Jack would never be the kind of boyfriend who waits outside of the store on some bench, collectively staring at his phone with a bunch of other bored guys who are waiting for their girlfriends to finish up shopping.
He's carrying your bags and purse for you so you'll have two free hands while browsing. And he actually looks out for clothes you'd like too, he's not even carrying his phone with him. He just needs his card and one of your scrunchies on his wrist because he knows you're likely to sweat inside of the changing room later.
He's silently collecting the clothes you're picking on his arm, occasionally dropping some of his choices on there too.
There's also a smol water bottle tucked into his back pocket which shouldn't even fit but somehow does and makes you stare at his ass way too often. He can't have his baby girl get thirsty and have no refreshment close.
He loves how you gasp when spotting a pretty summer dress or cute heels! You get so giddy and walk away from him fast, but he never loses sight of you, not once.
Jack's favorite thing to shop for is underwear or bikinis.
Because for that, you always need his opinion and he slips behind the curtain of the changing room, backing you up against the big mirror while dropping the bags and taking a reaaally good look at you.
"Jesus, baby...you're so fucking beautiful." while his hands roam over your waist, his thumb slipping just past your cute flimsy bottoms.
"Don't you think it's too short?" Aw, you're blushing. Jack is so fucking hard.
"Too short for what? Our private pool at the air bnb with no one except us there? No, baby, it's alright." He kisses your forehead, his hand caressing your underboob that peeks out from the bra top. "You'll gonna look fucking hot, I can barely contain myself now, do you know what you'll do to me once we're on vacation?"
18+ ⫶ SQUIRT LESSONS 101 ℘ requested
jack abbot proves your ‘incapability’ of squirting wrong.
the moment you mention the fact of never being able to squirt to jack, he’s a bit surprised. his lips parting to utter a response, but it falls silent as he raises a hand to caress the stubble on his jawline.
“never?” he repeats, not wanting to believe the words that just came out of your mouth because there’s just no way that’s true. “never.” you say after him, averting your eyes as you feel heat trickle down your body.
“no guy has ever been able to make me squirt, and… i haven’t been able to make myself either.” the lump on your throat thickens, and you can feel the embarrassment kicking in. “and google says tha—”
“google?” abbot cuts your sentence short with a disapproving laugh, it almost sounds sarcastic. “c’mon, kid that’s your source? half the stuff on google’s written by a bun’cha people who don’t know squat of what they’re talking about.” he rises from his chair, throwing his chin back to ensure the faculty-lounge door is closed before making his way over towards you.
and you of all people should know better than to trust what a website such as google says — you’re a doctor in practice, you have the source right within the building you’re standing in.
you feel the distance between you and abbot close as he presses his chest against your shoulder, ducking down near your ear whispering. “seems like you don’t know your own body anymore than those boys do.” he leans forward to get a read on your expression, and you’re there standing still like an embarrassed pup that doesn’t know what to do which makes him smile.
“no need to feel embarrassed.” he reassures, throwing a hand on top of your head, “let me give you hand, help you learn the difference between incapability and never having learned.”
and that’s how you found yourself breaking your own code of ethics. splayed out on jack abbot’s mattress, hugging a pillow against your chest as his tongue worked at your pussy.
he’s on his stomach, his arms hooked underneath your thighs to pull you closer on his mouth. “j—jack …” a moan falls from your lips, the way his tongue glides through your folds. how he angles the tip of his tongue to flex the muscle just before he meets your clit to flick at it.
“focus on the feeling, you gotta relax.” he murmurs, pulling off for just a mili-second before latching back onto the sensitive nub. flattening his tongue as his rocks his mouth against you, he’s hallowing his cheeks causing you to grab at his the roots of his hair in attempt to tug him off.
though he’s swatting your hand away, digging his face deeper — in between your thighs with a low, drawn out groan as your toes curl at the anticipating increase of pleasure making your core tighten.
“oh m— i’m gonna cum, jack- i’m gonna—“
he’s pulling his lips away from your pussy with a wet pop, soaked and glistening by his saliva mixed with your slick — as the tightness in your tummy slowly loosens. “that was damn, close.” jack breathes, wiping his mouth off with the backside of his hand before propping himself up in a position comfortable for his right amputee.
he reaches out, hands wrapping around your hips to drag you towards him. you don’t even resist, not when your own pleasure was stripped from you — you needed anything that could bring back that euphoric feeling.
your hips grind upwards, grinding against nothing but atoms. “see, that’s it— now you know what your body’s wantin’.” his slides a hand from your hips to below your navel, before slowly dragging the pads of his rough fingers down near the mound of your pussy.
carefully grazing over swollen pearl as you whine to the almost there sensation. jack watches the way your body reacts to his touch — pressing his index and middle finger into your slick folds, soaking his fingers in your mess. “‘s a good sign. you’re fuckin’ drenched, sweetheart .” he groans, dragging his digits further down to meet your entrance.
you claw your nails into the pillow your clutching as the tips of his fingers prod at your hole. he’s teasing, intoxicated by the way your hips are still rolling against his hand while you let out little moans as he gently presses his thick fingers inside you.
“m—mngh fuck, jack…” you sighs, tilting your chin up to the ceiling, “yeah? that feels good doesn’t it, kid?” he cooed, flicking his eyes up to trace your expression only to be met with one of his pillows before he’s tugging it away from your chest. “there we goo.” he sings, glossing over sweets features with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, making him click his tongue.
“uh-uh, it feels better when you let it out.” he shakes his head, stuffing your hole with his fingers until he’s knuckles deep — angling his fingers in an upward direction that rips a moan from your throat as he curls his digits inside of you.
and the action shoots right through the nerves within your sensitive bud. “i can f—feel it in my clit.” you stammer, brows furrowed as indescribable pressure builds against your badder and swells your nub. “mhmm, that’s right.” he hums, pressing the pads of fingers deeper against that spongy wall inside of you, as your toes curl.
“the g-spot, you’re jackpot, baby.” he rasps with a lopsided grin — shifting his position to lie down on his side, right besides you as his nose presses into the side of your cheek. “the more pressure you add…” he murmurs as his breath warms your skin, pressing with cruel precision that makes the place between your legs run warm.
“j— jack.” you mewl, eyes shut tight with a hand reach at his. “the more you get that peeing feeling.” he demonstrates, feeling your soft walls close in around his fingers.
you can feel the way your bladder fills with each nudge of his movements — like he’s milking the sensation out of you. as if he’s adding fuel to the sensitive nerves bundle inside you as your clit twitches to the repetitive motion.
“and if i press my thumb righttt against this pretty fuckin’ clit.” he groans, darting his thumb upward before pressing the pad flush against your clit. “nnnnmg-my god!” you gasp, back arching off the mattress while squeezing your thighs around his hand.
his fingers and thumb stimulating both pleasurable points at once has your mind blanking. eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you’re choking on a plethora of moans.
“‘m gonna cum— m’gonna cum, i’m—” you can feel a surge of warmth flood your nerves as you slur your words. “theree you go, melt into that feeling for me.” he groans, as your walls choke around his digits stuffing your pussy full with his thumb working circles against your overstimulated clit.
you feel your tummy tighten, vision flash white as the sensation completely overrides your body. “cummmingg!” you inhale breathlessly, holding your breath as your clit throbs with a dangerous amount of pleasure before you’re gushing everywhere.
“atta girl.” jack whistles with satisfaction — and you can’t even respond, still too busy making a mess all over yourself and jack’s arm. you’re body’s tenses against his chest as he continues milking you dry, letting you ride the feeling out while pressing his mouth against your ear. “gotta few more things ‘m sure your body’s never done.” he murmurs.
He accidentally spills a massive secret about a ring when groggy from anaesthesia after surgery.
The recovery room smells like antiseptic and recycled air, and you’ve been sitting in it long enough that the bad coffee has gone cold in your hand. You set it down on the plastic chair beside you and check the time. They said twenty minutes, maybe thirty. It’s been forty-five. You’ve read the same NHS poster about handwashing three times without retaining a single word.
Then the door swings open, and a nurse backs through it pulling the far end of a hospital bed, and there he is —your six-foot-something, usually-immovable man, flat on his back under a thin blanket with the tucked-in, slightly helpless look of someone who has absolutely no say in how they’re being transported right now. His head lolls toward you the moment he clears the doorway, and the second his eyes find your face, they light up.
“Babe.” He raises a finger and points it in your general direction, missing by about a foot. “That’s my person.” His voice is louder than it needs to be. The nurse guiding the head of the bed is staring very hard at the wall in front of her. “That one. Mine.”
You stand and cross to him, pressing a hand to his forearm. “Hi, love. How are you feeling?”
Simon stares at you with deep, grave seriousness for approximately three seconds. Then his whole face softens into something so unguarded it makes your chest ache a little, and he says, very slowly, “You have two heads.”
“I don’t.”
“Two.” He blinks, squinting, like he’s working through something genuinely complex. “Both beautiful. Don’t know which one to kiss.” He attempts to sit up, is immediately defeated by his own IV line and the fact that his arms have apparently stopped cooperating, and sinks back against the pillow with a defeated expression.
You laugh and press your hand gently to his chest to keep him still. “Maybe focus on one for now.”
He doesn’t hear you. He’s already tugging at the blanket tucked around him, studying it with intense concentration.
“I’m a burrito,” he announces.
“You are a bit, yeah.”
“You like burritos.” He says it like a fact he’s just remembered, important and certain. “So I’m… your burrito.” A pause. He blinks once, slowly. “That’s good. That’s very good, actually.”
The nurse at the head of the bed makes a quiet sound that she turns into a cough. You are half-embarrassed and entirely melting.
“Can you believe,” Simon says, voice shifting to scandalised, “they just let me sleep in there?”
“That’s generally how surgery works.”
“I closed my eyes for one second.” He holds up a finger from where his arm lies flat on the mattress. “One. And then—” he waves the same finger vaguely “—appendix. Gone. Just taken.”
“They did tell you they were going to do that.”
“Did they?” He looks incredibly uncertain. Then, with suspicion: “Was it a prank?”
“It wasn’t a prank, Simon.”
He absorbs this and then frowns at the ceiling. “Feels like a prank.”
The nurses finish their handover and quietly take their leave. You pull your chair flush to the side of the bed and settle into it, threading your fingers through his where his hand rests heavy on top of the blanket. He looks down at the contact, and something passes over his face—slow and warm and unhurried.
“You stayed,” he says.
“Of course I stayed.”
“Didn’t have to.”
“Simon.”
“Just saying.” His thumb moves over your knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. He’s watching your joined hands like he’s not entirely sure they’re real yet. The anaesthesia makes everything about him loose and unfiltered—no armour, no careful restraint, just him, sitting just below the surface of everything he usually keeps so close to the chest. “You’re the best thing,” he says quietly, to no one in particular. “You know that?”
“You’re a bit biased,” you say softly.
“‘M not.” He shakes his head against the pillow, slow and certain. “Ask anyone. Price’ll tell you. Soap’ll tell you—well, Soap talks too much; he’ll tell you a lot of things—” He pauses, reconsidering. “Maybe don’t ask Soap.”
You laugh, squeezing his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He falls quiet for a moment. The monitor beside him beeps steadily, and somewhere down the corridor, someone drops something metal, and the sound echoes and fades. Simon’s thumb has stilled against your hand, but he hasn’t let go. His eyes drift half-closed, then open again, fighting it.
“Got you something,” he mumbles. “Well. Not here. At home. It’s at home.”
“You got me something?”
“Mm.” His brow furrows faintly. “Well. It’s more… it’s more for both of us, really. Well—it's for you. And for me. And for—” He stops. The frown deepens. “It’s a ring.”
The word lands in the room very quietly.
You go still.
“A ring,” you repeat.
“In my sock drawer.” He says it with immense seriousness, as though the location is the important part. “Second one in. Behind the grey ones. Been there three weeks, I keep—” He shifts against the pillow, blinking. “Keep waiting for the right time. Was gonna do it somewhere nice, but I think it should be more personal. Have a whole—” Another slow blink. “I have a plan.”
Your heart has done something that makes your ribs feel too small for it.
“Simon,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.
“You’d say yes,” he says, like it’s not a question, like it’s just something he knows the way he knows north from south. “You’d say yes, wouldn't you.” Still not a question. His eyes are drifting again, the pull of sleep getting heavier by the second, his words softening at the edges. “You always say yes to me. Even when I’m—even when it’s hard. You stay.”
You press your free hand over your mouth for a second.
He lets out a long, slow breath. His grip on your hand slackens slightly, not letting go but going loose and easy. His head settles deeper into the pillow, the line of his shoulders dropping as the tension finally, fully, leaves him.
“I want it to be perfect,” he says, almost to himself. “But suppose it’s—s’fine either way. You’ll still say yes.”
And then, with all the unbothered peace of a man who has absolutely no idea what he’s just said, he falls asleep. Completely and utterly out, breathing slow and steady against the hospital pillow, hand still curled loosely around yours, a little furrow between his brows the only remaining sign that he was ever awake at all.
"lovie, we're too fuckin' old for this." simon groans against your ear, ducking his head to press a trail of soft kisses against your jaw. "it's price's weddin'. we can't just-" his words are cut off with a low groan as you reach down to palm the bulge already forming in his suit trousers despite his quiet protests.
"it's his third wedding." you remind him, pulling him by the belt loops deeper into the cloakroom, tucking yourself between layers of hanging coats. "his third. since we've been together. i don't think he'll miss us."
"love, we're not in our twenties anymore. can't just shag in bloody cloakrooms like idiots." he grumbles, but his hands are pushing your dress up to your waist, thigh slotting between yours and pressing up against your cunt through your panties even as he speaks. "yer a bad influence. always 'ave been."
"stop complaining." you gasp out, grinding yourself down against his thigh; feeling the slick fabric of your panties clinging to your core. "and just fuck me quickly - if you're so worried about us getting caught."
he rolls his eyes - but he obliges; his zipper dragged down, your panties hooked to the side, legs wrapped around his waist as he guides you down onto the length of his cock; forehead dropping to your shoulder with a hiss of breath through his teeth as your pussy clenches down around him. "christ, love." he manages to mutter, voice wrecked already, not giving you any time to adjust before he's pulling back and driving back into you; the wet sound of your bodies meeting almost obscenely loud in the quiet of the cloakroom. the coats sway around you with every thrust, hangers clinking softly.
his hands grip your ass, hold you open for him while his cock drags perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl in your heels.
"fuck - simon -" you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders through his jacket.
"yeah? gonna come already, are you?" he teases against your ear, one hand slipping between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles. "c'mon then love, you're the one who said quick."
your orgasm crashes over you hard, cunt fluttering and squeezing around him as you bite into his shoulder to muffle your moans.
simon curses under his breath, hips stuttering. "that's it - fuck - love -" he buries himself deep inside you as his own release hits him, pulsing hot inside you as he clenches his jaw so hard you're sure his teeth crack. his knees buckle just slightly from the intensity, and he stumbles, back hitting the coat rail behind him.
the entire rail comes crashing down.
coats fall like an avalanche around you both, hangers clatter loudly - the rail itself snapping clean in two when it hits the floor.
"shit." simon mutters, still buried inside you, trying to steady you both as fabric swamps your shoulders.
the cloakroom door flies open.
johnny's head pokes in, eyes wide, scanning for threats like he's been trained to do.
simon is still holding you up, your legs locked around his waist, his cock softening inside you. your dress is rucked up, his trousers open, and a dozen coats are puddled at your feet.
johnny blinks once. twice. then his face splits into a shit-eating grin.
"oi, Lt. glad it's you and the missus in here. worried you were shaggin' one o' the bridesmaids."
you snort out a laugh despite your compromising position. simon just sighs - like the idea of him having it off with one of the bridesmaids behind his wife's back is simply ridiculous.
"out, johnny." simon snaps, but there's no real heat in it. just pure exasperation.
johnny winks and ducks back out, pulling the door shut behind him with a quiet click.
simon drops his gaze back to yours, breathing hard. "told you we're too old for this shite."
you laugh again, properly, kissing the corner of his mouth. "worth it."
he rolls his eyes again, but his arms tighten around you. "yeah... suppose it was, lovie."
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | masterlist | ao3
rabbot x reader, park x reader, shen x reader, ellis x reader, langdon x reader
summary: You're Robby's favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn't hesitate to offer you up. A month is a long time for you and for those around you to go without.
|| smut MDNI 18+, free use kink, cuckholding, a lot goin on in this chapter, overwhelmed!reader, fingering, mentions of spanking, flirting, groping (consensual), the men of the ED are handsssyyy!, lil moment where we might run into some dub con (reader wants but knows she cant have), praise kink, cuck!robby, dom!robby, jack watches, cockwarming, kissing, riding, orgasm denial (yeah, still), m!masturbation, lil glimpse of posessive!jack abbot, non canonical timeline ||
a/n: lots of different things going on in this chapter. If you start to feel overwhelmed, thats the point :) also, like... im sorry if its terribly edited. plz lmk of any mistakes!
wc: 15k sorry I never stfu
A month was a long time.
For the first few weeks you mostly stayed home for your own sanity.
Robby left you to your own devices rather than dragging you through the halls and chaos of the emergency department. And you knew it was for the better this way. Away from temptation, from complicated feelings. You got to focus on him—your connection, and the rebuild.
When he'd come home exhausted and worn from a shift with new grayer hairs and deeper creases carved beside his eyes, you'd greet him with an eagerness that embarrassed you sometimes. He sought you out the same way you did him—needing to be close, needing to clear your minds and just touch and kiss and give. And take.
You felt a little like you were starting to go crazy from the lack of release. Dysregulated, maybe. Because it wasn’t like Robby had stopped touching you altogether. No, he still came home and made you feel wanted. Still kissed you until your thoughts went fuzzy, still got his hands on you whenever he could, still fucked you deep into the mattress just how you liked. But it was everything after that started to get to you—the being brought right up to that heightened edge only to be left there over and over, your body not understanding why it never got to finish.
Even your own thoughts began to betray you. You’d be standing at the sink with your hands in warm dishwater, staring down at a plate you’d already scrubbed clean, thinking about him coming up behind you and bending you over the counter. You’d be folding laundry and suddenly lose the thread of what you were doing, a pair of his boxers in your hands from the dryer, your mind filling in some awful, humiliating little fantasy about getting stuck in there and him finding you, taking advantage of the position. The kind of crazy shit that college boys usually searched on porn sites. And it only made the mess between your legs pulse worse, ache worse, until you were hot and flustered and taking cold showers halfway through the day just to reset yourself.
And still, the line was always in the same place. Every single time you thought Robby might finally give in, might finally give you the relief you begged for, he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d leave you twisted up with frustration, blinking back tears while he held you against his chest and brushed your hair out of your face, telling you it was for your own good.
And you had agreed—at least for the first week.
By the second, you were counting days.
By the third, you were becoming a genuine menace.
The second he walked through the front door, you were on him. You’d hear his keys hit the bowl by the entryway, the sound of his shoes being toed off, and you’d already be making your way across the house. Some evenings he barely got a chance to set down his bag before you were climbing all over him, hands in his hair, mouth on his, pressing yourself against him with no patience left in you at all. Other nights he’d drop onto the couch with an exhausted sigh and find you halfway onto your knees before he’d even gotten comfortable.
And Robby knew. He had to know how crazy it was making you. Some little devil on your shoulder told you he was enjoying it, enjoying you being so insatiable, so needy for him all the time, following him from room to room, touching him whenever he got close enough, getting short with him when he made you wait.
Because that had started happening too. The attitude.
The little huffs of annoyance you'd never made before when he spoke to you, the muttered comments under your breath, the way you’d roll your eyes before you could stop yourself and then freeze because you knew he’d seen it.
He'd taken you over his knee so many times in the past few weeks, your bum was almost always sore. And, of course, it only made you wetter too. His voice would drop into that low, hoarse place it got when he slipped into his natural place with you, telling you to count, telling you to take it, telling you that pretty girls still needed to use their manners. Your face would be buried in the couch cushion, holding back your moans as you did as he said. And even when he'd slide his fingers into your sopping folds when he was done, that part still felt like punishment too. How sensitive you'd become, how needy and desperate it all made you.
Sometimes you wondered if he'd keep the torture going past the one-month mark, if he'd decide he was having entirely too much fun watching you unravel. But you trusted him, and he never played games with that trust. You knew you'd get your release soon.
Because you missed everyone. And he knew you missed them. He'd sometimes be deep inside you, sawing his hips so that his swelling cock kissed your cervix, his lips on your ear, his arms wrapped tight around you and he'd ask who you missed most. Was it Park and his big dick down your throat? Did you miss Langdon's sweet kisses? He knew your favorite things about his residents—about the staff. So he'd pluck at them like strings, asking you questions that made your eyes roll back as he drove his cock in and out of you.
And yes. Yes, you missed all of it. How Frank's kissing alone would turn you into a puddle, his mouth so pillowy and tasting like Red Bull. And Brendon. How sweet he was, how somehow he managed to make you feel cared for and desired at the same time. How there seemed to ve a version of him only reserved for you, one that always knew exactly what you needed to shut your brain off and make the rest of the world disapear for a little while.
You missed Jack too. Though you often shoved that thought far, far away.
But other than the sex, you just missed them. The others, too. Mateo, Shen— who hadn't seen in a while. You missed your friends. Dana, Samira, Trinity and Mel.
Maybe that's what you needed. A night just with friends. A girl's night out.
So you texted them. A group chat made up of residents, interns and med students. Mel, Trinity, Joy, Victoria, Samira, Parker. Even Dana and Emma.
And that's how you ended up here at Space Bar, with a colorful cocktail in your hand and pink and green and purple back lights flooding the bar with music thrumming through the speakers.
"What the hell kinda place have you dragged us to?" Ellis shouted over the music beside you at the bar as she pulled up a stool. When you looked over, her skin reflected the multicolored glow of lights, her pretty almond eyes on you. You watched as she tried to school her expression into something flat and deadpanned, but the twitch of her lips and the amusement in her gaze gave her away.
"Good to see you too, Parker," you teased, knocking your shoulder against hers. "And it's a cocktail lounge. V needs to get a taste for real drinks, not just the shit beers at Bob's on karaoke nights."
To your right, Victoria smiled, rolling those big brown doe eyes at you from beside Joy and Emma.
A handful of them had actually managed to get the night off, all of you packed shoulder to shoulder at the corner of the colorful bar. You listened while stories bounced back and forth about recent impossible patients, insane cases they saw, the attendings giving them shit. Whatever fresh disasters had happened in the weeks you were away from it all.
"Trinnnn—" you groaned when you spotted Santos coming from the door with someone trailing behind her, "I said it was a girl's night!"
She pouted back, throwing her head back onto her neck as she replied, "He's like a lost puppy—follows me everywhere, I swear."
Dennis came walking up, sheepishly standing away from the group, "I can…uh, go home."
"No, no, don't be silly," you said, smiling and grabbing his wrist to tug him closer, "How's Amy and the baby?"
He blushed, a deep red staining his cheeks, "She's good. Theo too."
You saw Trinity roll her eyes beside you as she flagged down the bartender and ordered them drinks.
"So, where's Yoyo tonight?" you asked.
She didn't answer, but shot a look at Dennis, who looked at you a little apologetically and said: "Touchy subject."
"No, no!" Trinity exclaimed, "It's cool! I actually like being her little squeeze toy on lonely nights!"
Her elbows hit the bar with a thunk, and she thanked the bartender for the drinks, handing one to Dennis, and then added when she saw the two of you grimacing at each other: "Please stop with that loooook. It's fine. Really."
It was a little quiet for a moment, awkward, uncertain. You wished you'd never asked.
"So when are you gonna tell us the reason you've been gone for a while?" Ellis asked beside you. You were grateful for a change in subject, but when every set of eyes flit up to your face, it made your skin burn hot.
"I've just been home, hanging out." you explained.
Ellis's brows shot up, a mock frown tugging her lips downwards, "No reason for the absence?"
"I just—I was taking a break."
"From…?"
"From the little reverse harem you got going on with Robby, right?" Trinity asked, the annoyed look long gone, now replaced with a shit eating smirk as she sipped her lime green drink.
You nearly choked on your own beverage, looking at her with wide eyes.
"Guys—" Mel cut in, two hands wrapped around her sprite, "I don't think it's really our business—"
"Wait, you and Robby…?" Emma asked shyly, her mouth open, the pieces of her hair that hung around her face swinging as she looked around the group.
"Duh," Joy said dryly, "Where have you been, Em?"
"Oh my god…" you groaned, your stomach flipping.
"What?" Trinity quipped, "we're all just wondering about your little Twilight love triangle—the Ddward Jacob of it all. Will she, won't she with Abbot…Spill, girl."
You agonized with a long sigh, "Trin…"
"So just guys?" Ellis asked beside you. Your eyes found hers again, a funny look in them as she sipped from her drink.
"So far…yeah…" you muttered, not even trying to discern what that look meant.
"So it's true about you and Langdon?" Mel asked, eyes wide behind her glasses. "I've learned to not listen to the rumor mill but—"
"Wait wait wait—so Robby shares you?" Dennis cut in, big blue farmer boy eyes widening. "With who?"
"I don't know really know if I'm feel comfortable telling you guys—"
"Mateo?" Victoria blurted. Several heads immediately turned toward her.
"What?" she asked defensively.
"V!" Joy laughed, the neon lights of the bar reflecting in her glasses as she shook her head in deep amusement and pity.
The heat in your face climbed straight into your ears, you could only stare into your drink, stirring it around. The bright pink color suddenly looked very unappetizing as your stomach churned.
But then Joy's head stopped shaking, and she was looking at you differently now, as if your silence was answer enough.
"Oh my God," she breathed, eyes widening.
"Okay, wow," Dennis laughed nervously.
"That's a yes." Trinity chuckled. "I mean, I'll admit Mateo does have great hair."
You refused to look any of them in the eyes, your throat tightening up as heat blazed across your face and down your neck.
"Woah, what happened here, Pittlings?" you heard a familiar voice from behind you, a set of hands steadying your shoulders. Dana. You let out a breath you were holding tight in your lungs.
She squeezed once before looking around the group, and when you looked up, you saw her eyebrows climbing higher with every face she passed over.
"Why's everybody look like they're waitin' for sentencing?" she asked. "I leave you's alone for five minutes and suddenly it looks like somebody confessed to a murder."
"Sorry, D. Just trying to get to the bottom of some very interesting dynamics," Trinity said with a smile.
"Oh, I'm sure they're very interesting. And also probably none of your business." she said, eyeing the others.
A few groans went up around the table.
"Mm-hmm." She pointed at them. "The amount of nosy packed into one corner of this bar oughta be studied."
"You'd wanna know too!"
"I absolutely do not," Dana snapped without missing a beat. "I know enough already, more than I need to about all of yous."
That earned a laugh from around the bar, everyone's tension easing a little.
"Now," she said, standing up straighter, "Benji's home with the kids and I get one night out a week. So who wants a shot?"
"I'll go…put some music on the juke box." you said, sliding from your chair in humiliation.
You walked across the bar to the touchscreen jukebox slowly. It wasn't a far walk, but it felt long. You counted every uneven step, the ground feeling like it might as well open up beneath you and let you fall into the earth. You wouldn't mind. You tried to collect yourself with deep breaths, reminding yourself that it wasn't really a secret—what you and Robby were. But still. You didn't expect the subject to be pounced on you like that with your friends, your sex life being mapped out like a differential.
As you stood in front of the glowing screen, you scrolled aimlessly through the song list, though none of the names really processed as they passed beneath your fingertips. The music still thrummed through the speakers, vibrating up through your toes. You could still hear the group talking and laughing from across the bar, and your hands began to sweat a little, wondering if they were still talking about you or—
"Hey."
You startled, looking up to see Ellis. She leaned up against the bright neon jukebox, the violet and blue lights catching along her cheekbones, her pillowy lips, the heavy hood of her eyes. They looked softer than usual, blurred a little by alcohol, her mouth pulled into a small frown.
"Hi," you replied.
"I'm sorry about… that. I should've known better around Jealous little Javadi."
Ellis clicked her tongue and tilted her head, trying to catch your gaze when you looked back at the screen. "Look at me."
You did.
She studied your face for a long moment, and you found yourself doing the same. Her expression tightened slightly as she looked you over. Her big almond eyes moved across your face, lingering here and there before she stepped a little closer.
"I'm sorry." she said again, but with more earnestness. "Dana was right, I was being nosy. I should've minded my business, should've asked in a different way."
She was leaning close enough now that you could smell her perfume, her body wash, or maybe it was just her. Shea butter and coconut, something warm underneath that had you leaning toward her before you even realized you were doing it, trying to place it.
"You're a good girl, you know." she continued, and your stomach gave a strange little twist at the casual way she said the pet name. As if she knew.
"Thanks." you murmured, feeling the heat creep back up your neck. You meant to look away from her, to break whatever spell had pulled between you as she studied you closer, but you just… couldn't. Something was off, and it was making your belly flip a little as the two of you stared at one another.
"So how does it work?" she asked.
"How does what work?"
"You and Robby."
She turned a little so she was leaning in fully, as if creating a wall between you and the rest of the room.
You gnawed at your lip, your fingers absently scrolling through the songs. You tried to focus on the screen again, but your eyes kept drifting back to hers.
"You can tell me," she murmured, her lips parting slightly. "I can keep a secret."
"I know."
Your brain kept lagging a little on how close she'd gotten, on how open her features were as she looked at you. She didn't bother hiding anything, her hair pulled back, her eyes searching yours, her lips a little parted. It had your lungs struggling to catch a full breath.
"Usually, um, the…well, Robby will…"
What was wrong with you? Why couldn't you form a full sentence?
Her lips pulled into a little quirk of a smile, as if she knew why entirely. "What will Robby do, hm?"
You took in a deep breath, "Sometimes he lets me pick, sometimes it's more like… a reward system. For… whoever…"
"Oh?"
You nodded, "Like when…" god, your face was so hot, your thighs pushing together without realizing, "When Frank did the cervical reduction a couple months ago… he um, came to see me after."
Ellis's eyes had gone very heavy now, and you watched how they dropped from your eyes to your mouth. "And?"
"Well, he and I—" you swallowed thickly.
"Oi!" you heard from across the bar.
Both of you sprung back from one another.
Dana was calling from across the bar, both hands raised in the air.
"You two doin' shots or what!?"
The next day, you were fucking tired.
Not physically. Well, okay, maybe physically too. A little hungover and very dehydrated, but mostly tired in the particular way that came from having too many thoughts bouncing around your skull with nowhere to go.
Last night had turned out to be fun, eventually. Once everyone got the memo that you and their attending's sex life was not a topic for public discussion, thanks largely to Dana and Ellis glaring people into submission whenever the conversation started drifting back in that direction. You'd stayed out late, came home tipsier than you'd expected, and fell right into Robby's orbit when you'd returned. He'd been up waiting for you, reading over charts with his readers low on his nose, a mug of coffee gone cold beside him. One look at him and whatever resolve you'd had about going straight to bed had evaporated. It hadn't taken long before he was gathering your hair into his fist while you eagerly worked your lips down his cock.
But this morning, you were just exhausted. Robby had headed to the Pitt for his early start on his bike, the weather a beautiful late-summer cloudless sky. But you just couldn't take any more long days stuck in the house like this.
So you headed for the pool.
Robby didn't live in an HOA community because it was fancy or for the oversized houses. He lived in one for the sheer convenience of it. A clubhouse with a gym, lawnmowers that were on a regular schedule, snow shoveling taken care of. And the poolhouse was beautifully kept, just a short walk down the block past neatly trimmed hedges and identical mailboxes, and you headed there with nothing but a towel, a coverup, and a book tucked beneath your arm. Your sunglasses kept the glare from your eyes as you pushed through the gate and made your way across the concrete deck before dropping onto an empty lounger.
It was quiet for a weekend morning, and you were grateful. For a while, you did absolutely nothing. You stretched out beneath the sun, letting the warmth sink into your skin while you worked your way through a few chapters, occasionally looking up whenever someone splashed into the water or the gate clicked open. Eventually the heat became too much, and you wandered down the concrete steps into the shallow end, sighing as the cool water climbed your ankles, your calves, your thighs. You floated around for a bit without much purpose, letting your thoughts drift peacefully in and out of your head, the cold water soothing.
By the time you climbed back out, your hair damp around your shoulders, you felt marginally more human.
While you sat up and lathered on more sunscreen, you saw a family enjoying the pool on other side, a woman in the water with her children while a man lay stretched out on a lounger nearby.
Looking at you.
You stared back, recognizing him, your stomach doing a little excited jump.
You smiled to yourself, snapping the bottle of your lotion closed and standing up. You didn't bother with the cover up, or the towel.
"Good morning, John," you said as you approached, stepping beneath the shade of his umbrella.
He looked up at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes full of mirth.
"Hey, hot stuff."
You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. John Shen and his family lived in the same community as Robby, just a few streets down. A friendly face you didn't get to see often, but it was always a treat when you did. Shen had a way about him that made people instantly comfortable. Cool without trying to be, calm to the point that some people thought he cared about absolutely nothing. Somehow, he never seemed stressed, even at work. While everyone else in the ED ran themselves ragged, Shen drifted through the day with an easy smile and a shrug. And an iced coffee.
Shen held out his hand, and you stepped in a little closer. His palm settled against the sensitive skin on back of your calf, the contact making your blood surge a little.
"Did you come from the hospital? Or did you have off?" you asked, hyper aware of how his fingers caressed your skin.
He nodded, "Came from work just a couple hours ago, figured I'd come down and enjoy the nice day while they last. Swear I can feel the chill of autumn creeping in."
"Don't tease me." you said, "I, for one, can't wait."
"Of course you can't, crazy woman." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth while his hand ran up, cupping behind your knee. "You always say that, then spend all winter complaining you're cold."
You laughed, shaking your head. Your gaze landed on his wife and children in the pool.
"How's Gwen?" you asked.
All three of them were splashing around together, their laughter carrying across the water. She glanced over, spotted you standing with her husband, and immediately smiled before lifting a hand. Shen and his wife had an interesting relationship, one that allowed both of them to have their cake and eat it too, so to speak. He told you the first time he'd come into the exam room that his wife didn't mind if he occasionally saw you while he worked, and he didn't mind if she had her own time with one of the other dermatologists at her practice.
You waved back. When you looked down again, Shen's hand had found its way to the back of your thigh.
"We're good," he said. "Kids look like they're trying to drown her, but she's good."
You smiled down at him wider.
"Where've you been?" he asked then, looking up at you.
"Home, mostly." you said, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.
"Mm." he hummed, thumb brushing against the top of your thigh, close to the crease of your leg. "Robby said you're taking a break."
The thought of Robby apparently discussing your month long restrictions with the rest of the residents and attendings sent a strange little flutter through your stomach. Despite how ridiculous, your thighs pressed together automatically.
A smile appeared on Shen's face almost immediately as he glanced down between your legs, noticing the shift. His hand slid up higher, until it just brushed the hem of your bathing suit. "Miss you, it's been a while."
Your hand suddenly shot out, having to grip his bare shoulder to hold yourself up as his hand slid up to cup your bum, the tips of his fingers sliding just under the damp fabric of your suit. He squeezed the sensitive flesh in his hand, making you gasp and your knees wobble.
"Do you miss me, hot stuff?"
You nodded, pressing your lips together firmly.
"Cat got your tongue, huh?" he teased, his fingers pressing a little firmer. He had such a nice smile, charming and coy as he felt you up. He barely reacted to how sensitive you were to his wandering hand, but when your eyes dropped to his lap, you saw exactly how he felt. His swim trunks had gone noticeably tighter, a bulge stretching the fabric that made your mouth water.
"Y-yes," you managed, trying very, very hard not to let out the moan that threatened to escape when he slid his prodding fingers along the seam of your lower lips. "Miss y-you too."
"I'm sure you do," he cooed. "Can feel just how bad."
Your fingers dug into his shoulder harder, your teeth latched into your bottom lip as you let your eyes close a little when his middle finger pushed just so at your entrance.
"Too bad you're grounded. I can think of so many fun things we could be doing right now, hot stuff."and then his smile brightened in wattage, and he was pulling his hand away. "S'just a shame, isn't it?"
"Johnnnnn," you whined, stamping your foot before playfully smacking his shoulder. "You tease—"
He chuckled at that, bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as his shoulders shook, already glancing back down at the paperwork in his hands.
"As tempting as you are, hot stuff, I'm not trying to get my ass kicked by Robinavitch. Now go be a good girl and say hi to Gwen."
You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself as you turned and headed toward the pool. You heard his voice call out behind you:
"Hate to see you go, love to watch you—"
You crouched by the water, scooping up a handful and splashing it directly at him.
Robby: have to stay long. do you want to come in
The text from Robby had your stomach tightening immediately as you read it from your spot on the lounge chair a little while later, both of Shen's kids planted beside you and chatting your ear off about their summer holiday plans for Disney World. You nodded along dutifully as they argued over which park was best, but your attention snagged on the screen in your hand the second his name appeared.
You: im at the pool right now
A speech bubble appeared and disappeared while you waited, your toes curling against the warm plastic fabric stretched across the chair. You tried to focus on what Mia was telling you about Epcot, but your attention was already wandering. It always did when it came to Robby.
Then, another text from Robby: leave the suit on. come in.
"I'm sorry, you guys, I gotta go," you said, pushing yourself upright.
Both kids immediately started protesting while you laughed and bent down to hug them goodbye.
"Seriously, John, if you ever need a sitter." you said as you stretched your arms around him.
"Careful," Shen called after you as you turned to embrace his wife. "You keep saying that and we're actually gonna start taking you up on it."
Both he and his wife thanked you and hugged you goodbye, and a few minutes later you were gathering up your things and heading out.You didn’t even bother going back home or changing, knowing full well Robby loved you in your little skimpy swim suits and cover ups—sometimes more than a lacy lingerie set.
An hour later, you were walking into the ED, the AC blasting hard enough to raise goosebumps along your arms. You rubbed your hands over them as you crossed through the entrance, waving hello to Lupe at the desk. She buzzed you through without issue, and you tossed quick greetings toward Ahmad and Mike as you passed.
In the chaos of the emergency department, something felt off immediately. Though, it seemed to be dying down. Voices carried in as they shouted over one another, people burst in and out of doors while the phone rang. Monitors chirped, ranging from steady and level to chaotic fits of panic. You caught a glimpse of Samira disappearing into a trauma room with Langdon behind her with Mel and Whitaker on their heels.
Dana intercepted you before you made it halfway to the charge station.
"Hey, angel. I'm sorry. Did Robby call you in?" She hooked an arm around you and immediately started steering you toward the back hall. "As happy I am to see you, it's a bit of a mess right now."
"What happened? Is everyone okay?"
"Incident at Kennywood. Rollercoaster."
"Oh, god."
Dana grimaced while squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah."
As she turned you down a hall, she added: ""Listen, I'll stick you in a room for now. Things are settlin' down, but it could still be a while before he gets free."
"Yeah, yeah of course, D." you said.
You'd barely made it around the charge station before somebody called Dana's name from across the department.
"Shit."
"Go," you said immediately. "I'm good. I'll find my way."
"North five, angel." Dana said, pointing your way ahead. You nodded, and started walking.
Every room seem occupied the further back you went, stretchers lining the walls and IV poles clustered near doorways. It wasn't as bad as some disasters you'd heard of—Pitt Fest for one—but still. It looked rushed, blood still on the floor of an empty trauma bay. Every room seemed to hold a different injury. Teenagers with broken bones and lacerations. Parents hovering anxiously beside hospital beds. A little girl clutching a stuffed rabbit while a nurse wrapped gauze around her arm.
The emergency department always had a strange feeling to it. Grief and relief lived side by side here. In one room somebody cried. In the next, a family laughed so hard you could hear it through the curtain. It made your chest ache a little harder the further you got.
"Hey, you."
You turned at the breathless voice and found Langdon hurrying toward you, already tearing off the disposable surgical cover he'd thrown on for trauma.
"Hey. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah—" He ran a hand through his hair before letting out a tired breath. "Well, no, actually, not really. But it will be."
"That's good." you said, and you were surprised to see him still following you as you kept walking. "Frank, go check on your patients, I'm good—"
"You know, I missed seeing you around here, baby."
The words stopped you—the pet name specifically had your tummy twisting a little—and Langdon guided you toward an empty strip of wall tucked away from the main traffic of the department, just enough privacy to steal a conversation.
"Don't tell me you've been neglecting your patients over a withheld reward again, Frankie."
His dimple appeared first, deepening into one cheek before the rest of the smile caught up, still a little breathless, shaking his head down at you. "No, never."
You smiled back up at him. It felt almost normal again, like it hadn't been over three weeks of you being kept away.
"Robby said you uh…"
"Yeah." you murmured, your smile slipping.
"Takin' a break from all of us then?" he asked, something amused in his pretty blue eyes.
"Just for now." you said, a little teasing lilt in your voice. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon."
"You're back now." he said, tilting his head down at you. "Does that mean…?"
You shook your head.
"Okay," he said easily, with a sort of half nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "Okay, I'll back off then. Good to see you though, baby."
Something in your chest pinched. Maybe it was because you'd spent the last month mostly at home. Maybe it was because seeing everyone again had reminded you how much of your life existed inside these walls. Or maybe you just really had missed him. Whatever the reason, you didn't let him get far before you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his middle.
"Miss you too, Frankie." you murmured into him, "always."
His arms settled around your shoulders almost immediately, pulling you in while his cheek pressed lightly against the top of your head. You felt the vibration of a chuckle thrum through him before he was gently pushing you away, "Careful, I'll start thinking you have favorites."
"Maybe I do." you grinned up at him, your eyes a little hazier than before, your skin warmer as you felt his long, lean body against yours. God, you really did miss him. The flirty, the easy affection. This was all familiar to slip back into with him.
"Don't make me want to kiss you," he murmured, squeezing you against him again. "I could get in big trouble."
A laugh threatened at the back of your throat. "Yes you could," you said softly.
You stood there with your neck craned back, looking up at him beneath hooded eyes while his blue gaze wandered across your face. His dimple deepened when he smiled. He looked exhausted. Hair slightly disheveled, scrubs wrinkled. There was dried blood on one sleeve he'd probably forgotten about hours ago. Still so pretty. So Frank.
For one second, you thought he might actually give in as his head bent down lower, his eyes dropping to your waiting mouth. But then—
"Langdon! We need you in trauma two!" Perlah shouted down the hall. Langdon glanced up, blinking back to reality, and slowly let you go.
"I'll see you around, baby. Be good!" he called as he started backing away.
"Bye," you murmured. You lifted a hand in a lazy wave, watching him disappear down the hallway long after he'd stopped looking back.
You felt a little thrown off course from your run in with him, your blood taking a moment to run smoothly, your heart settling. The cool air that rushed into your chest made your chest squeeze, your nipples under the thin bathing suit harden. You inhaled deeply but found it hard to catch a full breath. Fuck, you were screwed if you didn't find an empty room.
Finally, you turned on your heel, north five back in your sights.
But then—
"Bunny?"
You looked to your right and found Brendon Park stepping off the elevator.
Tall was almost an inadequate word for him. Even from halfway across the hallway, he seemed to take up space effortlessly, broad shoulders filling the opening as the elevator doors slid open. The second he spotted you, his attention locked on completely. His gaze swept over you from head to toe, taking in the swimsuit cover-up, the sandals, the just dried hair, and whatever conclusion he reached made something tense in his face.
His long strides carried him toward you quickly.
"Hey—" you started, and he was bending down before you could say anything else, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
"How are you? What're you doing here? Were you at the theme park?"
"What?" you asked, still trying to catch up with the speed of the interaction before glancing down at yourself. Right. You could almost look like you came from a theme park. "Oh. No, no— I'm okay. I just came from home."
The relief that crossed his face was immediate, his shoulders dropping slightly, some tension leaving him as he glanced around the department. He sent a glare to a passing doctor you didn't recognize before turning his attention right back to you.
He stepped forward into you.
You stepped back.
His brow furrowed slightly, concern still written all over his face as he looked you over again, checking for something you'd somehow forgotten to mention. The movement felt almost unconscious on both your parts. Brendon kept drifting closer, drawn in by equal parts worry and affection, and you kept retreating beneath the weight of that honed gaze, your brain already struggling to keep up.
He did it again, and again, until your hips pressed into the sharp edge of a table, a little gasp coming from your mouth as he loomed over you closer still.
“Brendon—” you said, and as he leaned down again to try to catch your lips again, you turned quickly so your back was to his chest instead. It didn’t help. If anything, it only made you more aware of how much space he took up, the broad width of him filling in behind you, his shoulders so expansive they cut off the hallway on either side. He'd always been big, big enough to overwhelm, but usually it was so easy to forget because he was so careful with you. His touch was gentle, his voice gentler. Today though—he felt too big for his own good. All that focus of his predatory stare had your heart in your throat. Maybe because you knew how easily you'd give in. It had been so long, after all.
With your back turned, hips pressing into the empty desk, you closed your eyes. The wood edge dug into your skin as he crowded closer. You shivered when you felt his strong nose brush through your hair as he bent his head, tracing slow along your neck and around the shell of your ear, inhaling.
"What's goin' on with you, bunny?" he murmured. "You're trembling."
You gasped when his lips pressed against the tender skin behind your ear, your back arching before you even realized it. Heat pooled hard, throbbing painfully between your legs, your thighs tightening together for some kind of relief while you gnawed at your bottom lip hard enough to hurt.
"N-nothing's wrong," you tried to say, but it came out thin and desperate. "I—we—I can't umm…"
It was too much, too overwhelming. Too many people touching you when you weren't allowed to do anything about it.
"Can't what, bunny?" he said softly, voice so low it sent heat down your spine, his nose tracing the shell of your ear now. "Can't just talk, hm?"
You shook your head a little. His mouth started trailing down your neck, making goosebumps rise over your skin, your nipples beneath your bathing suit top pebbling even harder and your knees wobbling.
"But I've missed you, bunny."
The words went straight in your stomach, heat coiling, core fluttering. You sighed shakily, and then he stepped even closer, and you felt him—hard beneath his cotton scrubs, pressing into the curve of your lower back.
"Oh, fuck," you whispered. "Brendon, I really can't—"
"You don't have to do anything, Bunny," he whispered back, though his kisses had already turned hungrier, firmer against your skin as they went down your neck onto your shoulder. "How've you been, hm?"
"Mmm... I've been... okay..." Your thoughts were starting to slide apart, softening so quickly you couldn't quite hold onto them.
"You smell so good," he muttered, completely ignoring your answer. "Smell a little like desperation. Robby been takin' care of you, sweet girl? Been so long since I've seen you."
Your breath stuttered. "I've been..." You forced yourself to inhale deep, trying to get oxygen back into your brain while he pressed his hips slowly against you from behind. The pressure made your core ache harder. You caught yourself trying to lean away from him just to think straight. "I've been grounded."
You felt the sharp burst of breath against your neck, almost a laugh.
"Grounded, huh?" His teeth scraped lightly against the crest of your shoulder. "What's that like?"
Your face burned. You wondered if Robby hadn't told him, or if he was just pushing all the right buttons. "No, um..." You swallowed hard. "I'm not allowed to… finish. Or be shared."
Brendon went still for half a second.
Then, finally understanding, he leaned harder into you with a low growl that sounded punched out of him.
"Is that right?" he said, and you could tell his teeth were bared, shark-like, before you even spared a glance over your shoulder. "Robby doesn't want his best girl feelin' good anymore?"
"No, it's not—not that—"
Your words broke apart when his hands slid around your hips. Big hands—warm and heavy. His fingers rubbed slowly into your skin just above the waistband of your shorts and it felt so good your stomach tightened painfully around it. You could already feel how wet you'd gotten, slick heat pooling fast between your thighs, you could've sworn you felt it starting to run down your leg.
His hands didn’t stay still for long, and fuck, they felt so good. Your mouth opened in a quiet gasp when they dragged up your front, over your stomach, beneath the loose fabric of your cover-up, his palms broad enough to make you feel held and handled at the same time. He slipped a hand of them under one the little flimsy triangles that covered your breasts, and your lungs caught. His own breath was heavy in your ear, hot and uneven against your skin, the outline of his cock pressing insistent against your back while his fingers wandered and squeezed at you.
You could hardly keep up with your mind or your body,
Your thoughts catching on how you were not supposed to be doing this, on the rules, on the fact that this was Brendon Park with his hands under your clothes, while your body arched back into him anyway, little gasps and whimpers slipping out before you could swallow them. Because it had been so long. Because it had been torturous, missing these big hands on you, missing the thick heat of him pressing into you, the way he touched you like he’d been thinking about it for weeks.
And then, his hands continued their wandering back down your stomach. And then, to your horror and complete and utter pleasure, one of his hands slipped beneath the elastic of your waistband.
"Brendon—"
"Let me check on you, bunny," he whispered, breath heavier now. "Just wanna make sure you're okay. I've missed you."
His palm slid lower beneath the lining of your bathing suit until it settled heavy against your pubic bone, and then his fingers, thick and rough with callouses, dipped carefully into the soaked seam between your legs.
"Fuckkkkk," he exhaled, like the word got dragged right out of his chest with a moan.
Your hands flew to the desk, palms flattening against scattered papers while your head dropped forward in defeat. You were grateful no one was passing by behind you, that the hallway somehow had been deserted the past few minutes. You didn't want to imagine what this looked like.
"Oh my god," you whimpered.
He was barely touching you. And yet, just the pads of two fingers circling slow through the slickness of your folds and the teasing around your clit was enough to make your brain turn to mush and your legs so weak so you could hardly stay standing.
"You're so wet I bet my cock would slide right in this pussy," he muttered, voice strained and wrecked despite the filth of his words, his hips dragging against your lower back harder in a grinding motion.
Park's fingers slid further, cupping your wet mound and prodding your entrance, his palm creating pressure for your clit, and the sharp pulse of pleasure nearly made you cry out. You had to bite into your lip hard to keep yourself from moaning at the contact, the constant ache you'd been left with cracked apart into sparks that shot all the way up your spine.
"Oh god, Brendon—"
You spread your legs obediently when his knee nudged between them.
"You don't have tell Robby, baby," he breathed against your neck. "Let me take care of you."
But hearing Robby's name again snapped through the haze hard enough to make your stomach twist.
You stood upright so fast you felt dizzy from it. You grabbed Brendon's wrist and pulled his hand from your shorts, turning around to face him with your chest heaving. Despite how equally desperate he had seemed, he pulled away easily at your insistence.
"Brendon," you started, struggling to catch your breath, "I can't, I'm sorry."
He stared down at you, eyes blown dark with arousal, chest rising hard beneath the fabric stretched over his shoulders. You could still feel his thick length in the tent of his scrubs against your belly, could still see his mouth swollen from kissing at your skin. You held onto his thick hand for a moment in between the two of you to stop him. It glistened with arousal along his two fingers.
And just when you opened your mouth to explain, you heard a voice from the end of the hallway.
"Well, hello."
You turned, and your stomach nearly fell to the floor.
Black t-shirt stretched across heavy muscle. Graying curls mussed at the front. Narrowed hazel eyes fixed on Park, his jaw set so hard beneath the shadow of stubble his muscle twitched.
"Abbot." Brendon said curtly, not moving from where he stood with his chest up against yours, his eyes honed in like a predator's.
Jack walked forward, until he was only a couple paces from you. His gaze bounced around your face, then up to Brendon's. There was a faint curve to his mouth, something cheeky and almost amused, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"All okay, sweetheart?" Jack asked when his eyes found you again.
You nodded, suddenly very aware of how close Park was, of warm skin, his heart hammering in his chest up against yours. The way neither of your bodies hadn’t quite calmed down. You could only imagine what this looked like—your mouth parted and heaving, Park's chest pressed up against you.
"I was gonna grab coffee from Dunkin'." Jack said, "You wanna come?'
You looked between him and Brendon then, uncertain.
"We were having a discussion, Abbot." Brendon then said sternly.
Jack smiled, a charming dimple creasing one of his cheeks, though there was still something in his gaze—something intense and sharp that you'd never seen before. "And I'm sure it was very enlightening."
There was a stiffness to the both of them now, even as Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands in his cargo pockets. The way Brendon wouldn't move, the way Jack's smile twitched when he looked between the two of you.
"C'mon, sweetheart," Jack offered, pulling one hand from his pocket and beckoning you.
Park's arm immediately slid around your middle, pulling you against him even harder. You looked up at him, suddenly the intensity of his nickname rang true— he looked scary, serious, his face darkening as he looked over at the attending.
"She's fine, Abbot, we were just talking."
When you glanced at Jack, all amusement fell from his face.
"Brendon," you murmured, sighing and looking back up at him.
You lifted your hands up into his chest, sliding them up until your fingers gently pressed into his face, turning it towards you. You saw him soften immediately as his eyes landed back on you.
You rose up onto your toes and kissed him softly on the mouth. You could feel his arm tighten even more against you as he breathed you in, his shoulders dropping. When you finally drew back, his mouth followed yours until you fell back onto your heels.
"Not today, okay?" you murmured, wiping some of the chap stick from his top lip, "I need to sort a few things out first. But I promise, you'll be the first to know when things are back to normal."
He sighed, and threw a mean glare at Jack once more before loosening his grip, though his hands stayed on you, guiding you down.
And finally, when he turned away, it was not without lingering his hands on you for as long as possible—his hands slid down your arms, holding the tips of your fingers as he said, "See you around, Bunny. Be good."
You smiled as you watched him go.
And then, turning around with a long exhale, you looked at Jack.
You'd never seen him look like that before.
There was no smile waiting for you or easy charm, no teasing remark halfway from his mouth. Instead, his brows were set low over his eyes, his jaw still tight like he was close to cracking a molar. He stared down the hall where Park had vanished, his gaze fixed on the empty stretch of tile and fluorescent light with an expression you'd never seen on his face. Mean. You didn't think you'd ever seen Jack Abbot look mean before.
"Jack?"
He shook his head and inhaled sharply, gnawing at the inside of his lip like he was trying to stop himself from saying something he knew he shouldn't. When his eyes landed on you, you watched them travel over your face, down your form, and back up again before he jerked his head toward the main ED.
"C'mon."
When you reached him, his hand settled lightly against your back, guiding you a few steps away from the flow of people moving through the department, toward the wall where a computer on wheels sat parked with its screen dimmed and a Esme was organizing a linen cart.
"I—um—I'm supposed to go meet Robby."
Jack paused. He looked down at you for a second, and suddenly you were far too aware of how close he was standing, of the heat of him even through scrubs, of how the space between you wasn’t really space at all. God. You hated this. You hated how seeing him still did this to you, how your heart immediately started acting up, how three weeks apparently hadn’t been enough time for your mind or your body to understand what you'd done was wrong. That you shouldn't want it again.
"Robby's in a trauma," he said.
"Yeah, I'm..." You swallowed. "I'm gonna go wait for him in North Five."
"Okay."
"Okay..."
You started to turn away.
The whole interaction felt wrong. Just wrong. Three weeks ago you'd been tangled up in each other in a way neither of you had planned for, and now it felt like neither of you knew what to say, how to say it. How to be in each other's presence and not think about it.
"Hey."
You’d only gotten an arm’s length away before it stopped you, and when you turned back, he was still standing exactly where you’d left him, his shoulders squared, his jaw set. He let out a slow breath through his nose and took a few steps closer, one hand settling on his hip while he looked you over.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you?" you asked, your voice maybe a little too defensive.
His head tipped back slightly, eyes never leaving your face. You worried for a moment that he'd give himself trismus with how much he was clenching the muscles of his jaw. He seemed to be weighing the answer, deciding how much of it he wanted to give you. "Been better."
"Yeah, same." you sighed.
Jack looked at you a little closer now, and it made your breath shorten. You wished he wasn't so handsome. You wished being this close didn't remind you of a month ago in the back of his truck, memories of your face in his chest with tears in your eyes, him kissing you, both of you crossing a line you even though you knew better. You wished you could forget how easy it felt with him too.
"You seem…" he began. "Was Park being—?"
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m just feeling really… I don’t know.” You sighed again, your hands coming up to your face, palms pressing against your cheeks, trying to steady yourself, but the overwhelm kept building anyway, tight in your throat and at the base of your neck, your heartbeat too fast and too loud. “It’s fine.”
“Some of us have been… a little restless, I guess,” he said, voice low, his head dipping as he looked at you, his gaze staying on your face in a way that felt careful instead of hungry. “Three weeks is a long time.”
"Yeah," you huffed sarcastically, "You're tellin' me."
He looked at you a little funny.
"I gotta go but… I'm fine. I guess. Yeah. Thanks…um… Jack. I'll see you."
"Okay, sweetheart. See you."
Luckily you didn't have to sit alone in your thoughts for long.
Robby found you in north five soon enough, and even though he looked exhausted—even though the crease between his brows was deep and feathered and his eyes had that look of a long, awful day full of cases he'd remember for life—he still smiled when he saw you.
"Hi, honey," he sighed, and opened his arms for you to fall into.
You went to him, your hands sliding up around the back of his neck, rising to your tiptoes so you could tuck your face into his chest, and he let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck in him for hours. His arms wrapped around you and held you, swaying a little back and forth in place, his weight shifting in the muffled quiet of the exam room.
For some reason, some sixth sense, some thing that had been learned after all your time with him, you knew this was what he needed. He was particular about touch outside of this—he didn't accept hugs from most, or even a high five. He kept his praise quick and detached with his staff typically with a simple thumbs up or fist bump (though, you knew there was one person other than you who was the exception to that). But with you… it was like you were the only touch that was safe for him to fall into.
And though you craved touch, not even just from him but from everyone you knew—a hug with a friend, a hand on the small of the back, a bumping of shoulders in comradery, and the explicit kind too— there was something deeply sentimental about the touch from Robby's hands. When the two of you fell into each other, it formed a nucleus from the outside world. Nothing else existed now that he was here and holding you. The noise of the day outside the four walls of the exam room simply paused.
You felt his nose sink into your hair, inhaling, "How are you."
"M'okay," you murmured. "You?"
"Yeah." he said softly.
You squeezed him a little tighter.
After a moment, you said: "Robby?"
"Yeah, honey?" he asked.
"I feel like I'm going a little crazy."
He pulled away, only enough so he was still holding you in his arms but able to look down at you and study your face. His brows pulled together for a long moment while he did, assessing for anything really wrong. You felt his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the sheer fabric of your cover up.
"How so?"
You shut your eyes, breathing deeply, trying to collect yourself. You weren't sure why, but you felt almost like you wanted to cry. When you opened them again, Robby's eyes were still focused on you, his expression full of careful attention.
"I feel like I've barely been here an hour and I'm just so—" you shook your head, releasing your hands from his neck to cover your eyes, pressing your fingertips deeply into the sockets. Bright galaxies burst across your vision, and you inhaled again, steadying the whirring of your brain as you tried to think of the right words. "Everyone is being so sweet, trying to take care of me—"
"—take care of you?"
"—but I just feel so fucking overwhelmed, and I don't know how to tell them that I can't—"
"—they should already know to leave you alone—"
"I just want to go home, but I also really don't—because I miss everyone—but still—" you snapped, "I just want to stop feeling so fucking crazy."
"Okay, breathe, please—" he said, his hands sliding from your back to your shoulders, soothing up and down on your skin.
You opened your eyes again, letting your hands drop, sucking in a shaky breath and looking up at him.
"First of all," he said, his voice low and soothing, "I'm sorry I called you to come in on such a crazy day. I… I selfishly thought of having you here, wanting you after all this bullshit and I didn't think about the others seeing you."
"Well, they saw me." You shrugged. "I even ran into John at the pool with his family."
Robby tilted his head, "Did Shen—?"
You shook your head, "We just said hi, that's all. He said he didn't want to get in trouble. Langdon said so too."
Robby nodded, "Good, good."
"But I miss them." you murmured, your eyes wide and watery up at Robby.
"I know, honey."
"And…" you hesitated, but knew it was better to just tell him. "I feel like you're getting such a good fucking deal out of the past few weeks and I'm not. I feel fucking crazy, Michael."
He sighed, squeezing your arms a little tighter, his face with an expression of knowing that you don't want to hear. "Do you know why we've been doing this the past few weeks? Denying you?"
You let your head fall back on your neck with a little groan, "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I went behind your back, I crossed a boundary. And it's fine, I understand—I just didn't think my body would be so fucking wound tight like this—"
"Okay, I hear you, c'mere," Robby cooed immediately, gently guiding both of you to the hospital bed in the center of the room.
You went without thinking about it, shuffling across the mattress until he could pull you into him. It dipped beneath your combined weight as he settled you on his lap, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other came up to cradle the back of your head. You let yourself sink against him completely, legs falling open around the large breadth of his body—hips to hips, chest to chest, your face tucked into the side of his neck where his skin was warm from a long day. His fingers slipped into your hair automatically, fingertips scratching lightly against your scalp while the steady rise and fall of his breathing moved beneath your cheek.
"Okay," he murmured, pressing his mouth briefly to your temple. "Tell me more."
"No, because—" Your voice caught unexpectedly. The burn seared in your throat even worse than before, your eyes prickling, your chin wobbling in a way that only made you more frustrated.
"It's so stupid." You swallowed hard. "You're here saving fucking lives and actually doing something, and I'm sitting here complaining because people..." A humorless laugh escaped you. "People like me too much."
The laugh that left him was soft, so fond that it made you want to hide your face even further. "Oh, honey."
You pushed your lips together to keep yourself from really beginning to weep, croaking out: "Don't laugh at me."
"I'm not laughing at you."
"I know." you admitted, inhaling a deep, shaky breath.
His hand continued moving through your hair, smoothing it back from your face before trailing down your spine in slow strokes.
"I understand what you're saying," he said gently. "But let's not compare apples to oranges, okay? Somebody else's problems don't make yours disappear. If something's upsetting you, it's upsetting you. I want you to tell me these things."
You let out a long breath into his shoulder, your body settling a little heavier against him, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, something you could focus on. His fingers kept moving, combing through the strands at the nape of your neck. For a few minutes, it was just this. His arms around you, your tears drying, your breath coming back to you.
He felt you begin to relax against him and then, his voice gentle and a little raspy: "I have an idea. I know you've been a little pent up, huh? Feeling a little overwhelmed?"
He had a certain way to his voice, a lilt that could always lull you into feeling comforted and yet completely wrapped around his finger. There was a gentleness to him, a softness, a patience. So much so that even without the special set up— the shampoo and the body wash and perfume or even braid in your hair—it had a funny way of making your brain turn to mush when he sounded like that.
You nodded.
"Can you come up a little for me, honey?"
You could do just about anything when he spoke to you like that.
His hands slid beneath your thighs and guided you higher against him, pulling you closer so your chest was up against his clavicle, your nose brushing up into his hair. You breathed him in automatically, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with hospital and the lingering traces of a shift that had gone on far too long. Beneath you, you felt him shifting, heard the quiet rustle of fabric and the metallic sound of a zipper being tugged down.
The realization of what he was doing sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You began to whine a little at the feeling of it. Of him, against your thigh, his member warm and throbbing.
God, you felt so fucking desperate.
"Think this'll help us both relax a little, hm?" he murmured against your arm.
You nodded feverishly, and his mouth brushed your shoulder with a soft kiss in answer while his hands worked patiently. He helped you out of your cover up and your shorts, untying your bathing suit bottoms since your coordination seemed to have abandoned you entirely. You lifted your hips when he needed you to, shifted your legs where he guided them, letting him take care of the details while your forehead rested against the pillow.
"Aw, honey," he cooed, "you're soaked."
You whined a little more, petulant and impatient for him.
"Okay, okay," he soothed, "I know." And as he brought you back down into his lap, inhaling with a hiss through his teeth, the blunt head of his length pressed at your entrance. "Nice deep breath for me, honey."
You did as bid, and then, on your long sighing exhale, he pushed into you completely. Robby let out a low, strained groan that dragged up from his chest, his head tipping back against the thin pillows as his grip tightened at you. Your mouth opened in a gasp around his neck, a mewling whine falling from your lips.
"Ohhh…" you sighed, wriggling your hips a little to get him even deeper.
"Sh, sh, no moving—" he croaked lazily, his hands going to your hips to still you. "Just stay like that."
Your mouth, opened and wanton, found the side of his neck again, kissing and dragging, wet and searching, your tongue pressing along the line of his carotid while your teeth caught lightly at the skin there. He tasted like sweat, like his aftershave, his skin sensitive and thin around his beard. He hummed appreciatively at the feeling.
"Okay, now tell me what's goin on," he finally said once the two of you settled in. He didn't move his hips, but you could feel the involuntary twitching of his cock inside you every now and then. You were wet enough that it spread everywhere, slick between your thighs, warm where it gathered and slipped down over his balls that fit snug against you and dampening the sheets beneath. It made you ache for movement, for more, your walls clenching around him in want, but you held still, your hands gripping at him instead.
You let out a gurgled sound, your lips swollen and tongue still laving at his neck.
"What, are you suddenly too cock drunk to have a conversation, honey?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
"Feels… sooo… mmm…" you hummed, the words trailing off as your legs tightened around his on the bed without thinking, the shift pressing you down on him, forcing him deeper. The reaction was immediate—both of you letting out a louder sound this time, your breath catching while his grip snapped tighter, his hands closing hard under your ass, fingers digging in deep enough to sting.
"No. Moving." he gritted out.
"Yes, Robby," you sighed obediently, the name slipping out soft against his skin.
He hummed pleasantly again.
"Tell me what…" you started, but your voice drifted, your mouth still pressed to his neck as your thoughts slipped, the feeling of him filling you pulling your focus under again, your body tightening around him in small, needy pulses you couldn’t quite control. "...What happened with your day."
You felt a little boneless on top of him, your kisses becoming slower, more gentle, until you were only pressing your lips into his beard. He let out a long breath, his hands easing their grip, sliding up your back, then back down in slow passes, smoothing over your skin.
"There was a bad incident at Kennywood."
"Dana told me," you murmured, your eyes blinking open a little, your voice quieter now as you listened, trying to stay with him.
He nodded against the pillow, his jaw shifting under your cheek. "It’s always… the worst when…" He paused, breath catching slightly, like he had to push the rest out. "When it’s kids."
You nodded, understanding.
"I don't wanna talk about my day," he suddenly said, though his voice was still low and gentle, "I wanna hear about yours."
You shook your head, closing your eyes again. You moved a little on the bed.
"Stop squirming so much, honey, I know what you're up to—"
You smiled into his neck. But then you heard his pager go off.
He groaned under you, his head tipping back as he reached blindly toward the bedside table, fingers fumbling for it before bringing it up to his ear. "Robinavitch, I'm busy—oh—hey."
You resumed your soft, leisurely kisses to his neck, praying he wasn't being called out into the fray again. He felt so warm, so good here. You felt so full and content, your mind still hazy and soft, lips swollen and warm against his skin.
"Yeah, hang on—" He pulled the pager away from his ear, turning his head so his mouth brushed against your hair. "Honey—"
"Mm?" you hummed, your lips still moving against his throat.
"It's Jack."
That snapped the rubberband of your brain back to yourself, eyes opening immediately, your head lifting back and your body going still on top of him.
"It's okay, it's okay—" Robby soothed quickly, one hand coming up to steady you where you’d pulled back. He shook his head a little, his expression holding. "He wants to know if he can come check on you. He said you had a hell of a day."
Your brows pulled together as you looked down at him, your hands planted on his chest, the feeling of him connected to you more heightened as you sat back on top of him.
"And… you’re…okay with that?"
His jaw tightened a little, the muscle jumping beneath his beard, but it didn’t settle into anything sharp this time. Something else passed through his face instead, quieter, held in check. "Yeah, it's okay."
You stared at him for another moment, unmoving.
"I promise," he added, his thumb brushing once along your hip. "But if you don’t want him to come in, it can just be me and you."
You worried your lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping briefly to the pager still in his hand, then back to him. There was a small, stretched pause before he lifted it again and brought it up to your ear instead.
You watched him the whole time, and he only nodded when it touched your skin. You didn't take the phone from him, only let him hold it up to you.
"Jack?" you murmured.
"Hi, sweetheart."
His voice was soothing through the device, rough and hoarse and sultry—Robby's lips twitched, not naive to the feeling of your body reacting to the sound of it. You pictured him just as you saw him a little while ago, though in your minds eye, his face had softened, his shoulders were dropped, that intense look long gone.
"Hi," you whispered, "Are you coming in to say hi?"
"Only if you want me to."
Your eyes flicked back to Robby, searching again, and he gave you another small nod, steady this time.
"Okay."
Robby took the pager back, bringing it to his ear again, his gaze not leaving your face. "North five," he said. "Don’t let anyone follow you in."
There was a beat, a quiet exchange on the other end you couldn’t hear, and then Robby lowered the pager, setting it back onto the bedside table without looking away from you.
"C'mere." he said, pulling you into him once again.
You went easily, folding into his chest, your arms tucking in between you where there was barely space, your cheek settling against him. A million questions ran through your head, but they felt quieted by Robby's arms around you, his lips at the top of your head. The way you couldn't help but notice his length swelling more inside of you.
Only a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Robby reached for the hospital blanket without moving you too much, dragging it up and over your back, tucking it around your hips with one hand while the other stayed firm around you.
"Yeah," he called.
The door opened, and with it came a brief rush of noise from the floor—voices, monitors beeping somewhere down the hall, the squeak of shoes—before it cut off again as the door clicked shut.
"Hey," came Jack’s voice from across the room.
You lifted your head slightly from where it had been tucked into Robby’s neck, turning just enough to look over your shoulder. Jack stood near the door in his the same clothes, black t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and arms, cargos sitting low on his hips, his stethoscope looped around his neck, badge clipped at his belt.
Robby looked at him without expression, merely acknowledging him, before his attention dropped back to you. "I’m gonna let him come say hi, okay?"
You nodded against him. You didn’t see it, but you felt the shift in Robby as he looked up, giving Jack a small nod, a subtle tilt of his head that brought him closer.
Jack’s steps weren’t loud, and you felt him before you saw him, the space beside the bed changing, his presence close enough that you didn’t have to turn to know he was there. His hand came to your back, so broad and warm, and calloused even through your sheer cover up, moving slowly over your shoulder blades, back and forth in an easy rhythm.
"You doing better now, sweetheart?" he murmured.
"Mhm," you hummed.
"D'you tell Robby about your day?"
You shook your head. There was a pause that hung for a second, quiet but noticeable as the two of them looked at each other over you.
"Do you want me to tell Robby?"
You hesitated, your fingers shifting where they rested against Robby's chest, and then you nodded again. You didn’t have it in you to say much—your mouth parted like you might, but the words didn’t come, your focus slipping instead. Your body stayed tuned to both of them, fully aware of Jack there now, of the shift he brought into the space, but you didn’t let the nerves of a changing dynamic pull you away from that soft space in your mind you'd found only moments before. Your eyes moved between them briefly, a little slower, a little softer, before dropping again, your lashes lowering as you settled against Robby.
"S’okay, honey," he said beneath you, his hand coming up to smooth your hair back, tucking a piece behind your ear. "We can talk about it in a little. I wanna show Jack how good of a girl you are first. Is that okay?"
You tightened your hold again. You felt quieted, pacified by Robby's comforting hold, your brain still a little fuzzy despite the other presence in the room.
"She okay?" Jack asked.
"Oh, yeah," Robby answered knowingly, his voice low, that same rough gentleness in it as his hand drifted down your back again. "She gets a little overwhelmed sometimes. This helps." He glanced up at Jack. "Go grab the stool, I’ll show you."
You heard Jack move, the roll of the stool’s wheels against the floor, the faint creak as he settled onto it somewhere beside the bed, though you couldn’t see exactly where. You glanced back anyway, just enough to catch him watching you, a small smile pulling at his mouth when he caught your gaze.
"I’m gonna talk to Jack now, okay, honey?" Robby murmured close to your ear, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke. "If you have anything to add, you can. Don’t worry about being shy."
Your thoughts felt even slower now as your focus narrowed down to the way your body sat on his, your legs still spread around his hips, the stretch of him inside you constant and full. When he pulled the blanket back, the air hit your skin, cool against the warmth you'd created, and it made everything feel heightened for a second before it settled back into that same hazy heat. Beneath you, you felt him react again, a slow swell, a small pulse that made your stomach draw tight.
Jack swore under his breath when the blanket dropped, and you watched him through heavy lids as his gaze lowered, fixed between you and Robby, on the place where you were joined.
"She's a good girl, brother." Robby said seriously.
"Yeah," Jack said, the edge in his voice gone quieter, more focused. "Yeah, she is."
"Jack." Robby’s tone shifted when he said it—flat, deliberate. There was a pause as he waited until Jack looked at him fully before continuing. "I want you to understand what you’re asking for."
Jack's jaw tightened a little at that, his expression a little more serious.
"This isn't just fucking around for fun." Robby said with a tightness to him, carefully stern. "It's a dynamic that only works because what’s underneath it is solid. Because at the end of the day, this what actually matters."
Jack didn't say anything.
"Her and I work because we want the same things," Robby went on. "Trust, for one. There’s no wondering where the line is, no second-guessing it. And when something crosses it—" his eyes flicked to you for half a second, then back, "—we deal with it."
Jack's lips pursed. You squirmed a little in Robby's hold, but he went on anyway.
"There are rules her and I both follow. She knows she can trust me, and, though it may look different to the outside, she has all the control here."
"Even if you give the okay?" Jack asked, more direct now.
Robby nodded, "The only way this works is with her okay. She is the one letting me make that call. She gives it all to me, and tells me when she wants things or doesn't. She's a good girl because she willingly hands me the responsibility to take care of her, to know her best, to understand and let her be exactly who she is without question."
You weren’t sure why, but again, your throat began to tighten. You closed your eyes, pressing your face into Robby’s neck, disappearing there. It was strange, hearing them talk about you like that, like you weren’t right there between them—but it didn’t feel bad. If anything, it settled somewhere deeper, somewhere steady and comforting. You'd never heard Robby explain your dynamic to anyone, it was just something that came to be between you, something that both of you understood and needed. Even through hours of conversation, of open talks of wants and needs and dreams and desires, you'd never heard it put like this before.
"Do you remember, a few years ago, when…"
"When you planned that ego-death trip to Head Smashed In?" Jack said, a quiet amused note to his answer.
Robby nodded slightly beneath you. You’d heard about that before, it was right before you knew him, before any of this.
"I don’t think…" he started, his hand moving slow up your back, then settling there firmly again. "I don’t think I could’ve come back from that and been where I am now without this. Without her."
Your grip on Robby tightened. His arms came around you a little tighter too.
"I’m telling you all this, Jack," he went on, his voice steady again, "because if you want in, you need to understand it’s not just about getting your rocks off—"
"—I never said that was—"
"I know. But you also need to understand its not about stealing her from me, either." Robby cut in, the words heavy, as if said through bared teeth. It made you squirm again in his hold, your body clenching down and him twitching inside of you, the place between you so wet and sensitive and swollen it made your hips begin to tingle.
But then Robby’s words finally clicked in your head, and you lifted your face from his neck, pulling back just enough to look between them. "Wait—"
"I’m not looking to steal anything," Jack went on, shaking his head, his voice rougher now, less smooth than usual. "I want— fuck…" He broke off, dragging a hand down his face, fingers pressing over his mouth before he dropped it and leaned forward, elbows braced on the bed, his head dipping for a second.
You shifted again, sitting up a little more, your chest pulling away from Robby’s as you reached for Jack, your hand sliding into his hair without thinking. He reacted right away, his hand coming up to hold yours there, pressing it lightly against his head, still not looking up, his grip steady like he didn’t want you to pull away.
But when he did, the look on his face almost made you cry in earnest. There was so much there—a yearning, a loss, a sadness. And yet, so much want it made your chest feel like it cracked in two.
"You're… joining us?" you asked softly.
He took the hand you had in his hair and brought it down, guiding it to his face until your palm cupped his cheek, the rough shadow of his beard dragging lightly against your skin.
"Is that something you’d like to try?" he asked, quieter now.
You nodded, your thumb moving along the edge of his cheekbone before you could stop yourself. And when you did, he turned his face fully into your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, his lips warm, lingering as his eyes stayed on yours before they slid back to Robby.
"I saw Park cornering her today," he said, the words coming out a little tighter, "It made me feel insane. How do you… how does that part work?"
Robby let out a small breath through his nose, something almost amused under it, even as his hand stayed firm at your side.
"I mean, right now, it pisses me off," he said plainly. "Because he's supposed to know better. They're supposed to ask first." Robby said. There was a dry edge to it, an annoyance even as his cock jumped inside of you. Then his attention came back to you. "What did he do, honey?"
You gnawed on your lip, and Jack rolled the stool so you could see them both at once. He sat on Robby’s right, angled toward the bed, his forearms braced on his thighs as he looked up at you. And from that angle, being split over Robby's member that was pulsing and swelling, feeling both of their eyes on you, it had your stomach clenching.
"Oooh—" Robby choked slightly, his hands tightening at your hips to hold you still, his grip still firm as he felt the change in you. "What is it?"
You smiled a little, reaching forward now for Jack, your fingers carding through the top of his graying hair, pushing it back. "I like this view."
Both of them chuckled a bit at that. But Robby's hands tightened on your hips again, "Tell me about Dr. Park, honey. It's time we talk about it now."
You let your hand fall from Jack’s curls, both of your palms coming to rest flat against Robby’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing under your touch.
"He… um…" You glanced at Jack, then back to Robby, your fingers curling a little in Robby's shirt. "We ran into each other in the hall, and he was worried I was at Kennywood too. But then he—." Your face went warm. "He said he missed me, he starting touching me—" You swallowed, eyes dropping for a second. "I think I just got overwhelmed."
"Do you miss him too?"
You bit your lip hard enough it hurt, your eyes dropping for a second before you went on. "Yes. But... I don’t know if it’s just because it’s been so long."
Robby nodded once, not interrupting, just watching you.
Jack hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed on you.
"He… he tried to—um—finger me—"
The word caught on the way out of your mouth, your voice hitching as Robby’s hips jerked up under you sharply. The movement made you gasp, your body tightening, your hands pressing harder into his chest.
Jack’s eyes flicked between you both, trying to take it all in—the dynamic, the shift of the room moment by moment.
"I didn’t let him," you rushed on, your voice thinner now. "He touched me and I was—I was getting so close too fast, but I couldn’t—I knew you’d be mad. That I was grounded."
"Grounded?" Jack asked, his brow pulling slightly.
You nodded. He looked to Robby, and Robby answered without looking away from you.
"After your little run-in," he said, calm, measured, "we adjusted things for a few weeks. Other than the no sharing, she's not allowed to finish."
"Fuck." Jack whispered.
You didn’t even realize you were moving at first. It was small, almost unconscious—your hips shifting against him, a slow, shallow rock that dragged him deeper each time. It built gently, the light press of your clit against the thatch of hairs at the base of him creating a delicious friction. Your body leaned into it before your mind caught up, your breath starting to change as it settled into a rhythm. Robby didn't seem to want to stop you this time, he just let you gently rock back and forth.
"How did it feel, honey?" he croaked, his eyes changed to a narrowed, hungry gaze as he watched you. "Having Park's fingers on you after so long?"
"Felt so good," you whispered, "too good."
"Fuck." Jack said again, but this time, it was hoarse with a thick arousal. "When I saw…" he went on, swallowing thickly. Your eyes flickered to him.
"I only saw you after the fact, but his fingers were—they were wet and I didn't realize—" Jack's hand was on his lap, tightening around the inside of his thigh. You licked your lips, rocking your hips harder against Robby now.
"I kissed him too, Robby—I'm sorry—" you moaned out louder now, pressing down harder, chasing that friction now as Robby's hands pushed you down onto him further, his lip beginning to curl back.
"I wanted to punch him." Jack growled.
You gasped, mewling at the feeling now, Robby's cock punching deeper inside you as he dipped his hips and pushed back in.
"Seeing you up against Park like that, all pushed into him—fuck—" Jack groaned, tightening his hand on his cargo pants where you could see a little stain of precome through his pants. "Robby, brother—pull down her—"
He didn't even have to finish the sentence before Robby was reaching up and yanking the little triangles of your bathing suit aside, your breasts falling, nipples peaking at the cold air. The fabric cut into your skin around the globes, so they were more pressed together as your mouth hung open, watching both of them through heavy lids. Jack groaned in what almost sounded like pain as his hand tightened around his growing bulge.
"Take it out—" Robby commanded to the attending, "Do it—"
Jack didn't hesitate, He unzipped his cargos, pushed them down to just the mid thigh, and pulled his thick cock out.
"I see what you meant, honey—" Robby quipped with a breathless little smile as he punched up into you again. "When you said he felt big—"
Jack let his head fall back onto his neck a little, but his lips quirked into a breathless little smile, "You two—you two gossiping about me?"
You nodded, "I told him you felt so big inside me, Jack, how good it— your cock—oh god," you mewled.
Your features pinched together at the feeling of tightening in your spine, hips beginning to cramp.
"No, no, no—honey—don't you fucking dare—" Robby demanded, his teeth bared up at you.
"What?" Jack whimpered. You watched his wide grip wrap around his throbbing shaft, the glistening bead of arousal growing at the reddened tip. He used it, sliding the slick with his thumb over the head of his cock while he watched you bounce on Robby.
"She wants to come—" Robby said, though it was mean, a groan, a chastising.
"Fuck it, let her—"
"No—" Robby growled.
"Pleaseeeeeeeee…" you mewled, tears beginning to blur your eyes so you could hardly see Jack, how his jaw unhinged and his body slumping over as he fisted his cock faster.
"No." Robby barked, even as his thrusts became uneven. "Hold it."
Your face pulled into a wailing grimace, the pain in your belly, your spine, of holding it back.
"Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe—" Jack soothed, coming back to himself a little, his voice hoarse and desperate and yet soothing, "easier if you don't tighten up so much, just breathe through the feeling, it's just a wave—"
You did as he said, pulling in a deep breath, trying to force your hips to settle, to loosen, and Robby’s eyes widened as he watched you. Then he was groaning low, pushing you down onto himself with one last thrust. Oh, fuck, that’s so good— he moaned, his voice breaking as you felt him fill you with long ropes of thick, hot, spend, your thighs starting to shake from it.
You heaved in long, slow breaths as you whined from the denial, your eyes locked on Jack as he worked himself faster, his mouth parted, breath coming rougher. But instead of folding in on himself, he shifted, pushing his knees wider, leaning back in the chair just enough to hold himself there, his body straining. The noises he made were shallow, deep, a desperate string of curses, of your name.
"Come, Jack, please—please come for me—" you begged, your voice catching as your hips started to move again over Robby.
"God, doesn’t she beg so fucking pretty?" Robby said, breathless, his hands coming up to push your breasts together in his broad hands.
"Yes, God yes, oh fuck—oh fuck—look at me, sweetheart, that's it, look at me when I—" Jack moaned, but the words cut off into a long, strained groan, his brows pulling tight as he came, thick spurts hitting your thigh and his hand, his fist working himself through the overwhelming euphoria.
All three of you were full of breath for a long moment, your hips still tight with the loss of any relief. But you sighed dreamily still, drawing your finger through the milky come along your thigh. Both of them watched you in silence as you lifted it, your lips closing around your fingertip, sucking the salty spend clean. You pulled it out with a small pop, glancing between them with a faint, sheepish smile at the way they were staring.
"Jesus," Robby huffed.
"Yeah." Jack responded.
And then, like it caught up to them all at once, Jack pushed up from the stool, grabbing a few paper towels, wiping his hand off quickly before tucking himself back into his cargo pants. He zipped up, turned back, and stepped in closer again, holding out the towels just as you started to lift yourself from Robby’s lap.
"Thank you," you said softly, taking them.
He didn’t step away. If anything, he closed the space, his hand coming to your elbow, steadying you as you shifted, your legs still a little unsteady. Behind you, Robby moved too, rolling off the bed, one hand still at your side. For a second, both of them had their hands on you at once: close, warm, grounding as you settled back down onto the bed, the paper towels tucked beneath you.
As you sat there, feeling the slow, sticky release from between your legs, you looked up at them. They were looking at each other now, something silent passing between them. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"So…" you began.
Both of them looked at you from either side of the bed.
"Is this like… going to be normal? How is this going to work?"
Robby sighed, looking at his fellow attending. Both of them still were wordless as they watched each other, as if sizing the other up even after your shared moment.
"Oh, I know," you said, softer now. Your hands came up, one to each of them—Robby back in his black hoodie, the fabric worn and soft under your palm, and Jack’s bare arm, warm under your fingers. They both looked down at you then, both of them a little quieter, a little more open than you were used to seeing. You looked back at Jack.
"Why don't you come for dinner?" you said. "Maybe next week?" Your eyes flicked to Robby. "Would that be okay?"
Robby made a sort of frown, thinking.
But it was Jack who spoke first, "That sounds great, sweetheart."
"And for now, let’s just… go on as normal. Think about what we actually want. We can just… take it slow."
Jack tipped his head down a little, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "That sounds nice." He came closer to you, brushing a kiss to your temple, but you caught him before he could pull away, your hand coming up to his face, your fingers settling along his jaw, holding him there.
When you glanced back to Robby, you saw he was smirking now, watching the two of you with a renewed light ignited behind his eyes.
You looked back at Jack once again, and your focus dropped to his lips.
"I think I deserve a real kiss goodbye," you said softly. "Don’t you think, Robby?"
Robby let out a quiet laugh, folding his arms across his chest. "I think you do. She was such a good girl, after all, Abbot."
Jack huffed a breath of a laugh, his mouth twitching before he leaned in the rest of the way.
"Anything for our best girl." he said, before pressing his lips to yours.
end note (so not to have spoilers): so much love and adoration for my friend court (@pearlessance) !!!! thank you for letting me pluck the idea of split custody from your beautiful brain!
thank you so much for reading!!!
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josie i just had a vision of pope on his knees thick thighs spread wide jerking off while he stares up at u. sweaty chest heaving with each breath, mouth parted. needed to share <3
i’ve genuinely been thinking ab this since you’ve sent it What have you done to me. i’ve thought ab this so many times in terms of context and im stunted every time bc it’s so good. but i settled on you in the amy situation w/him (AKA just jerking off together without kissing) :3
leaning back on the headboard, pillows under you and duvet thrown. bare legs spread wide as you work on yourself, swirling your clit while lodging two fingers in yourself. chest puffing with every gasp and moan, twitching from the pleasure as sweat beads down your boobies.
and Andrews across from you, an arms length and hunched over as he strikes his furiously red, aching dick. knees bulging through the mattress, thighs twitching and outstretched against his calves as he sits on his feet. he’s almost louder than you, letting out heavy, raspy gasps and moans. his fruitful chest heaving and glistening with sweat with each slow stroke.
he’s got a hand fisting the sheets as he hunches closer to you, his eyes low and puppy like with lust. you’ve been at this for what feels like hours, edging yourselves until you give Pope the go ahead to break this fucking bed. he’s gotten whinier over time, pleading to you mindlessly.
“please baby,” he juts out his lip, stroking himself faster. he’s overtop of you more, looking up at you through pretty lashes as he hovers his mouth over the outline of your hot body. “just wanna cum, wanna cum in you..” he whined, kissing down your shoulder. “nuh uh,” you pull your fingers out of yourself to push away at his face, getting another whimper out of him.
“said no, Pope. just a little longer, you can do it.” you breath, and in that split second he takes your slick covered fingers into his mouth, moaning around the digits at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, eyes rolling back before they shut gently. you bite your lap at the sight, not knowing where to look.
down his chiseled body that gleams in the low lamp light, at the way he strokes his cock at the pace you reprimand him on keeping, or the way he keeps sucking your fingers deeper into his mouth, swirling his tongue for every little taste. “taste so good baby—” he cuts himself off with a gag when you push them deeper, humming at the sound and speeding up on your clit, shudders breaths exiting you through little moans.
he sticks his tongue out under your fingers, head thrown back, groaning in that way you know so well. “gonna cum, baby?” you stroke his lips with your thumb, getting a frantic nod from him, “want to, i-if you let me baby,” he huffs, submitting when you push your thumb into his mouth. he’s got big eyes on you as he sucks around it, lashes fluttering slightly before you pull out off with a pop.
“you can cum, Andy.” you let go of yourself, scooting down closer to him. “really?” he breaths, jumping on you like a dog, pushing your legs up to your chest and rubbing his tip down your folds. “yes, really bab—oh fuck!”
𓏵 ┊ your close friend andrew “pope cody” hates that you’re family sees the relationship between you two as ‘siblings’ . 18+
cw. slight pseudocest
it was repugnant in many different ways. the fact that your parents, and pope’s would never know about the forbidden deeds happening behind closed doors. the kind of acts, a parent would never suspect such things of their own child. not that those deeds were necessarily harmful, but ambiguous.
you and pope grew up together, even bathed in the same tub. the two of you were raised to be close knit because if something ever happened to either of your parents, then the other vowed to take on the role as the legal guardian.
“s-shitt…” pope let out a soft, desperate groan. the grip he has on your waist is enough to imprint his claim on your body for the next morning, and the day after that as his nails dig into your flesh. “you feel s’ fuckin’ good… wish i could— mmgh, could fuck you like this everyday.” his eyes dart up, finding your face only to see your brows knitted in.
you hated whenever pope said disgusting words like that, especially whenever he’s balls deep inside you. his hips snapping into yours like this’ll be the last and only day he’ll get to taste your insides.
“don’t say stuff like that.” you say meekly, biting down onto your bottom lip to stifle your moans. “it’s gross.” you whisper, averting your eyes elsewhere. “gross?” he tilts his head, eyes dropping from your eyes, to your mouth, to your pretty breast that were bouncing in rotation before trailing lower to the little bulge in your tummy then looking at where you two where connect with a grin tugging the corners of his mouth.
“if you really thought this was gross, then you wouldn’t be comfortable in my bed right now.” he quips, dropping towards you — making your knees and thighs pressed closer into your chest as he spreads you out more. “wouldn’t even be takin’ my dick right now, would you?” he rises back up, lowering his eyes as he watches your mouth part to testify before he’s pulling his hips back.
slowly sliding his dick out of your pussy that’s too soaked to be be disgusted. he pulls out enough to where just the tip is still in, just enough to have your body subconsciously squirming for more as he waits for you to utter a few words before burying his length as deep as possible.
“can you shu— mmph!” your fingers rake down pope cody’s shoulder, instantly blooming his skin with pink streaks as you cry out, and he’s slapping a rough palm over your mouth with his slender fingers.
“shhh… you gotta be quiet.” he whispers, nudging your cervix with the head of his dick, nuzzling his hips flush against you.
your body twitches beneath his, feeling every fiber of your body convulsing in pleasure. you’re muffling against his palm, not sure if anything would come out coherent even if pope cody removed his hand from your mouth. “don’t need your mom finding out…” he grunts at the feeling of your walls caving in on his dick. squeezing him tighter and tighter as he shoots a look behind him, checking the door before lowering eye level to the little tears forming in your eyes making him groan even deeper — almost guttural while he twitches inside of you.
“right, baby?” he waits on your little nod to validate him. “she already thinks we’re some kind of siblings.” he adds, averting his eyes to the side before letting out a huff. pope hated the way his mom and your mom perceived the relationship between you two. it was almost like they decided the dynamic between the both of you at birth.
his hips start snapping into yours rougher. harder like he had something to prove watching the bulge in your tummy appear then disappear with each thrust. “cause brother’s don’t—“ he shuts his eyes, slamming his hips into yours. “nng— shitt, fuck.” he groans, eyebrows dropping into a desperate expression. “they don’t do shit like this.” he feels your moans vibrate against his hand, watching your eyes roll back in sweet bliss as your toes curl.
he pressed his lips against the back side of his palm, giving you an indirect kiss once you cum around his dick. your back arching off the mattress, struggling to take in oxygen through only your nose while your chest rises up and down.
“damn, you’re s’ perfect.” he whispers against his skin, continuing on with his thrusts as he fucks you through your orgasm. “i fuckin’ love you.”
husband Pope who you'll see tying his kids shoes, their little feet rested on his bent knee. he gets up with a groan, holding his back and helping them on their little tike trikes. with the sun shining you see the silver creep into his ginger curls.
the graphic tee hes wearibg is tight agaisnt his stomach, the baby weight still having its way with him. hes softer than he was six years ago. hes pushing them along the driveway of your house he built for you guys, while you sit at the porch, probably knitting.
the sound of birds chirping, lawnmowers running, and their little giggles will tip toe into your ear. your little boy will go, "mommy look!!" because of how fast hes totally going, Andrew holding a toothy smile as he pushes along. you'll go, "I see you, baby! goin' so fast!" with a big smile.
your daughters blowing bubbles on the side, the wind taking them across the lawn and in the way of your two boys. when your little boy runs up the porch, Pope is right behind him, his mini me of a daughter on his hip. "mommy, bubby says hes kinda hungry. gonna make some sandwiches, do you want one too?" Pope asks, his cheek squished against his little girls.
"no im ok honey, thank you though. don't spoil their dinners!" you call as they race inside, their little thumps of feet echoing before the door closes. you'll continue to take your seat on your porch, watching the neighbors play and walk and talk, admiring the life you've made with your husband. your life as Mrs. Cody.
Omg i read you jack abbot x younger gf squirting fic and i cant stop thinking about how mean!pope would react to you accidentally squirting? Will he make you do it again over and over cuz he's all icky abt it?? :(
𓏵 ┊ accidentally squirting with mean!pope . 18+
after you squirt the first time mean!pope makes it his mission to make you do it again. scissoring you open on his two of his rough digits, sliding in and out of pussy as you’re back to the mattress with your thighs spread open by with his knees.
“shit… didn’t think you’d actually do it.” pope curses to himself, beneath his breath. his eyes fixated on the obscenely, wet mess you’ve made — creating a puddle right underneath yourself as your pussy gushes to every stroke of pope’s fingers.
“i— i told you to stop,” you suck in your bottom lip, face rising in temperature as the embarrassment started to creep in. your tummy all soaked, there’s even a tiny puddle sitting inside your bellybutton. and if the humiliation wasn’t already enough, you feel pope’s free hand drag over your skin with his palm flush against your belly, rubbing the liquid into your skin. “wha- what are doing an—”
“fuckin’ disgusting.” he cuts, watching the slick slide down his arm and across you skin making your insides tighten around him, which earns a low — almost tranced groan from andrew. his eyes dart from your lower half, up towards you and that makes another noise come out of him.
the way your eyes are glossed over with tears, and the sweet pout displayed on your lips from utter mortification. it wrecked something inside him — something that made him need more… something that urged him to take more.
he ducks down, his frame caging you in as the hand soaked in your wet mess grabs at your jaw, before running his thumb across your soft lips. “why are you crying?” his brow furrow, watching your mouth for an answer but there’s nothing. “it’s your mess, baby.” his other hand is trailing back down to your cunt.
his fingers dipping into your folds, sliding between your folds gathering your slick before dipping a finger into your hole as you whine. “but it’s your fault…” you protest before feeling him insert another finger into you, nudging his fingers directly against the spot that had you squirting the first time.
“yeah?” pope responds with a dismissive hum, his eyes flickering toward you, studying your face as he adds in a third finger stretching you completely on his digits to get a reaction out of you. as your face is twisting in pleasure, feeling his fingers dig directly against your sweet spot.
“guess we can make it my fault…” he thrusts his fingers deep and rough, instantly building pressure on your g-spot as your toes curl and back arch off the mattress. you’re squirming, legs trying to kick away and hands attempting to swat away pope’s hand that’s fucking into your pussy knuckles deep.
“andy— please! ‘s too much, ‘m—” you’re pleading with those built up tears finally trailing down your cheeks. but it’s no use because andrew has no intentions on stopping — not whenever he’s already decided that you’ll be making the abhorrent mess of yourself right on his hand.
“you’re just gonna have to blame me again.” he groans , looking right into your glassy eyes as he feels your insides swell around his fingers, signifying that you’re close to squirting for the second before you’re involuntarily spurting warm liquids from his words, “cause im not stopping.”
Thinking about koala hybrid!reader, who is constantly falling asleep, being free use for the sergeants...
Being a koala, your body just doesn't absorb much nutrients, and you naturally spend your day taking naps around the apartment. It's no issue, given kyle and johnny pay for it so long as you keep it clean while they're on leave. A nice, safe space for you to relax.
Oh, but when they're home? You can't catch a break and it's amazing.
You'll fall asleep scrolling through Instagram on the couch, and wake up to soap grinding against your face post-workout, only offering a "couldn't fuckin' concentrate, thinking o' you." When he notices your awake.
Or when you decide to lie down for your mid-morning rest, and wake up to gaz rutting between your thighs. jerking your body roughly against his hips in a way he never does when you're awake. He gentles a bit when you whine, presses a kiss to your temple "might've left some bruises, sorry love."
Of course, non of that keeps them off you when you are awake. It seems one of them always has a hand on or in you in some way.
"Christ, tight today" soap huffs behind you. two thick, hairy arms wrapped around your torso and bouncing you roughly. You rest your chin on the back of the sofa, rumbling happily.
"Can I get a turn or are you hogging it all night?" Gaz snarks, buy he still plops the bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table and starts the movie.
"Yeah, just give me a second–" soap hisses through his teeth, head tossed back as he savours the orgasm. When he finally goes to help you up, he snorts fondly "fell asleep again. You still want it?"
"And give you a cockwarmer all night? Give it to me."
18+ minors do not interact!! cw: toxic relationship, breeding
"you're a fucking asshole, sammy."
he laughs, head thrown back as he walks through the house, shrugging his jacket off, throwing it on the dining room table with his badge. he eyes you standing there with your arms crossed, silk black robe, cleavage on display, fuck—he loved coming home to you.
he walks over to the fridge, grabbing a beer and taking a long swig, "sorry, baby. got holed up—lots of shit i had to deal with." you huff, roll your eyes as he steps closer to you, "what about me? always waiting up for you—making me look stupid. who knows what you're doing."
he sighs, bringing his finger up to trail along your chest, tugging your robe to the side, murmuring, "you know i'm not doing shit. love that you wait up for me—" kissing up your neck, his lips meet your ear, "why don't you give me a proper greeting, baby—had a long da—“
you lean back, raise your hand to slap his face, making a loud "smack!" his head turns sharply to the side, red hand print blooming as he huffs a laugh, tonguing his cheek. you freeze, but keep your head held high as he looks at you, gritting out, "you done? that make you feel better?"
fuck, he's pissed. you start to back away, inching back towards your bedroom when he grabs your arms, spinning you around—back to his chest. you cry out, wincing at the way he pins your arms down. he leans down, speaking softly in your ear, mocking you, "come on, answer me, baby. that make you feel good? hitting me?" you shake your head n he grips your wrists harder, "n-no! it didn't!"
he hums, chuckling, "yeah that's what i thought. could've just asked for attention—asked me to fuck you properly." he walks you forward, slamming you down, face first against the bedsheets. he unbuckles his belt, making quick work of his zipper to free his aching cock. lifting up your thin robe, he smacks your ass—hard. smacks it again, watching as it turns bright red. you're crying, whining, trying to wiggle out of his hold, but he just pins your hands against your lower back, "quit moving, doll. let me fuck this attitude out of you—be good for me."
running his cock over your leaking pussy, he groans, throwing his head back as he fucks his tip into your hole, watching the way you gasp, drooling all over the sheets. one hand holding your wrists together, the other gripping your plushy hip, he slides into you, leaning down over your back, fucking you so deep as he condescends to you, "yeah, baby—fuck. that feel good? you feel better? we'll work on this attitude problem, don't worry. just gotta fuck you like this more often, hm? that right?"
you moan, nodding dumbly as he fucks you into the bed, his balls slapping against your pussy as he lifts your ass up, hitting a deeper angle. you're squeezing his cock so well, squirming as you try to meet his hips, grinding back onto him. "you gonna cum, baby? c'mon—cum for me so i can fuck a kid into you. want my kids? give you something to do while you wait up for me—fuck."
you cry out, "yes! fuck—sammy!" you cum so hard, clenching down, hard, on his cock. you feel him pulse inside you, feel his body jerk, as hot ropes shoot inside you, causing you to moan—fucking yourself back on his cock. when he feels you move your hips he smiles, smacks your ass playfully, "look at you—want my kids so bad, huh? my good girl."
he watches the way your cum mixes with his, creamy white mixing against his cock n suddenly he's not mad anymore, pulling out of you to move you—holding you against him as he soothes the marks on your ass. kissing and tucking you into him as you fall asleep. ♡
cw: age gap (mid-20s/50s), daddy kink, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, vaginal sex, open relationship, mentions of other partners during sex, alcohol consuption, 18+ mdni
The restaurant Jack took you to was nice. Like the ‘you had no idea it existed before tonight’ kind of nice. He told you to wear the sleek black dress he got you a few months back, and he wore a black suit, shirt, and tie to match. You had no idea how he was able to keep track of all the outfits he’s bought you, but you’ve learned over the past few months not to question him.
After ordering a bottle of wine that probably cost more than what Jack pays for your rent every month, he took your menu from you and began reading the options. You were banned from looking at it yourself because you couldn’t be trusted not to fuss over the prices. It was a bit frustrating at first, but now you take the chance to listen to Jack’s smooth voice and admire him wearing his readers.
You tried to pick what you thought sounded the least expensive, but Jack knew your game. He insisted that you get what you really wanted. After some back and forth, and him calling you a brat, you settled on a chicken scampi dish. The food came out quickly, the wine was flowing, and the company was great. You abandoned your feelings of guilt and allowed yourself to enjoy the evening.
Once dinner was finished, Jack ordered a slice of the restaurant’s “award-winning” mousse cake to share, but neither of you were very impressed with it. Over dessert, he broke some news.
“I have a gift for you,” he said. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small black card. He reached across the table and placed it in front of you. It was a black American Express, his black American Express, but instead of his name on the bottom, it had yours.
“What is this?” you asked.
“My credit card. Well, your credit card.”
You looked up at him incredulously and laughed slightly. “I can’t accept this!”
He furrowed his brows, looking genuinely confused. “Why not? I buy you stuff all the time. This isn’t any different than when I send you money for things.”
You scoffed. “Yes, it is! When you send me money, you’re giving me permission to use it. This is different.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You always have permission to use my money, baby. You know that.” Knowing you could use his money and actually doing so were two different things.
“You spend enough money on me already,” you say before taking a long sip of wine, finding yourself suddenly thirsty.
“Baby,” he said firmly. You had no choice but to look over at him. “I’m fifty years old, I’m single, and I live alone. What the hell else do I have to spend my money on?”
You knew Jack well, but there were some aspects of his life that he didn’t share with you. He worked a high-stress job that was extremely emotionally taxing and required long hours. The last thing he wanted to do in his time off was talk about it. All you needed to know was that it was important, and it paid well. Outside of that, you knew Jack inside and out.
The two of you had feelings about the term “Sugar Daddy,” but it was the most accurate way to describe your dynamic. You went on dates and had sex, but you weren’t exclusive. You were free to date other people. Besides, Jack wasn’t paying you to be his girlfriend; he just liked to spoil you and wanted company in return.
“I just feel bad!”
“Feel bad about what, baby? Feel bad that I want to buy you nice things? Feel bad that you’re a gorgeous woman who deserves to wear clothes that complement you? Feel bad that you get to live in a nice house while all of your friends are broke post-grads? Don’t feel bad for having good things.” Jack’s charm and sweet talk were dangerous, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from falling for it every time.
“Fine, fine,” you gave in. There was no winning an argument with Jack anyway. You took your wallet out of your purse and slipped the card into the back of it. It was out of sight enough to discourage you from using it too much.
“I know my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be,” he started, leaning back in his chair, “but I haven’t heard a single ‘thank you, daddy,’ all night.” You rolled your eyes at the smirk on his face and decided that a little bratting never hurt. You stood up from your chair, walked around to his side of the table, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered in his ear. Before you could move to sit back down, he grabbed hold of your waist.
“Thank me for what?” he asked in his own hushed tone. You swallowed.
“Thank you for dinner, and thank you for the credit card.” He released his hold on you and patted your hip, urging you back to your seat.
“You’re welcome, baby,” he smiled. “Wanna know something?” You inched forward, eager to listen. “I love to make you happy, and I like making sure you don’t have to worry about money. But on top of all that, it turns me on so fucking much when you spend my money.”
Your eyes widen at his confession, mostly at the volume he was speaking with rather than the words.
“It does?” you ask.
“God, baby,” he groaned quietly. “Seeing you in a dress that I bought you, with your nails and hair that I paid for. Knowing that you get to have all of these experiences because of me. That’s fucking hot.”
Jack’s voice had more of an edge to it than it did previously. Suddenly, you were looking around for the waiter, wanting to flag him down to bring the check.
The car Jack ordered to bring you to his house was thankfully quick. His hand had been inching up your thigh during the ride, and when you reached his front door, you were wound so tight it wouldn’t take much for you to snap. Instead of carrying you right to bed like you wanted, Jack took his time taking his jacket off and putting his keys away. He then wandered into the kitchen and took out a bottle of amber liquor. Instead of pouring it into a glass, he took a swig right from the bottle.
“Want some?” he asked. You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “Oh, I forgot,” he smirked as he walked over to you. “My spoiled girl only drinks cocktails made from top-shelf shit now. She doesn’t want to slum it down here with her Daddy anymore.”
He put the bottle down on the counter, then placed both hands on your hips. He sighs at the feeling of your skin moving against the satin material. You snaked your arms around his neck and pulled him closer so your faces were mere inches away.
“You could make me a drink,” you said quietly.
“You’re too much of a lightweight, baby. Want to make sure you’re clear-headed,” he smirked.
“Oh yeah?” you asked, stepping closer. “What are you planning?”
Jack’s hand traveled up your neck gently and stopped at your chin to hold your face. “You’re gonna go to the bedroom and put on the little set I have laid out for you. Got that?” You nod eagerly.
He let you go and encouraged you down the hall with a slap to your ass. You gave him a coy look over your shoulder before you disappeared around the corner.
You closed the door of the large bedroom behind you, then turned to find the black lace set he mentioned. You were wearing another pretty set he bought you under your dress, but you wanted to follow Jack’s orders. You shed your dress and underwear, then pulled on the soft boyshorts and babydoll top. Once ready, you sat back on the plush pillows and waited for Jack, who didn’t take much longer to appear.
He whistled when he saw you looking just as beautiful as he imagined. Instead of immediately getting started, he tested your patience. You waited while Jack got comfortable, taking off his tie, watch, and prosthetic before meeting you in the middle of the bed.
“Looks beautiful on you, baby,” he muttered as he felt the smooth skin of your legs. You spread them and allowed him to move between, closer to your core.
“Need you, Jack,” you whispered, trailing your hand over his hard, clothed chest.
“Need me, huh?” he asked, smirking. “What do you need?” He leaned in to pepper kisses over your neck, starting from your ear and working his way down your breasts. His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, but he didn’t pull them down yet. You let out a quiet moan at the drag of Jack’s stubble over the sensitive skin of your chest. “Talk to me, beautiful. Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” you huff. He raised his eyebrows at you slightly.
“Not a mind reader, baby,” he countered, though the look in his eyes suggested he did know; he was just being stubborn.
You arched your back up to meet his touch, urging him to slip his hands underneath the lingerie to touch you where you need. Instead of following your lead, he pulled away.
“If you don’t tell me, you don’t get. You know how this works.” His voice was still gentle, but you could tell his frustration was rising a bit.
You looked up at him with a pout, “Want your fingers, Daddy.”
The furrow between his brows smoothed, and his soft smile was back. That pout always melted him. He pulled your bottoms off to expose your pussy, but he stopped himself from diving in. Instead, he switched your position so he was lying back on the pillows, and you were supported by his chest. When you settled in, he reached his right hand over your body and began to gently tease you. This position was one of his favorites, because he had prime access to your ear. He loved to kiss, nibble, and suck on the sensitive spot behind it that made you squirm.
Jack took his time exploring your wet folds, stroking gently over them to pull quiet whines from your throat.
“Missed this pussy, baby,” he said, voice low. It had been a while since he’d seen you last, and you could tell from the increasingly frequent texts that he was getting needy. He may have been the rough, older man who was paying for your lifestyle, but you had him smitten for you.
You turned your head to look back at him, but the angle was odd, and you couldn’t see him well. You saw enough to tell that he had his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth as he slowly circled your clit in time with grinding his clothed cock on your lower back.
“Want them inside?” he asked, not able to wait for you to initiate. Now that he had a taste, he was feeling even more desperate for the rest. You nodded, and he pushed a finger inside you. When he didn’t find the resistance he was expecting, he slid another one alongside the first. Jack didn’t just finger you to work you open; he loved drawing pleasure from you with his hands. He loved every whine, mewl, and sigh he got you to make. You were his angel, and he loved turning you into putty in his hands.
His left hand joined your clit as the fingers inside of you curled. You arched your back away from his chest, but you didn’t have far to go. You were firmly in Jack’s hold, and the only way you could get up was if he let you. He let you squirm and buck your hips, loving that you showed him the effects of your pleasure. He wrung two orgasms out of you like that, back to back, that left you shaking and with a slightly cloudy mind. Jack started rubbing your clit again, aiming for a third orgasm, before you stopped him.
“Fuck me, Jack,” you said, voice painfully needy. That made him freeze.
“What was that?” he asked, though he heard you loud and clear.
“Fuck me, Jack!” you whined again. He pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, which had you sitting up and looking at him, confused.
“You’re feeling awfully bratty tonight, huh, baby?” he asked. “Since when do you give the orders?” You blinked back at him. You must have had differing ideas of what being bratty was, because you didn’t think you did anything wrong.
“I was just telling you what I wanted. That’s what you want me to do, right?” you ask. Even to your own years, you sounded bratty that time.
Jack huffed a humorless laugh. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over the side of the bed, then undid his pants and got rid of them, along with his underwear. You watched him undress from your spot further down the bed, not attempting to help.
“Fine then, princess. If baby wants dick, that’s what she’ll get,” he said, gesturing to his newly exposed cock that lay against his stomach.
“I don’t wanna be on top,” you said, attempting your signature pout again. .
“I don’t care,” he shot back without missing a beat. “Only good girls get what they want.”
You didn’t bother fighting him anymore. You threw a leg over his waist and straddled his cock, lining it up with your entrance. You slid down with ease, though you still took it slow. Jack didn’t rush you, but his courtesy was over once you were fully seated.
“Feeling awfully bratty tonight, princess,” he said. “Even after Daddy was so good to you. What’s the matter, baby? You don’t love me anymore?” His own faux-pout had no right being as attractive as it was. Jack had always preferred things rougher, and the two of you had a well-established dynamic. He was a kind, generous man, but he was the boss. He liked the challenge of brat taming, especially when it gave him a reason to indulge in your shared, harder kinks.
“I still love you,” you choked out as he thrust his hips up into you. Jack didn’t mean romantic love, though if he were open to it, you would have been all too eager to make it official. Falling for your sugar daddy was stupid, and you knew it wouldn’t work out, but you could dream. Jack fueled those fantasies when he played games like this.
“I don’t know, baby. I think you’re gettin’ tired of me,” he said as he firmly grabbed your hips. “And here I was thinking about getting you a new car.” He smirked when your eyes widened, but you realized from the look on his face that he was bluffing.
“You’re mean,” you whined. Your head hung forward between your shoulder blades as you endured Jack’s relentless pace. He knew that you weren’t going to ride him, not the way he wanted, so he was doing all the work from the bottom.
“Yeah, I am. So mean. What kind of monster buys his girl pretty things so he can show her off at fancy restaurants?” You weren’t usually talkative in bed; instead, you would rather listen to Jack run his mouth. It was an exciting change to have you play along like this. He reached up to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together and puckering your lips in a humiliating way that made you weak. “Something must’ve gotten into you tonight. Maybe you boss around those boys you’re fucking, but you know Daddy doesn’t let that shit slide.”
You try to turn away from his gaze, but his hold doesn’t budge. “There aren’t any boys,” you mumble. Jack wouldn’t care if there were, not really. He just likes to use your open relationship as fodder for his dirty talk.
Jack hummed, not convinced. “Nah, who am I kidding? No boy could satisfy my greedy girl. Bet it’s another old guy like me. Can’t get enough, can you, baby? Is that why your little pussy isn’t gripping me like it usually does? Am I fucking some guy’s sloppy seconds?”
You knew Jack was just talking shit like he always did, but it had enough truth to it that you wondered if he somehow found out. You thought back to Robby, your hot neighbor, whom you finally got with earlier that day. You showered, washing any trace of Robby’s spit or deodorant away before your date with Jack. Jack was too perceptive for his own good, even if he didn’t know it.
You rolled your hips frantically against Jack’s, seeking friction on your clit that you couldn’t quite get. Usually, he would help you out, but he was enjoying your show of desperate writhing. He released his hold on your cheeks to slip two of his fingers, the ones that were inside your pussy, into your mouth.
“Do you call him Daddy, too, princess? I bet he doesn’t treat you as well as I do.”
Jack was right, Robby didn’t treat you as well. There weren’t any presents waiting for you, and he only made you cum once instead of aiming for double digits like Jack does, but he was still good to you. He made you feel special and cared about. Maybe you were greedy.
“Daddy,” you moaned around his fingers.
“What’s that, baby? Can’t understand you with your mouth full like that,” he teased. Jack was really good at playing the charming asshole, and you just couldn’t get enough of it. Mercifully, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, but he didn’t put them where you needed them.
“Please, fuck, please rub my clit. I need to cum, Daddy.”
Seeming pleased that you asked nicely, he gave you what you wanted. It wasn’t quite enough at first, but then he pressed your clit more firmly. You circled, thrusted, and bucked your hips, getting yourself off on his cock and his fingers until another orgasm hit you. Your body bowed toward him as you came, and Jack watched in satisfaction as your beautiful face screwed in pleasure.
“That’s it, baby. Cum for Daddy, cum all over my dick. There’s my good girl,” he praised, rubbing your back with the hand not busy with your clit. He didn’t let up on stimulating you until you pushed him away, which didn’t happen until you had a second, weaker orgasm.
You stilled to catch your breath, but Jack didn’t give you a moment of downtime. He lifted you off his lap and gently placed you on the bed next to him. He quickly got up, onto his knees, and pushed you face-first into the plush pillows. Your yelp of surprise was muffled, and you found yourself enveloped in a warm, stuffy cocoon of Jack’s cologne.
You were lying flat on your stomach with your arms splayed out. Jack positioned himself behind you, pushed back in, and laid his weight on top of you so you were pinned down. Almost immediately, he started to roughly buck his hips into you. This was one of his favorite positions; one he preferred to cum in. He could fuck you deep and rough because the angle made it easier for you to take him. He could mount you like the animal you turned him into.
“Goddamn, baby,” he swore under his breath. He snaked an arm around your middle to hold you firmly in place while he all but put you through the bed. Each of his thrusts punched a high-pitched moan from your throat, but all of your sounds were muffled by the pillows and mattress.
“Daddy,” you slurred.
“I know, baby, I know. Taking it so well for me, that’s it. Daddy’s almost done, I promise. Once I cum, I’ll give you anything you want. Anything in the whole fucking world.” His sentence got more airy and strained as he went on.
You reached one arm back and blindly grasped for him. He saw it and firmly wound his fingers with yours in an intimate, desperate handhold. He squeezed you tightly as a groan escaped from deep within him. That was your only warning before Jack’s cock spurted and filled you up with hot cum. He didn’t stop thrusting into you until every drop had been milked from him. He collapsed on top of you for just a moment before he gently pulled out and grabbed a towel from the nightstand to clean you up. Before he wiped through the mess between your legs, he took a moment to admire his work.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered to himself.
You continued to lie with your face in the pillows, mindless and dizzy as stars danced in your vision. His hands were gentle so as not to overstimulate you, and when he was finished, he joined you back on the bed.
“Come here,” he said softly. You allowed yourself to be rolled against his chest and little spooned as he gently stroked the skin of your neck, arms, shoulders, and back. This was Jack’s favorite part, seeing the blissful expression on your face as you allowed yourself to totally relax into him. “Doing okay, baby?”
“Mhm,” you said.
“You’re adorable,” he chuckled.
You turned your head to nuzzle into his chest, the gray hairs scratching against your face. He brushed his thumb over your cheek and down to your lips, gently tracing the lines of your face.
“You’re staying the night, right?” he asked. You missed the genuine, excited smile on his face when you nodded with your eyes still closed. “Then get some sleep, princess. I’ll be here to take care of you.”
You allowed yourself to fall into sleep, feeling completely safe and comfortable in Jack’s arms. He snuggled around you to adjust the covered and he lay down behind you. Jack didn’t sleep much when you were over. He would rather spend the time watching you, the way your eyelids fluttered, and your lips parted slightly while you breathed. He was there to watch over you, to keep his girl safe. It was his job to spoil you, not just with money and gifts, but in every way imaginable.
While he said he didn’t care, you wondered how he would react when Jack found out another man was spoiling you. You didn’t know the kind of trouble you were getting into with Robby, but you knew full well the punishments Jack could dole out to his bratty girl.
cw: age gap (mid-20s/50s), daddy kink, vaginal sex, f!receiving oral, use of the petname "kid," alcohol consuption, 18+ mdni
You mentally thanked the designer of your small, suburban house for putting a bay window right next to the front door, facing the road. It provided the perfect perch to watch your neighbor work on his motorcycle from across the street. With a book in your hand and a mug of coffee on the little table next to you, your roommates would assume you were just reading, not spying on the middle-aged man sweating in the early summer sun.
You didn’t know his name, or really anything about him outside of his appearance and his house number. He was tall, you assume. You had only ever seen him from your window. He had dark brown hair and a scruffy beard, but even from a distance, you could tell he was graying. He moved with confidence, though there was a slight sag in his posture that might have signaled stress, or maybe loneliness. You had never seen anyone there besides him. No wife, no kids, not even a girlfriend or occasional overnight guest. Not that you were keeping tabs on him.
Since you were home alone, you abandoned your performative reading and allowed yourself to turn fully towards the window and watch shamelessly. He reached up to wipe his sweaty brow on his sleeve, which caused the hem of his t-shirt to pull up and exposed his hairy lower stomach that hung slightly over the waistband of his jeans. You could drool. He put his tools down on the cardboard mat he set up in the driveway, then straddled the seat and started up the bike. The engine roared and revved, filling the quiet neighborhood with a sound you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him making it.
Seeming pleased that whatever he was working on was now fixed, he cut off the engine and got back off the bike. He then started to clean up the mess of tools and oil he had made, and eventually disappeared back into his garage, walking the bike inside with him. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that your show was over.
You sagged against the cushion of the bay window and began to think. It’s a harmless little crush, sure, but it could be more. He’s all by himself, and based on when he comes and goes, he works long hours from early in the morning to after dinner time most nights. He could use someone to care for him. You could be the one to do it.
You pondered some options on how you could break the ice. Lemonade would have been perfect for the hot day, but that would suggest that you knew he was working outside. You weren’t proficient enough at any craft to give him something handmade, and you figured that might come across as strange. Everyone had a sweet tooth, though, and a gift of home-baked cookies could be passed off as neighborly if he wasn’t interested. It was the perfect, easy plan.
You got up from the window seat to check in the kitchen for the ingredients, and to your delight, the cabinets were fully stocked. With a classic brown-butter recipe pulled up on your phone, you whipped up a small batch in under an hour. It was enough to fill up a plastic container and to have some leftovers for your roommates. You packaged up the cookies neatly and snapped the lid on, but you still thought it looked too plain. It needed a personal touch, something that suggested you were flirting.
You grabbed some pink construction paper and a marker from your box of craft supplies and wrote up a cute note, saying that you thought he could use something sweet. You signed your name and house number so he could make the connection of who was leaving treats on his doorstep. You considered leaving your phone number, but you didn’t want to be too forward. If his interest was piqued by the gesture, he would make it known. You weren’t playing games, necessarily. Older guys didn’t play games. But you also knew that they could be easily intimidated, especially if they were used to being alone.
Before you walked out to deliver the cookies, you decided the container was missing something. You ran back to your room to get a piece of ribbon to tie in a bow around it. It was hyperfeminine and maybe a little childish, but it would certainly get his attention. If he wasn’t interested, oh well. The worst that could happen would be suffering a bit of embarrassment when you went out to get the mail. But if it went well, the opportunities were endless.
You checked out the window to make sure he wasn’t outside, and when you deemed the coast clear, you scurried across the street and placed the container gently next to the welcome mat. You thankfully didn’t spot a video doorbell. You allowed yourself a moment to be proud of your boldness before you quickly returned to your house.
You suppressed the urge to watch from the window to see when he found them and decided to watch your favorite show instead to take your mind off of your hot neighbor. You snuggled up underneath a blanket and took out your phone to mindlessly scroll while your show played, but every so often, your eyes drifted to the window facing the street.
It was dark outside the living room window when you blinked your eyes open. You must have fallen asleep, but you didn’t remember it. All of your roommates were home, but even their coming through the front door didn’t wake you up. You checked your phone and saw that it was after seven. A notification on your lock screen caught your eye. It was from a minute ago, so it must’ve been what woke you up. You unlocked your device and saw that Jack had texted you. He told you he was thinking about your beautiful smile and sent you thirty dollars to order yourself dinner.
Grinning, you typed out a sweet message in response and thanked him for the money. Even when he wasn’t there, he was taking care of you. You hadn’t realized you were hungry until you started thinking about dinner.
You opened DoorDash and looked at the options, but nothing was very appealing to you. You wanted to ask Jack for advice on what to get, but you would feel bad bothering him about something so trivial when you knew how busy he was. You settled on pizza, though you weren’t really in the mood for it, and sank back into the couch to wait the twenty minutes for it to be delivered. You fell back into a TikTok rabbit hole and didn’t realize how much time had passed. You figured that when you heard the knock at the door, it must have been the delivery driver.
You got up from the couch, dressed in the sweats and t-shirt that you were wearing for your day off, and opened the door without checking through the peephole. Instead of finding your food, you were staring at your hot neighbor up close. Very close.
“Hi,” you squeaked out, caught off guard.
“Hey,” he said, way more calmly than you had. He raised his hand, showing off the note you left on the cookie container. “Someone here left a container of cookies on my porch earlier, and I wanted to thank them.”
His voice was smooth, deep, and somehow not at all what you imagined. Nothing about him was really what you expected. He was certainly tall, seemingly towering over you. He had an easy smile that shouldn’t have made you feel so nervous. He was clearly friendly, you were just a lovestruck idiot. You realized that you were probably making some stupid, shocked face, and you schooled your expression into something more pleasant.
“That was me, actually,” you said a bit bashfully. “I realized that I had never met you before, even though we’ve been neighbors for a while now. What better to break the ice than some cookies?” you laughed to cover up your awkwardness. He chuckled along with you.
“They were delicious. I’m embarrassed to admit I ate more of them than I probably should have, but we all have our vices, right?” His laugh was music to your ears. He was going to turn you into a puddle right there on your doorstep. “My name’s Michael, by the way,” he said, “But everyone calls me Robby.” The two of you did a brief, awkward dance as you attempted to shake hands. You responded by introducing yourself officially.
“It’s nice to actually meet you,” you said with a smile.
“To actually meet me?” Robby asked with a slight cock of his head. You hadn’t meant to say that. That implied that you had been watching, waiting for this moment. God, it made you sound like a creep. You were a bit of a creep, after all, but he didn’t need to know that.
You laughed nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I meant finally.” He hummed in response, not quite convinced, but he politely dropped it.
His eyes scanned your body brazenly, and you felt embarrassed at your outfit choice. Braless and in sweats wasn’t how you planned on meeting your sexy neighbor. His gaze was heavy and inescapable; it made you feel fuzzy inside. You couldn’t tell if you were imagining him inching closer.
“Y’know,” he started, a slight smile on his lips. “It’s been a long time since someone’s baked for me. I forgot how nice a homemade cookie was. What’s your secret?”
Your heart rate picked up as the tone of the conversation shifted to something more flirty, but you made sure to keep your breathing steady. With the way he was staring at you, he would surely notice your heaving chest.
“I can’t reveal my secret ingredient to a stranger, now, can I?” you said, raising your eyebrows teasingly, hoping your charm would make up for your bummy outfit.
“I don’t think we’re strangers anymore, honey,” he said, the pet name rolling so easily off his tongue that it sent a shiver down your spine.
“I still barely know you,” you shot back.
Before he could offer a retort, the actual delivery driver walked up the porch steps, excused herself, and handed you the box. You were pleased to find the bottom was still hot. You thanked the driver, and she went on her way, having already received her tip from the app. You feared that the interruption would kill the conversation between you and Robby, but you had an idea.
“How about you come in for pizza, and we can get to know each other better,” you offered.
Robby seemed surprised, but his face split into a grin, and he followed your lead into the house. He shut the door gently behind him, then made his way over to the dining room, where you had opened the pizza box and were setting up plates. You grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge and put one in your spot, then handed him the other.
“Pizza and beer on a Wednesday night? You’re my kind of girl,” he said. You were grateful your back was facing him as you retrieved napkins from the cabinet, because he would have seen the flustered look on your face. This is what you wanted, you supposed, you just didn’t think you were actually going to get it.
When you returned to the table, Robby was taking a sip out of his beer, and you couldn’t help but look at his lips on the can. How was it possible this man could be even more attractive up close? Part of you figured your attraction only came because he was unattainable, but you were proven wrong.
“Help yourself. I got half cheese, half sausage and pepper,” you said. He urged you to take the first slice, saying that the lady should always get her first choice. It was a little old-fashioned, him talking like that, but it was charming, and new to you. He took his slice after you, and the two of you proceeded to eat, drink, and get to know each other.
You learned that “Robby” is a nickname that stems from his last name, he is a doctor who works in the Emergency Department at the hospital, and that the one and only hobby he has time for is riding and working on his motorcycle. As you suspected, there was no mention of a wife, kids, girlfriends, or exes. A sick part of you was glad. Maybe there could be a chance to get him to yourself. You guys seemed to have the chemistry for it.
You told him that you were a recent Pitt graduate, but you were having a hard time finding a job. Despite there being jobs available in your field, even entry-level jobs required years of experience that you just didn’t have. He nodded along in understanding, but you could tell something in his eyes shifted when you started talking about college. He probably didn’t realize just how young you were.
“No offense, but this is a pretty nice place for someone without a job,” he chuckled, looking around. He was right. Not many twenty-somethings rented in the suburbs. Your place was nice; furnished with new, albeit mismatched furniture, decorated with pictures, paintings, and wall hangings, and had all the cozy elements you’d want from a home.
“My roommates and I split the rent. It makes it more manageable,” you said. It was true, splitting the rent with your two roommates did drastically lower each of your costs, but you left out the part where you don’t actually pay for your own portion.
As the conversation continued, the space between the two of you lessened. As he grew closer, you could smell the faint scent of cigarettes on him. You wouldn’t expect that from a doctor, but Robby seems a little rougher around the edges than a typical doctor as well. You found it difficult to concentrate under his gaze, feeling like he was drawing you in and you were helpless to resist. You briefly wondered if you had invited a vampire into your home.
After a brief lull in the conversation, Robby asked a question that sucked all of the air out of the room. “How old are you?” You suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. You chuckled, looking down at your plate in a mix of nervousness and self-deprecation. You knew this was too good to be true. There was no use lying; he would know you’re full of shit, and even if you did get away with it, the truth would come out eventually. Besides, based on your life story, he could take a pretty accurate guess. When you told him, he sighed deeply. “I’m too old for you,” he said.
You furrowed your brows. You had invited him here because you wanted to get closer, to maybe have a chance with him, but you didn’t appreciate his presumption. Maybe you just wanted to be friends. Maybe you were just being friendly, and he was the pervert who was attracted to the girl who was too young for him. He spoke again before you could spiral even further.
“Does that bother you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” You were playing a bit dumb, but you wanted to know where his head was at.
He huffed a laugh and leaned back in his chair, putting some space between you again. “The cookies, the bow, the handwritten note with a heart. All that time you spent watching me out your window there,” he said, looking over to the window seat that faces his house. “You’re not quite subtle, sweetheart.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes. He just called you out for your pathetic attempts to flirt and for stalking him. You wanted the pizza box to swallow you whole. “I’m sorry, Robby, I really didn’t mean-”
“Hey, hey,” he stopped you gently. “Nothing to be sorry for. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You didn’t, not really, but you wouldn’t tell him that.
“I know what I’m doing,” you say quietly. If he could see through your bullshit, he didn’t say anything.
“Good,” he said, leaning back in, even closer than he was before. “Because those cookies were so goddamn sweet, and I bet that you’re even sweeter.” His voice was low, and at such a close distance away, his deep voice rumbled through your body.
Robby’s eyes flicked between yours and your lips. He was itching to reach across the table and close the space, but he was waiting for you to initiate. He wasn’t going to push you, wasn’t going to take advantage. You wanted to kiss him so badly, everything in your body was screaming for it, but still, you hesitated.
“I don’t do one-night-stands,” you said quietly. It felt like a betrayal of all of your animal urges, but you had to stay firm in that boundary. Robby didn’t falter.
“That’s not what I want,” he said. You could tell he was being sincere.
“I usually don’t kiss on the first date, either.”
“Usually,” he parroted.
Your chair was far enough from the table that Robby could grab the leg of it and pull you toward him. The chair slid across the kitchen tile until your knees were bracketed by his spread legs. He had you close, breathing the same air and sharing body heat, right there in your kitchen where either of your roommates could catch you.
“Thank you for the pizza,” he started with a low voice, almost a whisper. “And the beer, and the cookies, and the great conversation.”
Before you could realize what was happening, Robby was standing next to the table and straightening out his chair. He smirked a bit at the confused look on your face, and inched toward the door.
“You have a good night, sweetheart,” he said, his voice taking a newfound cocky tone that you weren’t sure how to feel about.
“Wait,” you stopped him. “I don’t have your number.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded. You needed to see him again.
“You know where I live.”
With that, he walked out of your front door and left you reeling in the kitchen. You just had dinner with your hot, older neighbor, almost kissed, then got left high and dry with a problem only your vibrator could fix.
Four weeks. It took six weeks for your day off to line up with Robby’s. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d break first and knock on your door in the middle of the night, but you doubted he would. Patience is a virtue that develops with age, so you should have known that he would outlast you. At least you had enough self-respect not to go knocking on his door in the middle of the night.
It was another Wednesday, around two in the afternoon, when you spotted him outside your window. It was the most you had seen of him since that fateful night. He was working on his bike again, once again dressed in an old, grease-stained t-shirt and worn jeans. It was another scorcher.
Deciding that you wanted to make a better impression than you did last time, you made yourself up. You put on a sundress, one that showed a tasteful amount of skin without being too much. A tease, you could say. Some leg, some shoulders, a low-cut top, and a flowy skirt would be sure to keep his attention. You fixed your hair, put on some light makeup, and found the perfect pair of flats to complement your cute, casual outfit. Before you walked out, you stopped in front of the full-length mirror behind your door to take a mirror selfie to send to Jack. He loved seeing your outfits, especially your little dresses.
Thankfully, Robby was still outside by the time you opened the front door and scampered down the steps. As soon as he heard the door, he looked over at you. Even from across the street, you could see the look that ignited in his eyes. He put down his wrench and wiped his hands off on the rag that was hanging from his back pocket.
“Hi, Dr. Robby,” you sing-songed as you approached. That made him laugh.
“Hey, there, sweetheart. What are you all dressed up for?” he asked, clearly admiring your outfit.
“Nothing,” you shrugged. “It’s just a nice day out. I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
He groaned. “I’ve been working so much I can’t see straight. I’m glad to have the day off.”
You hummed in understanding, but you were more focused on how his biceps bulged under the sleeves of his shirt. He noticed you staring and raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn’t comment.
“Any plans for the day?”
“Nope. Just me, my bike, and the sunshine,” he smiled. You could tell working on his motorcycle was an important outlet for him.
“No company coming over?”
As he smiled, he used the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, leaving a wet mark on the light gray fabric. “No company.”
You gave him a small pout. “Sounds pretty lonely.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and took a few steps toward you. You didn’t back away as he entered your space. From there, he was looking down at you in a way that made your stomach flutter. You wanted to reach out and touch him the way you couldn’t last time.
“I don’t suppose a pretty girl like you wants to keep an old man company on such a beautiful day,” he said. He was the one to initiate contact this time. He gently took hold of your wrist, then slid his hand up to hook his fingers with yours.
“I wouldn’t mind,” you said coyly. He caught you off guard that first night, but now you were ready to play.
“Why don’t we head inside? I could use a break.”
You agreed, and you followed him through the garage and into his house. It was sparse with decorations, but that was to be expected. It had everything he needed and was tidy, but there weren’t any frills. You stopped in the kitchen, and he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, then offered you one. After you declined, he cracked his open and drained half of it quickly. The air conditioning was a relief for him, having been working in the heat all afternoon, but it quickly chilled you.
You leaned against the counter as you watched him, but he didn’t stay away for long. He put his bottle down and crossed the room, stepping into your space again to crowd you against the counter. He put an arm on either side of you and ducked his head, which made you feel small.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he confessed. “Not like this.”
“Why not?” you asked. He shrugged in response. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Robby.”
He took one hand off the counter to scrub over his face, groaning while he did so.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” It was your turn to shrug. He put his knuckles under your chin to lift your head. “I know you are, but that’s okay. Doesn’t scare me.”
It was clear that neither of you really understood what you were getting yourselves into.
“Robby,” you said, looking up at him with wide, slightly desperate eyes, “kiss me.”
Without another word, he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss, fueled by weeks' worth of built-up tension and fantasy. His hands quickly fell to your waist, and yours wound around his neck. The scruff of his beard scratched your face with delicious friction that you couldn’t get enough of. You tested the waters by swiping your tongue over his lips, and what started as a passionate kiss turned into a sloppy makeout. The groan he made when he finally pulled away sounded like he was holding himself back.
“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. When he opened his eyes, he found you staring up at him again. You already had him wrapped around your finger. “God, you’re so-” he cut himself off.
“Take me to bed, Robby,” you panted out.
You didn’t make it to bed. The two of you tumbled onto the couch in a frenzy of kisses that were mostly tongue and wandering hands. You were on your back, sinking into the cushions as Robby hiked your dress up to expose the pastel cotton panties you put on. They were casual enough not to seem like you were expecting it, but cheeky and cute enough to still be sexy. They seemed to have the intended effect. Your hands wandered over his back, which was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind. He smelled like musk, nicotine, and bubbling desire, and you were drunk off of it.
“These fucking panties, sweetheart,” he said as he brushed his thumb over your clothed slit.
He was hovering over you, but he wasn’t pinning you down. You doubted that you could even take his weight like this. Everywhere he touched, you felt like it was on fire, a sweet, slow burn that you craved more of.
You reached down to his belt and quickly, but clumsily, undid it. You worked his fly open next, and left it to him to push them down enough to free his cock. Neither of you could wait to do it properly, to get fully undressed and upstairs to bed. One of the freedoms of living alone was being able to have sex on every surface of the house.
When he exposed himself, your eyes widened at the size. He was big, bigger than you expected, and in the back of your mind, you wondered if you would be able to take it all. You reached down and pulled your panties aside, showing him your glistening pussy that had been needy for him for weeks. Robby leaned down to lick a fat stripe over your slit, which made your toes curl and forced you to fight against your instincts to squirm.
“Just like I thought,” he mumbled against your thigh. You caught his eye when he looked up at you. “So goddamn sweet.”
He continued to eat your pussy, alternating between pointed licks, sucks, and the occasional thrust of his tongue inside. You tried to keep your hands to yourself, but you gave up once he started paying your clit special attention. You wound your fingers in his short locks and tugged, but he was unfazed. You couldn’t decide if you needed him closer or wanted to move away from the stimulation, but Robby didn’t give you a choice. He stayed firmly where he was, and all you could do was take it as he pulled your panties off to lick more of you.
“Robby, Robby, please,” you panted. “I need you to fuck me.”
He seemed surprised to hear you ask for it so plainly, but he couldn’t deny a request when it sounded so sweet. He pulled away from your center and sat up on his knees. He fisted his cock as he looked down at you, spread out beneath him with your dress pulled up and your pussy soaked. Your hair and makeup were still perfect. You were all of his dreams come true.
“Condom,” he breathed. Before you could try to talk him out of one, he was already back in the kitchen, rooting through drawers. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to return with one. He ripped it open and rolled it on with practiced ease, which made sense given the dizzying head he just gave you. He lined his dick up with your entrance, and you locked eyes before he pushed the tip in.
“Deep breath for me, honey. Can you do that?” he asked gently. You nodded and did as you were told.
The breath released as a loud whine as he sheathed himself inside of you. You had only taken half, but you felt fuller than you had ever been. Somehow, he managed to fit the rest inside. Once he was fully seated and you were adjusted, you locked your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. His thrusts were deep and slow, each one punctuated by a moan from you and a whisper of your name from Robby. He sounded more desperate than you did.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” he said. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.” You didn’t expect him to be a talker like that. Curses, praise, and moans continuously flowed from his lips, and you couldn’t get enough. “Been so long.”
You tried to pull him down, but he couldn’t be moved. He did follow your lead, however, and lay on top of you so your face was in the crook of his neck. Each thrust pushed you further into the couch, and they got increasingly faster and more erratic.
“Robby,” you whined. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what you wanted. You needed something to do with your mouth, so you bit down on the pale, freckled flesh of his shoulder. He hissed through his teeth, but fucked into you harder.
“Showing up here in that fucking dress. Baking for me. Those fucking bows of yours,” he grunted as he gently tugged on the bow on your dress. “Gonna be the death of me, kid.” Him calling you kid like that shouldn’t have sent a shock right to your clit. “Twice your fuckin’ age but you’re still here beggin’ me for it.” He really started to run his mouth, and if he kept going, you were going to cum.
He must have felt your walls clenching around him, because his thumb was placed firmly on your clit and he began rubbing quick circles over it, driving you straight towards the cliff.
“I’m close,” you whispered.
“Cum for me, honey. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he said with his lips pressed against your temple.
The dam broke, and your orgasm washed over you, shaking through your whole body and pulsing in your pussy. Robby fucked you through it, not bothering to slow down as he chased his own orgasm.
“D-addy,” you choked out as your muscles contracted. With your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t see how that one little word affected the man on top of you.
His orgasm snuck up on him. Having a sweet, young, eager-to-please girl underneath him and calling him daddy was every one of his shameful fantasies come true. Your pussy was squeezing the life out of him, made worse by your throbbing walls, and with just a few more strokes, he was moaning your name as his cock flooded the condom inside of you.
The two of you stayed like that, him on top with his softening dick inside of you, while you caught your breath. Eventually, Robby rose to his knees again with a pained groan, and if you weren’t so fucked-out, you would have cracked a joke about his age. He gingerly got up, took off the condom, and redressed before disappearing back into the kitchen. When he returned, the condom was disposed of, and he had a bottle of water for you. He fixed your panties and dress, and helped you sit up so he could give you small sips of water.
“Was that… okay?” he asked hesitantly, an aura of insecurity around him.
You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Like, I didn’t hurt you? I didn’t do anything you didn’t want? I didn’t… take advantage of you?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, which turned his concern into confusion. “All of that was perfect, Robby,” you said. The earnest look in your eye was difficult to question, so he left it.
The two of you relaxed back into the couch and fell into silence as you both recovered from your unexpected, passionate session. After a few minutes, Robby dared a look over at you.
“So… Daddy?” he asked, though he had a wry smile on his lips. You rolled your eyes.
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m sorry, okay, it just slipped out,” you huffed in good-natured annoyance.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, sitting up. “I liked it.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you upright, too. He then brushed his knuckles under your chin, just like he did in the kitchen. “Every girl needs a Daddy, right? Someone to take care of them, keep them safe. Keep them satisfied.”
You felt like it was the first night again, when you were shrinking under his intense, inescapable gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said sheepishly.
“Cute,” he huffed. “It’s written all over your face, sweetheart. Nothing but trouble.” His voice had an edge that you can’t place. A bit teasing, a bit rough with desire, but also a bit desperate.
You slide closer to Robby to put your arms around his neck. Your knees bump from the proximity. You look into his eyes with a slight pout on your lips. “I’ll be good for you, Daddy,” you say, voice sickly sweet. Robby didn’t quite seem convinced, but he gave you a soft smile anyway.
“Sure you will, sweetheart,” he says before moving your arms off of him and standing up from the couch. “I’m gonna go have a smoke, but I’ll be right back. Wait right here for me.”
You look up at him. “Can I come?”
“I’m not letting you breathe that shit in. Stay right here,” he says, a bit firmer that time. You nod and do as you're told while Robby walks onto the back deck. You take the moment to lean back into the couch and attempt to process what just happened. Your little cookie ploy to get your hot neighbor’s attention worked. And it was far more successful than you could have hoped.
Your small moment of self-satisfaction was interrupted by your phone buzzing from where it was dropped on the carpet during your passionate moment. You reach down and unlock the screen, finding a text from Jack.
Jack <3: Gorgeous as always, baby! Shoes are looking a little worn, though. Order some new ones. Still on for tonight at 8?
warnings: fem!reader, sub!robby, inexperienced!robby, experienced!reader, f!receiving oral sex, praise kink, premature ejaculation, background rabbot situationship, background/mention of jack x reader, mentions of violence, 18+ mdni
the pitt masterlist // main masterlist
If Robby knew it was you who was knocking at his door, he wouldn’t have answered in his ratty shirt from undergrad, threadbare pajama pants, and with his hair sticking in all directions. He figured it was Mrs. Jackson from down the hall asking to borrow some baking soda again (which they didn’t have and would never have, and Robby really ought to send someone to check on her mental status). Instead of finding a confused old woman on his doorstep, he found you, the hot girl from next door, holding a pizza box.
“Hey!” he squeaked as he attempted to discreetly fix his messy hair. “Uh, what’s up?” Robby put his hand on the doorframe and leaned against it in a carefully curated act of nonchalance.
“Sorry to bother you, but I ordered a pizza, and they accidentally gave me a large. Would you guys be willing to help me finish it? I don’t really have room in the fridge for leftovers.”
God, Robby was going to turn to mush right there. A painfully beautiful, painfully off-limits woman in rolled lounge shorts and a low-cut tank top offering him pizza? This was the wet dream of every man in his twenties. He was staring back at you with comically wide eyes.
“Yeah! Yeah, totally, we can help.” Robby cringed when he realized he said we. Jack had left for work an hour ago, having decided to work the night shift for his most recent rotation. “Come in,” he said after standing in the hallway became awkward. He knew that Jack was going to kill him when he found out he had you over, but he wasn’t about to turn away a dinner-date with his- their- hallway crush.
Their place wasn’t at all prepared for company, especially not a special guest like yourself. You were something of a celebrity in apartment 4D, and the empty takeout boxes, dirty clothes, and the raised toilet seat weren’t the red carpet you deserved.
“Sorry for the mess,” Robby said sheepishly as he attempted to clean up, but he was really just moving the mess from one spot to another.
“Oh, I don’t mind. My place is a disaster too, don’t worry,” you laughed as you sat down, placing the pizza box on the stack of magazines on their table. Wait- did Jack leave his Sports Illustrated out again?
Robby tossed some laundry into Jack’s bedroom and shut the door, leaving the problem to be dealt with later. He then joined you on the couch, nearly at the opposite end to keep a respectful amount of distance between the two of you.
“What kind did you get?” Robby asked. You opened the box and showed him the half-pepperoni, half-meatball pie.
“I couldn’t choose, so I got both,” you shrugged as you picked a slice of pepperoni with just the right amount of toppings. Robby didn’t offer you a plate, so you ate over your hand like you assumed they did every night. Robby followed suit and took a slice of meatball, wanting to keep even numbers on both sides. He liked when things were neat like that. Simple.
“Is Jack here?” you asked.
“At work,” Robby said around a mouthful of pizza. It wasn’t classy or particularly attractive, but you didn’t seem to mind.
“That’s too bad.” Robby winced. “Guess we’re going to have to eat all of this ourselves,” you smiled.
“Won’t be a problem for us. I could eat this whole pie alone.” Immediately, Robby regretted saying that. Was that meant to impress you? Somehow, by the grace of God, you laughed. He suddenly regretted it even more because your laugh made him weak in the knees. He was so gone for you. He was so dead when Jack got home. “Jack doesn’t even like pizza, anyway.” It was a lie, but you didn’t need to know that. Jack didn’t need to be included in any future pizza dates.
As you worked your way through your slice and it became less of a dripping hazard, you sat back on the couch cushion. There was little more than the crust left, but you liked to chew on it.
“Really? Who doesn’t like pizza?”
Robby shrugged in response. “He’s a freak. Like, what kind of person works nights at an ER?”
“Someone who’s looking to be surrounded by other freaks,” you laughed. “But I’m sure he gets enough of that living here with you.” You nudged Robby’s knee with your slippered foot, and he acted like he got an electric shock. He played it off, though. He was cool.
“Hey, I’m no freak,” he huffed good-naturedly. “I’m just on babysitting duty.”
You raised your eyebrows playfully at that. “Oh, yeah? Does Jack know you think of it like that?”
Robby suddenly became aware that, since you sat down, all they’ve done was talk about his best friend. The same best friend he was betraying and would rather not think about at the moment.
“He knows he’s a big baby. Um, anyway, how’s work been?” The pivot is awkward, and you notice, but you thankfully don’t comment.
“Stressful. Every day I hope the customers will be nicer, but they never are. And here I was, thinking all of the saints in Pittsburgh would congregate at a coffee shop during the morning commute,” you said sarcastically.
“I’d be nice to you.”
You looked at him for a moment before smirking slightly. “You and all the other guys trying to get my number.” Robby blinked rapidly, mind racing to figure out how to diffuse the situation, to get rid of any notion that he was hitting on you. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”
Robby laughed, but in his head, he was praying for the couch to swallow him whole.
“Does that, uh, happen a lot? Guys flirting, I mean?”
You reached into the box for another slice, then turned so your back was resting against the arm of the couch. You kicked your feet up and rested them in Robby’s lap, which made his heart race so fast, he was sure you could feel his pulse. This new position drew even more attention to your sexy legs and curves, which Robby was desperately trying not to stare at.
“Eh,” you shrugged. “Sometimes. Most of the guys are in suits and on the phone with whatever sorry-ass employee is being yelled at. Rich, handsome maybe, but assholes. Then there’s the guys whose girlfriends sent them up to order, and they always think their boyfriends are flirting with me. Super awkward. There are the sleazy guys who act like their dick is God’s gift to women, but I don’t entertain that shit. And then there’s the cute guys who are too shy, even though it’s clear they want to ask me out.”
Are Robby’s cheeks red? They feel red.
The idea of any of those guys hitting on you killed him. He couldn’t see you with a corporate douchebag who would treat you like arm candy. You weren’t a homewrecker or the type to fall for lines told by other douchebags. You deserved a nice guy.
“Paging Dr. Robby,” you said in a sing-song voice as you nudged him with your foot. At some point, you had kicked your slippers off, revealing your mismatched ankle socks.
“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He blushed.
“I said you need to eat more pizza.”
He looked at you for a moment before he reached over and grabbed another slice. He wasn’t really that hungry anymore, not with you so close.
“How about you, how’s school?”
The bite Robby took nearly stripped all of the cheese from the slice. “Alright. My rotation right now… isn’t really my thing.” You raised your eyebrows, clearly wanting to know more. “It’s OB/GYN.” Your roar of laughter caught him by surprise. You were nearly doubled over, clutching your abdomen as you laughed. His cheeks grew hotter, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Stop, stop! It’s not anything weird, okay?”
“You poor thing!” you giggled. “How do you survive? You can’t even sit across the couch from me without turning into a tomato. What do you do when you have to give a pap smear?”
Robby hid his face in his hands and laughed. “It’s not that bad! I, uh, don’t do them yet, but I’ve seen plenty!”
Your laughter slowed. “So you must know your way around pretty well, huh?” You were teasing him. Just good-natured, friendly teasing. “Can I make an appointment?”
The conversation suddenly didn’t feel so much like teasing. Robby was afraid to breathe with the newfound tension in the air.
“A-appointment for what?”
You tossed the remainder of your pizza slice onto the lid of the box and sat up. Your legs were still draped over his lap, but now your face, your eyes, your lips, were closer to his.
“For an exam. That’s what doctors are for, right?” you said so casually, as if you weren’t insinuating that you wanted him to look at what he had been fantasizing about since he first ran into you at the mailboxes.
“I’m not a doctor yet,” he said quietly.
“Everyone starts somewhere,” you matched his tone.
His eyes were darting around your face. He wanted to look at your lips, but didn’t want to be caught staring, so he looked into your eyes, but he couldn’t pick an eye, so he looked between them, and then at your nose, which was so cute up close. He was making a fool of himself.
“Robby,” you said, breaking him out of his panic momentarily. “Kiss me.”
His mouth gaped like he was a fish. His cheeks and ears were hot to the touch. His stomach was growing sick with guilt. “I-I… um, I would, but…”
“But?”
“I can’t,” he said, so quietly that he hoped you didn’t hear it.
“You can’t?” Your brows were furrowed in deep creases. With a racing heart, Robby threw your legs off of him, jumped up from the couch, and ran towards his bedroom. “Where are you going?” you yelled after him, confused and slightly offended. He didn’t answer
Robby slammed his door behind him and dashed for the phone on his nightstand. He dialed the hospital number and asked the nurse on the phone to get Jack for him. When she said that he was busy with a patient, Robby insisted that it was an emergency and he needed Jack on the phone right then.
“What the hell, man? Are you okay?”
“No!” he whisper-yelled into the phone. “I have a problem.”
“The plunger’s in the closet-”
“Shut up, no! Y’know the girl from 4C?” Robby asked as if you weren’t a frequent topic of conversation in their living room.
“Obviously.”
“She’s here.”
“Damn, really? Fuckin’ night shift,” Jack sighed into the phone.
“She asked me to kiss her!”
“Okay? And…?”
“And, what?”
“And why the fuck did you decide to call me?” That was a great point, actually.
“I-I don’t know. The pact and everything… guess I wanted to ask if it was okay,” he trailed off, hearing how ridiculous he sounded. To make matters worse, Jack was laughing at him, loudly, in the middle of the hospital.
“You’re a fucking idiot, man. You have the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in our living room, and you’re on the phone with me. Your dry spell is gonna last ‘til retirement at this rate.”
“So…?”
“So, what?”
“So can I kiss her?” Robby was growing frustrated as if he wasn’t the one asking the stupid questions.
Jack was quiet on the other line for a moment. “No.”
“What?” Robby exclaimed and immediately cringed because he was certain you heard him. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean you can’t kiss her. Or hook up. No hand stuff either.”
“What the hell?”
Jack was laughing at him again. “Hey, man, you were the one stupid enough to ask for permission to hit that. Only I’m not stupid enough to let you get her first.”
Robby squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head back to face the ceiling. When has it ever paid to do the right thing?
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, brother. You fuck her, and I’m dumping all your shit out on the street.” Robby knew Jack was serious about that too.
“Fuck you,” Robby huffed. He heard a faint “Love you, too,” as he slammed the phone down onto the receiver.
When he sulked back to the living room, you were sitting upright with a confused but slightly amused expression.
“You okay?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yeah.” He sat back down on the couch, even further from you than before, but you closed the distance anyway. You were sitting with your knees folded under yourself, looking so comfortable and right in his apartment.
“What was all that about?”
“Had to call Jack.” You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push further.
“Well… where were we?” You placed a hand high on Robby’s thigh, but before you could move it any, he grabbed your wrist and moved it away.
“We can’t.”
“We can’t? Are you waiting for marriage, or…?”
Robby sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe he was about to admit this to the girl of his dreams.
“No, it’s just… Jack and I have both been into you since we moved in, like crazy into you. We had a whole fight trying to decide who got to ask you out and so,” he took a deep breath, “we made a pact.”
Your mouth gaped in disbelief. Much like Jack, you were laughing directly in the face of his shame.
“No fucking way,” you laughed. “Are you serious? I mean, I’m flattered, but what is this, middle school?”
“It was a big fight!” Robby attempted to defend himself and his best friend.
Once your laughter subsided, you got a mischievous look in your eyes that Robby hadn’t seen before. It was equally intimidating as it was intriguing. You were still close to him, and as much as he knew he should push you away, kick you out, even, he couldn’t.
“So you’re not gonna kiss me because Jack said no?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice.
He hesitated. “I guess.”
“Uhhuh…You always do what Jack tells you to?”
Robby’s brows furrowed. He didn’t appreciate what you were implying, but the more he thought about it… he kind of did. It wasn’t anything big, not like Robby was his slave or anything. But when they were watching football and were in need of another beer, Robby was the one to get them. Robby did the dishes. Robby cooked Jack breakfast when he got home from the night shift. He loved Jack… that’s what friends do.
“Not always,” he lied.
You inched closer to him. “Oh, yeah? Dr. Robby’s got a disobedient streak in him?” His heart was racing again, and it damn near jumped out of his chest when your hand returned to his thigh. He didn’t stop you this time. His breathing was shallow, but he managed to nod in response to your likely rhetorical question. “I guess the question is… are you gonna keep being Jack’s little puppy, or are you gonna take what you really want?”
If Robby had been half hard since you sat on the couch, he was close to bursting now. His thin pajama pants did nothing to conceal his arousal, but you were polite enough to ignore the blatant tent until given permission.
“I want you,” he breathed. Your lips were so close to his.
“Then you know what to do.”
Without spending any more time thinking and doubting, Robby placed both of his hands on either side of your face and smashed your lips together in a desperate, sloppy kiss. You moaned in surprise, and he greedily swallowed the sound. Lips slid together, teeth clashed, and tongues explored new territory for the first time. Your fingers were twisted in the fabric of his shirt, alternating between pushing him away and pulling him closer as you kissed. You weren’t sure if he pulled you into his lap or if you sat yourself there, but his desire was evident underneath you.
“Fuck, Robby,” you said in a breathy giggle once the kiss was broken. He looked up at you with wide, desperate, lust-filled eyes and rosy, parted lips. He looked wrecked already. It was the most adorable and sexy thing you had ever seen.
“Jack’s gonna be so pissed,” he said. He probably should have said something about how you’re the subject of all of his fantasies, how he never thought this would come true, how lucky he is. But Robby was stupid when it came to women on a good day, but now, he was brainless.
You circle your arms around Robby’s neck and lean up so he has a clear look at the valley of your breasts. His chest was heaving, and his face was pink all over. Never had you seen desire so evident on a man.
“What does Jack do when you don’t listen?” you asked, voice sugar-sweet. “Does he freeze you out? Give you the silent treatment? Maybe refuse to watch TV or go to the gym with you?”
Robby’s hands hesitantly rested on your waist, though they ghosted over your skin gently. You briefly moved your own hands down to place his where you wanted them, firmly gripping, before returning to holding him.
“Or does he get mad?” you faux-pout. “Does he yell at you? Does he rough you up a little? Do you fight back, or do you let him take his frustrations out on you?” Images of Robby and Jack wrestling on the couch, Robby with a black eye and split lip, and Jack wiping blood from his nose flash in your mind and make you shudder. “Is that what he’s gonna do when he finds out you fucked me?”
Robby has never had a girl talk dirty to him before. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to cum in his pants, which arguably would give Jack more of a reason to beat him up. If he was going to break the rules of their agreement, he might as well make it worth it. You began to roll your hips against his, grinding the hot core he could feel through your shorts over his length.
“I’d deserve it,” he groaned. His eyebrows were pinched together in pleasure, but he was still clearly holding himself back.
“Just a little tough love before he patches you back up, right? Enough to set you straight, make you a good boy again.”
Robby looked up at you with the biggest, sweetest eyes. You ran your hands through his hair, ruffling the strands and scratching his scalp gently. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.
“This isn’t your first time, right?” you ask hesitantly, breaking your seductive character for a moment.
“No! No, I mean… I’ve had sex before. But I’m clean, I promise.”
Grinning down at him, you grabbed his cheeks with one hand, your palm under his chin, and squished his cheeks together. You pressed a kiss to his puckered lips.
“You’re adorable,” you said. Most guys his age weren’t looking to be called adorable, but Robby preened at the praise. He’d take whatever you gave him. “I want you to eat me out.”
With stars in his eyes, he nodded eagerly. You slid off of his lap and laid down on the couch with your head resting against the plush arm. Your knees fell open, giving him a view of your clothed pussy. You lifted your hips to push your shorts down, then did the same with your panties once you knew that Robby had gotten a good look at your thong. He was looking at your newly-bared pussy, the one he had fantasized about so many times, like a starving man. Instead of instructing him to go ahead, you hooked your foot around the back of his head and pulled him in close.
Robby ended up belly down with your legs over his shoulders and his long fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. He was moaning more than you were; each suck and swirl of his tongue was sloppy and wet, and every time you gushed a bit more wetness into his mouth, he lapped it up eagerly. Your hands were twisted in his hair, tugging firmly. He didn’t seem to mind the pain; if anything, it encouraged him more.
“Baby,” he groaned against your clit. At some point, he started to grind his hips against the couch cushion, seeking friction on his achingly hard cock. Based on how he was thrusting, it must have been just enough. You weren’t going to let him up until he made you cum.
“Want your fingers,” you urged. His mouth felt amazing, but you wanted to feel those long fingers of his working you open. From what you could tell from grinding on his lap, he had that skinny boy dick that was surely going to be a challenge to take.
Robby slid one, then two, inside of you with ease. He gently thrust them and curled them against your sweet spot. He loved the sweet sound you made when he rolled them inside of you. If Jack was going to kill him for this, he supposed he would die happy. There was no way that Jack could really blame him for this, right?
Your grip on his hair tightened, and your heels dug firmly into his back. You were using Robby as a toy to get off, and he was loving every minute of it. His hips worked against the couch quicker, increasing his pace as he got more desperate.
“I’m close,” you moan. “Don’t fucking stop.” Robby wouldn’t dream of it. Honestly, he probably couldn’t even if he wanted to.
Your head tilted back and your eyes screwed shut as your orgasm washed over you. Your body tensed as Robby worked you through each wave of pleasure, not relenting until your body finally sagged against him. It was a big, hard orgasm that had your head spinning and left your eyes half-lidded. You weren’t expecting the blushing Dr. Robby to give such great head.
You gently loosened your grip on his hair and, when he looked up from between your legs, found him in a similar state as yourself. Cheeks splotchy, eyes dazed, and lips swollen and wet. He looked wrecked.
“So good for me,” you said, cupping his cheek and brushing his skin with your thumb. “Now my good boy’s gonna fuck me, okay?”
Somehow he blushed even more, looking impossibly bashful. He sat up on his knees, still bracketed between your legs, and you were confronted with a wet spot on the front of his pants. He pulled down the waistband just slightly while refusing to look at you.
“I’m sorry,” he said meekly. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You weren’t offended or even upset. You were flattered that he was so worked up.
You put on your best pout and reached for his sticky, but still hard, cock. “Done already?”
“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can go again in a little bit, I promise,” he begged. He grabbed your hand from his cock and began peppering kisses all over your palm, fingers, and up your arm. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” he mumbled against your skin.
He broke out his sweetest puppy dog eyes, and you wondered if there had been many girls before you who were also weak for them. He didn’t seem like the type, but knowing Jack Abbot, he was constantly getting his sweet best friend into all kinds of trouble.
You hummed, considering. “I guess I can give you another chance since you ate my pussy so well.” Robby sagged with relief.
You opened your arms, beckoning him forward. He leaned down and laid on top of you, tucking his head in the crook of your neck. You rubbed his back gently.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Adorable.
“When you’re ready,” you started gently, “you’re going to fuck me just like this. I want you hard and deep with my legs around you. You can play with my tits if you want, but you better kiss me.”
Robby pulled away from where he was resting his head on your shoulder and nodded at you eagerly. He was more than happy to please you, especially after he already let you down.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he confessed. “I’ll give you everything you want.”
You smiled and stayed quiet for a moment, before a wicked thought crossed your mind. You weren’t trying to get between two best friends, but something told you that things would be a lot smoother if the boys learned how to share, rather than fight to stake claim.
“Do you cum that fast for Jack?” you asked so casually, as if you were inquiring about the weather.
Robby’s brows furrowed deeply, and he suddenly looked like he wanted to run. “What?”
You smirked, which made him visibly nervous. “Do you ever cum in your pants by accident when you go down on Jack?”
“I-I… um, I don’t know what you’re- uh- talking about.” His avoidant eyes suggested otherwise. You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you.
“These walls are pretty thin, baby. I know you two do more than just play doctor over here.” You were grinning now, taking great pleasure in Robby’s embarrassment. “But if you keep being a good boy for me and make me cum like that again, I won’t tell Jack about your little mishap.”
Robby swallowed thickly. He thought dealing with Jack and his games was torture enough, but now he had you doing the same.
summary: robby tells you he wants to keep things casual after you catch him flirting with noelle. he's less enthusiastic when he finds out you've been seeing his best friend. (5k)
characters: michael robinavitch / fem!reader, jack abbot / fem!reader, trinity santos, dennis whitaker, mel king
contents: established relationship, friends with benefits, jealousy, mutual pining, angst, possessive!robby, allusions to smut
FIC #5 / 20 FOR 20
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
You and Robby were not together. Not officially, and definitely not publicly. You were hardly together privately, if you were being real honest with yourself — aside from a few stolen nights after particularly draining shifts, where he’d show up at your place with takeout and exhaustion sitting heavy in his eyes and promises of distracting you from the hard day; where he’d then wake up before sunrise and leave before you had the chance to miss him.
Casual. That was the point. Because he was an attending, and you were his resident, and Robby had already made the mistake of blurring those lines once before. “It gets messy, sweetheart,” he murmured against your bare shoulder one night, voice heavy with sex and sleep alike. “And when it ends, it… It really fuckin’ ends, you know?”
You didn’t know what he meant by that, actually. You figured he was saying that dating within the hierarchy tends to crash and burn in some way or another, but you didn’t press him on the issue then. Though now you think that maybe you should’ve.
You should’ve told him to give this a name back then — whatever this thing was between you — because at least then you’d have a name for the feeling searing in your chest just now, as you’re forced to watch Robby flirt with Noelle on the other side of the workstation.
You’re examining the chart glowing from the iPad in your hands, trying hard to ignore the ache in your lower back and the fact that you haven’t eaten since six that morning, when the sound of Robby’s sudden laughter graces your ears — finding you despite the buzzing chatter of the crowded E.R.
You glance up automatically and find him leaning against the counter, with the sleeves of his undershirt pushed up to his elbows and his stethoscope looped lazily around his neck, towering several inches over Noelle.
“You’re getting less grumpy in your old age, Robinavitch,” the older woman quips beneath a quiet smile and the faint flush coating her caramel-colored cheeks. She arches a manicured brow in his direction, dark eyes glimmering beneath long lashes. “Something been improving your mood lately? Or some-one?”
Your palms go clammy around the tablet in your hand. You never wanted anyone to find out that you were dating your attending, but god, your heart stops beating just to hear your name fall from his lips.
Robby laughs instead, a sharp exhale from his nose.
“You always think you know everything,” he says with a shake of his head, though you can still hear the smile in his voice when he tells her, “I’m not sure your new boyfriend up in ortho would like you asking about my love life, Hastings…”
“Oh, I stopped seeing him ages ago,” Noelle scoffs. “He kept calling himself an alpha male unironically, and I— couldn’t take it anymore.”
Robby physically recoils. “Jeez… And here I thought your taste in men improved after me.”
Their laughter entwines and lingers in the air for several lingering moments. It’s more familiar than flirtatious, but your stomach twists with a sick feeling anyway. Because Noelle was, to put it simply, everything you weren’t. She was effortlessly gorgeous and carried all that confidence in her matching pant suits and pulled-back curls. She was much closer to Robby’s age, too, and their lengthy history is one you know you couldn’t compete with if you tried.
You feel a little like a child as you watch them talk in hushed voices. You flare with all the embarrassment of one, too, when Robby’s eyes lock suddenly with yours.
You turn away a beat too late, just in time to catch the look that flashes suddenly across his weathered features — as if he’d somehow been caught. You pretend not to notice, or otherwise care, when he dismisses himself from Noelle and closes the distance between you. He towers over you the same way he had with her, smelling like a mixture of his cologne and your bed sheets.
“Hey…” he says, all casual, stuffing his hands into his scrub pockets and nodding to the tablet in your hands. “You get that CBC back on Central Eight?”
“Yep,” you deadpan, still without looking at him.
He flinches slightly when you shove the chart suddenly at his chest with a less-than-gentle hand. His brows lower in confusion when you turn on your heel and walk away a second later, with considerably more ire than you had that morning. (‘Cause you’d been complaining about some mild insomnia for a while now, so Robby fucked you to sleep the night before. He figured you’d be in a better mood today accordingly. But alas.)
“So I take it you’re not helping with this endoscopy?” he calls after you, pulling his glasses from his shirt pocket for a better view of the screen in his hand.
“Nope,” you call back, already halfway down the hall — not as his resident, but as a woman halfway scorned.
Whitaker’s eyes dart back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match — between you, Robby, and the bloodied head wound he’s watching you stitch up with practiced hands. There’s a heavy tension he can feel simmering in the air, snatching all the remaining oxygen out of the room. Even from where he stands behind you, peering over Trinity’s shoulder, he feels hardly shielded from the building stress.
“Call ortho for a consult for me, will ya?” Robby asks you, or rather politely commands, without looking away from the chart in his hands.
You, similarly, don’t glance up from your sutures as you tell him, “You have a pair of free hands, don’t you, Dr. Robby?”
The man’s eyes dart to you in an instant, peering at you over the top of the glasses sitting low on his broad nose. His dark brown gaze glimmers with a mixture of amusement and shock as a faint smile flickers beneath his beard.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll do it!” Whitaker blurts, half-strangled by the tension, as he rushes for the red phone across the room. It’s quite telling, the younger boy finds, that he’d rather suffer a call with Park the Shark than watch this lover’s quarrel unfold.
Robby squints as he takes a slow step towards you. His eyes flit from your deadpan face, to your gloved hands, to the balding head of the unconscious patient you stitch up.
“Have you eaten today?” he wonders aloud.
“Are you gonna ask if I need a nap next to?” you scoff. “I’m not a child.”
“Well, you’re kinda acting like one,” Robby says within a breathless chuckle. “So do you wanna maybe dial the attitude back a notch?”
“Sorry, Dr. Robby,” you say flatly, tying off the final stitch with sharp, methodical movements. “I’ll remember to stroke your ego next time— Maybe then you won’t accuse me of being a bitch.”
“I wasn’t—”
A laugh sputters suddenly from Santos’ mouth before she can help it. She hides it behind her fist when Robby glares at her and pretends to cough instead.
The tension between the two of you doesn’t snap until around the tenth hour of the shift, when you’re hiding from the chaos of the E.D. with the excuse of fetching more supplies from the walk-in closet. Robby enters like a dark cloud, mixing with your own storm, and threatening to create a most fatal concoction when he corners you against the shelf. (You hadn’t stopped moving for about four straight hours, to be fair — this was his only real chance of getting you alone.)
“What the hell is your problem today?” the older man says in lieu of a greeting.
You huff and roll your eyes, shoving at a pack of saline flushes a little harder than necessary when they threaten to fall from the shelf and on top of you. Robby watches with narrowed eyes and a pair of weathered hands splayed on his hip.
“Did I do something to you? ‘Cause you’ve been acting crazy all day—”
You slam the cabinet door shut with a resounding clang, so hard it refuses to latch,before spinning on your heels to face the man behind you. The glare you give him almost makes him flinch before he swallows down the instinct to.
“Crazy?” you echo through a tense jaw. “You flirt with Noelle all day, right in front of me, and now you’re calling me crazy?”
Robby blinks owlishly back at you for several long moments.
You almost think you see a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth beneath his mustache, before a chuckle sputters suddenly from his lips. You flinch at the intensity of his laughter, and at the distant mania glimmering in his dark eyes.
“Oh, my god—”
“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, face burning under the weight of your embarrassment.
“—That’s what this is about?”
“Yes! It is. Because I thought I was enough for you.”
His weathered features soften with a heavy sigh, though traces of his amusement still remain — equal parts fond and exhausted.
“Oh, c’mon… You know this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious,” Robby croons gently, taking slow steps towards you. “That was the agreement, right? Casual. So we could avoid all… This.”
You peer up at the man from beneath your lashes when he plants himself in front of you. You try not to melt when you catch a whiff of his dizzying cologne. “This?” you echo.
“Yeah… You know, all the… jealousy and the— arguments,” he huffs with a lazy shrug and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I’ve been through this before, kid. Trust me. This is… This is what’s best.”
Your chest sears with a mixture of red-hot anger and ice-cold jealousy. Your jaw tightens at how detached he sounds, how rational, as if he were discussing policies instead of real actual feelings. (If he was even capable of those). You want him to feel this, too — this awful, wretched jealousy clawing at your ribs from the inside out.
You fold your arms tightly across your chest, forcing your voice into a deadpan as hurt simmers somewhere beneath the words. “So I can see whoever I want?” you ask him.
Robby’s expression flickers slightly, almost imperceptibly. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, but his dark gaze never once wavers from yours.
“Of course, you can,” he tells you, though his taut voice threatens to betray him. “We’re casual. That was the deal.”
“Okay,” you nod once and turn away from him again, giving him very little to play off of as he tries and fails to call your bluff.
Robby’s forced to stare at the back of you while you pull a large pack of lap pads from the shelf. His brows knit in confusion when you spin back around to face him, mostly back to normal again, with a ghost of a polite smile dancing the edges of your mouth.
“Run these to Trauma 1 for me, will ya? Dr. Al-Hashimi needs ‘em for a trauma patient coming in.”
You press the package to Robby’s chest before he can answer and walk past him for the exit before he can blink.
Three days after the fact, you’re sitting in a crowded bar a block away from the PTMC, drowning your post-shift sorrows in half-priced beers.
In those three days, you haven’t seen Robby once outside of work. There were no more stolen kisses in empty elevators, no more lingering touches in stairwells, no more “come over” texts sent in the dead of night. And Robby thought it was strange, because the two of you weren’t even fighting anymore — not technically, anyway — and yet you were more distant now than ever.
“Question,” the man murmured casually from the other side of the desk while you finished up your charting at the monitor. “Is it me you’re avoiding or just my apartment?”
“What?” you scoffed, still typing. “I’ve just been— busy, Robby.”
“Hm…” he sighed, less than convinced.
You didn’t spare him a second glance — not then and not when you took Santos’ offer of happy hour and Friday night karaoke. The girl herself returns now to the cracked pleather booth in the corner of the dingy bar, where you sit with Mel and Whitaker, after butchering another Alanis Morrissette song.
Her chest heaves with panted breaths under her black tank top, pale skin sticky with a thin layer of alcohol-induced sweat.
“Okay, what’s with the long faces over here?” Trinity jokes as she steals a room-temperature fry off your plate, talking through the mouthful. “I know you and Robby are fighting or whatever, but I just gave the performance of a lifetime up there.”
You slurp nosily at the remnants of your fruity drink and nearly choke on it at the accusation. “What?” you cough with the thin straw still in your mouth. “We aren’t— fighting. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please,” Trinity scoffs and reaches for her beer. “You’re both been acting like a couple of… divorced parents at soccer practice.”
“Okay, I don’t even know what that means—”
“Playing nice in front of everyone as not to evoke suspicion, which inevitably turns the obvious tension between you from angry to sexually charged,” Mel rambles matter-of-factly. Her blonde hair sways around her jaw as she nods, left slightly crimped from her undone braid.
Your eyes flit to Whitaker then, who nods much more solemnly in agreement.
Your face burns red-hot in response. “Well— we’re not even, like, together or anything, so…”
“Mhm…” Santos hums with a knowing look that makes you shift uncomfortably in the booth. She takes another quick swig from the amber bottle in her hand before her gaze zeroes in on an unfortunate Whitaker. “C’mon, Huckleberry. You’re up.”
His light eyes widen, glassy with exhaustion and alcohol alike. “I’m… Up?”
“Yeah. You’re doing karaoke with me. Let’s go,” Trinity says as she slides once more off the weathered vinyl. She frowns when she rises and finds the boy still sitting in place. “Let’s go, I said! We gotta get back in line before the spots fill up—”
Whitaker scrambles to follow the girl towards the stage despite his better judgment. You use that as an excuse to get another drink, tugging the skirt of your dress further down your thighs as you go. You weave through the crowd of strangers and coworkers alike until you reach the sticky wooden counter.
You lean your elbows against it and flash the bartender a kinda smile. “Can I get another aperol spritz, please?”
“Put that on my tab,” a familiar voice says from beside you.
Your head whips to find Jack sitting there, one chair down and nursing a sweaty amber bottle of cheap beer in his pale hand. He looks more relaxed now than you think you’ve ever seen him — camo pants baggy around his legs, black t-shirt untucked from the belt, warm around the edges from the alcohol.
You feel very suddenly overdressed in your form-fitting velveteen number and cross your arms over your chest to hide beneath the loose cardigan you wear over top of it. “Oh, you don’t have to do that—”
“I insist,” the older man smiles. “You deserve it after that canthotomy you did today. You were a real trooper.”
The bartender slides a cocktail glass across the wooden surface over to you. The orange liquid threatens to slosh over the thin rim. You give him a polite grin in return. “Thank you,” you tell the man, then grow considerably shier when you turn back to the attending sitting a stool down from you. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot.”
“Jack,” the older man corrects before bringing the lip of his bottle back up to his mouth.
“Jack,” you echo softly.
The man shifts on the hard stool, keeping his prosthetic limb stretched slightly ahead of him beneath the bar. A not quite silence settles between you then, filled by the buzzing bar all around you. Your eyes cut to the stage on the far side of the room, where Santos belts the lyrics to “You Oughta Know” and Whitaker stumbles over himself to get the foreign words out.
“I think Shen is looking for a karaoke partner,” you quip, nodding your head towards the doctor standing by the stage and flipping through the binder of song choices there.
The dim overhead lighting turns Jack’s silver curls a softer golden shade when he turns his head to follow your gaze. He grimaces instantly at the thought. “Yeah, absolutely not.”
“Why?” you laugh softly, with the thin straw dancing against your mouth. “You scared?”
“Yes,” the man answers without a second thought. “And I’ve been shot at before— Today, even— And somehow karaoke still feels more terrifying.”
Your eyes squint in his direction, glittering with something foreign. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t ya think?”
“Eh. Maybe a little.”
You scoff and slide into the bar stool beside him. “You don’t strike me as someone who embarrasses easily, Dr. Abbot.”
“That’s because you only know me at work,” he quips halfway into his beer, before licking the amber sheen from his mouth. “Where I am equal parts competent and mysterious.”
“Mysterious?” you repeat skeptically.
“Mm,” Jack nods with narrowed eyes and a faint smile twitching the corner of his lip. “Very tortured, you know? Very brooding.”
“Ah, yes…” you sigh with alcohol glittering on your lips like gloss. “The very brooding, tortured doctor who makes dinosaur noises to win over scared children in pedes.”
Jack pauses mid-sip, pale eyes narrowing. “Well, this is new…” he hums.
Your stomach flips at the way he’s looking at you. Heat crawls instantly up your neck. You feel very suddenly suffocated by the heavy cardigan on your shoulders. “…What is?”
“I don’t know,” he answers with a lazy shrug, though his heavy eyes dart once down your form and up again. You don’t realize, until then, that this is his first time seeing you in anything other than your dark black scrubs. “You… Flirting with me.”
You exhale a breathy laugh, if only to dispel the anxiety clawing at your chest. “Flirting? Is that what this is?”
“Hey— You’re the one who called me mysterious.”
“Actually, I was clarifying if you thought you were mysterious.”
“Still counts.”
“Does it?” you squint.
Jack smirks behind the lip of the beer bottle against his mouth. His adam’s apple bobs with a short sip before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know… For a while there, I thought you hated me… Considering you never talked to me unless you had to.”
“You work nights, Jack— I don’t talk to you because I see you for, maybe, twenty minutes out of my day,” you scoff, and don’t realize you’ve called him by his first name until his eyes glimmer with amusement. You turn away with a shake of your head as your face burns, bringing the straw back up to your mouth. “Though, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t consider it…”
“Oh, really?” Jack hums with raised brows. “What’s the verdict now, then, huh?”
You let your gaze drag over him deliberately as you ponder the question, biting at the straw between your teeth. You scan over his toned biceps, his lean stomach caged beneath his form-fitting tee, and his spread thighs that make your head spin, before meeting his eyes once more.
“Now,” you hum sweetly, “I think I’m starting to understand the appeal…”
Jack stares at you for a long moment before he lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. The lamplight shines in his greying curls as he shakes his head. “Yeah? And how does Robby feel about that?”
Your eyes harden in an instant.
Jack raises a free hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m just sayin’— He looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall any time another attending talks to you for more than thirty seconds.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly. You swallow hard to fight the strangling feeling — of Robby, and of his laughter in the supply closet — as you shrug a lazy shoulder in response. You don’t bother to lift your cardigan when it slips softly down your arm.
“It’s casual,” you tell him.
Jack studies you for a long moment. The corner of his mouth curls into a slow half-smile, and you feel your heart stuttering behind your ribcage.
“Casual, huh?” he hums and brings his bottle back up to his mouth. “Interesting…”
Morning arrives slowly through the veiled curtains of the quiet bedroom, where pale golden light cuts softly over hardwood floors and rumpled sheets. You rouse gradually, cocooned beneath strangely heavy blankets that smell differently from your own back home — like unfamiliar detergent, cedarwood, and musky cologne.
For a blissful wink of a moment, you don’t remember where you are. Not until you stretch your tired limbs and brush a scruffy leg with your foot, anyway.
Your breath catches. Your heavy eyes snap open. Your body prickles with heat as flashes from the night before return to you at once — of the walk home from the bar, of Jack’s laugh against your throat, of his stubble scraping your skin, of the teasing murmur in his velvety voice as he told you to cum for him.
Your thighs clench together at the memory, while a lingering ache pulses pleasantly low in the pit of your stomach.
You lift your head from the pillow and inhale sharply through your nose as your eyes scan the foreign bedroom, which you had been too busy to do the night before.
There’s an expensive-looking record player in one corner, sat beside a crate of well-loved vinyls. There’s a bookshelf lining the far wall — cluttered with medical textbooks, old paperbacks, and framed photos from his military days. His camo bag, etched with his name, slouches by the entrance, and over the foot of the bed, you can see his prosthetic limb lying beside your shoes.
Other than that, it’s strikingly empty, with very little decoration on the wall or bedside tables. It makes sense, you figure, for a man who is working far more than he isn’t.
Your head turns in the opposite direction to find Jack sleeping soundly just beside you. The gentle rays of morning light brush over the canvas of his bare back, turning his freckles there a deeper shade of golden brown. He’s got one arm shoved beneath the pillow he folds into his cheek and the other lying loose across the mattress — from where your waist must’ve been before you slithered out from underneath it.
Your chest pinches at the sight of him. With pride, maybe, at having conquered him. And with a pang of white-hot guilt that twists when your mind inevitably drifts to Robby.
You slide out of bed, careful not to let the mattress give too much beneath your weight. You grimace when the fabric of your t-shirt twists uncomfortably around your form, only to find that you’re wearing Jack’s shirt, which had seemingly been given to you at some point last night. It falls over your thighs when you stand, bare feet padding as you gather your discarded clothes.
You bend down to drag your underwear back up your thighs and wince when your head throbs from last night’s cheap cocktails. With your dress and knit cardigan balled in your arm, you toe your shoes back on. Your breath hitches when the mattress shifts with a soft creak.
Jack squints when he raises his wild head. His mouth twitches when he finds you at the foot of the mattress. “Y’know…” he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I’m at least grateful you’re not robbing me before sneaking out. That’s very courteous of you.”
“I’m not sneaking,” you scoff. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”
The man inhales sharply as he twists onto his back, charcoal sheets tangling around his waist. You force yourself to look away from his lean stomach and the red claw marks you left on his scruffy chest when he stretches his toned arms above his head.
“That’s sweet,” he says with a wince. “But unfortunately, I wake up if somebody breathes wrong in the next room.”
You exhale a soft laugh.
Jack’s eyes soften around the edges at the sound of it. “You workin’ today?”
“Yep, in about…” Your eyes flit to the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Half an hour.”
“Brutal,” he scoffs.
“You’re fault.”
“Don’t say that like you didn’t have a good time,” he teases with narrowed eyes, then softens slightly when you turn away. You fumble with the stubborn back of your shoe, and his chest twists at your silence. “Do you… Do you regret it?”
“No,” you answer instantly.
“Good,” he hums, relaxing visibly once more into the sheets. “Me neither.”
Your stomach blooms with warmth. You shift awkwardly on your feet before him, even still. “So, uh… What— What now?”
“Well, feel free to use my shower, if you want—”
“I’m serious, Jack,” you insist gently, then add, more sheepishly. “But I will be using your shower, actually, thank you…”
Jack inhales deeply, considering. “Well,” he starts carefully, “I like you. Obviously.”
Your pulse rushes like a teenage girl.
“But,” he continues, as relief and disappointment tangle in your chest all at once. “I also know that neither of us is in the right spot for a relationship right now…”
“So… Casual?” you offer lightly, mouth lifted in a tired smile.
“Casual,” Jack agrees with a firm nod and glassy eyes.
You wear the night before all over, despite your desperate attempts to hide it.
Robby notices it the moment he sees you — how relaxed you are, how happy you seem to be. Whatever had been plaguing you before is now long gone, and that alone should be enough to comfort him. But still, he can’t shake the feeling that someone had gotten rid of all the aching for you — fucked it out of you the way only he could.
“You’re in a good mood today,” he observes while signing off on the chart you’d given him.
“Am I?” you hum.
“Yeah,” he nods, clicking his pen with his thumb. He glances at you over the top of his glasses before averting his gaze once more. “What’d you get up to last night, huh?”
“Nothing,” you shrug. “Other than watching Santos butcher Alanis Morrissette’s discography at karaoke… Maybe I just slept well.”
“You usually only do that at my place.”
Your brows furrow when he passes the clipboard back to you. “I’m sorry— Are you accusing me of something, Dr. Robby?”
His mouth opens to respond — to tell you that he can smell the foreign body wash on your skin, far muskier than the delicate sweet-vanilla he’s used to. But the automatic doors across the station swish open and shut before he can.
Jack enters with his camo pack slung over his shoulder and brings a cool evening breeze in with him. Robby can’t help but notice how your eyes find each other’s almost instantly, clicking like magnets and lingering together like there’s a secret that only the two of you know about. His stomach swirls with jealousy.
“Look alive, degenerates,” Jack announces in lieu of a greeting, then quiets slightly when he reaches your side. “What’d I miss?”
“I was just briefing Robby on last night at karaoke,” you answer with a polite smile. “And how I will never be able to listen to Alanis Morissette after Santos’ crimes last night—”
“Fuuuck you,” Trinity drags out from the desk beside you, still sluggish from the long day and the hangover that won’t seem to leave her.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Jack quips. “I took an oath as a physician to do no harm.”
You exhale a quiet laugh. The man’s eyes soften around the edges, as though pleased at having earned the sound, before walking off towards the locker room. He leaves a trail of musky cedarwood as he goes, and Robby’s heart drops when he finally places the scent — the one he’s been smelling on you all day.
The realization hit him like a truck.
His expression darkens instantly when he turns back to you.
“Supply closet,” he mutters lowly as he walks past you. “Now.”
Your stomach drops at his tone. He takes all the remaining breath from your lungs with him as he goes. Your chest stings accordingly — with a surge of pride at his jealousy, and with a pang of distant regret at his hurt. You follow behind him down the long hallway to the supply closet like a scolded child. He barely waits for the door to click shut behind him before rounding on you.
“You slept with him?” he shouts, eyes wide and wild.
You cross your arms tight over your chest, with your head tilted inquisitively to your shoulder. “Aren’t you the one who said I could see whoever I want?”
“Yeah, I meant random assholes at the bar,” he snaps. “Not my best fucking friend!”
An incredulous laugh sputters from your lips. “Oh, so now we have rules? What happened to just being casual, huh? If you can flirt with your coworkers, why can’t I?”
Robby’s dark eyes narrow as he takes a slow step towards you. You catch a faint upward flicker of his mouth as he asks, “So that’s why you did it, huh? You just wanted to piss me off?”
Your anger spikes instantly. You feel it prickling red-hot beneath your scrubs. Because he’s an arrogant asshole, maybe, or maybe because a distant part of you knows that he’s right.
“No, actually,” you tell him anyway. “Because not everything’s about you, Robby. I did it because Jack wanted me. Because he didn’t treat me like I was just another one of his dirty secrets—”
“Yeah, alright,” Robby scoffs a breathy laugh and turns away, running a pale hand through his chopped brown hair.
“Because being with him made me feel good—”
“I said alright!”
“Aw, what’s wrong, Robby?” you coo, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Does it bother you that somebody else wanted me?”
Robby exhales another one of his stupid laughs.
Your chest swells with a burning feeling that makes you feel like crying. “Why is it so hard to admit that you care about me?”
“I care about you! Of course, I fucking care about you!” he exclaims, red in the face. “Because I’ve spent months trying not to screw this up.”
“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “Says the man who practically shoved me into someone else’s bed.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Robby squints.
“Do what?”
“Act like this is what I wanted—”
The words die in his throat when the silver knob to the closet door clicks suddenly behind him. The hinges open with a quiet squeak a second later. Your heads whip in sync to find Santos in the threshold, rubbing at her tired eyes as she steps into the room. She doesn’t realize the two of you are in there until the door shuts behind her again.
Her wide eyes dart back and forth between the two of you for a moment. “…Why does it feel like I just walked into a hostage situation?” she quips in a monotone.
“Now you know how I felt last night,” you joke back weakly.
She flips you off and walks further inside. Neither of you says a word as she retrieves a case of saline flushes and four-by-fours from the shelves. The plastic crinkles loudly in the silence.
“Please. Feel free to continue,” Santos deadpans as she leaves. “I definitely won’t be listening with my ear pressed against the door.”
The entrance shuts behind her with a dull click that sounds much louder in the quiet. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Robby pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When he lifts his head against, his eyes zero in on you.
“We’ll finish this when we get home,” he tells you, firmly.
“Can’t tonight,” you shrug, lying through your teeth. “I have plans.”
“Yeah, not anymore, you don’t.”
Your stomach does a back flip at his words, at his very sudden act of dominance that makes you feel like melting into a puddle at his feet. And judging by the newfound glint in Robby’s dark eyes, he notices it, too.
oh to get pulled over for speeding by your husband sammy <3
shrugging your shoulders and forming a wince when you see the officer sammy bryant rolling up to your window. eyes squinted shut a bit at "okaaaay, license and registration."
when he finally gets a good look at you, he's cooing "baby... what the fuck? this is a 30, you were doing 45. what's the rush princess? whatsa matter?"
you're pleased to find out that crying does, indeed, still get you out of a ticket. you're hyperventilating as sammy watches, "shh, shhh okay, okay honey c'mon outta the car."
he opens the door for you, helping you stand up and hugging you, a gentle rock back n forth as he tuts into your hair "gotta be careful baby, you're precious cargo, you know that? huh?" sammy holds you for a few more minutes, big soothing hand running down your back to help even your breaths. you never did like getting in trouble, and it's even worse when you disappoint him.
after a few minutes and a call over the radio, sammy pulls back with thumbs rubbing at your arms. he meets your eye level, putting on that soft dominant voice you love so much, "now get your pretty lil ass back in the car, drive home- slowly now, okay? and go lay down for a little, you're too worked up sweetheart. i'll be home soon, kay? okay baby? alright.. g'head" tapping your butt as you get back in the car, closing the door for you on the way.
when you pull away he smiles at you, making the "i'm watching you" signal with his pointer and middle finger and flashing you his million-dollar, crooked, charming smile.
I just can't stop thinking about Jack(i know daddy)😣 just imagine sucking on his thumb while he fucks into you in mating press. Jack is gonna make sure his cum takes and fills his girl tummy full!!
ohhh my god breeding kink with jack abbot... this got out of hand a little bit 😵💫
jack abbot x controversially young gf!reader.
18+ MDNI | cw: daddy kink, breeding kink, age difference
there aren't many things that jack holds back from his sweet, perfect girl, but he's had the desire to breed you for a few months now, and it might be the hardest thing he's ever had to keep to himself. he just aches to plant a little piece of himself deep inside of you, to claim you in the most primal, possessive way possible.
he doesn't tell you when he starts tracking your cycle. peepaw's not using any of those fancy apps, he keeps a physical, literal calendar that he scribbles notes on. back in his day, that's how a real man took care of his woman— he took the time to memorise her sweet body, to prove he had the necessary devotion to get her pregnant. and that's why jack knows what hormonal phase you're in from how your pussy tastes on his tongue.
so when you find the calendar one night, and ask about why he's so feverishly keeping track of your periods and the flavour of your cunt, he explains it to you as you lay in his lap, voice feather-soft and hypnotic:
"it gets worse as i get older, sweetheart," he whispers, thick fingers drawing circles on your knees. "it gets worse because my body is desperate to spread my seed like any man should at my age. and you, little girl? you're so perfect, so healthy and young that it hurts me to think of your fertile body going to waste..."
he sighs heavily, shaking his head. "the fact that i might not get to see you grow big and round with my baby while i'm here… it feels like a punishment."
so you agree to start trying for a baby with jack, and you just KNOW once you start ovulating, and your cunt's all sweet and creamy, he's not letting you leave the bed until you're full of his cum.
jack's pressing your legs into your chest with all of his weight, pinning your hips down so you have no room to squirm. the softness of his tummy taps against your lower stomach with each thrust.
he groans, looking down at where his cock is disappearing into your wet pussy, pearly slick stringing onto the mattress every time he pulls out: "fuck, look at how good she takes her daddy, she really wants his cum that bad, doesn't she? that is a good fucking girl right there, sweetheart..."
your thighs tremble with the strain of the position, and you whimper, your eyes falling shut. "look at me, baby," his hand brushes your cheek, patting softly to get your attention. and when you turn your head, lips parting to take his calloused thumb between them, your eyes fluttering innocently up at him, he almost blows his load right then.
"... you really are my baby, aren't you? suckin' on daddy's thumb while he's balls deep?" he grunts as his hips speed up, his thumb pressing down harshly against your wet little tongue. "gonna pump my cum right into this pretty, young cunt of yours. fill my baby up with babies, 's what i'm gonna do."
