Hello and welcome to the first annual gift exchange for The Pitt!
Whether you find yourself writing fic, making art, building playlists, or contributing to this fandom in other ways we would love to see you join us in sharing that talent through a gift exchange.
We will be opening our event sign ups from June 19th-July 6th, giving you a little over two weeks to decide if and how you'd like to participate this year. The goal is to test the waters this year and set the bar for the years to come as we receive more show content and naturally, a happy growth in our fandom.
Shortly before gifting week we will create an A03 collection for those who cross-post for the event, as well as a Tumblr masterlist organized by ship.
6/19 — Sign ups open.
7/6 — Sign ups close.
7/11 - 7/13 — Assignments go out. Participants may begin messaging their matches through Anon asks ONLY.
9/1 — A mod will reach out to you to ensure you are on track for gift delivery. There is no shame in bowing out, just make sure communication is made so we can grab a pinch-hitter.
9/25 - 9/28 — Gift giving begins! You may reveal yourselves anytime within these four days!
Be kind! Fandom is a space to let loose and have fun. We're here to share our love for the show.
While any and all forms of media are welcome, the exchange will not welcome any works created using generative AI.
This is not a kink event, but we will allow NSFW submissions. That said, it is our expectation participants are able to follow the mindset of "your kink is not my kink and that's okay" as long as the works posted are appropriately tagged. It is a creator's job to tag properly and the audience's job to know their own limits when it comes to media consumption.
Make sure you respond to your mod in a timely fashion so we know you still intend to gift something. The goal is to have assignments confirmed and the first anon asks sent within seventy-two hours of assignment.
If you find yourself in a situation where you will be unable to finish your gift by September 28th, please do not feel guilty. Life happens, creative blocks happen. We understand. Just reach out to whichever mod gave you your assignment so we can get a pinch-hitter ASAP. Failure to deliver a gift without communication may lead to a ban from future events.
Don't stress, have fun, enjoy getting to know your giftees through the asks. You may even find you have a new fandom pal by this October.
Closed! See you next year!
Our Event Moderators are @wisps-writes-fic and @rori-is-writing.
If you ever have any questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to reach out to us via ask or DM. We’d love to hear from you!
And, with that, The Pitt Gift Exchange 2025 comes to a close! Thank you so much to everyone for participating this year. We're so thrilled by all the lovely gifts you all created and hope you've perhaps made some new friends and mutuals along the way.
If you haven't, please check out our Event Masterlist for 2025. Looking forward to seeing you all again next year!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jack Abbot/Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Jack Abbot & Dana Evans, Dana Evans & Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Trinity Santos & Dennis Whitaker
Characters: Trinity Santos, Dennis Whitaker, Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Dana Evans
Additional Tags: Identity Reveal, Identity Porn, Secret Relationship, except it’s not really a secret you just have a bunch of nosy residents learning about old workplace tea, POV Outsider, Fluff
Summary:
After a picture of young Dr. Robby resurfaces and Dana lets it drop that he’s not quite as single as they might have thought, Mel, Whitaker, and Santos set themselves to the task of figuring out exactly who Dr. Robby’s partner is.
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happy the pitt gift exchange @honestlywrites!!! sorry to blow past the deadline the way i have– please enjoy the start of my rabbot fic for you nonetheless! i know you were hoping for x reader, but i fear that’s about as far from my wheelhouse as it gets, so i hope that this fluffy secret identity fic is enough to your liking. feel free to leave suggestions or requests for the upcoming rest of the story, and a great big thank you to @the-pitt-gift-exchange for hosting <3<3
Title: Emergency Contact
Fandom: The Pitt
Pairing: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch / Reader (she/her pronouns)
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 6433
A/N: This fic is a gift for @miraclesabound (sorry it's last-minute, work and life's a bitch lol) and thank you @the-pitt-gift-exchange for everything you've done putting this together!
Welp, here you go!
At this point, the last analog clock in the house was mocking you. Each tick-tick-tick of the seconds hand made your shoulders tense slightly more and more. 7:30 pm had long since passed, and the time was creeping closer and closer to 9:40 pm.
As if you were going to get a more desirable answer, you flip over your phone to check the time, maybe that clock on the wall is broken? Maybe it's running fast? Unfortunately for your optimistic spirit, it was in fact 9:37 pm, and you had yet to receive any texts explaining why you were sitting at the dining table, alone, with enough food to feed a small army, in your favourite date outfit.
As the wax slowly ran down the neck of the candle and started to pool on the table, you couldn't help but get lost in thought. How many times had this happened before? How many times had you done your best to brush it off? Hide how much this all hurts you...but how do you argue with a mass casualty incident? Or an outbreak of another childhood disease once thought to be eradicated? Or interns who were so desperate to soak up and learn from someone who was at the top of their field, they weren't above following them around like ducklings. It wasn't unheard of that your boyfriends, ‘duckings’ (interns) had so many questions after shift, they would accidentally follow him on his walk out of the hospital, where he would inevitably have to hold unofficial ‘office hours’ on a park bench outside the hospital, before he tried to get home.
The internal battle of admiration for all your boyfriend had achieved and shared with others tugged against the pain and disappointment that pooled around your heart. It wasn't until the front door handle jiggled and you heard a backpack being unceremoniously dropped. With the absolute last ounce of composure you can scrape together, you wipe the tears that threaten to ruin your expensive mascara and sniffle, hoping to hide all signs of sadness.
You can hear the jumble of his shoes as he pulls them off with his toes, the metallic CLICK of his earbud case and finally the rattling of his keys and hospital badge hit the tray by the door. “Sweetheart?”
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you do your best to answer, “In the dining room.”
Maybe it was your fight or flight, but as your boyfriend's steps got closer, you simply couldn't stay still; you had to start moving. You started grabbing armloads of food and wine and started walking things to the kitchen. You were on your third trip by the time you felt his eyes on you. “Sweetheart.” He reached for your elbow to slow your movement, but you pulled away at the last second and continued on to the kitchen.
You heard him let out a deep sigh from behind you and then shuffle around the kitchen. You hear the telltale signs of him pulling down glass containers from the cupboard to put the food away, and something in you snaps.
“I didn't need your help cooking it, I don't need your help putting it away.”
Turning around, you yank the containers out of his hands without a second thought, and start putting your equiset meal into the cold glass containers to be reheated tomorrow..
“I've had a really long day. It's late and I don't want to fight. Can we just go to bed?”
You stood there for a long second. Still. Silent.
This was your guys' song and dance. Robby would fuck up, you would be sad and alone at home, Robby would coax you to bed with the promise of ‘changing, doing better, talking about it in the morning, fixing everything, ’ and by the next morning, you would forget what had transpired the night before, and the cycle would continue.
But not tonight. You were exhausted. You were done.
“I can’t keep living like this. Like everything is ok.”
Maybe it was your exhaustion, but Robby looked genuinely surprised by your stance.
You gripped the counter, as silent tears rolled down your face, “I can’t do this anymore, Michael. I'm tired, and nothing ever changes.”
Robby stepped forward with his hands out to comfort you, “Sweethea-” but you stepped out of his grasp, “No!”
You haphazardly wipe your eyes with the back of your hands, much like a toddler, but you no longer cared about your expensive makeup.
“You didn't even call Michael! Or even text! Your shift ended at 7 pm, and you were supposed to be home at 7:30 pm! It's nearly ten o’clock at night! We've rescheduled this date night five times! I made your bubbe's brisket, which has been sitting on the table since 7:45 pm! I even bought a new outfit! I just don't know what else to do! You'll always choose that job, that hospital, anyone over me!”
Robby opens his mouth to protest, but all the hurt and sadness you have ignored since you two first got together is overflowing like a boiling pot.
“As long as that person is either sick, dying, or one of your coworkers, you will always have someone to choose over me!”
You finally had the nerve to look up at Robby, and he looked… broken. But maybe this is what it would take for him to understand how all this truly made you feel. How broke you felt.
As you continued to look at him, you saw the man you loved. The man who took you out to a greasy dinner for your first date and shared a milkshake with you. The man who always had a hair band on his wrist, and a scrunchie in his bag for when you got overstimulated. The man who kept dropping hints that his house, and yard in particular, was big enough if you ever wanted to pull the trigger and get a dog. The man you planned to spend the rest of your life with.
But even then, you knew you needed to leave. The tightness in your chest felt like you couldn't breathe, your skin prickled in a way that made you feel like you needed to get out of these suddenly constricting clothes immediately, and your whole body felt hot as your hair stuck to the back of your neck.
You rushed past Robby on your way to the door, only grabbing things within arm's reach: your phone, bag, coat and shoes. As you carelessly get dressed, Robby can't help but watch you with an absolute sadness in his deep brown eyes. With your back to him, you grab the door handle. As you go to turn it, you hear him softly whisper, “I never meant to hurt you…But it seems like I still did.”
You take a deep breath, and with all your will, you open the door, instead of what your heart screams at you to, turn around, look at him, figure it out, fix it.
Closing Robby's front door behind you, it takes everything in you not to slide down and start sobbing, but you know what you need to do, one foot in front of the other, and you will figure out everything tomorrow when you're feeling better.
Unfortunately for you, you're not feeling better the next day. You assumed you would be emotionally and mentally exhausted, but you weren't expecting to wake up and feel like you had been hit by a train. Thankfully, today was Saturday, so you could stay in bed all day if you wanted, but by noon, you knew something was up. You had a cough, your chest hurt, and no matter the amount of sweaters and blankets you piled on your body, you couldn't get rid of this damn chill.
You drag yourself out of bed, with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, much like a fuzzy cape and make your way to the kitchen. You dig around, hoping to find any remnants from the last time you were sick. Luckily, you found three bottles of Gatorade, a handful of different types of soup and still enough lemon juice and honey to make quite a bit of tea. With what little strength you had, you made some soup on the stove, boiled some water in the kettle for tea, and got some ice for your Gatorade.
After what felt like an eternity, but what was probably closer to 20 minutes, you shuffled back to your room with a thermos of soup and two insulated cups full of drinks. You dropped everything off by your bed and were severely tempted to crawl back under the cover, but knew you were going to need some meds in hopes of curing whatever illness this was. Shuffling to the bathroom medicine cabinet, you look at everything and try to think what Robby might recommend. While holding the bottle of Tylenol, you think for a split second about calling him. Maybe he would come over, take your temperature, cuddle you and take care of you. But you knew, realistically, he was already at work, and there was no way he would leave to come take care of you. With a sigh, you grabbed the meds you thought would be best and headed back to bed.
Monday rolled around, and despite you doing your best, you were worse, much worse. You called in sick from work and continued to shiver in bed. Every breath felt like you were drowning, and you kept hacking up a lung basically every time your body thought you breathed wrong. You had long since finished your drinks, and your soup was well past cold even with the thermos, but you had no energy to get out of bed to get anything else from the kitchen or the bathroom.
As you lay in bed, under every single blanket in your apartment, you took inventory of your body. Pain in your chest that worsens when you cough, which is often, a fever, though you don't know how high, shortness of breath, and serious fatigue. Unfortunately, you were not a licensed medical professional, so you weren't sure what this meant beyond you felt like shit, and you were only getting worse. Grabbing your phone, you typed all your symptoms into Google.
Google apparently is 85% sure you have cancer, and it's terminal, and as if Robby was in the room, you could hear him yelling, “Don't listen to that Google doctor bullshit! It didn't go to school for 15 years!” But as you scroll down a little further, you find some other pieces saying that you might have pneumonia. Google also says that if it is pneumonia, you'll need antibiotics. Groaning into your pillow, you drag yourself out of bed and get yourself dressed in your comfiest clothes for the hospital, making sure to keep yourself bundled to fight this chill that had set itself deep within your bones.
Once you got everything you needed to keep yourself entertained / comfy in a waiting room, you headed towards your car to drive to the hospital. Was driving yourself to the hospital the wisest choice? Probably not, but all your family was outside of Pittsburgh, your friends were still at work, and there was no way you were getting into an Uber in your state. You were out of options.
Instinctively, you start to drive yourself to PTMC, like a string is attached and tugging on your chest towards Robby. Knowing that Robby can fix this, Robby can make you feel better. Though the last sensible part of your brain can't see Robby like this, can't see the man who hasn't called, let alone texted you in the past three days, so you open the maps on your phone and search UPMC Mercy.
As you walk into UPMC Mercy Emergency, there's something eerily familiar. It's not the same; the floor is a different tile, the walls are a different colour, but the energy is the same, and the people are the same. People are coughing, children whimpering into their parents' shoulders, people holding bandages, icepacks, you name it. Everything was different, but it was all the same.
You walked up to reception, and you are welcomed by a lady who had a smile that was just as warm as Lupe’s, but maybe all receptionists are kind souls, and perhaps you're a little delirious, who knows. You answer all the questions the lovely lady at reception asks you, and then fill out the necessary paperwork, including your name, age, symptoms, and emergency contact. You waver over that question for a second. Typically, you would put Robby, but now you weren't so sure; the pen in your hand held steady mere millimetres over the paper until you decided to leave it blank.
As you return the paperwork to the receptionist, you ask about the expected wait time. She winces slightly and tells you approximately five hours. You think back to all of Robby’s stories and honestly expect it to be much longer.
“Oh, that's not too bad, thank you!” You give her a little wave as you turn around to find yourself a seat.
The receptionist looks at you, pleasantly surprised, and returns the wave.
About three hours later, you heard your name being called by a nurse. She was very kind and brought you into a room, and started doing some basic checks, but by the look on her face and the years you spent with Robby, you could tell your blood pressure was much too high, and your blood oxygen saturation was much too low. She gave you a very polite smile and quickly rushed out of the room. No more than 5 minutes later, a very handsome doctor walked in with the nurse, and what looked to be a very young med student following very close behind her.
“Hi, my name is Doctor Ramos, and I hear you're not feeling well. Nurse Amy came here and showed me your numbers, and they worry me a bit. Your resting heart rate right now is 160bpm, which means your heart is working overtime to fight against the bacterial infection attacking your body. I'm going to order an ECG for you right now just to check on your heart. In the meantime, can you tell me all the other symptoms you've been experiencing?
You quickly explain everything, the chills, which they confirm to be a temperature of 103, a cough, trouble breathing, and fatigue. Dr.Ramos nodded, taking notes, while Nurse Amy and med student O'Brien, with your consent, put the ECG stickers across your chest and back.
Thankfully, the ECG comes back okay, but they will continue to monitor to be safe, and after a couple of coughing fits, Dr.Ramos explains that, based on your symptoms, he suspected you had pneumonia, but they would have to do some tests first to confirm. Dr.Ramos explained that he would be ordering a blood test, a Sputum test, and a chest X-ray. Nurse Amy would be coming back to do the blood and sputum test, and someone from radiology would be down eventually to bring you in for an X-ray. Dr. Ramos asked if you had any questions, and when you told him no, he told you he would be back to check on you in a bit.
As sweet as Nurse Amy was, it took her three times to get a vein for your blood draw. She apologized profusely, and you knew it wasn't her fault; you were severely dehydrated. But right then, tears started to prickle the corners of your eyes, and you suddenly wished you had gone to PTMC, because Dana would have definitely gotten it. On the first try, nonetheless, she was an incredible nurse and an even better caregiver. Dana would have poked you once, without any pinch, gotten all four viles licky split and then petted your hair, in only a way a mom can make soothing and comforting.
“There, all done.” Amy tenderly whispered as she placed the tape on your inner elbow. Amy could see the tears threatening to spill out of the corners of your eyes, and felt bad about how many times she had to jab you; she felt extra bad that you were all alone in the emergency room on a Monday afternoon.
You gave her a half-hearted smile in return.
Amy couldn't leave you alone without asking, “Do you want me to call anyone for you, hun? Your parents? A friend? A partner?”
This made you think of Robby briefly, but you shook your head. “No, I don't have anyone in the city at the moment, it's okay.”
Amy visibly saddens, but continues, “What about your emergency contact?”
“No, that won't work; that's from when my cousin and I lived together. That was years ago, and I just never changed it.”
Amy nods her head understandingly, “I'll be back when it's time to go for your chest x-ray.”She lowers the lights in the room and heads back into the chaos of Mercy Hospital's emergency room.
As if the bright fluorescent lights of your hospital room were the sun, and they were the only thing keeping you up, you immediately flop over and tuck your legs closer to your body, trying not to simply wither away.
Everyone in The Pitt could tell that Robby was slowly losing it, sure in an actual trauma, he was fine, cool as a cucumber, decisions decisive, hands steady, no problem in sight, an absolute rockstar. But the moment a trauma ended and it was something minor, the man lost all sense.
For example, like the ingrown toenail that came in this morning, Robby forgot to put on gloves before the exam, or when Earl asked for a sandwich, and Robby just handed over his entire wallet. The worst was when the nurses realized he wasn't really paying attention, and more than half of them asked for the same day off, and Robby mummbled “Yeah, sure” until Dana caught wind and shut that shit down and made them all apologize. Hell, the most recent Pitt bet was how many times Robby was going to injure himself in a given day until he maims himself. Just today alone, Robby had clipped his hip on the nursing station nine times, bumped his head into an overhead lamp six times, knocked over four sterile stations, walked into two closing elevators and rolled three patients' beds over his toes. And if you would believe it, yesterday was worse.
Dana had already pulled him aside and asked what was wrong, honing in using those mom/charge nurse instincts, but Robby claimed nothing was wrong; he just hadn't been feeling well. Which Dana undoubtedly didn't believe, but let her Chief Sad Boy, now Clumsy Boy, believe whatever he wants.
It was approaching 4 pm on Monday, Robby still had 3 hours left of his shift, and he couldn't stop thinking about you. How gorgeous you looked in your new outfit, how delicious his bubbe’s brisket you made was, but more importantly, what was burned into his psyche was how sad you were. How sad he had made you. All you did was make his life better, and somehow, he wasn't able to do the same for you.
He knew things weren't perfect, specifically, he knew he wasn't perfect, but he thought his all-consuming love for you would be able to conquer. When he thought of the future, he saw you, with whatever mutt you chose from the SPCA, maybe with matching rings on both of your ring fingers, and if you ever wanted, maybe kids that looked like running around the yard with the dog.
Robby would take all of this, or nothing; it didn't matter to him. Truly, all that mattered was that you were by his side for the rest of his life.
As Robby looked at his watch, time moved so slowly that he didn't know what he was going to do, but something needed to change because these three days without you were the worst of his life.
Continuing to chart at the nurses' station, he also did his best to come up with a plan for after work to win you back. Only then, when he was deep in thought, he heard Dana, the absolute giveaway term “sad boy” leave her mouth; Robby couldn't help but look up at her and roll his eyes. Robby realized only then that she was on her personal phone, which was basically unheard of. Robby notched his eyebrow in confusion and whispered, “Who are you talking to?” but all he received was a very mom hand flick as if saying, “Mind your business, go check on central 6”. Unfortunately, unable to ever go against Dana, Robby heads to Central 6.
As Robby walked towards Central 6, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He typically ignores it, but his heart picks up that on the off chance it's you and you're reaching out, he can't miss this opportunity. Digging his phone out of his cargo pants pocket, he turns it over, hoping to see your nickname and face on the screen. Regrettably, instead, it says Dr. Sheldon Halstead.
Halstead is the Chief attending at UPMC Mercy, an okay guy that Robby and Jack occasionally play poker with, or catch a beer with when stuck at medical conferences together, but not someone you call out of the blue.
Robby tentatively picks up the phone, “Hello?”
“Robby! How are you? It's good to hear from you, man! Just thought I'd call you personally when I heard one of my third-year residents was going to give you a call because of one of their patients. I have to say, Robby, it does make us feel pretty special here at Mercy that someone who has you as their emergency contact decided to come here for us to help them. I guess they just had a look at our Patient Satisfaction scores, and knew we were the best to help!” Halstead chuckles, thinking this is one big joke, but Roby’s head is reeling. Emergency contact? What is he talking about?
“Halstead, what are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about…” then Halstead says your name. And then your age, your height, your weight. Like you were just any other patient, and he was an intern on rounds presenting.
Robby suddenly feels underwater, like he can't breathe. What's wrong? Are you okay? Why didn't you come here? Why didn't you call him? Robby can barely get the words out, but just asks, “Is she okay?”
“Oh yeah, they're sicker than a dog, but we're taking care of them, I can't tell you anything beyond that, you know, Hippocratic oath and all. But they would probably do good with someone taking care of them for the next little bit.”
Robby gave an affirmative grunt.
“Honestly, my resident and nurse were kind of confused because they said they had no one in the city and no one to call, and their emergency contact was out of date, but you know, charge nurses always double-checking, and then they found you as their emergency contact, what a stroke of luck!"
Robby looks up, then at Dana and silently gives thanks for all charge nurses, because he definitely knows the type.
Before Halstead could talk anymore, Robby said, “Okay, tell her I'm on my way.”
As Robby hung up, he heard Halstead say, “Aren't you on shif-?”
Robby marches over to Dana, still on the phone. “Is that Jack?”
Dana looks at him, confused, and then Robby yoinks the phone from her hand. “Jack?”
“Robby?”
“Mayday.”
“Fuck, okay, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Robby then hung up and looked at Dana. “I'm leaving right now—family emergency. Jack is going to finish my last three hours and then will hand off to Shen. Can you -”
“I will get everyone to present to Abbott once he arrives.”
Robby squeezes Dana's hand and hopes it expresses everything he needs. “Thank you.”
Dana nods and hands Robby his backpack from under the nurses' station, and Robby runs out through the ambulance bay.
Robby arrives at Mercy shortly after and makes his way to reception. “Hi...” He looks at her name tag, “Ruth, I'm here for my girlfriend, Dr. Sheldon Hal-”
“Robby!”
As Robby looked up, he saw Sheldon waving him down from behind the glass.
Sheldon waved at Ruth, “I've got him, Ruth!”
Ruth nodded and buzzed Robby in. Robby thanked Ruth and slipped into the Mercy Emergency Room.
“She's just back here.”
Robby opens the door and immediately is at your side, sweeping your hair out of your eyes. “Sweetheart. Sweetheart, can you wake up for me?”
Your eyes flutter open, “Michael?”
“Yeah, it's me, sweetheart. Can you sit up for me?”
Bleary-eyed and barely awake, you sit up for Robby. “Good job, sweetheart. Can you tell me what's wrong? Where does it hurt?” Robby is scanning your entire body, searching for whatever might have landed you in an emergency room.
Sitting up really takes it out of you, and you start to cough, you grip onto the sleeves of Robby’s sweater to make sure you don't fall over. You instantly feel Robby sweep you in his arms and start rubbing soothing circles onto your back, and whispering into your hair, “It's okay. It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you. I've got you.”
After a couple of minutes, you're finally able to take a breath. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”
“I’m here to take care of you, and it's just after 4:30 pm.”
You look at Robby, confused, “How are you here? You have work?”
Robby pulls you in closer, “sssh, sssh, ssh. Don't worry about it. All you need to do right now is tell me what's wrong. What are your symptoms?”
“I'm just having a hard time breathing, and my cough is bad, obviously, and I had a fever.”
Robby leaned in and kissed your forehead, “Sweetheart, you still have a fever.”
“Then why am I still freezing?” Your teeth chatter a little.
Robby shifts to the side, untangles himself from both his coat and his sweater and puts both on you. You can't help but lean into the collar and smell the lingering bits of his cologne and detergent, but then you remembered you were mad, and hurt and maybe broken up, you weren't sure, but thinking about it made your already throbbing head hurt worse.
Robby saw you wince, and he got up indignantly. “Where the hell are your doctors?”
You groan and lie back down, “They’re busy.”
“I'm going to find Sheldon!”
As Robby went to open the door, he was met with a resident and a medical student who had much the same meek stature as Whitaker.
“You must be Dr. Robby! Dr. Halstead had told me would be dropping by. My name is Dr. Ramos, and I have to say I was gripped by your paper on rising gun violence in America and how it affects the emergency ro-”
“I'm sorry to cut you off, but can I see her chart?”
Not waiting for a response, Robby effortlessly grabs the iPad from his hands like the trained chief attending he is and looks over your chart. Robby scans over everything: blood pressure, pulse oximetry, multiple ECG results, suspected pneumonia, orders for blood work, sputum test, but then his eyes reach the x-ray.
“Why has she not received an X-ray yet?” Using his best chief attending voice.
Not used to taking orders from him, but the voice was universal, Dr.Ramos answered, “Um, the x-ray has been backed up, but she should be one of the very next people.”
“Go to the lab and check on her sputum test, and then go to Phlebotomy and get her blood work back.”
“Um, Dr.Robby, I just came in here to-”
“Now!”
Dr.Ramos immediately left the room, and you groaned, which propelled Robby right to your side. “You need to be nice to them; they're doing their best. They're very busy.”
Robby kept brushing and playing with your hair the way he knew you liked. “I don't care. You should be their top priority.”
You smush your face into the pillow, and with a grumpy pout, you say, “They're also really nice.”
Robby kissed you on the temple. “Good. I still don't care.”
Thankfully, within the hour, with what you can only assume to be a lot of pushing and pulling strings from Robby, you got your X-ray and all your test results back, and you definitely had pneumonia. You had had over 3 bags of saline to help with the dehydration, as well as something else mixed in to treat the fever. Dr. Ramos wrote you a prescription for some antibiotics, and you were now ready to be discharged.
You still felt sick, but you no longer felt like you were dying. Dr. Ramos was also nice enough to write you a doctor's note for two weeks. Robby was helping you sign your discharge forms and grab all your things.
Robby rolled the wheelchair to the front door and went to grab his phone to call an Uber for the two of you. When you started to stand, Robby reached out for you, “Whoa whoa whoa, where do you think you're going?”
Absentmindedly, you answer, “My car.”
Horrified, Robby nearly yelled, “You drove here?”
Sheepishly, you answered “Yeeeah?”
Robby replied, as sternly as if you were an intern, “Sit.”
Instantly, you sat back down in the wheelchair, understanding what you had done wrong. “Can you drive me home?”
Robby smiled, “Of course.”
The drive home was peaceful, so peaceful in fact, you nodded off a couple of minutes into the trip. When you awoke, it was Robby crouched by the passenger seat cupping your cheek in his hand, that you saw first. “We’re home, sweetheart.”
You give a very cattish stretch, enjoying being out of that hospital bed and no longer hooked up to the IV or the ECG, even though you still had those damn stickers all over your body. Only then did you realize you were not in front of your apartment building but in front of Michael's house. “Michael.. I said”
“I know, but this is your home, and I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to make you feel like it wasn't.” Michael's hand wrapped around yours and brought it to his mouth to kiss, “and there was no way I was going to let you go back to your place, with pneumonia alone. Not going to happen.”
Michael brings you inside and asks what you want first: food, a shower or sleep?
Surprising the both of you, you say shower. Michael leads you to the bathroom and stands there awkwardly, “I'll leave.”
“Michael!”
Michael immediately turns around. “Yeah?”
“Can you sit outside the door?”
Michael smiles, “Sure.”
Michael steps outside, and you strip off all your clothes and enter the steaming shower. It feels good, the steam feels like it's breaking all the junk up in your lungs, while the heat is washing away any germs from the pneumonia or the hospital. The heat also made the ECG stickers easier to remove; unfortunately, there were a few on your back that you couldn't quite reach. You tried any which way, without any success, and you finally knew what you needed to do.
Barley above a whisper, “Michael?”
You hear a scramble from outside, “Yeah?”
“Can you come here for a second?”
You hear the door slowly and tentatively squeak open. And then you hear his footsteps get closer to the shower. “Yeah?”
“Can you come in?”
“...are you sure?”
You take a deep breath, “yeah.”
You hear from just outside clothes being discarded and dropped on the group, and finally, you hear the curtain being pulled aside.
Michael’s eyes can't help but rake up and down your body. You're covering your chest, but more to hide from the chill outside the shower than a sense of dignity.
Michael gave a small cough, “How can I help?”
You turn to show him your back. “Can you take the stickers off?”
Michael hums a yes before he starts slowly peeling off the ECG stickers, as if compelled, he gives each spot where a sticker was a kiss. Your skin shivers with every kiss. “Here, let me.” Michael picked up your body wash and a wash mitt. “The stickers always leave some of the glue.” Michael washed your entire body; it wasn't sexual, but it definitely was intimate. Michael and you had had many showers together in the past, but you could not remember the last one that did not start or end with a quickie before or after work, whereas this shower was slow, intimate, and purposeful.
Michael eventually moved onto your hair, and you happily leaned your head into his chest as he washed your hair. This is the first time in a long time you felt at peace, didn't matter how sick you were, everything in your body, in your world felt a little bit better, and because your body and soul were finally at peace, this meant that your brain thought it would be the perfect time to ruin that.
“What are we doing?”
“What? What do you mean? I'm washing your hair?”
“No, I mean, what are we doing. Why did you come to the hospital? Why did you yell at that resident? Why did you bring me back to your house? Why did I invite you into my shower? Why did you get in? Why are you taking care of me!”
The last question came out closer to a sob.
Michael wrapped his arms around you as you cried, and he whispered over and over again, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”
Realizing that the crying was only going to aggravate your pneumonia, Michael did his best to explain in hopes of getting you to stop crying. “I came to the hospital because when we first started dating, and you came in when you thought you had a broken your collarbone, I saw your emergency contact was your cousin, who had moved out of state, and I couldn't imagine you alone in the hospital room, especially if I was around, so I switched your emergency contact to me. So when I got a call today saying you were in a hospital emergency room that wasn't my own, and that no one was with you, it felt like my world was crumbling. I got Jack to come in and cover my last 3 hours by using our code word, meaning, ‘something life or death is happening and I need your help’. Then left the Pitt under Dana's charge for 20 minutes until Jack could actually get there, but in those 20 minutes, I had already started running to Mercy and thankfully was able to hail a cab.
Michael takes a deep breath, cups your cheeks with his hands and wipes the tears away using his thumbs.
“I then ran into a hospital where they're good, but they were near our level of trauma centre, where I find the woman I love cuddled up shivering on a bed, without any test results and no positive diagnosis yet. For you, that's unacceptable. So I yelled at some resident and a chief attending, I would have done a lot more than just yell if it got me whatever I needed to treat you.”
“I then brought you home to our home, because without you, it sure as hell isn't a home, it's barely a house that I'd be willing to stay in.”
“Sweetheart, you asked why I came, and why I'm taking care of you? And that's because I will always come to you, no matter what. When you need me, I will be there. I'm sorry I've made you question that; that was never my intention. It is my goal in life to take care of you and always be there for you in every single way someone can be.”
“I will do whatever you ask of me, because all I need in this life is you by my side. I can step down as chief attending, hell, I can quit. We can move out of Pittsburgh. We can be closer to your family. We can do whatever you want because these past three days with you not by my side have been the hardest of my life.”
At this point, you're sobbing, and Michael is rocking you against his chest. “I love you, I love you. I love you.”
After what felt like an eternity, you pull away and look up at Michael, “I love you too.”
You share a passionate kiss, both of you with tears streaming down your face, and only after the kiss do you remember you're sick and smack Michael, saying that he's a doctor and he should know better, but all Michael can do is chuckle and shrug.
Getting out of the shower was much easier than expected because you had Michael's strong forearms to hold onto, and he had the biggest, fluffiest blanket waiting to wrap around you, as well as his comfiest clothes for you to fit into. Michael dried your hair and herded you towards the bed, with the saying, “Half the battle is fought while you're asleep.”
When you woke up a couple of hours later, based on the sun, the most delicious smell wafted down from the kitchen. A few seconds later, Robby emerged with two bowls of soup, a bottle of Gatorade and, from the click-clacking, you guessed it, a bottle of meds in his pocket.
You would be correct.
Robby placed down two bowls of matzo ball soup, a bottle of Gatorade and handed you a bottle of antibiotics.
“They recommend taking the meds with food.”
You gave a simple nod and took a big bite of soup. It tasted fantastic, it made your whole body feel warm and so much better. “Ugh, this soup is so good!”
Michael turns a bright tomato red. “I'm happy you like it, it's Bubee’s recipe. She always said it could fix anything.”
You look at him with a soft smile. “It tastes wonderful.”
The two of you finish the soup, and then cuddle into one another, and as your eyes flutter close, you couldn't help but think maybe Bubbe was right, maybe that soup really could fix anything.
This is for @lockeswoodss it's your gift for The Pitt gift exchange event. I hope you like it.
Cw: toys, aphrodisiacs, mistress kink
A/n: this only the first half of the fic!
MINORS DNI!
It was the second anniversary of your relationship today, and both of you had the entire day planned out. However, the Pitt was short-staffed, and Parker was called in for the morning shift, which she usually didn’t work. You decided to take a bath with rose petals, wanting to spoil yourself while waiting for your partner to get home. After soaking for a while and ensuring your legs were smooth, you got out again and thought about what the evening would bring. You saw that Parker bought a new body lotion and decided you would apply it to yourself, as it smelled really nice. The lotion left a nice, warm, and tingly feeling on your skin. You put on the lingerie Parker bought for you on Valentine's Day. It was a black strap lingerie that came with a blindfold.
Parker finally came home, exhausted from the shift, but for once, she could leave on time, which never happens. “Hey, love. I’m… home.” Parker leaned against the bedroom doorframe, the words stuck in her throat, because she couldn’t believe the vision that was unfolding before her. You were covered in sweat, a whining mess, and used her pillow to grind against it just to feel some friction. Ellis let out a whistle. “Not that I’m complaining, love. But what’s gotten into you?” She walked close to the bed and took in your desperate form. Your slick was dripping through your panties.
“I ung I don’t know. It all started after I used your body lotion.” You whined. Ellis looked a little confused until realization dawned on her. She quickly walked into the bathroom and picked up the purple bottle of lotion.
“Was it this one, love?” She knelt down on the bed next to you. You took a look at it and nodded, letting out another needy whine. “Oh, darling, honey. I bought this for us; it has aphrodisiacs in it.” She brushed a sweaty lock out of your face. “Here is what we do.” She got up and opened the drawer of her nightstand, pulling out lace strings and your blind fold. “You will be my good baby while I take a quick shower.” Parker bound your hands above your head, your legs to the bed post and put the blindfold on you. “Ah, let’s not forget these.” She put two small vibration eggs inside your bra, so they nestled against your nipples. “Alright, I'll be back soon, love.”
You thought you were going insane. The vibration was set to the lowest and yet you felt like you would cum from only your nipples. You tried to get any kind of relief between your legs but since they were spread and bound you couldn't. It felt like she had been in that shower for hours, you whined and moaned from the vibration on your nipples, the throbbing in your pussy getting harder, a lot more needy. You thrusted your hips against nothing, just hoping you would find any form of relief. “Hnnng. P-Parker, mistress. Please hurry.” You whined out loud, as you noticed the shower stopped.
“Are you needy, love?” She walked into the bedroom, opening a cupboard to retrieve a few items, but you couldn’t make out what. “But surely you wouldn't tell me to hurry?” She slowly traced your legs with a crop. “Because that would mean I would need to punish you, love.”
“B-but I need it.” Tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. “I'm sorry mistress.”
Robby runs a coffee shop called Kafa two blocks away from PTMC
Jack, the new residency program supervisor, gets sick of Gloria barging into his office
So he starts doing his work at Kafa
And thinks the barista/owner with really sad eyes is pretty cute
Jack never orders anything but black coffee.
Why isn’t Robby a doctor? He was taking care of his (much) younger siblings and working minimum wage service jobs until five years ago, when he saved up enough to open the cafe
He wanted to be a doctor, though. When he was younger.
Okay so after a few months of Jack coming in to do his work, looking tired and stressed and trying to get the Emergency Department to run okay, Robby starts crushing on him.
And Robby starts bringing him food and making him fancy teas and drinks.
Until Jack asks him out, right when the cafe is closing for the night.
Robby says yes! But he’s really nervous– he hasn’t done anything just for himself (not for his siblings) in years.
Jack takes him out to a fancy restaurant and tries to impress Robby. But it feels stilted and weird, and they both worry they’ve made the wrong choice, until they’re walking back to Robby’s apartment, and Robby invites him up for a cup of coffee.
And sitting there on Robby’s couch, drinking coffee together, they fall in love :)
And they live happily ever after. Robby's coffee shop becomes the go-to destination for first responders in the city, and they start running 24/7. Eventually Robby even gets his paramedic license, and he's able to live part of that dream of being a doctor.
My @the-pitt-gift-exchange gift for @wisps-writes-fic
I used the prompts "Rabbot" and "Coffee Shop AU". I really enjoyed working on this, and I hope you like it!
We hope you've had a great time this weekend giving and receiving your pitt exchange gifts. There have been some truly phenominal works we've seen so far and we can't wait to see what our last few participants bring in by this evening.
Please remember that today is your deadline for posting, ideally by midnight CST. If for whatever reason that will be a problem, please reach out so we can communicate that to your giftee. Again, we would love to see our writers and artists join us on ao3, but it is not a requirement.
Thank you all for the hard work you've put in and a special thanks to our pinch hitters @codewren and @rori-is-writing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/6
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Trinity Santos & Dennis Whitaker
Characters: Trinity Santos, Dennis Whitaker
Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Trinity Santos and Dennis Whitaker are Roommates, Queer Trinity Santos, Queer Dennis Whitaker, Found Family, becoming found family, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly in the form of Trinity trying and learning from her mistakes, Some angst, Trinity Santos and Dennis Whitaker Learning To Take Care of Each Other, Medical Inaccuracies, probably, Internalized Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This will be betaread some time but we are in the trenches atm, The Pitt Gift Exchange 2025, Title inspired by Noah Kahan’s Call Your Mom
Summary:
Taking care of others has always been a red string through Trinity Santos’s life, but she wouldn’t have guessed that she would be right back at taking care of wounded birds again when she decided to offer her second bedroom to Dennis Whitaker.
Or, 5 times where Trinity painstakingly builds a home for and takes care of Dennis + 1 time where he repays her the favour.
Happy gift exchange @ziorite ! I hope that you’ll enjoy this beginning to a sweet lil Santos & Whitaker friendship fic, I cannot wait to finish it!
Hey, all, sorry I've been MIA, but school's been kinda a lot lately 😅.
I'm so happy I had time to write this, though! This is my submission for the 2025 Pitt Gift Exchange! My giftee is @codewren I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it ^_^
Thanks so much @the-pitt-gift-exchange for all the work you did organizing it! It was a really fun project.
WC: ~3,150
MDNI (PLEASE)
Warnings: smut, bondage, arguments, enemies to lovers (this was my first time writing this trope, hopefully it's okay), Spitting, Oral (F receiving), size kink, Sir kink, somewhat brat reader? She becomes more subby nearing the end of the fic, one bed trope, he talks her through it. (Please let me know if I missed anything), no Y/N, Robby fingering reader's mouth (IDK how else to phrase that lol)
You took a deep breath and attempted to calm yourself as you kept your gaze locked on the rain-streaked window of your Uber. You tried your best to ignore the man next to you, knowing that anything out of your mouth would most likely spark off another argument. It had already been a hellish week. You and Robinavitch were selected to represent PTMC’s Emergency Department in a medical conference in Seattle. Gloria’s doing, it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d pick you as a partner for this conference. You understood logically that you both were the best choices to show off at the conference. Robinavitch's tenure alone spoke for itself, and your status as an attending at the age of 26 never failed to turn heads. Not that the man next to you would ever acknowledge that feat. Since becoming the head of the Emergency Department, it felt like his sole goal was to make you quit. You had started your residency mid-pandemic; you were hand-picked by Adamson. To most, being thrown into the deep end of emergency medicine during a worldwide outbreak was more than enough to prove that you had earned your dues. Not to him, though, nothing you did would ever be good enough for Robinavitch.
Your relationship wasn’t always like this. You actually had a solid rapport while the pandemic was in full swing, but that all ended when Adamson died. After that switch flipped, there was no going back to civility. Robinavitch would ride you harder than any other resident to date. He was the reason you worked nights; honestly, a blessing in disguise. If it weren’t for him, you’d never have the opportunity to work and become friends with Parker and John, or be guided by Jack. Abbot would talk to you straight and was less outwardly emotional. You respected him, and in turn, he respected and supported you so that you could focus on the task at hand. Outside of a few coworkers, there was nothing left for you on the day shift. Even if Robinavitch was still technically in charge of you, you’d never change back to being under him again. Ever.
You had kept that promise to yourself. During the past week, you’ve stood your ground at every side-eyed glance and scrutinizing comments. To say your patience was running thin was an understatement. The only things that kept you going were sleeping in your own bed tonight and escaping back to your Robinavitch-free bubble. That was until you made it to the airport, bags in tow, your Uber gone, only to find out that all flights back east had been grounded because of a major storm in the Midwest. You immediately went on the defensive, trying to find rooms before any of the other conference goers could, while Robinavitch booked the earliest flights available. You knew pickings would be slim; it was a Friday night, and you were not the only flight grounded. Luckily, starting at the hotel farthest away paid off when you were able to snag two single-bed suites at the last second. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when the confirmation email came through.
The car jerking to a stop pulled you back to the present. You and Robinavitch made quick work of unloading your bags and running into the lobby before you could get any more wet. The warmth of the lights and rising temperature was a welcome contrast to the weather outside. You and the desk worker shared a smile as you made your way over.
“Hello,” she greeted, “Checking in?”
You returned the greeting and gave her your last name for the reservation.
“Alright,” she said, focusing in on her computer, “You’re fortunate you got in, we are sold out for the night. Apparently, there was an issue at the airport.”
“Yeah, that’s actually where we’re coming from.” You said, shifting your backpack strap, you couldn’t wait to shower and be done with today.
“Lucky you,” she said, glancing over her screen. “Ah, here we are, your room is all set. Here are the keys, and the room number is written on the envelope. I hope you both have a great night.”
“Sorry, did you say room?” Robinavitch asked, speaking for the first time since you got to the hotel.
“Yes, is there an issue?” she asked.
“Um, yeah,” you nodded, grabbing your phone and pulling up the confirmation email, “It’s supposed to be two single bedrooms.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, after glancing at your email, “We’ve been having issues with our website listing the proper availability; it must have been strained with all the last-minute bookings. I will refund you for the second room immediately. Unfortunately, we are booked solid for the night, but I could have a cot brought up to your suite if that would help.”
You shared a glance with Robinavitch before looking back at the worker.
“We’ll take it with the cot, please.” You replied with a nod.
“Alright,” she said, relieved, “I’ll put in that call immediately, along with more linen and pillows. I hope you both enjoy what’s left of the night.”
“Thanks,” you said with a tight-lipped smile. You turned on your heels and made a beeline for the elevator; Robinavitch’s reflection in the metallic doors confirmed he was following you.
This was going to be the longest night of your life.
Luckily, the maintenance worker was just leaving as you both turned the corner to your room. You shared a smile and a nod as you swiped your keycard and entered the room. Thankfully, it was spacious enough that you wouldn’t be on top of each other. A sigh of relief escaped you as you slipped out of your shoes at the door and parked your suitcase next to the bathroom. If you weren’t going to be able to sleep in your own bed, you were sure as hell taking a long, hot shower. You did your best to ignore Robinavitch as you put your bag down on the bed and began to pull out your bathroom essentials.
“What do you think you’re doing?” his deep voice cut through the silent room, the door shutting behind him. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to center yourself before turning towards him. Maybe, just for tonight, you could be civil.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” you asked with a quirked brow.
“It looks like you’re putting your things on my bed.” He answered simply, like he was talking down to you.
“Your bed?” you asked back, sass clear in your voice. Fuck diplomacy.
“Yes,” he answered back, like it was obvious.
“Why would you get the bed?” you asked back,
“You messed up the reservation, you get the cot while in my room.” He replied.
“I? You think I?” You take another deep breath. “You think that the glitch the front desk admitted was on their end is my fault?”
“You could have called instead of booking on your phone. Your generation’s fear of talking on the phone will never make sense to me,” he sighed, running a hand down his face.
“I’m not scared of making phone calls; all bookings are online nowadays. If you weren’t from the fucking Jurassic period, you’d know that.” You replied, voice rising at the end.
“Regardless, the hospital is paying for this room. I’m the head of the ED, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep on that,” he pointed to the cot, matching your tone.
“I paid for the room.” You quipped, “The hospital isn’t paying for it until I’m reimbursed. You take the cot or find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” You replied, unconsciously taking a step towards him.
“Oh? It’s gonna be like that?” he asked, also stepping towards you.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be like that,” you snapped back,
“God, I haven’t missed your insubordination.” He seethed, “Always acting like a fucking brat.”
“I’m the brat?!” You kept moving forward, guided like magnets with opposite charges, “I’m not the one who nitpicks every single thing I do, I couldn’t breathe without you telling me I was doing it wrong.”
“Sorry if it was too hard for you to hack it! Sorry for the inconvenience of learning how to do things correctly! You’re a waste of potential!” he yelled in your face.
“Fuck You-” Your eyes widened as his lips interrupted your thought. Your body immediately returns the kiss, eyes shutting, before your brain can process what’s happening. A whine keened in your throat as he bit your lip, deepening the kiss. Lips moving violently against yours. You desperately fought to keep up. You moaned at the sensation of him slipping his tongue into your mouth, while he simultaneously threaded his fingers through your hair. His firm grip held you in place as you desperately clung to his wet rain jacket for some leverage. You’d never been manhandled like this; it’d be a lie to say you hated it. A lie your panties could easily disprove.
You gasped as you fell back against the bed. The hem of your skirt scrunched up to your upper thighs. Robby cursed under his breath as he took you in. From the reveal of your plush thighs to your messy hair and kiss-swollen lips, you were perfect. A thought his dress pants did little to hide.
“You just gonna stand there, Robinavitch?” you snarked.
“Oh, sweetheart, I would think very hard on how you want to play this.” He answered in a warning tone. His hand dwarfed the knot of his tie, one of his long fingers catching the gap to loosen it. “Drop the attitude, and I’ll happily take care of you.”
“And if I don’t?” you challenged.
“It’s going to be a very long night for you, honey.” He warned.
“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re saying that like you have that in you.”
“Is that your decision then?” he clarified, fully undoing his tie.
“I mean, yeah, it’s not like you gave much of an opti-” You were interrupted by your own squeal as Robby’s hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you up and to the side so that your feet were now pointing to the bottom of the bed. Before you could process what was going on, Robby was straddling your lower stomach, one of his hands engulfing your wrists while the other secured you to the headboard. Once he was satisfied, his fingertips skated down your now restrained arms, down to your face, before he gripped firmly on your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.
“What’s your safe word?” he prompted,
“C-code,” you just managed to get out, mind already starting to get fuzzy.
“Do you know the stoplight system?” he asked,
“Yes,” you replied.
“Good, what are they?” he asked, tone firm. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together at the sound.
“I asked you a question,” he gruffed, leaning back on his lower legs to still your movement.
“Green, good. Yellow, slow down. Red stop immediately.” You recited off like he had just asked you a question during rounds.
“Good,” he nodded, “You will call me Sir, is that understood?”
“Yes,” you nodded, desperation shining through.
“Yes, what?” he asked
“Yes, Sir.” You corrected,
“Good,” he nodded. You tried not to preen, biting your bottom lip to contain a smile. Praise was such a rare commodity in your experience with Robby that it was hard not to react. Robby caught it, though, of course, he did. He ran the thumb of his hand cupping your face along your bottom lip, coaxing it free.
“Why don’t you make Sir nice and wet, while I get a good look at you?” he prompted, offering up his middle and ring finger. You quickly sucked them into your mouth as Robby shifted his weight off of you to his knees. His left hand was still cupping your face as he reached between his legs and hiked the skirt of your dress up to your waist.
“You are also not allowed to hide any of those noises, do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” You said, maintaining eye contact and nodding. A smirk formed on his face as he took in your urgency. He hadn’t done anything yet, and you were already desperate.
You couldn’t help but whine as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your mouth, starting slow as he tested the limits of your gag reflex. His gaze stayed locked on your half-lidded eyes, while he easily snapped the thin straps of your dress. Any complaint you had was muffled by his fingers pressing further into your throat. A gasp stayed stuck in your throat when he pulled down the top of your dress, freeing your chest.
“No, bra?” he asked, staring down at you with a smug grin, “Were you expecting this to happen? Or are you always ready to be a plaything?”
Your whines only increased as he began to speed up his thrust and the depth of his fingers.
“The way you're taking my finger is leaning towards slut, honey.” He teased, eyeing the wet patch in your white panties that only seemed to be darkening. Tears kissed your waterline as he eased his fingers out of your throat.
“Please,” you husked, voice rough from his onslaught.
“What was that?” he teased, easing down your body, face hovering above your clothed core.
“Fuck,” you whined in frustration, “Go down on me, Sir. I need it, please, Sir!” you called out, not caring who heard.
“God,” he groaned, slipping your underwear down, “Fuck, if that isn’t the prettiest little cunt.”
You groan, face hot from his attention, with nowhere to hide.
Your embarrassment only grew as he spread your legs, making room for his broad shoulder. That in itself wasn’t too bad. No, it was unobstructed eye contact he made with you as he spat on your pussy that had you clenching around nothing. A smirk broke across his face as he began to thrust his fingers in, while his tongue focused on your clit. You were a mess of tears and moans as he held you still, eating you out at his own pace.
“Would have done this a hell of a lot sooner if I knew I’d shut you up like this,” he groaned.
“Fuck,” you moaned as he increased his pace and sucked on your clit while tracing it with the tip of his tongue.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, “Fuck, Sir, please,” you begged,
“Please, please, Pleasesirpleasesirplease,” you whimpered out.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he encouraged, peaking up at you. If it wasn’t his fingers or mouth getting you off, the sight of his wet beard definitely pushed you over the edge. You threw your head back and struggled against his tie as your orgasm shot through you.
“God, you’re so fucked out, and you haven’t even had my cock yet.” He said, teasingly.
“Please,” you whine, grinding up against him.
“I don’t know, do you think you can handle that, honey?” he asked, echoing your words from earlier.
“Mhm,” you hummed, blinking away your tears, “Please, Sir.”
“What’s your color?” He asked, unbuttoning his white button-down and throwing it to the side along with his undershirt.
“Green,” you said, bordering on a plea.
“Are you sure?” he asked, gazing down at you with a look you couldn’t place as he pulled his wallet out. Your gaze followed his hands as he pulled out a condom from it and tossed the wallet to the side.
“Please, I’m green, soooo green.” You replied, seconds away from begging.
“Alright,” he nodded, pressing up on his knees and unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his slacks and boxer briefs in one fluid motion. Your eyes widened at his size, sure you weren’t expecting him to be in the upper percentiles, but not like this.
“It’ll fit,” he reassured, tilting your chin up to force you to look him in the eye as he rolled the condom on. He pulled you in for a warm, unrushed kiss; the opposite of the energy you had begun with. You couldn’t help but whine as he stroked his head against your entrance. A gasp punched out of you as he finally began to push in. Robby pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.
“Fuck,” he moaned as he shallowly thrusted into you, while you could only whine in response, eyes sealed shut.
“Common kid, look at me,” he coaxed, cupping your face. You reluctantly cracked your eyes open and locked in on Robby’s eye staring back at you.
“That’s it, attagirl, you’re doing so well,” he grunted, pressing in further.
“Fuck,” you panted in response, panting.
“Almost there, God, you’re doing amazing,” he praised, reaching his hand between you and began to toy with your clit.
“Sir,” you sniffled, eyes watering from overstimulation, you’ve never been this full before.
“I know, baby, I know.” He pants, trying his hardest to hold back. You shared a deep breath as his pelvis lay flush against yours.
“God, that’s it, love, you took it all so well.” He groans into your ear before his lips skate down your neck, kissing your exposed skin. He stayed as still as possible as he began to tease your nipples to help give you time to adjust. You moan, tugging against your restraints.
“Sir,” you moaned, “please, I wanna touch you.”
You clench around him at the wet, “pop” sounds his lips made as he released your nipple, his other hand continuing to tease your other breast. In a move only he could do, he stayed stationed at your chest, while his arm easily reached up to untie your wrist. One of your hands cupped the back of his head, urging him back to your chest, while the other held on for leverage as you rolled your hips against him. He muffled a moan against your chest. He didn’t have to look up to see your desperation. Slowly, he began to build speed, pulling you back in for a passionate kiss. Your hands braised against his back as you pulled away.
“Please go fast,” you panted, “I can take it.”
“Are you sur-”
“Michael,” you cut him off, looking him straight in the eye, “I can take it.”
“Fuck,” he moaned, pulling you back in for a rushed kiss as he began to slam into you, the bangs of the headboard muffling your cries of ecstasy as you came around him, pushing him over the edge in the process. He half collapsed on top of you after fucking you through your orgasm. The sounds of someone banging on the other side of the wall, annoyed, pulled a laugh from both of you as you basked in your post-orgasmic glow.
While your relationship was now up in the air, you couldn’t be bothered with why he had been acting like he did or what broke him today.
for @rori-is-writing for @the-pitt-gift-exchange!! thank you for hosting the event, you deserve way more than this but life got in the way; I hope you can enjoy anyways & I hope soon I can write you a part 2 <3
Robby felt blue.
It’s ironic, really - describing the weight of emotions as a color when all he can see, all the majority of the world could see, were the limp hues of gray.
At least that was one thing he could agree with. Perhaps the world started with a simple binary of black and white, but that naïveté had long been lost, replaced with a gallimaufry of grays.
The finality in a decision to take an elderly man off ECMO to save the life of a ten year old: gray. His whole team standing there, waiting for an answer, watching the weakness he had so worked to hide finally show through a tremble of his hands: gray. A man with so much love to give in a society that only wished to be with whom the gods above chose for them, brushing off any offers until the grays turned to rays of golden lights, pinks and greens and—: fucking gray.
Robby took a long swig of his drink, polishing off the beer bottle.
He lay back, his forearms snuggled into the gravel of the roof, legs swinging off the edge of the building, gaze locked to the sky. Dana, who was lucky enough to find her soulmate at twenty six, had once tried to describe the sky to Robby. “A vast span, similar to the ocean. It’s.. reassuring to know that it stays the same core color despite the shade it wants to be that day…a constant, brilliant blue.”
So yeah, Robby felt blue.
He fiddled with his notepad in his lap, replacing the empty bottle in his hand with a pen. Ever since he moved into the shitty, three-story apartment complex on South Street, Robby would shimmy out of his scrubs and into some clean sweats, grabbing a cold drink and his letter supplies before trekking onto the roof. It was the one thing Robby did for himself all day - the one outlet he felt the need to complete before he could truely relax.
Dear you,
Nothing seems to be changing except me. The Pitt continues to be a shit show Monday to Friday, and I? I feel angrier. I feel sadder. I want more from the life I was given. Fucking fifty and never once have these eyes got the chance to appreciate such a complexion of love. I hate to stay that, if given the chance to redo this life—
Robby paused, tapping pen to paper, turning ear to shoulder. His eyes scanned the words, brows furrowed at the vulnerability that lay before him, a desperation to finish burning through his chest like acid.
I’m not sure. All I know is I wish you were here. I bet you’d know what to do from here.
Sincerely, R.
He ripped the page out from the bind, folding it twice before shoving it deep in his pocket. He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, swallowing back down what threatened to come up alongside bile and stale crackers. Back to business, he thought, grunting as he pushed himself to stand. He followed the trodden gravel back to the roof door, down the stairs, shoving the letter from his pocket into the slot of his neighbors mailbox. With no address, it would sit there until the end of the week, when the janitorial staff mistook it as trash - every week without fail.
this is a pinch hitter for @beautifultypewriter for the pitt gift exchange @the-pitt-gift-exchange i had so much fun doing a non-NSFW request & i hope you enjoy :)
“Jack?” The tall figure spun around on his heels, glassy eyes meeting yours, charming smile blossoming as he connected the dots. Jack offered his hand, clasping yours with a gentle shake.
“Thanks for coming,” he sheepishly chuckled, shaking his head to the side. “I gotta tell you— I don’t do this too often.”
You offered a smile of your own, hand grasping his forearm in sympathy. “Me either! I’m trying something new.”
“Well, I’m glad to be your first.”
He was a pure gentleman, pulling your chair out for you to sit, polite conversation as you browsed the menu, everything from work to the weather, to how you were only in town house sitting for a friend for the summer. Even after you both finished eating, the hunger to know more remain sat at the table. He waved down the waiter, ordering two glasses of 2014 Seaver Cabernet with a wink sent your way. He raised his glass against yours, crows feet illuminated against the table’s candlelight - “Here’s to trying something new.”
You smiled, tapping the edge of your glass with his, never breaking his gaze.
“To something new.”
His smiled never faltered, in quiet disbelief of how truely well the night was going.
“I had a really great time tonight,” you smiled, lingering outside the front door you called home for the next three months.
“Me too,” he answered honestly, running his fingers down the door frame, letting the world fall silent for the first time since you locked eyes in the resteraunt. “I hate that you’re only here for the summer.”
“How come?” You hummed, staring up at him with a knowing smile.
“By the time you let an old man like me court you, it’ll be time for you to go.”
Your head tipped back in laughter.
“Well, old man - how about you live in the new age for once and come inside?”
—
“Jack!”
His eyes barely found yours outside of the ED before you were barreling into him, jumping and wrapping both arms and legs around him tight. He let out a soft grunt at the impact, hiding his beaming smile in the crook of your neck as he held you tight.
“Well hello, gorgeous.” He mumbled against your skin, placing a soft kiss against your skin.
His friend stood at his side - Robby, if you remembered correctly - watching the stubborn, war-torn man melt to pieces at just mere seconds in your presence. “Where are you two love birds off to tonight?”
“I was thinking midnight bowling? Down on seventh street, they’ve got great drinks - and food too! Do you want to join us?”
Robby theatrically folded himself into a lame excuse of a curtesy. “You two enjoy, I have a microwave dinner and a 12 hour nap calling my name.”
“Later, brother,” Jack called out, still attacking your skin with his mouth. Checking if his friend was out of earshot, he dropped you back to to ground, hands grasping your lower back to keep you steady. His voice dropped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Are we really going bowling, or is that code for something a little more.. hands on?”
You rolled your eyes with a smile, reaching back to keep his hands from wandering too far down.
“Bowling is next on our list. Besides, you love pizza and beer after a day shift!”
He smiled, ruffling your hair before hooking his arm in yours. “Lead the way then, kid.”
—
“Jack..”
He clenched his eyes shut, head hung heavy in his hands, remaining silent where he sat on the edge of the couch. He couldn’t look at you - fuck, not when you were crying over him. Not when he promised to spend your last night together like any other night, like he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow with half of his heart missing, you returning back to your old life six hours away.
“Jack, please..” you whimpered. “You promised..”
“I know I did, kid, but..” He lifted his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. “How am I supposed to act normal? You’re going.. you’re leaving the city, and I’m never gonna see you again.”
“You knew!” You cried, hands clenched vulnerably by your sides. “You knew from the very first time I invited you up that I was only here for the summer - how can you be mad at me?”
“I wish I was mad!” Jack scoffed a laugh, wet tears evident in his throat. He shifted, reaching into his pocket from where he sat to pull out a tiny ring, gentley setting it on the coffee table.
my gift for @pixiedane for the @the-pitt-gift-exchange <33 what a sweet event to be apart of and many many thanks to the brilliant and helpful mods @chasing-will-o-the-wisps & @rori-is-writing
santellis fans we up !! 🔝
pitt yuri resurrecting me was not on my 2025 bingo board lol
Kissing Boys in College (Michael Robinavitch x Jack Abbot)
Gif credits to @/ho-ii
Michael Robinavitch x Jack Abbot
To @silentorator for the @the-pitt-gift-exchange!
A/N: First time writing fanfiction in a VERY long time, but I had SO much fun! I hope you enjoy love! <3
Description: Michael's various adventures in learning about his sexuality and Jack's role in all of it.
TW: Mentions of homophobia, swearing, general medical ailments, and minor character death (aka a patient dies).
It began with a phrase.
“We all kissed boys in college.”
Robby had been charting at the nurse’s station to get a brief reprieve from standing when he heard it. Jack had come early to hand off. When Robby glanced over, subtly of course, he spotted Jack and Dana catching up–laughing about something he couldn’t make out.
He had always considered himself a very flexible man. His ears were pierced in college, he had friends from all walks of life–but he had never kissed a man before. Whenever the thought occurred in his mind, distant echoes of his father’s voice would ring out in shame for even considering the idea. So no, Michael did not kiss boys in college. It didn’t stop him from wanting to, though.
The conversation quickly moved on after that. Even when he walked over, tablet in hand, there was no talk of boys kissing boys–only talk of the Steelers and the most interesting cases of the shift. Princess had been minding her own business, sitting off to the side–but she had to know. Michael couldn’t fathom the idea of asking her for insight, it would only further fuel the rumors.
“You’re early,” he muses, eyes flickering up to meet Jack’s.
“Ah, you know me–I get antsy. Doesn’t look like you need the help though,” Jack glances around at the brief reprieve. “Could let you off early, Cap. Let you catch some Z’s? Or go on a hot date for the first time in 10 years?”
“Ouch,” Michael watches the corner of Jack’s eyes crinkle as a smile teases the edge of his lips. “Not like you’re out on the town yourself.”
“Yeah, well I already did that once,” the ring on Jack’s finger catches the light as he lifts it up. “I think I’m just about retired from that life.”
“And you think I’m not? I’m five years older than you and at least fifteen years older than the majority of people looking to date.”
“Some people would consider you a silver fox,” Jack winks and seems to bask in the accomplishment as Michael’s cheeks warm. “What do the kids say these days? Daddy?”
Michael blanches.
“I don’t know, Parker’s been showing me shit on her phone whenever we sit and chart. Did you know the kids these days are gambling on blind boxes? They’re trying to get the twenty-four karat Labubu or whatever,” Jack huffs, pulling his backpack up higher on his shoulder and in the process, pulling his black shirt even more taut over his pecs. Michael fights the urge to fixate on his fellow attending’s muscles as Jack continues to speak–oblivious to the seemingly overt melt down Robby is having.
“Anyways, I’m gonna go put my shit in my locker–but finish up okay? Go home early and get some sleep, God knows you need it.”
As Jack saunters off to the lockers, Michael watches as the camouflage cargo pants he’s wearing threaten to slip lower and lower down his waist. An itch of discomfort pops up inside of him–shame for blatantly checking out Jack and guilt for even considering being attracted to him when he knows deep down inside that he is straight.
“You alright there, Cap?” Robby jumps at the sound of Dana’s voice, breaking him from his stupor. He nods quickly, looking over at Dana and Princess.
“Yeah, fine. I’m gonna go do one last round and then check in with Jack,” Michael stuffs his hands into his hoodie rushing off to the other side of the department. It wasn’t a crime to look, was it? And he could respectfully acknowledge that Jack was good looking. It didn’t have to surpass that.
-
The second time Michael questioned his sexuality at work (which was two too many times in his opinion) was when Santos and Whittaker were squabbling over something he didn’t understand.
He’s waiting for the coffee machine to brew when he hears it. A… chime? Or a notification. Something of that nature. It sounds akin to what Robby imagines a drunk marimba to sound like.
“What the hell?” Whittaker pulls his phone out and frowns as the drunk marimba notification goes off again–this time originating from Denis’ phone.
“What is that, some sort of alarm?” Robby asks, lifting his coffee to his mouth to take a sip. He wills it to wake him up, to give him some sort of energy as the day seems to drone on.
“It’s Huckleberry’s gay hook up app,” Santos laughs as Denis urgently goes to turn off his phone.
In his shock, Robby almost spits out his coffee but turns toward the sink and coughs up some of the liquid that threatened to go down his trachea.
“What? I didn’t put that on my phone,” his fingers tap vehemently on the screen, willing the notifications to stop.
“I did,” Santos beams, taking out a drink from the fridge. “Thought you needed to get out of the house more often.”
Once his breath finally returns to his lungs, Michael turns to the two interns with a look full of discomfort, confusion, and slight curiosity.
“Gay hook up app?” he asks slowly as if the words feel foreign in his mouth.
“Yeah, Grindr. Don't you know–” Santos stops in her tracks, making eye contact with her attending. “Nevermind, Huckleberry let’s go–”
She tugs on the collar of Denis’ scrubs and pulls him out of the room. Robby can only watch in shock. Later that night, as he finished up charting whilst the night shift gets on with their work, he can’t help but ask Jack about what’s on his mind.
“Hey, Jack,” he whispers, beckoning him over discretely. “Do you know what Grindr is?”
“Grindr?” every head in the department seems to perk up at the volume of Jack’s voice. Michael pulls him closer, begging him to quiet down.
“Sorry,” his voice lowers slightly, pronouncing the gruff edges of his voice. “Grindr?”
“Yeah…” Michael huffs, looking anywhere but in Jack’s eyes in an attempt to save him from embarrassment. “I just overheard some of the interns talking about it earlier and I was just… nevermind.”
“No, no.” Michael jerks back into his seat from Jack’s grip on his scrubs. “What do you want to know about it? Do you want to use it? I told you, man, the kids these days have different standards. I know they’d think you’re hot.”
“What?” his eyes widened. He’s almost confident that his face resembles a tomato. Or at least a ripe strawberry.
“Don’t worry, I can help make your profile. I may not be the most savvy, but I can work my way around an app,” Jack clicks open his phone, navigating to the app store with ease. Michael can only stare in brief awe before he realizes he has to stop this before it goes any further.
“I don’t need your help with anything,” he grabs Jack’s phone and slams it onto the desk. “Just… wondering.”
Jack’s hands go up in surrender as the corners of his mouth perk up in amusement.
“Well, I’m surprised your interns didn’t educate you more. Goodness knows my kids tell me everything about what they’re up to today.”
Michael rolled his eyes.
“Oh sorry, I forgot you’re the resident ‘sad boy.’’ Jack laughs.
“Well fuck me for being curious,” he huffs and turns to the computer, moving to log out and leave for the day.
“Hey, hey.” Jack places his foot on the bottom of the rolling chair and turns Michael to face him–their noses almost touching. His breath catches in his chest for a moment as his eyes meet Jack’s. He’d never realized how much they looked like topaz, shimmering gemstones that glistened like molten rock. There is a whiff of something masculine, but not overbearing. Jack’s aftershave, perhaps. He smells… nice.
“If you want me to give you lessons in rizz, I wouldn’t mind.”
And just like that, the sparkle is gone. Michael gets up from the chair and walks towards the lockers, flipping his middle finger toward Jack as he chuckles behind him.
“Call me!”
What the fuck?
-
Michael was on the roof again after one of those days. They had lost a young man who had been homeless for a while after his parents had kicked him out for his sexuality. He had come in for minor injuries after tripping into the street, but they had lost him due to the missed diagnosis of sepsis. There was no fever, no low blood pressure until it was too late. The labs came in only seconds after they announced time of death. Guilt weighed heavily on his head tonight.
He could only stare out at the flickering lights of Pittsburgh’s nightlife and wonder, if his life had gone differently–if he had lived with his father and not his grandmother–that he would have ended up like that young man.
“You’re in my spot,” Robby jumps slightly at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his back. It takes a moment for him to adjust to the feeling, to find comfort instead of fear at the feeling of someone touching him.
They sit in silence, listening to the ambiance of honking and brief interludes of cheering coming from the distant stadium. He can feel the warm of Jack radiating off of him like a heater, or a camp fire, as they stand elbow to elbow on the railing.
“It was my fault,” he confesses as the beating of his heart threatens to escape his chest. Jack doesn’t let him sit for a second.
“I read the chart. I’m certain it wasn’t. Just an unfortunate series of events,” Jack reasons, but Michael doesn’t hear him.
“It was sepsis. How do I not catch sepsis? I’m a fucking attending–that’s one of the first things you learn to identify, sepsis. God, fuck me,” the tears well in his eyes and he drops his head into his hands.
“Michael,” Jack whispers. He feels a hand grab his cheek as the tears fall. “Michael, look at me. Eleven million people die of sepsis every year. You treated him. Watched him. Ran his labs. He had no fever, no low blood pressure until it was too late. It was his time.”
Michael turns to look away from Jack in an attempt to hide his tears, but his grip is firm.
“I wouldn’t bullshit you. You know me.”
“He was… he was just a kid. I was supposed to treat him and he was supposed to live a long life. He was supposed to get married and start a family, a new one away from his shitty parents,” it feels like his chest caves in when he pauses to sob. “He was supposed to live the life I was supposed to.”
Jack’s brows furrow for a moment and his grip slackens, allowing Robby to escape from his clutches. Michael turns away to hide his face, willing the wind to dry his tears faster than he can produce them. The deep seated shame sits in the pit of his chest, the words of his father echoing once more. What prevents Jack from doing the same? Rejecting him? Leaving him to die? He couldn’t breathe.
“Hey, Robby? Robby.”
There’s nothing for a second, until there’s warmth. On his face and his lips. And he quickly realizes that Jack Abbot, his longtime friend and fellow attending is kissing him. Michael doesn’t know how to handle it. He stand like a wall until his body finally catches up and pushes him away.
“Sorry, you were having a panic attack. I didn’t know how to stop you from hyperventilating except for stopping your breathing entirely. Feel to report this to HR, or Gloria. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking–”
His rambling is cut off by Michael’s hands around his waist, pulling him in to lay a proper kiss on his mouth. He relishes in the feeling of Jack’s stubble and warm, masculine smell. The feel of his muscles underneath his hands. For a moment, it was only them and Pittsburgh on the roof.
Robby finally pulls away when his lips are slightly swollen and his cheeks are flush with a mixture of embarrassment and joy. He rests his forehead against Jack’s, breathing in the scent of them entangled.
“You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” Robby comments.
“Hm, then I guess you’ll have to help me because I’m feeling super nervous.”
Jack grins, and Michael finds himself falling into his arms once again.
This is my submission for the sweetest @commander-writergirl for the @the-pitt-gift-exchange 💗💗
Hope you like it, sweetheart 😘
Pairing: Dr. Robby x wife!Reader
SMUT! fluff! Robby can't keep his hands off his wife, even though he has a literal award next to him.
The air smelt of toasted walnuts and cinnamon spice- a remnant of your favourite drink from the local coffee shop nearby. The cup was crinkled and long forgotten, but the sweetness lingered across your tongue; sticky lips smacking occasionally, trying not to forget the satisfying taste. At least, not yet. The green room behind the main stage had one window, and the slow chill of the autumn breeze felt addictive; the trees blazed with quiet fire, and the crisp air carried both memory and promise.
Your eyes raked down the slope of Robby's back; the new tuxedo draped across his body like it was specifically tailored for him (which it was, yes, none other than by Figs, mind you), as he adjusted his bowtie in the mirror. Fussing with the black silk, an adorable pout graced his face which only made him look more irresistible. You wanted to devour him whole, throat bobbing slightly at the thought.
"Whatcha got there, slugger?" You voice out, the teasing lilt in your tone not going unnoticed by your lover. He scoffs and turns to you, shrugging wildly.
"I can't get this goddamned tie to sit straight! I don't know how it's possible to mess up a fucking tie, but hey, I'm the the one doing things so it's going to get messed up, isn't -"
You slink over to his side, the green floor length gown trailing behind you as your hands maneuver the tie to its correct position. Robby stops his rambling and looks down at you, eyes fond and reverent since the day he met you all those years ago, skin crinkling up in joy. He doesn't know what good he's done in his life that led him down this path; one where he gets to have your beautiful face right next to him every single day. He also wasn't sure what he did to deserve this particular award, but hey, if some wires got crossed up in heaven, he wasn't one to double check.
"The Award" being the AMA Scientific Achievement Award; a recognition of "extraordinary contributions to the advancement of medical science to acknowledge the groundbreaking work of individuals whose innovative research or scientific achievement(s) have had a profound impact on medicine".
Or whatever. No big deal.
He was bashful when everyone congratulated him, not really feeling like he deserved any accolades for himself. He was even more so mortified when Figs (yes, the scrub company), sent him a care package and a letter asking to customise his suit for the big day. An instant "no" burst out of Robby's chest at the news; cheeks red and eyes wide at all the attention, but your gentle voice and sweet kisses managed to convince him that hey, maybe, just maybe, he did deserve to be happy.
"Done." You pat his chest once, and look up at him through your lashes. His nose flared as he took in your elegance, and his grip tightened across your hip.
From the moment you and Robby had stepped into the dressing room, the charged electricity between you two was impossible to ignore. Your gown was stunning, a deep green that glittered across your smooth skin, and Robby almost tripped across the marble floor when he first saw you in it. The organisers were diligent enough to arrange for dressing rooms for the awardees, and you had decided it was better for the both of you to get dressed on site - lesser risk of the clothes creasing.
Also, you were pretty sure Robby wouldn't have been able to keep his hands to himself if you'd gotten dressed at home. Fairly certain, actually, with the way his gaze was devouring you currently.
The soft rustle of silk contrasted with the heavy thump of your heart, each beat syncing with your quickening breath. Robby’s hands were reverent as he eased the flat of his palm up the back of your gown, possessive and loving. Your skin tingled under his fingertips, anticipation pooling low and fierce.
"We can't, Robby. Not yet," you whispered, tongue poking out to lick at your caramel stained lips.
His eyes darkened with need as they scanned every inch of your face. Without hesitation, he pulled you close, lips brushing the shell of your ear with a heated whisper.
“Try to stay quiet,” he growled softly, detached from the glitter and chatter waiting beyond the door. "Can you do that for me?"
His hands slid across your thighs and bunched the silk in his palms, the cold air making goosebumps rise in your thighs. His fingers reached under, tracing the lace of your garter, before sliding higher. You nodded once and gasped as his fingers caught the edge of your panties, slipping beneath the thin fabric. His smirk didn't need any introduction- already cocky at the prospect of finding your core soaked to the touch. His touch made your knees weak, a sweet ache blossoming low in your gut; a gnawing ache that demanded more.
Robby sank to his knees, lips parting in a slow, torturous smile. Your eyes widened slightly, looking at the door to make sure it was locked- but you were pretty sure he didn't really care if anyone entered. Not when he got like this; animalistic and greedy with a mouth full of spit and a thick, chubby cock straining his trousers. His lips were akin to fire, hot and searing, as he licked over your panties, worshiping your heat with lascivious kisses and delicate, teasing flicks of his tongue. His hands cradled your hip as his eyes closed in bliss; the musk of your heat a heady torture that he wasn't ready to forego yet.
One of his fingers dip beneath the band and circle your clit; lazily at first, then with rhythm and growing urgency. His eyes open to stare upward; soft pants leaving him as he exposes your core further to lave at it, flat tongue engulfing your heat in a filthy kiss. You lean forward, breath hitching as waves of pleasure roll over you, trembling fingertips clutching the edge of the vanity. Your stomach caves in with pleasure, but Robby doesn't relent- almost starting to make out with your pussy.
The air was thick with your shared need, and you slap a hand across your face to try and keep your voice under control. Your Robby had asked one thing of you, and you'd die before displaying disobedience. He hummed in delight at your submission, loving how you'd do anything for him, anything to please him and his hungry mouth. He easily coaxed your body toward a delicious, shuddering release; fingers gripping your waist with such vigour you were worried the dress would tear. You scream into your palm, eyes rolling back and hips humping his wide nose as you ride out your high. When you finally come to, breathless and aching, he looks up with a slow, victorious smile- his deep hazel eyes shining with devotion.
You're still panting, eyes closed, as you feel him stand up again.
"We should go," his soft voice breaks your reverie, a tiny chuckle escaping your throat at how ridiculous this entire situation was. "They'll be waiting."
You hum and push away from him, trying to fix your dress as well as you could. You sneak a glance at Robby who was staring at himself in the mirror, cheek and chin drenched with your juices, as he took out a handkerchief to wipe it clean. Your cheeks were blazing red; shame and arousal pooling deep in your chest. Oh well.
He takes your hand in his and the two of you slip quietly from the dressing room, strangely excited about the humdrum boredom that follows any social event awaiting you both. Polished conversations and glittering chandeliers held no allure, though, when you were still burning from Robby’s touch.
The ballroom lights dim slightly as the host announces everyone to be seated, and a strange fluttering echoes in your chest. You zone out of the speeches and the glitz, eyes laser focussed on only one man. You almost miss the announcement, really, as you scramble to pull your phone out of your purse at the last minute “...and this year’s MMA Scientific Achievement Award goes to Dr. Michael Robinavitch!”A wave of applause fills the room. Your husband rises, smoothing his jacket, the hint of a humble smile tugging at his lips. You squeeze his hand before he makes his way through the tables and up to the shining stage. The award is handed to him- a sleek glass plaque catching the light- and he takes a moment to hold it, grounding himself before stepping to the podium.
“Wow,” he begins, his voice steady but touched with emotion. “Standing here in front of you tonight is both humbling and surreal. When I started my career, I wasn’t chasing awards or recognition. I simply wanted to help people, to make one small difference in a world where illness often overwhelms hope. This award reminds me that those small differences matter.”
He pauses, his eyes scanning the audience.
“But, no breakthrough is achieved alone. I owe this to my colleagues who challenged and inspired me, to my mentors who pushed me when I doubted myself, and to my family-especially my wife-whose patience, encouragement, and countless late-night cups of coffee carried me through long days and nights.”The audience chuckles softly, warmly.
“This honor isn’t just mine,” he concludes. “It belongs to every patient who trusted me with their story, to every hand that helped carry forward the science, and to everyone here who believes in the future of medicine. Thank you.”
Thunderous applause erupts as he steps back, holding the award close. His eyes find yours as he climbs down the stairs, your own shining brightly with unshed tears. You all but jump atop him when he approaches you, and the people around you clap and cheer as you share a sweet kiss.
"Hi," he smiles down at you, skin crinkling in happiness.
You giggle, lips smacking together "Back at ya."
Outside, the cool night air was electric as you find a way to escape the event, gentle sorrys and thank yous leaving you freely, as you both climbed into your car, fingers tangling into his hair immediately as he closed the door with a soft snap.
The cramped interior became your sanctuary as Robby’s hands explored your body with renewed hunger, fingers pressing into soft flesh, lips trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. Desperation thrummed beneath his touch; the air was thick with your mingled breaths and low, harsh moans. His hand slipped beneath your dress for the second time that night, as his mouth kissed lower, and you soon found yourself arching against him, a whispered plea lost in the heat of the moment. The leather of the seat was cool beneath your bare skin, but the fire burning inside you was hot, stifling, maddening.
You pull away to stare at his eyes, dark and unsated. He bites your lower lip and hums.
"Are you still wet for me? I bet I can push right into you and that pretty pussy's gonna welcome me home,huh? "
You nod eagerly, chest thumping wildly with need already. Trembling hands reached his belt, voice lost, urging him to slide inside you, desperate and close to tears already.
Robby grips your jaw tightly, nails digging into your cheeks as he forces you to make eye contact.
"I asked you a question, sweetheart."
A pathetic whine slips out of you and you try to nod, mumbling against his grip.
"Yes, yes, yes, God, yes, put it in, Robby, I can't wait," you're all but bouncing on his lap, grinding across his bulge. He chuckles and pushes you away slightly to work at his belt, eyes dark and boring into your own watery ones. His thick cock springs free, and you all but jump atop him in excitement.
He grips your hips to steady you, chest heaving with anticipation, as he slips himself right into you- the slick warmth making the first inch slippery and oh so delicious. You gasped at the stretch, your arousal not nearly enough to accommodate his girth but you were a trooper if not anything else, and you were determined to ride your husband into oblivion.
You start a slow pace, finger nails gripping his suit jacket so tight you were sure it ripped a few stitches. However, he soon got impatient as he planted both feet firm on the floor and thrust up into your heat with renewed vigour. Each thrust echoed in the hollow of your car, rough breaths mingling with the grinding friction of leather and flesh. His hands gripped your hips, leaving bruises of passion as he drove deeper and deeper, his mouth not finding the courage to leave yours. Your moans belonged to him, now and forever, and he knew it.
The rush of pleasure built inside until your body trembled and pussy clenched involuntarily around him. Little uh,uh,uhs left your parted lips, drool dripping all over your chin and smearing across Robby's beard as he kept up the pace. You know he was close, eyes shut tight, no words escaping him, as his grip became near suffocating.Desire reached a fever pitch, breathless moans mingling in the cramped space as the two of you moved together in a rhythm pulsing with raw hunger and tender devotion. He let out a low whine right against your ear; a sound that was so wrecked, it immediately heralded your own end. You felt breathless, electrified, completely consumed by the wild, bruising pleasure of being claimed by your Robby. You came hard- eyes rolling into your skull- as small cries escaped, shaking the suffocating silence of the car’s interior.
You gush out into his lap, effectively ruining his brand new tux but he couldn't care less as his eyes widen at the onslaught of his own orgasm. It hit him unexpectedly- he was sure he could last a few more minutes at the very least but your body had him under an irreversible spell, he was sure of it.
You both shudder against each other as you come down from your high, sweat slicked across your foreheads and making you both look incredibly ravaged. You could barely gather your belongings when you could feel Robby's chest vibrate in quiet laughter, and you let out a giggle of your own.
"wanna get a burger? I'm starving," he says, once his laughter dies down.
