see her?” said Carl.
“Of course. Right this way.”
You led the way back into the room, where Robby was still standing opposite Santos. The latter backed away to allow the parents room to see their child.
“Thank you, Dr. Robby,” said Carl.
“You’re very welcome,” said Robby.
The two of them sat at their daughter’s bedside. Carl instantly grabbed Hailey’s hand, squeezing gently.
“We’re so sorry, honey,” Janet whispered in a quiet sob.
“Daddy loves you so much, Hailey,” Carl sniffled beside his wife. “We’ll never let anything like this happen again. I promise.”
I promise.
At the little declaration, you felt your throat tighten with a weird feeling. It felt like plain sadness at first, salt on the wound after your interaction with your own father. But it was more than that. Deeper.
It felt like fucking jealousy.
Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill at the scene as Carl whispered all the ways he loved his daughter. The promises to take care of her. The dedication to doing better. All things you wish your father could do for you.
It was too much.
“Um, if you’ll excuse me,” you said with your fake smile, though you weren’t sure how convincing it was now that it was paired with teary eyes and a broken voice. You practically sprinted out of there subsequently, and didn’t stop until you reached the breakroom.
You slammed the door closed behind you and went for the sink. Everybody was busy with their own cases—it was just one of those kinds of days—so there was no one around to see you break down for a second time that shift. While it didn’t necessarily feel good to be alone, you weren’t sure you wanted anyone to see you like this.
Splashing water on your face was futile for your nerves. The sobs you heaved that came from the innermost parts of you were so much more than tears. It felt like all the things your father had said to you since he created you, the words or lack thereof that you’d tried and now failed to suppress, were bubbling to the goddamn surface.
You were in the middle of pressing your thumb to your palm, a trick for anxiety you’d heard from Dr. Collins, when the sound of the break room door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You took a large breath and didn’t immediately turn around, because you couldn’t give yourself away, couldn’t be vulnerable. Not on a day like this. Maybe not fucking ever.
You thought so, anyway, until the sound of Robby softly saying your name made your resolve crack in two.
“Y- Yeah?” you said without facing him.
“You alright? You kind of ran out of there,” he said. You could hear him coming closer.
“Oh, yeah, j- just needed a glass of water. Dehydrated,” you lied.
“Hydration is important,” he humored you. Yet his tone of voice gave way to the fact that you were a terrible liar. “But I’m not convinced that’s what this is.”
Fuck.
Tears spilled from your eyes. You still didn’t turn around, but when you felt your throat constricting again, your breath picking up speed, you realized it didn’t matter if Robby could see you or not. Your body language was going to betray you.
“I just need a m- minute,” you said, and that did him in. Your body started to shake with a familiar force, one nobody knew you dealt with on a daily basis.
A panic attack.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Robby said as your legs started to fail you. He didn’t say anything about the mascara that was probably coming down your cheeks, or the blatant redness in your eyes when you finally turned around. Instead, he sat you down in one of the chairs in the breakroom, rubbing your back. “Head between your legs.”
You did as told. This tactic did sometimes work for you. But it wasn’t enough to stop your heaving sobs or uncontrollable breathing.
“Come on, s’okay, in through your nose, out through your mouth,” Robby said. “It’s not forever. S’all temporary, s’all temporary. Come on, kiddo, breathe with me.”
Robby’s words felt like honey. But even the sweetest of candies can’t overpower the taste of salt.
It wasn’t Robby’s fault. Robby didn’t know. He didn’t know much about your life beyond the city you’d come from or who you are now. No one did.
But that was just the thing. Even without truly, truly knowing you, Robby still wanted to help. That was more than your own father could ever say.
“It’s going to be okay,” Robby said finally. “Breathe with me.”
Every word had your nervous system slowly regulating again, and you tried to listen to the sound of his voice. After a few minutes of crying and shaky breaths, the world started to come back into focus.
“That’s a girl, just breathe. Breathe with me,” Robby hummed. “Let me get you some water.”
You felt the aftermath of your panic attack starting to hit the moment Robby returned with a glass of water. You drank it down in one quick gulp as your breath finally slowed back to normal pace.
“I’m. . .sorry you had to see that, I—“
“Don’t apologize. It happens to the best of us,” Robby said. You’d never seen the older man look so concerned. His eyebrows were wrinkled with worry, and there was a frown pasted on his lips.
After a beat, Robby spoke up again. “Did you. . .wanna talk about it?”
You shrugged, looking away. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”
You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh. You’d tell anyone else the same thing, but you felt stupid for feeling the way you did about a man you’d known for a long time would never change. The stupid thing was holding out hope that he would.
“My dad called me. Just before I hopped on that case,” you said shakily. “He didn’t even ask how I was or what I was doing. He. . .he needed money f- for his bills. So I just sent it without thinking twice. He didn’t even tell me he loved me or anything before he hung up. Just told me this was my responsibility now. So that little girl. . .her father caring so much,” you sniffled. “Just felt like salt to the wound.”
You looked away from Robby completely now, turning your head to the side. “It’s dumb, right? I’m in my mid twenties and I’m still getting hurt by the man when he’s always been this way. Anyone else would have given up by now, but not me.”
“Now, that’s not entirely true,” Robby said sharply. “You need your father today as much as you did when you were born. Your age doesn’t have anything to do with it, kid. And if he can’t show up like he’s supposed to, that’s on him.”
Robby tilted your face to meet his and caught your eyes. “He has no idea what he’s missing.”
You sniffled at the sweet reassurance, leaning your cheek into his palm.
“You’re sure you’re fit to stay?” Robby asked, stroking your cheek.
You almost thought you’d misheard him. There was a loudly spoken rule about all hands on deck at this hospital. Confusedly, you returned, “It’s been crazy in here today. Don’t you guys need me?”
Robby shrugged. “We have the staff, for once. If you’re not 100%, we’ll be okay if you need to leave. Seems like you need to relax, and this place is definitely not helping with that.”
You giggled at that. “Yeah, probably not,” you agreed. Your smile then faded. “But it’s alright. I took the bus here and with midday traffic, who knows how long I’ll be waiting, anyway,” you sniffled.
“That’s true. And you can stay if you want,” Robby said as he stood up. “Or I can bring you home.”
You looked up at him confusedly. “Bring me home? But, Robby, you—“
“—Jack wanted to come in early,” Robby said. “S’no problem.”
The offer made your heart ache. “You’re sure?”
Robby gave you a small smile. “Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”
That’s what wound you in the passenger seat of Robby’s truck the second Jack walked into the ER. He opened the door for you and buckled you in before getting into the driver’s side, putting the keys into the ignition.
“I’m sorry I’m making you do this,” you said with a small voice, leaning your head against the window. Even after his reassurance, you still felt guilty for pulling him away from work. “You have a job to do.”
“You’re not making me do anything. And Jack’s a good doctor. He’s got it under control,” Robby said. “How far are you?”
“I’m a little far. It’s about a half hour commute,” you replied. “You really don’t have to bring me, Robby.”
“How about we go to my place instead? It’s closer. You’ll want to decompress sooner rather than later, I imagine.”
You nod. “Okay,” you replied. Robby did the same and began to drive.
Your hands were still restless from the aftermath of your attacks. You leaned your head back against the leather seat, closing your eyes while shaky breaths left your lips. Robby didn’t say anything until he heard you hiccup another sob. He’d stopped at a red light and turned to look at you.
“Sweetheart? You okay?”
You cringed at the whimper that left your lips. “I don’t know.”
“Hey,” Robby said. He reached over and looped his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand to reassure you. “Don’t think about him. It’s not doing you any good. Put the window down, kiddo. That’ll help.”
You did as told, putting the window down ever so slightly. You used Robby’s hand like a lifeline while he drove, and not once did he let go.
Leaving the Pitt made you realize instantly how drastically it was affecting you. You had your anxiety under control most days, but it was easy for anybody to snap in a place like that. Now that you were here, you didn’t feel so frenzied. How Robby could run the show on a daily basis like he did, you had no idea.
The drive was mostly silent, save for the wind from your window and the low hum of the radio. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, not with Robby’s hand in your lap and intertwined with your own, grounding you throughout the trip.
He pulled up to a family home about fifteen minutes later. It was a beautiful place with flowers out front and two stories. Robby opened your door for you as you got out, and smiled when you immediately slotted your hand through his again.
“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you inside,” Robby said.
You followed behind him and watched him unlock the door, letting you inside before following. You took the place in, shockingly neat for your sarcastic attending, while he slipped his shoes off at the door.
“You can shower upstairs if you want. I can give you some clothes to change into,” Robby said. “Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to eat yet. But thank you, Robby. A shower would be nice,” you said.
“Okay, sweetheart. Come on, you can have your pick of my closet.”
You followed Robby upstairs, taking in the various picture frames that lined the walls of the staircase. Most were with Jack or your other coworkers in group pictures. You were even in some of these.
Robby opened the door to his large room, his bed messy with strewn pillows and scattered books on the nightstand. There were some clothes on the floor and Robby grimaced as he retrieved them.
“Sorry about the mess. Don’t ever have company,” Robby said. “You can look through my dresser.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you said as you approached it. You went through his drawers and picked out an old band tee and baggy sweatpants. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll get you a towel.”
After Robby did so, you took the shower you’d been in desperate need of, hoping the cold water would cleanse your nerves. They still felt incredibly frayed even after leaving work, and part of you was still in panic mode.
Most of it was just plain sadness.
When you came out of the bathroom, Robby was sitting on the edge of the bed, which was now neatly made. He perked up when he saw you, standing up and pulling the covers back. “You didn’t like the sweatpants?”
You shook your head. The tee was long enough to cover the bareness underneath it, and your body temperature wasn’t regulated enough for pants yet. “No. I’m hot,” you said, folding the pants neatly back into the dresser.
“I see,” Robby said. “Feeling better?”
You shrugged, approaching the bed and settling in. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you said meekly.
“I don’t. But I want to,” Robby said. He tucked you in and turned the TV in the room on, handing you the remote. “I’ve got a few streaming platforms. Watch whatever you’d like. Let me know when you’re ready to eat.”
With that, Robby turned to leave the room, evidently wanting to give you your space, but before he could, you sat back up in bed. “Robby?”
Robby turned to look at you with a foot out of the door. “Yeah, kiddo?”
“Stay? Please, don’t. . .don’t go.”
Robby looked slightly startled by the request, but his expression shifted back into a smile just as quickly. He closed the door and joined you in bed, laying down over the covers. “Whatever you need.”
You turned the TV on and pretended to be interested in the channels, but even entertainment couldn’t do its part in distracting you. You flipped a random movie on before turning to Robby, laying on your side.
Robby rubbed your forehead, then stroked your hair with such care that you thought you might cry all over again. Maybe you would. “Comfortable, kiddo?” he asked.
You nuzzled into his touch, scooting closer. “Mhm. Thank you, Robby.”
“You’re welcome,” Robby said. “You let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
That simple comment worked you right up again, tears brimming in your eyes. All this sweetness from your somewhat gruff attending, the one who’d tucked you in after taking you home and giving you his clothes, no less, had you wondering how hard it really was for your father to do the same.
“Oh, honey,” Robby said as you broke down all over again. “Come here, baby.”
You followed the instruction of Robby patting his lap, sitting up and settling into it. You buried your face into his neck while he held you, cradling you like you were a baby. The gesture made you sob harder as he soothed you, rubbing your back tenderly while he shushed away your tears.
“Your father doesn’t deserve you. You’re too sweet to feel so neglected by him,” Robby said.
“Wh- What’s wrong with me? I just want him to care and somehow I feel like an asshole, because all I do is beg for the man to love me.”
“That doesn’t make you an asshole. It’s normal to want your father. Even more normal when he’s mostly absent.”
“I just want to be enough.”
“You are enough. More than enough,” Robby reassured you.
You pulled back to look at Robby, tears swimming in your eyes. “You’d. . .you’d take care of me, right?” you said without thinking. “If I was your daughter? You wouldn’t let me go?”
Robby smoothed his thumb over your cheek. “No, baby. I wouldn't ever let you go.”
You moved impossibly closer to Robby at the reassurance, now sitting up with your thighs on either side of his legs. He had a hand on your waist, the other coming up to cradle your cheek as he watched you stare.
“What is it, kiddo?” he said softly.
“I. . .I want. . .” you whimpered, bottom lip between your teeth. You of all people knew how unprofessional this position alone was, with your attending, no less, but you were craving more. Comfort. Touch. Love. All things Robby was willing to give you. All things your father never had.
Before you could overthink it, and before your brain could even process what you were doing, for that matter, you leaned slightly forward in Robby’s lap so that your lips ghosted over his. You pressed your hands to his chest in a silent plea, hitting him with those sweet eyes he’d known and admired since you joined PTMC.
But it was different now.
“Please?” you whispered.
“Sweetheart,” Robby huffed. He held his hand on the small of your back and left it there, making no effort to pull you closer or push you away. “We shouldn’t. Hell, I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t even be holding you like this.”
“I know, Robby, but. . .please, I won’t say anything. No one will ever know, I just. . .” you trailed off.
Too late to back out now.
“Make me forget. Forget him, forget everything,” you said. Your fingers dug into his shirt, another wordless beg for more. “Please.”
Robby stared at you for a few long seconds, the silence louder than the sobs you’d heaved earlier in the breakroom. Your head was spinning from said tears, and it occurred to you that you should go home, lay in bed, pretend this never happened—
Until Robby cupped your cheek with a gentleness you’d hardly known he possessed, and pulled you in for a kiss.
The kiss was electric despite its initial slowness. He was soft with you like he was afraid to break you, as if you needed to be handled with fragility. Except when aggression is all you know, it’s natural to exert—which is why you push your tongue past his lips and wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
Robby understands instantly and settles a hand on your hip, the other finding its way to your neck. He holds but doesn’t squeeze, again, like you’re too soft to be handled in such a fashion, and works his lips against yours ravenously. You can already feel the hardness of his cock below you and it has you embarrassingly soaked.
“That what you needed, baby?” Robby said with a small smile, cupping your face as he said it. You shook your head, to which he replied, “Oh, no? Then, what?”
You let your hand drift downwards before you could think twice about it, rubbing the aching bulge in his pants with shaking fingers.
“Fuck, honey,” Robby groaned. “Big girl words.”
“I. . .I want your cock, Robby,” you whined.
“That right?”
“M- Mhm, please,” you managed through a few more rubs. Then, the cherry on top to completely seal the deal—
“Please, Daddy.”
He’d said to use your words, right?
“Shit,” was all Robby said. His pupils were completely blown at the name, but the disgust you half expected to see when you looked at him wasn’t there. No, when you looked at him, he held a different expression entirely.
And it looked a lot like lust.
“Y’want me to be your daddy, huh? Guess you really meant you wanted to forget,” Robby hummed like it was a normal Tuesday, and you hadn’t just asked your attending of all the people to play the part. Luckily, for you, Robby was happy to oblige—evidently so, as he yanked you closer by the waist, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.
“S’okay, sweetheart. I can be his replacement.”
With that, Robby flipped you onto your back and pinned you underneath him with his body, using a hand to prop himself up. You continued to rub at the bulge in his scrubs, only now, you’d begun to tug them down, already ready for more.
Robby followed your lead and released his hardened cock from his jeans, the tip aching and bright. You tried not to think too hard about how the hell that’d fit inside you as you started to stroke him carefully.
“Let me take care of you, Daddy,” you said. “After everything you did today.”
“You’re such a sweet girl, honey,” Robby said through a grunt. “But I’m afraid that’s your Daddy’s job, now, isn’t it?”
The sentiment made your cheeks flare, and you simply nodded.
“Good girl,” Robby cooed. He slowly tucked his dick back into his pants. Confusion filled your face until he started to lift your shirt—his shirt—up so that your skin was exposed to him. He smirked at the sight of you without panties on.
“Someone was ready,” he teased. He tucked his dick back into his pants and pressed featherlight pecks to your belly, then started his descent down your body, starting with your inner thighs. He kissed and sucked at the skin there which had you squirming instantaneously, watching your every move to gauge how you were feeling.
“This okay?” he asked. You nodded.
Robby did the same and continued his ministrations. When he finally locked eyes with your pussy, a little sigh left his lips at the sight of your wetness. “Fuck, honey. You’re soaked.”
“Couldn’t h- help it, Robby. Need you.”
“Ah-ah, that’s not my name,” Robby chided with a sharp bite to your inner thigh. “You wanna try again?”
“I need you, Daddy,” you corrected.
“Much better, sweetheart,” Robby said. With that, he finally licked his first stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you. He started slowly to watch your reactions, tonguing your puffy clit in steady circles while his fingers joined the ministrations, entering your aching hole.
Robby alternated between licking your clit and diving between your folds, but whether that was more for you or him was unclear. He was completely drunk on your pussy, and paired with the sound of your pleasured noises, he was eating you up like a man starved.
“Fuck, babygirl, your pussy’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Robby grunted, driving his fingers inside you. You arched back with a particularly loud moan, the new nickname making you dizzy.
“F- Feels so g- good, Daddy,” you moaned. Robby smirked.
“Yeah? S’your Daddy making you feel good, kiddo?” he grunted between your folds, though it felt like he was talking more to your pussy then to you. “You deserve it, honey. My girl deserves to feel so good.”
He lifted your legs above his shoulders so he could dive deeper into your cunt, and you gasped at the change in position, his face almost completely blocked by your own body.
“D- Daddy, can you even breathe like that?” you asked worriedly.
Robby chuckled against your cunt, the sound vibrating between your legs. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Just focus on feeling good.”
With that, he started to eat you out again, only this time, it felt completely different. This time, with his hands wrapped around your thighs and your knees hooked over his shoulders, there was no limit to what Robby could do to you. His tongue entered your hole this time while his big nose rubbed against your clit, and you were convinced you were seeing stars.
“Fuck, D- Daddy, m’gonna—!” you moaned loudly, bucking your hips into the heat of his mouth. You were grinding against his face shamelessly now. Thankfully for you, Robby didn’t seem to mind.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go, Daddy’s got you,” Robby cooed before flicking his tongue against your clit, and not letting up until you were practically exploding against his face, coming with a loud cry.
Robby eased you through your orgasm with small licks against your sensitive clit. When the feeling became overstimulating, he switched gears and pressed kisses to your inner thighs, peppering them in a gentle path up your abdomen soon afterwards. He continued until he was hovering you again, and you took the opportunity to press your lips against his.
You tasted yourself on his mouth and felt your wetness from his beard, both facts working you up even so soon after your last orgasm. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he immediately caught on.
“Needy little girl. So eager to cum again, huh?” Robby said, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You nodded, to which Robby chided, “None of that, babygirl. You tell Daddy what you want.”
“Want you inside me, Daddy. Want your cock,” you managed through shaky breaths, bucking your hips against his for emphasis. “Please.”
“You sound so sweet when you use your words, honey,” Robby cooed. For the second time, he freed himself, only this time he was visibly more hard. The tip of his cock was an angry red and dribbling bouts of pre-cum, and, fuck, did he look so much fuller than before. You gasped as he ran his head between your folds.
“You’re sure you want this, sweetheart? Absolutely positive?”
“Yes, Daddy, m’sure. I want you so bad. Please.”
Robby didn’t need another word before he was thrusting inside you completely, filling you to the brim.
You’d thought he was big before, but this stretch was completely different. There was a visible bulge where your bodies were conjoined which became more prominent with every little thrust into your pussy. Robby watched, utterly transfixed, at the sight of his large cock causing such an imprint on your skin.
“Y’okay?” Robby grunted. He had one hand on your belly and the other next to your head.
“M- Mhm. You’re so big,” you huffed.
Robby chuckled. “Hope that’s a good thing, sweetheart.”
“I- It is, I—oh!” you were cut off by the feeling of Robby’s hips snapping against yours, trying to find his pace. His stamina isn’t exactly what it used to be, but he’ll be damned if he leaves this room without making you feel good.
“Too much, kiddo?”
“N- No, not at all.”
“Good,” Robby said. He kept a steady albeit rough pace, reaching the deepest parts of you. It wasn’t your first time having sex, but it was with a man who was set on really taking care of you and not chasing his own pleasure. The thought made it feel all the more better.
You pulled Robby in for a kiss he answered gladly. As your tongues pushed against each other, his hips rocked even harder, driving his thick cock into your spongy walls. He was starting to hit the part of you that made you see stars, and you weren’t doing a good job of hiding it.
“That’s it, babygirl. That feel good?” Robby grunted against your lips.
“M- Mhm, y- you’re s- so good, Robby. Feel so good,” you said.
Robby chuckled and decided to let the use of his name slide, deciding you were probably too fucked-out to even remember your own right now. “You feel good, too, sweetheart. You’re so pretty like this,” he praised.
It was only a few minutes before Robby’s steady pace was replaced with a stronger one, as much faster as it was rougher. At the blown look of your pupils, he figured as much that this was what you wanted, what you needed, and he was right.
His cock was driving so far into you that it felt like he was in your throat. Every push had your back arching off the bed, unable to make any noise beyond a few broken whimpers and moans.
“That’s it, sweet girl. I got you, I got you,” Robby said gently, a stark contrast to the way his dick was bullying into your pussy.
“You—fuck—you promise, Daddy?”
“I promise, honey. M’never letting you go, alright? Never,” Robby assured. Despite the pace, his words had your heart lurching, and you almost got emotional all over again.
“Robby,” you gasped. “I’m g- getting there again. Close.”
“S’okay, kiddo. Your Daddy wants you to feel good,” he groaned. He wasn’t so much looking for his pleasure as he was trying to give you yours. “What do you need?”
Easy.
“Just don’t stop,” you said.
And Robby didn’t. He pressed kisses down your neck and sucked hickeys into your skin while he fucked you hard and fast, setting an absolutely lethal pace. The same pressure from earlier when you’d cum in his mouth was starting to return, and you were seconds away from your second orgasm.
“Cum with me, Daddy, please, please, I wanna feel you,” you begged, framing his cheeks with your hands. Robby had his on either side of your head while he smirked down at you.
“Yeah, you want my cum, baby? Want me filling your pretty pussy with my load?”
You nodded quickly, pulling him in for another kiss. “Yes, please. S’all I want.”
“That’s what you’ll get,” Robby said.
He didn’t stop until you were right on the edge, and when you were, he kissed you through it, rocking his hips into your pelvis and driving his dick hard into your cunt while your second orgasm crashed over you. You clenched hard around his cock as he spilled into you, securing your legs even tighter around his waist so that every drop stayed inside.
Robby got the message and gave a few last thrusts that stirred his cum deep inside you. When he pulled out, small ropes of white dribbled out of your hole and stained the bed, while the rest of it remained nestled within you.
“Who knew my little girl could be so dirty?” Robby teased, kissing your cheek.
You giggled. “It takes two, you know.”
“Fair enough,” Robby chuckled. “I’m going to get a towel, honey. Get you cleaned up.”
As he made his move to leave, however, you tugged his arm. Robby was at the edge of the bed. “Robby, w- wait.”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Did you. . .mean it? When you said you’d. . .never let me go?” you asked. “That you’d be his replacement?”
Robby smiled at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, nodding. “Yeah, sweetheart. I meant every word.”
Heatwave
Summary: some filthy, nasty pervy boyfriends dads Rabbot thoughts that stemmed from me melting outside tanning in this current heatwave
(Jesus forgive me for i have fantasized about them eating younger pussy... Again.)
Warnings?: 18+ content including taboo relationships (boyfriends dads rabbot) they're pervy here, age gaps, potential dubcon depending how you view it (though it was written with drunk reader in mind!!) alcohol, mentions of intoxication, fem!reciveing oral, pussy pronouns, fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, one single robby referring to himself as daddy moment aaaand an 18+ twitter link! think thats it but feel free to correct me!!
Thinking many thoughts about this little clip and just how rabbot coded it is.
Maybe even, and walk with me here, boyfriends dads rabbot.
Maybe you’re staying with your boyfriend for a little while over summer break. Maybe some of those days said boyfriend still has tennis or perhaps soccer training meaning he's out for the majority of the morning/early afternoon.
And on those days, the only people still home just so happens to be his two hot, older dads.
You get along, always have since you first met the pair, but that doesn't quell the fuzzy feeling in your gut whenever they interact with you.
The pair find it endearing really, the way you'll slip sometimes, calling them Mr Abbot and Mr Robinavitch instead of Jack and Robby (or Micheal if you'd prefer it). You struggle to keep eye contact with them too, even more so when you trip your words up when responding to questions about yourself. Your degree, your hobbies, what you enjoy to eat, hell, they'll even how your relationship is going with their boy- they're just interested thats all!
But the thing that gets both Jack and Robby chubbing up in their pants like perverted old bastards the most?
How you've spent your time bouncing around the Robinavitch-Abbot household in what must be the skimpest of summer clothes. That bikini that barely covers your tits as you soak up the sun in their garden, or the denim shorts that hardly hides the line of your panties as you sit on the couch reading.
Theres guilt, of course there is, the pair of them perving over their sons girlfriend. But not nearly enough to make them stop thinking about you in ways they shouldn't be. Like how wet you get when worked up or how beautiful your body must be truly bare.
Robby always thinks your lips would look stretched around the girth of them, while Jack ponders the perfect whines you'd let free as you cum.
Its after a long day of sunbathing does everything finally come to a head though
Your skin glistens with a mix of sunscreen and sweat, heart thudding in your chest from the heat. You're boyfriends gone again, has been all day, leaving you, Jack and Robby at home soaking in the summer sun in the backyard.
At lunch you learnt Jack knows a thing or two about making cocktails, by almost dinner you're pretty confident he's got a mean pour.
The world floats by as you lounge on a chair, watching Robby stood by the grill cooking steaks with his own sweating beer. The glass on the table next to you half full, your.. Fourth? Maybe third? Fruity Margarita abandoned as you giggle about something that feels funnier than it is.
Thats the last thing you properly remember- the gruff laughter, the sundrunk haze, Jack and Robby drinking, grilling and hosting like regular older men.
When your eyes blink open again (did you shut them on purpose or did they flutter without you knowing?) the scene is vastly different.
Grey curls sit messily between your plush thighs, hazel eyes peering up lustblown and dark. It hits you then, the intense pleasure of a skilled mouth lapping and lavishing your pussy.
Its hot, wet, perfect and utterly wrong all in one, legs desperate to close around the older mans ears to little avail. Jacks big hands hold you open though, palms flat on your inner thighs, panties of your bathing suit crooked to the side and held steady by two thick fingers.
Your back arches from the lounger, a ragged, breathless gasp ripping from your heaving chest. "O-oh my god!"
The tongue flicks playfully against your clit, before plump lips suckle lewdly, a voice you recognize as Robbys chucking as he sits crouched beside you. "Mm, not quite sweetheart. You wanna that try again?"
The moan breaks with your voice, a hand flying down to those mused salt and pepper curls, tangling tight. "J-jack oh f-fuckk"
"Yeahhh, There you go" he grins wolfish, "s' he makin you feel good kid?"
The nod is jerky, the response even more so. Your hips bump up despite Jack's grip, brain unsure if to run or relish in the overwhelming feeling between your legs; at how fuckig wrong it is to let it continue. "M-mphm y-yeah"
Jack offers some reprive just a moment, unlatching his mouth for just a moment to gravel out "Got you squirmin like no ones done this before, s' our boy holdin out on you honey?"
The question only serves as a reminder these men are your boyfriends fathers, men decades older than you and him. Its wrong, sick, absolutely fucking vile to do to the man you love.. But fuck, his dads devouring you like your sloppy, slick pussy is the only thing left on earth to sustain him. Hes licking you with experience that only comes from enjoyment, suckling like every gasp and whine gives him air.
But in this moment, your hot. Hazy. Utterly drunk of bliss. So you mewl out the truth, jerking your hips to hump at Jack's face like the pleasures the only thing that will keep you alive. "M-mhm.. Says he.. He doesnt like it- fucking shit- that s' not enjoyable-"
"Doesn't like eatin this pretty pussy up, Christ, where'd we go wrong mi- mphmn" Jack murmers incredulous again your folds, stubble rubbing a heavenly kind of pain on your most intimate of areas, fumed point cut off by Robby reaching over a hand that pushes his partner back into your pussy so tight its a wonder he's able to breathe.
"Shhh jack, jus' keep goin. Shes gettin close huh honey?" Robby grins, hand sliding beneath the cups of your bikini top. Your nipples pert and tight as his calloused thumb offers a delightful friction. "Sides, we've gotta correct that bullshit ourselves hm, apologize to that sweet little pussy for everything she's been missin"
Your head is thrown back, hair mused against the chair, your body quivering as the bliss only draws tighter in your gut. Your eyes struggle to stay open between the now setting sun and the onslaught of pleasure. Those plush, still glistening thighs tremble against Jack's touch, one of his hands sliping down to press one, then two, thick digits inside.
You can feel the cool edge of his wedding band bump your hole with each slickened drive, every curl managing to rub at your g spot in a way that only pushes you closer to crumbling.
Then, as quick as Jack's mouth had appeared at your pussy, another sensation has your spine arching almost painfully. Robbys somehow pushed the cup of your top to the side, mouth hot on your skin, his own tongue flicking and teasing at your nipple. His peppered beard making you shake as it rubs your skin with every move he makes.
Its that combo that sends you over the edge with a wail of their names so perfect their chubbed up cocks throb and leak inside the confines of shorts now way too tight. It takes your breath away near violently, the orgasm hitting you so hard you're almost convinced you'll never come back down.
They both keep it up until tears slip down your cheeks, until you're pushing them off and your body is overwhelmingly sensitive. Blood thunders in your ears, hazing over the praise the pair murmer to you.
Jack rises with a groan, shuffling himself forward to meet your mouth in a messy, filthy kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, feel the dampness on his stubble, letting yourself drown in the dopamine a moment longer before you know you'll have to address everything that's just happened..
That is, until hot breath fans over your twitching clit the same but different, you're eyes wide as you dart between Robby who you didn't even realise had moved and Jack.
Robby grins wolfish again, shuffled between your shaking thighs, a large hand pressing on your still heaving belly. Your eyes must look like saucers, lips pouty and bitten raw, peering down with the most doe- like expression.
"Nawh whats that look for?" he coos, pitiful and mocking, inhaling the sweet, musky scent of you in a way that makes your insided lurch. "S'it too much t' take sweetheart? Two old men wantin to lick your sweet pussy?"
"mhm.." you mewl, hand reaching blindly for the loungers edge- for Jack and some semblance of safety. "R-robby please..cant.."
The chuckle is mean, a rumble you feel in the deepest parts of you, hips shifting preemptively to little avail. Robbys gaze drops, as does his wiry haired jaw, his sentiment cut between a broken moan and the envelopement of your puffy clit into the cavern of his mouth.
"Ah ah, no cant n' no runnin.. You'll manage, cause Daddy's got some apologizing left to do; poor little thing.
I have fallen into the pitt~
maybe the first time you fuck robby, he’s almost too big for you. making out, dry humping and moaning into each others mouths had made you wet, deliriously so, but robby knew you needed a bit more to be able to take him
his breath hot against your ear, tensing his teeth over your earlobe “you need to relax baby or it’s not gonna fit, okay- you want my cock right?”
too turned on to use words, you nodded desperately- grabbing his ass and pulling him close to you. craving his intimacy that much, the world felt off its axis
“thought so, okay baby, big breath in for me…and a big breath out” his spit landing on his cock as you exhaled “gonna be a good girl and show me how you can do that again?”
you’d do anything to be his good girl, the pet name bouncing around your brain like a pinball. your breaths deep and long, inhaling in the scent of his room alongside the perspiration from the afternoon of foreplay
the stretch of his cock is the kind of pressure that makes your mind go blank with pure pleasure. you feel a smile spread across your face as your hips move to get him deeper
“such a good girl for me baby, ‘m gonna fuck you so fuckin’ good- i promise”
the lions should set his motorcycle on fire
I have to respect him for playing all sides
“daddy” - dr. michael robinavitch x reader
Summary: With your daughter learning to speak, you start to call Robby 'daddy.'
Tags/Notes: established relationship, mom!reader/dad!robby, daddy kink obv, breastfeeding kink, fingering, oral (f), unprotected piv, impregnation, robby is so pathetically in love
Content: discussion of pregnancy and such
A/N: From the “Yours” universe but can be read separately with the context that Robby and reader have a one-year-old daughter.
IB this ask:
i cannot stop thinking abt “yours”!robby who needs to catch his breath every time mama!reader calls him daddy! like she doesn’t say it to tease him or anything, she’s just so used to talking to their first babygirl that she just says it thoughtlessly, not even minding how robby reacts to it BUT THEN one time, baby’s with aunt dana for the day or something and he finally snaps!! and hes ready to give mama baby #2
Word Count: 5.2k
It’s already a problem the very first time you say it.
Robby’s having one of those awful, slogging days in emergency medicine where nothing’s going his way. It’s heavy and exhausting and frustrating all at once. By the time he’s heading to lunch, he just wants to sit in his car and scream.
Then he sees you.
At the nurse’s station where you‘ve returned to work, his perfect chubby eleven-month-old on your hip and a grin on your lips as you talk to Dana.
And he melts.
Everything falls away as he closes the distance keeping him from his family. Not even caring that he’s interrupting your conversation, Robby engulfs you and the baby into his huge arms, breathing in your shower-fresh hair and finally feeling his body relax.
When he manages to let you go, you stand up on your toes, kiss him warmly, and smile when Ella reaches up automatically for his attention. As he adds a kiss to your cheek, you greet him, “Hi, daddy.”
Robby’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he shifts Ella into his arms. He buffers for a few seconds before asking, “What did you just say?”
You shrug innocently and explain, “One of the girls in our mommy-and-me group says we should be calling each other ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ now that she’s learning words so that she doesn’t start calling us by our first names.”
“Is that so?” He kisses Ella’s round cheeks until she giggles and then tickles her belly until she reaches maximum squirmy laughing. Only then does his mind start to calm down. Nestling his nose in her wispy dark hair, he asks, “Are you and mommy having a good day, princess?”
She babbles into his chest and you translate, “So far so good. She did great having some of that fancy baby food we’ve been wanting to try and did her first nap like a champ. Now we’re raring to go for daycare.” You open up your purse then and remove a stack of folded cards for him to look at. “On the way here, we got her first birthday invites from the printer; they’re exactly how I wanted.”
Robby takes a card in one hand and opens it up like he’s reading Ella a baby book, expression warming at the brightly themed invitations for her “Chapter One” birthday party in a few weeks, full of Dr. Seuss style illustrations and whimsical colors. He hands it back to you and grins. “Do we get to hand these out now? Everyone’s been begging me for their invitation to the hottest party in town.”
“You can start giving them out as soon as you’ve dropped this one at daycare,” you confirm with a beaming smile, brushing Ella’s round cheek with your thumb. You plant a kiss on her forehead and murmur, “I’ll see you later, sprout. Love you.”
She gives you one of those smiles that makes it feel impossible to say goodbye for the afternoon. You’ve been doing half shifts since your maternity leave ended, bringing her in during Robby’s lunch break for daycare at the hospital’s complimentary staff center. Thank god for that job perk; you’re not sure you’d make it without being able to peek in on Ella whenever you miss her too much. You’d feel clingy and pathetic about it if Robby weren’t twice as bad, lingering near the daycare every time he has a second to breathe.
Today, though, he uses one of those brief breaks for something different. The moment he sees you shouldering your bag and stepping away for your first break in the private pumping room, he slips in behind you and closes the door. Leaning against the wall, he watches you turn back to him with already rolling eyes. He gives you a sweet smile. “Hi there, mama.”
Unloading your pumping accessories onto the side table next to the cozy recliner Gloria ordered for you, you cut him a suspicious glance. “Something you need, Mikey? Could I interest you in a mini cooler, an extra bra, some sanitizing wipes?”
“All I’m interested in is my girl,” he murmurs, closing the distance between you right away and tugging you into a searing, claiming kiss. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of your scrubs just so he can hold the bare skin of your waist. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs, “Needed my hands on you.”
You giggle as his touch warms you to the core. “Why are you so worked up?”
Robby looks you up and down seriously. “You called me daddy this morning.”
You give him the nastiest eyeing he’s ever experienced, so amused that it borders on sadistic. “If I recall correctly, all I told you was that we shouldn’t let our baby call us by our names. I swear hearing my toddler say ‘Robby’ would be the end for me.”
He puts a hand on either side of your head against the wall, doing that thing where you’re caged against his chest, looking into his rich coffee eyes, breaths coming fast because you want him to make good on what his body’s promising. Gazing firmly at your lips, he points out, “You didn’t say ‘dad,’ though. You said daddy.”
“I assume our one-year-old is probably going to call you that,” you laugh as his hands traverse lower, holding you against the wall now, “unless you have a different idea.”
“I always thought of myself as more of a ‘papa,’” he says nonchalantly. Like he’s not being disgusting. And hot. Always both. “I much prefer the sound of you saying that one particular moniker,” he purrs, pulling you into a deeper kiss. He drags needy lips up your neck and murmurs against your ear, “Say it again for me, sweetheart.”
Robby grabs your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh just enough to make your knees weak. Desperately trying not to get horny at work, you roll your eyes, turn the kiss into a peck, and say, “You’re a pervert.”
“And you’re so insanely sexy back in your scrubs,” he groan as he lifts you up slightly by the curve of your ass so that you lose balance a bit and have to lean in fully to him. “I swear these things hug you like nobody else.”
You huff, trying to suppress a giggle, “Because someone keeps picking up a smaller size for me at the scrub exchange even though my boobs are constantly swollen.”
“I’ll have to say thank you to them,” he chuckles as his hands slide beneath the front of your top now, palms brushing the elastic of your nursing bra. Running his thumbs over the place where your nipples beg against the thick fabric, he murmurs, “You need to pump?”
You roll your eyes. “No, I just like to hang out in here by myself on my breaks.”
“Beats listening to the ducklings whine about their love lives over lukewarm leftovers.” You move toward the recliner where you usually set up shop, but Robby stops you with a strong hand on your waist. He gives you those ridiculous puppy dog eyes of his and muses, “You know, the daycare has an extensive supply of your breastmilk and we’ve got a whole freezer full at home.”
Knowing exactly what he’s asking for, you raise an eyebrow at his reddening cheek and challenge, “And that’s a bad thing? I was under the impression that breastmilk was something of a necessity for Ella.”
“Ella’s weaning,” he replies, maneuvering you into the recliner and kneeling in front of you. He pushes your knees apart and waits to see if you’re going to stop him. You definitely aren’t. The privacy of the pumping room as the only breastfeeding person on the floor had become, admittedly, a little bit of a problem for your and Robby’s ‘we should try to fuck less at work’ rule/attempt. Not feeling each other up between patients had never been a strong suit of yours. With his fingers looped in your waistband at your hips, Robby looks up at you and pouts. “The baby has plenty and daddy’s thirsty.”
“Michael, ew!” You throw your head back and laugh even as you lift your hips slightly so he can tug your scrubs down and away from your body. “You could not have possibly said something less sexy than that.”
“You doubt my abilities,” he tuts. Then he pulls on the hem of your top, clearly a request, and you resist the urge to make fun of him as you strip it off. You expect him to get right down to business, muttering something about only having a few minutes the way he usually does, but he doesn’t. Robby sits back for a second and just takes in the glory of your frumpy nude bra and your practical cotton underwear. To Robby, there’s absolutely nothing hotter. Gazing at your postpartum stretch marks just beginning to turn silver, your widened hips, your swollen boobs, he sighs lovingly, “You’re fucking perfect.”
“You’re delusional, but I love you anyway.”
Robby narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head to the side. Even as he gives you that admonishing stare, he slides his hand down the front of your underwear and finds your clit with his thumb, gently nudging the hood upward to expose your sensitivity. As you gasp from the light contact, he presses, “Are you saying my fiancée is anything less than fucking perfect? I could take you to court for slander over a lie like that.” When you just purse your lips in response, any joke or argument fizzling away as your pussy starts to flutter in want for him, he smirks. “That’s what I thought. Now just be good and take those pretty tits out for me.”
God, when did you get so pathetically weak for him? Just over a year ago he had to kiss your feet just to get your attention and now you’re here misusing hospital facilities so that he can get on his old man knees and use his only break to get you off and- Yeah, he’s still whipped, actually. So at least it’s mutual. As you slide your bra off, he does the same to your panties.
And, the moment you’re naked, laid bare for him when he’s still clothed, he’s done screwing around.
Robby spits onto your pussy and then watches his own fingers sliding over your slit, rapt as his saliva mixes with your glistening wetness. He curses under his breath when you squirm slightly in response, widening your legs further to give him better access. You rasp out, “Did you lock the door behind you?”
He meets your eyes. “Who’s going to interrupt you when you’re pumping?”
“Maybe someone looking for the chief attending they watched follow me in?”
He clicks his tongue, relenting, and tells you firmly, “I locked the door. Now relax and let me enjoy myself down here.”
“Let you enjoy yourself? Is that what’s-”
Your words strangle off into a moan as he plunges his middle finger inside of you, curling it back toward himself. Your eyes close and your head goes back against the headrest and nothing else matters anymore. Robby slips in his second finger and praises softly, “There you go. Good girl. Just let me play with my pussy for a minute.”
You can’t even tease him for saying it because he’s just too stupidly hot. It is his pussy, plain and simple. So, with nothing but mischief and need in your tone, you murmur, “Yes, daddy.”
“Oh, fucking hell,” he grunts, rocking upward on his knees so that he can kiss over the top of your chest, nibbling the base of your neck and dragging his tongue down your sternum. Pumping his fingers firmly but slowly inside of you, Robby uses his thumb to focus attention on your clit. With his breath ghosting one of your tingling nipples, he says, “You’re too powerful, you know that?”
“No idea.” Your back arches into his touch and the pressure building behind your nipples builds and aches. The distance between his mouth and your tits is so, so close and way too far. You whine unabashedly, knowing he’s not strong enough to deny you, “Mikey, please. It’s gonna start hurting and leaking.”
“Can’t have you hurting,” he soothes. You can feel how much he means it, deeper than the sexy teasing. He’s protective of you, more and more every day, and his lust is only an extension of that. His eyes flick up to yours one more time, reminding you, “Remember you have to be quiet; we aren’t at home.”
You bite your lower lip and assure him, “I won’t get you in trouble, Dr. Robinavitch.”
“That’s my girl. Enough trouble all on her own.”
Before you can come up with any kind of reply, he latches onto your left breast. Because he’s made this something of a habit – you’ve been incredibly lucky with milk production, to the point of annoyance at times – Robby knows exactly what to do. His lips and tongue and suction are just right and suddenly you’re being flooded with sweet oxytocin that mingles with the pleasure between your legs. Delight prickles up your spine and you gasp, stifling the sharp sound with the back of one hand while the other flies into Robby’s hair. Pleased, he groans around your nipple and swallows the constant stream of your gentle, mild breastmilk until the flow slows enough to switch to the other side. He even takes the care to quickly grab one of your breast pads to catch any overflow from the breast he’s leaving behind.
God, he’s sexy.
Your body can’t help responding to Robby’s intoxicating mix of tenderness and gluttony that blur together into one entity. He’s building you and consuming you at the same time. And he definitely doesn’t miss the way your moans turn high-pitched and needy as your pussy gets wetter around his fingers. He stays the course. Steady. Much as he craves you cumming on his hand, he wants to make sure you’re thoroughly comfortable first, your breasts tended to with a meticulous desire he didn’t know existed until the first time he tasted you like this. Before you gave birth, he fucked you voraciously, so ravenous to have you that the world stopped existing until he came.
Then, once you were ready to be intimate again after being cleared, Robby felt a seismic shift inside of himself. Sex became an act of devotion. Gratitude. He thanked your body for its abundance and its giving with every touch. You’re not just his girl anymore; you’re the person who gave him the world. The woman who raised him from the dead. He needs to have you, to make you comfortable, to keep you safe. To taste you is to be blessed by you.
And, fuck, is it a blessing when he feels your cunt clenching slowly around his fingers.
You’re gripping his hair so he stays on your breast and your toes curl, legs locking him to you, and you’re blossoming. Your hips buck upwards and he stills you with his free hand, firm, demanding, insisting that you take as much pleasure as he can give you. He only releases you when you’re physically squirming and biting your lip hard to stop the moans from the overstimulating sparks filling you.
Robby eases you back to earth with a few final licks on each side of your chest, slowly pulling his fingers out as your body relaxes. He closes his eyes and savors the taste of you as he cleans off his fingers with his tongue. You take a minute to catch your breath, just gazing down at Robby as he looks at you with so much love it tightens your chest.
After he helps you get dressed again, Robby takes a swig of water and grins. “Thanks, baby, now I can skip the vending machine.”
You smack him on the chest and duck your head to hide your warming face against his shoulder. “I hate you.”
He catches your hand and kisses it. “I love you.”
Of course, it only becomes more of a problem from there. Eight out of ten times, Ella’s in your arms or his and your voice is sappy and ‘daddy’ is just something that slips from your tongue as easily as ‘mommy’ does his. He can keep his mind out of the gutter when it’s ‘Want daddy to read you a bedtime story?’ and ‘Show daddy your finger painting.’
But those other times?
Those other times are driving Michael Robinavitch clinically insane.
In the week leading up to Ella’s first birthday party, there are several particularly damning instances.
Robby takes the night shift when Ella’s particularly fussy after you’ve had a rough day, letting you sleep and staying in the nursery with her as long as he has to (and then some more because he just can’t bear to leave when she’s asleep on his bare chest, heartbeats synching up and breaths slowing). When she’s finally settled, Robby slides back into bed next to you. He tries not to rouse you at all, but you feel his weight and warmth, your subconscious recognizing him. When you flip over, your tee rides up around your stomach. Your hips are beautiful beyond belief. He can feel the heat and dampness growing between your legs as you throw your thigh over him and nestle close to his chest, happily murmuring, “Mmm. Thank you, daddy.”
He’s fucking you back to sleep in a matter of minutes, spooning you with needy hips and coaxing out gentle, half-awake whines that drive him crazy. The whole time, he groans quietly under your ear about how much he loves you, how good you feel, how he’s always going to be here for you. He only gets up long enough to throw away the condom before passing out into bliss with you.
The next night, Robby’s in his study, glasses on the tip of his nose, huffing through paperwork while you do Ella’s bedtime routine. Once she’s sleepy and warm from her bath, you knock gently on the study’s glass panel door and push it open. “Wanna join us for story time?”
Absently, he replies, “I’m sorry; I need a minute to finish these notes.”
You bat your lashes playfully and pout, propping Ella, who’s too sleepy to care, adorably on your hip. “Pleeeeease, daddy?”
Ella yawns as Robby’s eyes snap up at the word. He tilts his head to the side and examines you carefully. The mischief in your eyes. The swing of your hips as you balance his baby on your plush body. Ella is such a perfect blend of you both – Robby’s dark waves and inquisitive eyes, your nose and cheeks – and he absolutely melts seeing her falling asleep against your chest. Whenever you’re like this, in one of your comfortable pajama sets with your makeup long gone, he’s punched in the gut by the fact that he missed the first two-thirds of your pregnancy with Ella. He wants to be there with you when you first take the test, when you first hear the heartbeat, when you first notice your bump. When you pair that with the word ‘daddy,’ the potent reminder of how you made him a father and vice versa, it launches him to his feet.
He can’t miss another moment.
Ella’s knocked out not even halfway through “Oh, The Places You’ll Go!” so Robby drags you into the bedroom and starts kissing you feverishly. He’s got you pressed against the wall with his hands between your legs in no time. You’re dizzy from his lust and cumming a second time before he’s even taken his clothes off, his beard scratching your neck and cheek as he praises you. You’re such a good mom, angel. You saved me. Thank you for our family. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Robby finally loses all composure at Ella’s party.
You’ve spent the morning ordering him around – foreplay in its own right – and now the living room, kitchen, and dining room are decked out in all of the homemade decorations you’ve been working on for weeks. It’s like walking into a children’s book with inviting colors and textures on every surface. Cupcakes frosted with the colors of Ella’s favorite story, candy red-and-white striped hats you’d custom-ordered, cotton candy on striped sticks for truffula trees. It’s so whimsical that even your most serious coworkers gently gasp and smile as they take everything in.
Ella’s whisked off into a sea of cooing and kisses, so you and Robby are on full hosting duty. With his friends and family gathered around to celebrate your daughter’s first birthday, you seem determined to give him a heart attack.
Called across the room: “Can you grab us a cupcake, daddy?”
With a sweet smile: “Daddy, you wanna open the next present?”
A freshly manicured hand on his bicep as you breeze by: “Love you, daddy.”
It’s positively unrelenting. He’s trying to stay focused on hosting the party, but the fact of the matter is that you’re wearing a flouncy little dress that swishes just right and you’re positively glowing as everyone dotes on his daughter and every single time you glance back at him it’s with a total, unending love that he’s worked so damn hard to be worthy of. It’s so distracting that, with Ella on hip, he spills half a pitcher of Yink Pink Ink Drink down the front of your dress when you say ‘daddy’ a little too flirtatiously as he turns the corner out of the kitchen to top off glasses.
The neon pink juice saturates your chest and you’re already laughing at the slack-jawed look of horror on his face. As you flick beads off your hands, rivulets running down onto the floor, you scoff, “Michael Robinavitch, they let you practice emergency medicine and you can’t even walk a pitcher from one room to another?”
Ella tries to squirm away from the disaster and Robby calls, “Dana, would you mind-”
She stands up, puts out both her hands, and grins. “Gimme that baby.”
Ella squeals with delight as Dana takes her and starts making silly faces. At the same time, Trinity heads over and starts to clean up the mess, ushering you away with something firm about how she’s not going to have you cleaning up at your own party.
So you and Robby, with matching pink stains, escape up the steps and steal away into your en suite bathroom. Grumbling under your breath, you shimmy out of your dress and turn on the tap to work on the stain. Before you can get to work, though, Robby snatches it out of your hand and turns off the water, closing the distance between you in a few steps. He’s already shed his own shirt and your eyes rake hungrily over his bare torso. Some of his chest hair had gone silver since Ella was born, matching his beard, and it makes you ravenous.
Faux exasperated, you protest, “Robby, I need to rinse that.”
He tosses the dress into the bathtub, tugs you into his arms, and practically growls, “I’ll do it in a minute.”
You suppress a smirk, seeing the lust building in his expression, and push once more, “I need to grab a change of-”
“No you don’t,” he interrupts as he turns you around by the hip. Palming your ass, so much of it exposed by the delicate lacy thong you must’ve put on just to ruin him, he amends softly, “Not yet.” He kisses the top of your shoulder and plants more up toward your neck. You can’t help the way you sigh, releasing tension, when his hands roam over your stomach and up to your damp bra. “I need you, baby. You make me crazy.”
You roll your hips backwards and he tugs them flush with his so you can feel his hardening cock against your ass. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, you tease, “Need me, huh?”
“So fucking bad,” he confirms, voice rough and gravelly. His hands go to the sides of your panties and he begs, “Can I have you? Please?”
After nibbling your lower lip for a second, you can both tell you’ve already given into the idea. You were hoping to save the big reveal of your intentions for after the party, but he looks so damn good with his chest hair and thick thighs on full display. Turning around so you can wrap your arms around the back of his neck, you check nervously, “You think nobody’s gonna notice us being gone?”
“They’re all cute baby drunk,” he replies pointedly. As you agree with a nod, he cages you against the counter and kisses you hard, hands gripping your waist, the need obvious in every touch. You reach for his boxer briefs and tug them down urgently; he chuckles and kicks them off before doing the same to you. Then he turns you around and kisses you toward the bedroom, guiding you onto the bed and gazing down at you and your beautiful body. The body that gave him his daughter. The body that gives him life. When he has you laid bare beneath him, he whispers reverently, “There’s my girl. So fucking pretty.”
Then, knowing the clock is ticking, Robby drops onto the covers in front of you and laps at your clit. He still makes a point of not rushing you, but he sets an urgent pace that makes it perfectly clear your pleasure is his singular focus. The moment he tastes you, he’s rutting his cock down against the bed, pathetic like a humping teenager because he gets to have you, please you, be yours.
When he slightly nudges up the hood of your clit to make you even more sensitive, you dig your fingers into his scalp and groan, “Fuck, daddy, just like that.”
Robby’s next moan into your cunt is rumbling and low and so drunk it almost surprises you. Almost. The sound borders on pathetic. He’s never wanted anything more than your orgasm on his lips. You’re powerless to deny him that simple pleasure, especially when his tongue rolls insistently over the exact place you need exactly how you need it. He doesn’t let up through your orgasm, arms looped around your hips, tasting starlight from your core until he’s high on it.
When you’re blissed out and breathy, he crawls up above you on the bed, presses his forehead to yours, and groans, “You’re driving me absolutely nuts lately, you know that? Daddy this, daddy that. Please, daddy. Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy. Fuck, daddy, just like that.” He buries his face in your neck and breathes hard. Then he reaches into the top drawer of the bedside table and fishes out a condom. Before opening it, he gives you another peck and muses, “How am I supposed to stop wanting to fuck you when you’re making me think about you having my babies every five minutes?”
After a second of letting him agonize, you wind your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, turn him to center to face you, and reply, “You’re not supposed to stop.”
His eyes go straight to your lips. His heart rate spikes as he considers the implication. Not wanting to trip face-first into wishful thinking, he clarifies, “What are you saying, sweetheart?”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” You spread your legs wider, exposing the shiny fresh desire between them, and give him a heady, wanting gaze. He sucks in a sharp breath when you yank him forward, his bare cock nearly touching your pussy, the condom still dangling from his fingers. You run your hand down the center of his chest, scratching his hair just right, and purr, “Wanna make a baby, daddy?”
With a grin splitting his lips, he cups your face in his hand. “Are you serious?”
“Completely,” you giggle back, thrilled to finally admit it after ruminating on the idea for a few months, debating if you were ready physically and mentally to be pregnant again. Now, all you can imagine is how great it’ll be to share all of the early milestones with Robby by your side and Ella old enough to understand some of the moments. “I know it’ll be a lot with the whole ‘two under two’ thing, but-”
“I’m convinced,” he interrupts with an enthusiastic, infectious laugh. “This last year with Ella has been the best gift. I can’t even imagine how good doubling that will be.” He lines up his cock with your entrance and holds your hip steady as you try to squirm for more. “Tell me one more time.”
“C’mon, Robby,” you plead, reaching up to grip his bicep, “knock me up.”
As he slides into you bare for the first time since Ella was born, he shudders and sighs contentedly. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
You pull him into a kiss and whimper in response, his thick cock stretching you just how you fantasize about all the time, his lips forever marrying yours, his eyes shut tight in ecstasy. The way Robby’s mouth falls open in that tiny shattered ‘O’ when he feels your walls holding him close will never fail to give you an ego high. He looks almost innocent as he fucks you, like he’s praying at a service, his whole body trembling slightly as he tries to hold back. You’re luxurious for him, silky as a sunbeam, and he wants to bury himself inside of you for the rest of time.
Feeling the way his hips stutter and beg, you press your lips to the curve of his ear, breath hot and loving, his beard scratching your cheek deliciously, and urge him, “You don’t have to force yourself to last, Michael. Cum inside of me. I need it as bad as you do.”
Robby locks his hips to yours with short, deep thrusts as he grunts, “Fuck, angel.”
The feeling of his warmth coating you is cozy and safe and intimate. The two of you curled up by the hearth of a shared fire. He stays slotted inside of you for a long time, savoring the way your body holds onto his, and kisses your cheeks and collar and neck as many times as he can.
A knock on the door yanks you both into reality. Jack’s voice, of course. “There’s still a party out here, you freaks. C’mon, we want to cut the damn cake.”
Robby laughs and calls back, “Be right there, Uncle Jackie.”
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