🥵41 💌 king's jester 👑 guardian of secrets 👹 piracy 🏴☠️ 🚯 blogging from a closet in Mariana Trench 🐔 I just gave up. Self-indulgent fanfic writer, exhausted. There will be porn here. Written porn. Fanfic. Also, weird oppinions.
Ok, I'm doing this now because the more I write, the harder it's gonna be to do it later! XD I have more things on the slab, some great, some silly! <3
Assume everything that I write is impossibly dirty. <3
Alexei Shostakov (Red Guardian) x Reader
The Wolf and The Hare - 1, 2, 3
“I just got out of the shower, I can’t dance. What if my towel falls off?” - Alexei
“How long have you been standing there?” - Alexei
I have a lot of energy! - Alexei
Drunk
Hot
Headcanons:
Naughty Pictures
Romantic Sex
First time and After sex snack
Silly Sex
Santa Claus (Violent Night) x Reader
Come Christmas Morning
Santa has had enough of Christmas
Headcanons:
Birthday sexy
David Harbour Jr. x Reader
It's all very confusing - with David Harbour Jr. Already in progress! - 1
Hopper x Reader
Under the Moonlight
“I’ll give you a massage.” - Hopper
“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.” - Hopper
Come and get your love
Headcanons:
Something they’re shy about asking for and sex that sent you to the ER
First time, after sex snack and Romantic sex
Car sex
Pornstar!JimHopper
Solo
You should mess with Jim - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Mayor Kline x Reader
Headcanons:
Oral
Little dirty headcanons for Mayor Kline
More dirty headcanons for Mayor Kline
Masturbation
making out headcanon
tipsy sex headcanon
so happy you liked my "you're soaked, sweetheart" with robby and jack sexting because i really really loved what you wrote you're feeding me some good stuff here love your writing girrrrl. as a thanks: when you wrote about her inviting robby for her weekend with jack i had a vision!!
robby arriving a bit late at her apartment, but he has a spare key, there's some snacks on the living room and tv still on forgotten, but he can hear her moans and jack grunts. when he enters her bedroom he finds jack fucking her from behind, pounding her ass as she begs for more, while he uses the vibrator on her pussy and clit. "finally, her pussy been waiting for you, man."
🤒 just jack fucking her silly while robby finger her dumbly at the same time until she's a crying mess begging to one of them fill her pussy with a dick
ANON YOU'RE KILLING ME BABE <3
tw(s): mmf threesome, m/m kiss (AND WHAT ABOUT IT??), penetrative sex, female pronouns/anatomy used, butt stuff/anal, double penetration (mentioned), bodily fluids, language, dirty talk, bratty!ready, toys (vibrator) spanking (like 1), you got fuck bad bitches at the same damn time like... they're obsessed with you fr. 18+/mdni. (w/c: 1.1k, my bad)
you can barely breathe. jack’s got himself halfway stuffed into your ass, and your body is releasing more air than it’s taking in.
you’re face down, ass up atop the mattress, clenching jack and the covers as he ruts into you with a bit lip from behind.
“fuck, jack. d-don’t stop. please,” you drool out against the sheets beneath you, and jack’s mouth bends with a slight smirk.
“wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous,” he voices, hands grabbing at your hips with rough palms. his jaw drops a little at the sight of you as he hammers his hips to your’s, much too distracted by the rippling of your ass to notice robby’s and his quirked head at the entrance of the room.
the other man stands frozen, gaze zooming to where you and abbot meet as one. the image flushes his skin with a lingering heat, rattling an echo that shakes all the way down to his cock. robby squirms at the way he starts to chub in his pants, and the floor squeaking under him is what finally gives him away.
flicking his eyes across the room, jack continues his pounding of you with a hello to robby in the form of a jutting chin.
“nice of you to finally join us,” jack winks just as you drag your head from the bed to glance across the room. your eyes twinkle a little when robby’s face melts into a warm grin at you. “pussy’s been waiting on you, man… isn’t that right, baby?”
you nod, completely dazed, with your hands reaching out to call robby further into the room. he floats to you instantly, crawling onto the bed with a grunt to kiss at the lips you pucker his way. pecking you twice, he pulls back to look at the way jack keeps the driving of his cock inside you.
“j, wa–fuck, hold on…”
“thought you didn’t want me to stop?” abbot’s teasing would’ve been funny if you could think straight.
“i-i don’t–it’s just. wanna talk to robby for a sec,” you whine out shakily, but jack doesn’t let up. you groan, throwing your head back face-first into the bed with clenched eyes. robby keeps his giggle silent as he looks over you and abbot, who just grunts through a smirk at your squeeze around him.
“and what am i? chopped liver?”
“jack…”
“fine, doll,” jack huffs a laugh, blowing out a breath as he slows his hips to a smooth stop before popping his cock from your asshole with a hiss. you nearly choke at the sudden emptiness. blinking, you take the second to rub your damp forehead and sniff.
“hi, mikey,” you finally slur out, popping yourself on your elbows with shaky arms while jack rubs smoothing circles at the small of your back.
“hi, sweetheart,” he coos, unable to resist the urge to kiss you again. “you doin’ okay?”
jack snickers behind you, palming at your cheeks with a greedy grab as you answer.
“mmhm… you’re late, though.”
“i know, ‘m sorry,” robby rubs a delicate hand across your cheek. “got caught up with a few charts, but jack’s been takin’ good care of you yeah?”
you bob your head. drunk on robby’s attention and jack’s heat at your rear.
“always. you forgot his kiss, though… and you’re too dressed,” you pout, causing robby to release a deep chuckle.
“oh, did i?”
sure did, jack mumbles from behind you and robby bends his neck to stare at abbot. the two catch eyes as robby rises from the bed, and you make sure to throw a stare over your shoulder to catch the incoming sight.
a toasting feeling settles nicely at the pit of your belly when robby plants a hand at the base of jack’s neck and yank him in close, their tongues and lips tangling in a deep snog. they only pull away when they hear the whimper that tumbles from you, jack’s eyes darkening at the sound.
“see something you like?”
your purposefully slow nod earns you a smack on the ass from jack, and robby’s chest rises with an unexpected breath. the air subsequently traps itself when you flick your eyes to him. he wants to groan when you switch on the puppy dog eyes but doesn’t.
“mikey?”
fuck. he can taste the sweet dripping from your tone, and it nearly buckles his knees. jack just laughs at the expression on his face, already knowing that the man was going to break…
aaaand it takes a measly six minutes for jack to be proven right because… he’s always right.
sitting at the head of your bed now, jacks holds your arms tight while you thrash with your back at his chest.
it’s taking everything in him not to grunt any louder than he already is with the way your ass is squeezed back around him–even tighter than before despite the fact that robby pulled the vibrator away already. jack can’t blame you, however, as robby’s switched to slurping a mess at your slit with a tongue that all three of you know he’s a master of working.
you whine and cry through your parted legs and helpless squirm, begging for the men to finally fill the hole that’s been leaking since jack kissed you at the beginning of the evening with a wine-flavored tongue.
“please, mikey,” you plead, eyes rolling at just how full your ass feels with jack’s thickness pulsing inside. “want you inside me, too. wanna feel both of you so bad.”
jack holds your chin, tracing a thumb across the skin as robby flicks his tongue from you with a throat-bobbling swallow. licking his lips, his beard shines slick with your juices as he gazes at you through his.
“want your pussy nice and full, too? hm?”
uh, yeah. yes, what are they not getting? robby pairs the inquiry with a harsh rub to your clit after you sob out a teary yes. he holds you open when your legs try to clench, planting one last dip of his tongue inside your slit before raising to palm at his hard cock. he jerks himself, only sliding the tip inside you before pulling away with a quick look at abbot.
“gotta stretch you first a little, baby,” jack murmurs in your ear, allowing you to sag against him in an understandable sulk. the tiny but ‘m already ready from you makes no difference, and robby’s words hit you with resonance due to the two fingers he slips inside you while speaking.
“that’s what you said last time, angel, ended up having to call off from a shift last time you took both of us, remember?”
“well, it’s not my fault your dicks are so big…”
your sass is immediately met with a subtle shuffle of jack, and you wail at how his cock shifts inside you. robby flicks his stare from the way you pussy devours his fingers to your face, his eyebrows raised and voice raspy in a knowing warning.
“keep it up and you’ll make him make me just finish you off that vibrator over there…”
pairing – dr. michael “robby” robinavitch x f!reader x dr. jack abbot; rabbot x reader
status: completed
rating: e (explicit)
summary: you hate conventions. you hate how stuffy they feel and the stuck up doctors you have to deal with. little did you know how this one would change your life.
warnings: fluff and smut. most chapters contain smut and each one is labelled with their own warnings.
she/her pronouns and afab!reader. the girl used in the series moodboard are not face claims for reader, they are how i imagine them while i write, but there’s no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity. all lowercase for styling purposes.
main story
⚜️ one shot*
companion pieces
⚜️ consider pittsburgh (part of the 500 followers celebration)
⚜️ give a little bit* (part of the domaystic 2026 event)
* smut found in chapter.
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated. dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/ethereal-illusions
pairing – dr. jack abbot x dermatology fellow!f reader x dr. michael robinavitch; rabbot x dermatology fellow!f reader
rating – explicit. minors dni
wc – 639
summary – after a few months of you moving to pittsburgh for your dermatology fellowship and moving in with jack and robby, you finally meet the infamous park the shark. the only problem is that your impressions of him come out at the worst time.
warnings – smut. p in v and use of sex toys. rabbot is a jealous pair and a very condescending one. this is set on the give something new a try universe, but you don’t have to read the main fic to read this one.
afab!reader. no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity. all lowercase for styling purposes.
a/n – i saw sharing and had to make it rabbot. i’m sorry (no, i am not).
dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/angeliicide
your cheek is pressed against the soft cotton sheets, ass up in the air, propped up by two pillows as jack plows you from behind. the tip of his cock is hitting that spot that makes you dumb incessantly, and, without thinking, you blurt out “he’s hot.”
“who’s hot?” jack asks, his voice equal parts breathless from strenuous activities and amusement.
“p-park.”
jack’s movements halt with one hard thrust that makes you whine and your knees buckle. he tightens the grip he has on your crossed wrists.
brendon park. park the shark. the ever so serious orthopaedics attending that you had the pleasure of meeting earlier today.
dermatology and orthopaedics rarely, if ever, cross paths, but something had aligned in the sky today and you and park were both called for consultations; him for three severed fingers and you for a skin tag that looked a lot like skin cancer, and robby finally introduced you two.
park’s reputation of being closed off and snarky preceded him. he wasn’t rude to you or anything like that, in fact, santos said she never saw him smile at someone like he did with you. but you did get a taste of his personality when poor whitaker asked him if it would take too long to get the patient to the OR.
“are you fucking serious?” jack asks and punctuates the question with a single hard thrust that makes you see stars.
“what is it?” you hear robby ask as he makes his way back from the bathroom in all his naked glory. he had just given you your first three orgasms of the night. robby grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge you have in your bedroom, looking at jack, who scoffs, as he waits for an answer.
“i’m balls deep inside of her and she tells me that park the shark is hot.”
jack and robby exchanges a look and your giggles turn into a stretched out moan when jack starts to relentlessly pound your pussy again.
“you know, jack and i don’t like sharing, honey.” robby says, voice too sweetly, clearly mocking you. “i know jack and i are a little older, but aren’t we enough for you?”
“you a–are.” your voice falters and another almost painful whine leaves your lips when you see robby grab the satisfyer.
robby sits against the headboard, turning the toy on as jack pulls you flush to his chest, holding you tight against him so he can move your body with his. he sets you down again, position similar to the one he had you before, except this time, you lay your head against robby’s hairy, soft tummy, close to his limp dick.
so close that you give it a temptive lick. robby gives your ass a slap for that, and it burns immediately.
“flattery won’t get you anywhere, honey.” he fumbles with satisfyer, looking for his favourite setting before putting the toy against your clit at the same time jack starts pounding into you again. “now tell me, do you want park to fuck you?”
“n–no.”
“do you want us to share you with the shark?” jack asks.
“n–no! fuck!” robby amps the toy speed and you lost track of what you were saying. “i w–want to be y–yours only!”
“she’s squeezing me so hard, mikey.”
“yeah?” robby asks jack and turns to you. “your pussy only weeps for us, huh?” he pets your head.
“mhm.” you are so blissed out that you can only nod.
“tsk, i don’t know if i believe you.” robby counters, setting the toy’s speed higher again.
your legs starts to shake and your orgasm hit without a warning. jack and robby don’t stop what they are doing, riding your orgasm out for you, and you know it is going to be one of those nights.
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated.
jack and robby work best when they share a common goal (you)
18+, softdoms! rabbot x fem reader, car sex, threesome, mutual pining, creampie, bjs
it starts in the ED as a feeling they can’t quite place. near-silent quips to each other in passing about what a smart girl you are. that amused look they share every time the words “yes sir” tumble out of your mouth when you’re given an order. how quick you are to flash them that pretty smile when the tell you what a great job you’ve done.
things get a bit more serious the night you're placed on the swing-shift. you spend the afternoon by robby's side, rolling with the punches while the worst of the day's rush takes a toll on the both of you. you make sure to check in with him in between patients, cracking jokes that make the wrinkles near his eyes chub up and his chest feel warm for the first time in many, many years.
when the sun finally sets, and it's time to hand off to the night shift team, robby leaves you in jack's capable hands and sends you off with a pat to the shoulder that feels far too tender to be friendly. you preen under his touch, welcoming jack in with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and a look that has no business being in a hospital.
the two men share a glance for a brief moment. a quick lock of the eyes, subtle enough to go unnoticed by you but pointed enough that the question they're both asking themselves rings clear as day.
were you as interested in them as they are in you?
they take their time with you, really work you up to the both of them in the subtlest way. first it’s jack’s hand to the small of your back every time he squeezes by you. a soft “s’cuse me sweetheart” uttered under his breath. later, it’s the way robby treats you in the break room. casual, domineering flicks of his head towards the empty seat he saved just for you. hushed jokes how a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to be on her feet for this long. the whole nine yards.
they’re about 90% sure you’ll say yes the night they ask you to join them for dinner, and luckily enough, you do. letting them lead you out into the parking lot and into the back of jack’s truck with a shy laugh and enough heat in your stomach to send the three of you to the burn unit. you make it into the restaurant already feeling giggly, seated between the both of them while they dote on you with their words.
“good shift back there kid, you tryna impress us?” jack laughs, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.
“doesn’t even need her attendings, she’s running that place all by herself.” robby jokes, arms crossed in front of him as he sizes up the way you melt into jack's side.
the next hour are so are a blur, but what you do know is your heart is just about ready to explode by the time robby slides into you in the back seat of the truck, red in the face with his pants bunched around his ankles.
you're laid across both their laps like a throw blanket, head cushioned by jack's thighs with your lower half draped over robby's. he takes his time easing into you, a hand keeping both your knees together and your legs over his shoulder as he fucks you down into the leather seats.
“fuck, grab her head. there we go.” robby instructs, pumping into you with a fevour only you can bring out of him. his soft palms send heat radiating up both of your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he can't believe he's actually touching you.
jack isn't faring any better, squeezed into the seat next to you with his head ducked slightly, letting you suckle on the head of his cock like his life depends on it.
“give me some love, baby.” he instructs, brushing your hair out of your eyes with a gentle hand. jack eases as much of himself as he can into your sloppy mouth, fucking himself against the warm curve of your tongue with a hand cradling the back of your head.
you let them have their way with you, revealing in the attention they're both so willing to give. you're not sure who's where at a certain point, you feeling too many hands in too many places. fine fingers to the swell of your neck, squeezing softly. another five keeping one of your legs to the side and your pussy on full display.
the two men work in tandem to flip, pin, and hold you the way that they like, keeping both of your ends stuffed and the three of your happy. their voices keep you grounded through all of it. even as the weight of one-too-many orgasms overtakes you, and your vision starts to get fuzzy around the edges.
"yeah? gonna make us both feel nice?." jack whispers, like the title is a secret only the two of you are in on.
robby makes a sound deep in his chest, leaning forward until your glassy eyes meet his. you're so wet that you can't even tell how far inside of you he is until his sac kisses your sticky folds. the incessant pap-pap-pap drowning out whatever sweet-nothings jack is currently whispering in your ear.
"real pretty girl, isn't she?" robby mutters, taking in every centimeter of your fucked out expression. jack hums along, stroking a thumb over the spot where his cock juts out against the inside of your cheek.
you love this far too much to feel normal about it. the way they talk about you like you aren't there, how casually they're able to pull orgasms out of you in the back seat like it's the most normal thing in the world.
"fuck, look at her' face mike." jack breathes, withdrawing from your spit-slick lips with a laugh.
you're not sure what you look like right now. ruined, undoubtedly, but whatever else you're doing must drive them both crazy because soon enough, robby's letting his head hang with a devastated groan.
"keep looking at me like that and I'm cumming inside" he warns. jack takes the time to stick his thumb between your parted lips, instructing you to 'get it real wet' while he strokes himself with his free hand.
"would you like that, honey?" he whispers, nodding in robby's direction with a knowing smile.
you mumble the best "yes" you can give them around the digit in your mouth, peering up at jack with the sweetest look you can manage.
"yeah? you heard her, c'mon brother." jack says, withdrawing his hand from your mouth to rub his glossy thumb against your clit. if you weren't close before, you definitely are now.
robby kisses his way up your stomach, giving you a handful of deep strokes before filling you up with a string of expletives. jack follows suit, coating his own knuckles with a thumb to your clit and his bottom lip pinned by his own teeth.
"there we go." robby coos. "yeah? how's his load taste honey?"
you preen at the nickname, basking in the haze of your own high. you don't even realize the've redressed you until jack slides out from under you and into the drivers seat, softening cock pressing an obvious tent against the thin fabric of his bottoms. robby stays behind and lets you lay your head on his thighs, mumbling something sweet only you can hear.
"let's get you home. alright?" jack reassures you from the front of the truck, reaching back to pat you gently.
"might let you fuck us again if you work hard enough tomorrow." robby adds.
part one | part two | part three | part four | masterlist | ao3
michael robinavitch x reader
summary: You're Robby's favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn't hesitate to offer you up. But after you admit to your mistake, you're not entirely sure where you stand with the attending.
|| smut MDNI 18+, please read all kink tags thoroughly, angst, free use kink, upset!robby, injury to reader (minimal), medical jargon, hurt/delayed comfort, possessive behavior, heavy dom & sub dynamics!!!!, if u r not a freak like me do not read, bdsm themes, dom!robby, sub!reader, cuckholding, breath play, bicep choking (light), dirty talk, praise kink, m!receiving oral, sloppy oral, f!recieving oral, dom sub negotiations, obedience, sub space & some intense subspace moments, anal, orgasm denial, edging, aftercare, lifestyle dom/sub dynamic, sugarbaby!reader briefly mentioned, RACK compliant, pet names like honey / sweetheart / baby / pretty girl, one tiny moment of spanking, no use of y/n, descriptions of clothes but no physical descriptions of reader except for enough hair to put up / braid / grab, robby is still a cuck, he also sucks at communicating (canon), I do not condone this dynamic unless spoken between two respectful consenting partners ||
a/n: the crazy thing is im not even that into robby. but this... this was a fun one. links in tags are for info
The closer 7PM rolled around, the more you could barely keep yourself still.
You tried that yoga routine you'd wanted to try a hundred times, but kept missing whatever the instructor was saying. You tried reading but couldn't make any of the words stick to your brain, reading the same sentences three times over before putting it down on the coffee table. You made yourself some tea, took a shower—your everything shower—your entire skin care routine, and did a hair mask. Nothing could keep your mind from running through the guiltiest thoughts, how Robby might react when he got back from the hospital. You couldn't even keep dinner down. The leftovers sat mostly untouched in the bowl beside you, the sauce going cold while the clock on the stove clicked closer and closer toward shift change.
At 7:45PM, the front door opened.
You'd heard his long, tired sigh before you saw him, and placed yourself casually on the couch, flipping a page in the same book you'd barely absorbed earlier that day, legs tucked beneath you.
Robby appeared in the archway a second later, shrugging his backpack off onto the upholstered bench by the door before toeing off his shoes. He peeled the navy Figs top over his head as he walked, leaving himself in his gray long sleeve and those cargo pants he always wore to work. He looked exhausted.
He didn't say anything when he came over to the couch. He just dropped down beside you and pulled you into him immediately, one arm wrapping around your waist before he buried his face against your shoulder and let out another long exhale.
"Hey," you said softly, arms sliding around his shoulders as you leaned into him automatically. You kissed his temple. His hand tightened on you a little before tugging you over fully into his lap.
The position had the nerves in your stomach fluttering, remembering this exact seating in a Ford F-150 less than twelve hours ago.
Your hands moved to Robby’s face, thumbs brushing along his scruffy jaw as you looked down at him. He looked so tired that for a second you considered waiting until tomorrow. Maybe you'd let him shower or eat first. Get a good nights sleep first. But you promised, and you also just knew better.
"Michael…" you whispered, "I have to tell you something."
"So it's Michael today, hm?" he murmured, tilting his head up to kiss you gently on the mouth. One hand moved up your back slowly, resting there.
You sighed into his gentle kiss, hoping to god it wasn't your last. When you pulled away, about to bring your hands off his neck, his own hands reached up quickly, catching your wrists before you could get too far. He held them against his chest, brows pulling together immediately.
"What is it?" he asked very seriously. His brown eyes were fully focused on you now, all the exhaustion from a second ago suddenly honed onto your face, his hands warm around the boney joints of your wrists.
"I—" you started, and then stopped, pushing your lips together, thinking of the right words. "I got a ride home from Jack today…and…we…"
His head flinched back, blinking quickly like his brain was filling in the rest before you could even finish the confession.
"You and Jack what?" he asked, but there was already a steady drip of venom in the words. His jaw clenched hard beneath the beard, mouth pulling tight under his mustache as he stared up at you. You could practically see him piecing it together already, his eyes flicking over your face waiting for you to deny whatever conclusion he'd jumped to.
"I'm sorry, Michael." you said, clenching your fists uselessly, "we were just talking—and then—he kissed me and we—" you shut your eyes tightly, "I slept with him."
Robby slowly released your wrists from his hold, and your hands felt cold from the sudden loss of his touch. He leaned his head back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Your hands went to his shoulders, pawing at him, fisting the gray undershirt in your fingers.
"I'm sorry—" you pleaded again, hearing your voice start to shake. "I'm so sorry, I should've asked you, I know but—"
He sat up suddenly, forcing you off his lap in the process. The movement wasn't rough exactly, but there was nothing gentle in it either. Barely any touch at all.
Then he stood, and started pacing the room.
You watched him walk past the coffee table, one hand dragging over his mouth, then the back of his neck, then down to his hip before he turned again. His socks made almost no sound against the hardwood, the TV reflecting every move faintly across the dark windows behind him. He paced around in front of you for a few minutes. You felt helpless, just watching, waiting.
"Michael—"
He shook his head, lifting his finger to silence you, eyes squeezing shut as he kept walking around.
He came to an abrupt halt, finally turning toward you. His hands came together in front of his mouth almost like he was praying, thumbs pressed hard against his lips before he dragged them downward and pointed them vaguely in your direction, like he was trying to force words out in the correct order and couldn't manage it.
"What exactly did you think was gonna happen here?" he asked.
"I—I don't know." you answered honestly, "I thought he was just going to take me home, and then he started talking about the arrangement, why he never gave in and then, it was just a fucking mess and—god, Michael, I'm so—"
"So you fucked him? He started saying sweet words and you slept with him? Where?"
You swallowed dryly. "It wasn't like that—"
"Where?" he snapped.
"Parking lot."
His eyes crinkled in a sort of sarcastic smile as he nodded, bringing his hands up to his face to drag down, sucking in a deep breath.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. "Jack."
"I didn't mean for it to happen."
"Not really the point," he snapped.
You flinched at the tone.
He noticed immediately too. You saw it in the way his eyes squeezed shut for a second before he brought his hands to his neck, pulling at his shoulders before dropping them again—restless, agitated.
"Look at me and tell me honestly you thought this was okay."
You opened your mouth, then closed it again.
Robby gave another short nod to himself, humorless. "Yeah."
"I know I crossed a line, and I'm so—"
"A line?" he repeated, finally looking at you fully now. "Honey, this whole thing only works because there are lines. Rules! Trust!"
You could tell he was trying very hard not to let his voice rise in octave, a sharpness to it, a forced quiet.
"I let a lot slide. Probably too much lately." He pointed vaguely toward you, frustrated. "Flirting, teasing, picking favorites. But this arrangement works because I know what's going on. I know who's touching you. I know you're safe. I know nobody's getting weird ideas in their fucking heads."
"He doesn't have weird ideas—"
"How the hell would you know?" he shot back immediately. "You think I haven't watched people in that department getting a little too attached lately?"
Robby laughed once through his nose and shook his head, walking again. "And him. Of all people."
"He was upset."
"Oh, don't do that." Robby pointed at you sharply. "Do not start defending Jack Abbot to me right now, because I swear to god that is gonna make this so much worse."
You looked down at your hands instantly. He stood there staring at you for a long second before speaking again, quieter this time.
"You know what the really shitty part is?" he asked, voice threaded with anguish and almost humor, as if it was laughable. "I came home just wanting you. That's it. Whole fucking day went to hell, a patient died on me because I didn't insist on getting her checked while her husband coded. We had more West Bridge reroutes, one of my interns passed out during a trauma, and all I wanted was to come home and hold onto you for five goddamn minutes, even after the conversation this morning."
Your eyes burned immediately.
"And instead I walk in here and find out you've been sneaking around behind my back."
"Michael—"
"Enough." His jaw tightened again. He looked at you then, tired more than angry now, which somehow hurt worse.
"You are the one good thing I had," he said plainly. "And now I just… how am I supposed to trust you?"
Your tears had begun to fall in earnest streaks down your face now, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
He sighed, shaking his head, before turning away.
And one word rang in your head as the bedroom door slammed shut.
Had.
You were the one good thing he had.
The rest of the night, the following days… were some of your worst in a very long time.
Robby hadn't said much to you at all, his silence unbearable. That night, after the argument, he just said he needed some time to think, and the following days only gave you more time to think too. More time for your brain to chew itself apart.
He even started picking up extra shifts at the hospital, offering to take some of Al-Hashimi's workload, which left you alone in the house most of the time. You didn't go out much either. Part of it was because you barely wanted to be seen. Another part was because every dollar spent felt wrong now. It was Robby's money. Robby's house. Robby's groceries in the fridge. Robby's money that bought the expensive shampoo in the shower that needed a refill.
You felt awful— guilty. You didn't know what to do. You felt like you'd ruined something so good. Something built on the things you'd broken. Trust, understanding, connection. You didn't know what Robby was going to say, if he'd ever say anything, if things would ever go back to normal. If you'd have to move out and find somewhere to live, a job, make new friends. It was so overwhelming.
Your brain just wouldn't stop running.
You'd sit on the couch with an untouched coffee in your hands, staring through the sliding glass doors into the backyard while the steam slowly disappeared from the mug. The TV would be on and you wouldn't realize three episodes had passed because your mind had wandered somewhere else entirely. You'd wonder where you'd even put your clothes if he told you to leave. Whether you'd need boxes. Whether you still had your old suitcase somewhere. You'd wonder if you'd have to call somebody and then remember there really wasn't anybody to call.
Sometimes you thought about what Jack was up to. If maybe you should call him. But you also knew better. You wondered what it was like when the two of them saw each other when the shifts changed at the start and end of the day. Jack was one of Robby's closest people. He often said he didn't have friends, but that was a lie. Because Jack was one of his best friends. And you'd probably ruined that for him.
One morning a week later, you woke up to an empty bed again, and stared at the ceiling for an hour.
Your eyes burned as you thought about what your life had turned into. You'd woven it into Robby's in ways you hadn't even realized until he wasn't here. You used to walk into the kitchen and find him drinking his black coffee out of his I ❤️ Pittsburgh mug, hair a mess and plaid boxers askew as he read the morning paper. And now you'd wake up and reach your hand over the mattress, searching for his warmth before remembering he was sleeping in the guest room. You'd find yourself wanting to text him a funny part of the show you'd been binging, thinking he'd like it, wanting to save an episode til he got home, before remembering he probably didn't want to hear from you.
It hurt so badly.
Robby usually made things feel quieter in your head when things were hard. You never had to wonder where you stood with him before this. You never had to question if he wanted you. And when you weren't sure about something, he'd be there. He'd tell you where to sit for your evening binge of The Office, tell you what to add to the Instacart order while you sat beside him scrolling through recipes for the week, his hand rubbing slow circles against your thigh. Always soothing and sweet.
Half the time you didn't even realize there was anything other than this. You and him. How he was your assurance, your guide. How he knew what you needed even if you didn't. You remembered when he'd wander into the kitchen while you cooked and steal bites from the cutting board before nudging your hip with his and pointing toward the island stools because he'd already decided you'd done enough for the night. He'd slide a glass of water beside you because he'd noticed you hadn't touched yours in hours. He'd hand you one of his coziest, old collegiate sweatshirts before you even registered you were cold. He'd pull you into his lap when your leg started bouncing too much, fingers threading through your hair while he read over charts in the evenings, kissing the top of your head absentmindedly.
Tiny things that built and built until they became routine, until they became normal, until they settled into every corner of your life so completely that you'd stopped noticing them one by one.
And he wasn't even your boyfriend.
You needed to get out of bed. You needed to do something with yourself. All this moping, waiting, hoping, crying— it was getting to be too much. You were a grown fucking woman, after all. You'd made a mistake. You needed to get yourself together.
Because this was getting ridiculous.
You'd spent the last week moving between the bed and the couch and the kitchen and then back again, carrying your sadness around the house so much your body felt sluggish now. Heavy. Your eyes still had that swollen feeling from crying too much, your head dull from sleeping at weird hours and barely eating enough to count as meals.
You sat up and shoved the duvet off of yourself.
Pulling open your dresser and digging out some workout clothes, you threw on your cutest set. One you knew you'd feel good in. Or at least one you'd bought because Robby said you looked good in it and right now that felt close enough. You went into the bathroom, did your skincare, tied your hair back, brushed concealer beneath your eyes because you were tired of looking sad every time you caught yourself in the mirror. You threw on mascara, tinted lip balm, brushed your ornery eyebrows as best you could before heading back into the bedroom.
Looking around, you finally saw it all for what it was.
The water glass still sitting on the nightstand from three nights ago. One of Robby's sweatshirts hanging half off the dresser chair. Clothes piled on the floor. Moisturizer and makeup sitting open on the bedside table with a pile of tissues. The duvet was twisted up from days of crawling back into bed halfway through the afternoon.
You stared for a few seconds, and then turned and grabbed the hamper.
You pulled the sheets off and wrestled the duvet cover from the insert, getting tangled in the stupid thing halfway through and swearing under your breath before finally shoving it all into the washer. Then you got out your basket of cleaning supplies and kept going.
You swept. Scrubbed. Wiped down counters. Lit one of the candles sitting forgotten in the cabinet beneath the sink. You cleaned every inch of the apartment for the next few hours, your playlist blasting from your phone as you moved from room to room. The smell of lemon cleaner and laundry detergent slowly replaced the stale, shut in feeling that had settled over everything this past week.
And it helped.
A lot, actually.
For the first time in days your brain wasn't sprinting ahead of you. It only cared about what was directly in front of you: fold this towel, wipe down this counter, put this away. It felt like one of those corny montages in a movie where the girl finally gets her shit together.
Once the bedroom was looking refreshed with clean sheets and the comforter pulled smooth across the mattress, you blew out the candle you'd lit and headed out of the apartment.
And started to run.
Your lungs were burning by the time you'd made it a few blocks from the house.
God, it had been a while.
Not just the last week while you'd spent your time curled up on couches and under blankets feeling sorry for yourself. A long while. Before the accident, probably. Before your ex had started making little comments like: You really wear that out for a jog? Don't you think those shorts are a little much? You like people looking at you or something? Which then turned into him not wanting you to run at all.
Funny how things happened like that, how things changed so slowly you barely noticed them happening at all. Funny how easy it was to change yourself little by little until you looked up one day and realized you'd stopped doing things you used to love.
Robby had been the opposite.
Hell, the set you had on right now had been his choice. The memory flooded your minds' eye, of you standing in front of one of those giant Lululemon mirrors when he'd taken you shopping for a weekend away. You remembered tugging at the waistband and shifting your weight from foot to foot while you stared at yourself a little too hard. You remembered pulling lightly at the sports bra, uncertain about the way it sat against your chest, turning sideways and then back again.
Robby had been sitting outside the fitting room on one of those little upholstered benches, his arm extended across the back. He'd looked so pleased with himself as you walked out. Blushing and eyes alight with mirth. You missed that look on his face, it made you realize as your chest pulled tight. The way he'd look at you like that, all warm and entertained, like he'd stumbled into something good and still couldn't quite believe it was his. How he'd made you put on a fashion show in the hotel room when you'd gotten back of all the things he'd gotten you that day. The bliss of when all clothes were forgotten for the hours that followed.
Your sneakers slapped the pavement of the sidewalk while the late morning air filled your chest and scraped your throat. Your old running playlist that you never deleted blasted in your ears, the sky a pretty clear blue. Everything was so pretty today, even if you didn't feel the same. You looked around at the tall buildings reflecting the light of the sun, people bustling around on their lunch break, the world moving even if you felt like you'd been motionless for days.
You slowed a little as you approached the crosswalk ahead, coming to a stop at the corner and pressing the little crossing button with the heel of your hand. Your chest rose and fell hard now, sweat gathering beneath the band of your sports bra and sliding slowly down your spine.
You suddenly felt your phone vibrate in a quick, succinct alert in the waistband of your bottoms. With two fingers, you slid it from between your skin and the fabric, pulling it up to your face. You had to lift your other hand to shield the screen from the glare blinding your view.
Your stomach dropped. A text message appeared on your lock screen.
Jack Abbot: I think we should talk.
The little speaker beside you crackled to life. "Grant Street. Walk sign is on to cross Grant Street."
You barely heard it.
You didn't look up from your phone, staring at the text.
What the fuck was he thinking?
Your eyes stayed locked on the message while your brain immediately started spiraling ahead of you again, filling in spaces that didn't have answers yet. Had he talked to Robby? Did something happen?
You stepped out into the street to cross, and heard someone shout behind you through the muffle of your music in your ears. At first, you hardly registered it, filing it away as background noise of the city, until they were really shouting louder, close behind you.
"Watch out!"
Your head jerked up, and for a split second you didn't fully understand what you were looking at, but as you turned to the left, your eyes widened.
A bicyclist was coming straight toward you, moving fast enough that you could hear the tires humming against the pavement. His eyes had gone wide beneath his helmet, panic written all over his face as his hands yanked hard at the handlebars, trying to turn away from you.
Trying and…failing.
Because before you could react, the front tire slammed into your leg with enough force to knock your balance off its axis, something hard—a handlebar—driving sharply into your side and stealing the air from your lungs. Your phone went flying out of your hand as you fell, stomach lurching into your throat.
The sky tilted, world spinning as concrete rushed to meet you.
Fuck, that hurt.
You heard yourself groaning somewhere through the ringing in your ears while the world slowly blinked back into focus, sunlight too bright when your eyes finally cracked open. Your cheek was pressed against rough pavement, tiny grains digging into your skin.
As you brought your hand up to the bump forming on your head, you saw bright red staining your fingertips.
"Miss, are you okay?"
"What?" you murmured thickly.
You blinked hard and looked up. It was a man standing over you in a suit and tie, young, slicked back hair and clean shaved face, his brows pinched together while he crouched beside you.
"Let me take you to the emergency room, we're very close—"
"No—no, I'm fine!" you nearly shouted, syllables jumbling and coming out too fast as his words finally reached you.
But the second you tried sitting up, pain shot through your head so hard your face twisted and you sucked in a breath.
Hands were suddenly under your arms.
"Easy," the man said. "Easy."
Another pedestrian had come over now too, helping pull you up carefully while your feet tried finding solid ground beneath you.
Everything around you felt too loud. You could hear the bicyclist cursing somewhere nearby, people talking over one another, tires hissing over pavement, a car horn farther down the street. The bike itself sat twisted awkwardly near the curb.
As things slowly came back to you, you remembered his face right before impact, eyes wide beneath his helmet. Now he just looked furious. His arms were thrown out while he pointed at somebody nearby, shouting over everyone else.
Your head was splitting.
And suddenly you realized you were being walked quickly down the block by two sets of worried hands, the red Emergency Room looming ahead.
Oh, fuck.
"Promise you won't tell him?" you pleaded, gaze boring into Samira's brown worried eyes.
She was perched on the rolling stool beside you, one foot hooked around its base, hands folded loosely in her lap. The curtain of the triage bay swayed faintly in the draft of someone rushing past outside. Voices overlapped in the hallway: patients, doctors, Lupe's voice on the loudspeaker in the waiting room.
She frowned, clearly debating it over in her head, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, okay. Okay."
She looked over her shoulder toward Santos at the computer as she typed into your chart. Something passed silently between them before she turned back to you.
She slipped back into doctor mode while pulling gloves on. "Let's get neuro checks going. Did you black out at all?"
You frowned.
"I...don't know." you said, memory a little cloudy. "I think so?"
“Okay.” Samira nodded once, calm and focused, her penlight flicking briefly across your pupils again before she instructed you to follow her finger. “Any nausea? Neck pain? Dizziness?”
You shook your head slowly, though even that made your skull ache a little.
“And we’re gonna get a CT just to rule out any bleeding,” she continued. “Probably draw some blood too.”
"Woa, Samira—" your stomach twisted instantly. "I don't need all that, if I go back there he's gonna see I'm here—"
Around your finger, the pulse ox clipped tighter every time your heart rate climbed, the monitor beside you already chirping intermittently over nothing more than nerves. Leads had been stuck to your chest at some point while you'd still been dazed on the way in, wires trailing down beneath the thin blanket over your lap. The whole thing felt wildly overblown now that you were sitting upright in a bed.
Samira's expression softened as she leaned forward. "We'll keep you hidden," she said softly before looking over at Santos again, knowingly. The resident nodded back, and quietly went out into the hall.
Samira rolled the stool closer, sneakers squeaking faintly against the tile. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"
You actually didn't.
Your eyes dropped to your hands instead, fingers picking at the edge of the thin hospital blanket spread over your lap. You tried figuring out how to phrase it right, how to explain something so humiliating without sounding ridiculous. Spoiled. Childish. You felt like a little like the dog that bit the hand feeding it.
"He and I are just..." You swallowed. "Having some issues."
Samira's brows pulled together slightly. Her warm brown eyes studied you intently, flickering over your expression that you tried to keep hidden.
"I was..." your voice got smaller, "I was bad."
"Bad?" she echoed carefully.
You shook your head a little, frustrated with yourself already. "No, I just—I did something stupid and now things are weird and—"
The curtain suddenly got yanked open so hard the metal rings shrieked across the track.
Dana stood there holding it wide, chest rising fast like she’d run the whole way from the desk. Behind her, Robby barreled in so quickly he nearly clipped the stainless steel side tray with his hip, already yanking the stethoscope from around his neck as he moved toward you.
"What happened?" he demanded immediately.
"I'm fine—"
"What happened?" he repeated sharply, already reaching for your face. Dana stayed at the mouth of the curtain, a flat look of disappointment written across her features. You knew she was biting her tongue from chirping Thought you could hide or somethin' angel?
"Head strike from bicycle versus pedestrian. Witness said she didn't get up right away." Samira reported, looking at Robby. "CT head's already ordered. Neuro checks too."
"Jesus." He breathed as his hand brushed carefully through your hair near the tender spot along your hairline, fingertips searching around the injury.
"Deep breath for me, honey." he said.
You did, heart skipping at the pet name but as soon as you felt the glimmer of hope, it was wiped away when pain shot through your side, making your face twist in a grimace.
"Okay." His eyes closed briefly. "Okay. Let's add a rib series too."
You felt sick suddenly. Not physically sick—though your stomach was still flipping on itself, your head still throbbed…but…you felt sick like that thick, churning guilt that had been with you all week.
Because he looked so scared.
There were still faint marks pressed into the bridge of his nose from his glasses. His dark hair was flattened in strange directions, probably from one of the scrub caps used in surgical procedures. He smelled like coffee and hospital sanitizer and the stale air of the ED, like he'd probably barely sat down all day before getting called in here to deal with you too.
Samira squeezed your knee once before backing toward the computer. "I'll be back."
Dana gave you one more long look before following her out, and the curtain fell shut again.
The bay got quieter after that. Not quite silent, it was never truly silent in the emergency department.
Robby was still staring at your face, and you realized he had put his gloved hand on yours where it rested on the bed.
You'd missed the simple touch of his hands. When one would rest at the back of your neck steering you through crowded hallways, or when his fingers tapped absentmindedly against your thigh during movies, the way his hand would slip beneath your shirt when he was feeling cheeky. You missed finding him within the walls of this hospital, the strange comfort of him existing in an entirely different world when you came into the orbit of the ED. The way you could pull him out of the darkness for a while.
"I'm sorry," you whispered finally.
His eyes flicked to yours immediately.
"What?"
Your throat burned. Like you'd swallowed a hot coal down it, tightening around the lump. "I'm sorry," you repeated, pulling your hand away and twisting it into the other in your lap now. "I didn't mean to come here and make things worse and I know you're busy and after everything already I just—"
Robby's hands wrapped around yours once again, "Don't be sorry, honey."
You looked up at him, blinking a little, "You're not mad?"
"About you getting hit by a bicycle?" he said, huffing a little disbelieving breath, "Why would I be? I just care that you're safe."
Your chin began to wobble in earnest.
"Oh, honey—"
"I thought you hated me now."
"Honey—"
You couldn't help the wracking sob that came from your chest, his hand reaching for yours again even when you tried to pull away, but he held fast. Your face dropped, chin ducking until it almost hit your chest.
Finally he let go of your hand only to wrap his arms around you, kissing the side of your neck as he held you close, "Why would you ever think that?" he whispered into your hair.
"I was bad. We haven't spoken in days."
It felt so childish, so stupid when you said it. Especially when it came out like that—weak, wobbly and wet with tears.
He pulled away just to look at you.
"You are not a bad person, honey," he murmured softly. "You maybe behaved badly, but that does not make you bad. I'm sorry I haven't been very good at this either." He lifted his hand, and you leaned into it as it cupped your face, brushing beneath your eyes and collecting a tear there before it could run. "Hey, listen to me."
He lifted your face, making you look at him straight on. Your face felt hot and swollen, cheeks wet with streaks. You sniffled as you looked at him now. His eyes were so kind, so worried and sweet. You felt like you didn't deserve any of it.
"You are my best girl, I will never ever think you are a bad person." he said. "Things got confusing, and I've been… avoiding it, avoiding you...and I'm sorry."
Your hands reached for him automatically then, gathering the black sleeve beneath his scrubs in your fists and holding on. You'd spent days sleeping without him, sitting across rooms from him, pretending not to notice every place where he wasn't anymore, and now that he was here your body seemed to remember him before your brain did.
"How is your head, honey?" he asked, tilting his own while he looked at you.
"Hurts." you whined a little, your voice meek and small.
"Yeah?" it came out hoarse and sweet, and so gentle. You'd heard his voice go soft like that before, late at night with his mouth close to your ear, and the memory flushed through you for a second before disappearing again beneath the throbbing ache in your skull and the warmth of his hands still holding your face.
He moved to rest his knuckles against the top of your forehead, sliding down your cheek, feeling your temperature.
"You're alright, honey." he said. He pulled away then and immediately shifted back into work, reaching for his stethoscope and slipping the earpieces in before pressing the bell lightly against your chest, listening to your lungs, your heart, checking you over all over again with that same focus he'd walked in carrying.
When he leaned back again in front of you, he threaded his fingers together in his lap, and looked up at you.
"Stay here for a few tests, okay?"
You nodded.
"Hey."
You looked up.
"You're my best girl. Always. Nothing has changed between you and me. I just... I needed some time, is all."
Your eyes burned all over again. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, your voice came out like a croak: "Promise?"
He came in close then, inches away, and whispered, "Promise."
Then he kissed you gently.
It felt so warm that it almost hurt. Your skin tingled beneath it, his mustache rough against your face, and his breath smelled like coffee, like the coffee from home, like mornings in the kitchen and evenings on the couch and every little thing you'd spent the last week missing.
When he pulled away, there was an odd look on his face. Fluttering your eyes to look at him better, you watched a sad smile pull his lips, his eyes ful of something you weren't quite sure how to read. But before you could try, he was turning away and standing, heading for the curtain opening.
"Dana is going to bring you back here, okay? I'll be close by."
You nodded, your lips still tingling a little from his touch.
Rolling through the ED surrounded by people who recognized you at every turn was a form of torture. Dana did her best to bat people away whenever they'd come jogging up beside the hospital bed she insisted on keeping you in— asking questions, peering over shoulders, trying to get a look at you. She actually let Langdon walk alongside you for a few steps, checking in, fingertips grazing your cheek in a quiet assessment as he asked if you were okay before someone called his name from across the department and he was pulled off toward an incoming trauma. Samira kept a quick pace on the opposite side of Dana, answering for you when others pressed in too close.
Your exam room must have been on the exact opposite side of triage with how long it took to get there, the route stretching on past curtained bays and supply carts and past the central station where screens flickered with patient lists and tracking boards.
“South 7, straight ahead, almost there angel,” Dana said on your right, and you let yourself sink back against the thin mattress, the metal frame cool against your shoulder as the hallway finally began to narrow.
"Woah, woah, woah, what happened here?"
His voice alone was enough to send your heart rate spiking, the monitor clipped to your forefinger breaking into an erratic rhythm that filled the space between you. You saw Samira glance up at the numbers, then back at your face, and then her gaze shifted forward to Jack Abbott standing directly in front of the bed in full camo SWAT gear, vest strapped across his chest, radio at his shoulder.
"Abbot— move it or lose it." Dana barked.
He must've known better than to fight her on it, because he slid to the left of the gurney, holding onto the metal bars as your eyes widened at him.
"What's going on, sweetheart?"
"I—um—well—I—"
“Bicyclist versus pedestrian,” Dana cut in, already steering you through the doorway into South 7. You heard Jack let out a baffled huff of breath.
"I'm fine—really—"
“She hit her head on the way down,” Samira added as she reached for the wall computer and woke the screen with her badge. “Passerby reported she didn’t get up right away. GCS fifteen on arrival here. No active vomiting, no seizure activity, no focal neuro.”
She glanced at Abbott while her fingers moved over the keyboard. “We’ve got a non-contrast CT head ordered. She’s got a frontal scalp laceration at the hairline and localized tenderness.”
You lifted your hand without thought, not even realizing you’d hit your head that hard. Your fingertips pressed into the sore skin and came away tacky, faintly red.
Dana locked the gurney into place while Samira continued, voice clipped and clinical. “However, she had some left lateral chest wall pain with palpation. Robby added a rib series and chest X-ray to rule out nondisplaced fractures or pneumothorax. CBC and CMP are pending. We’ll repeat labs if needed.”
Jack exhaled slowly beside the bed, jaw working before he looked at you again. “You feel okay?”
You nodded, but it was small and unconvincing, your knees drawing up toward your chest.
He glanced back up at the resident. "I want to be updated on every change or test result.”
Samira’s brows lifted slightly. “Robby is already on—”
“Appreciate it,” Jack cut in, voice tight. "Go see if she can skip the line for X-ray."
Samira gave him a flat look that said she understood exactly what he was doing and didn’t approve, but Dana nudged her toward the door anyway, and a second later the room emptied, leaving the hum of the monitor and the faint rattle of the vent overhead.
"You shouldn't be in here, Jack," you started, "this is all so insane, I didn't even mean to come in, I was out for a run and—"
“Is your heart rate always in the one twenties,” he asked lightly, “or is that just when I walk into a room?”
You stared at him. He gave you the smallest tilt of his mouth, trying for easy, trying for normal.
“Sinus tachycardia,” he added, nodding toward the monitor. “Very dramatic. Don't tell me you do it just for the attention."
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the little tilt of your mouth. "Why are you here, Jack?"
"I go into the field in case of any injuries."
“You and your weird hobbies.” You shook your head, teeth catching on your lower lip. Then, you asked: “Have you talked to Robby?”
Jack’s hands tightened on the metal guardrails before he clipped them down, the sound loud in the otherwise quieted room. “He doesn’t really seem to want to.”
“I’m not surprised,” you said, voice thinning.
“Are you two—” He stopped himself, cleared his throat and stuffing his hands into his cargo pockets. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “How did the talk go?”
You looked at him then, “How do you think?”
He pressed his lips together, his weight shifting back and forth on his feet.
You sighed, shoulders folding in. “I’m sorry. It’s been… it’s been really hard. Today was the first day he’s even spoken to me since.”
“Jesus,” Jack muttered, eyes flickering to the door for a second. “If I’d known…”
You shook your head again. “It’s what I deserve.”
He looked up sharply at that, anger flickering across his face. “No, it is not. He should talk to you. He should—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.
“You should go,” you said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll be here a while. And you shouldn’t be in here with me right now.”
Jack whispered your name.
“It’s okay,” you said gently, even though your fingers were twisting the edge of the blanket. “I’m okay. Just… go, please.”
He nodded, and as if he didn't trust himself to say anything else as back himself away until he was leaning against the door for a second, steadying himself.
Then he pushed back into it to leave, and Robby appeared.
Your stomach twisted on itself.
You watched as the glass exam room door had barely opened halfway before the two of them met eyes. Robby’s expression tightening immediately, brown eyes lifted toward Jack with something flat and hard sitting behind them. Jack, meanwhile, didn't seem bothered at all. He looked up at the other attending and paused.
"Labs back yet?" Jack asked easily.
You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. Heat crawled into your face while your fingers hooked around your legs, palms damp against your shins. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at either of them for long.
Robby nodded only once, stiffly, "Everything is good."
“That was quick,” Jack said.
Robby didn’t answer.
Jack let the silence sit a second before adding, “Glad to see the lab actually listens to some of us.”
Robby just looked at him, expression still flat, then pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped past him without another word.
He moved automatically, slipping his stethoscope from his neck once again while checking the monitor above your head, fingers brushing your wrist before he listened over your lungs, then your heart. Familiar, routine motions. You lowered your eyes to your lap because Jack was still standing there, still in the doorway, and now he was letting the door swing shut behind him instead of leaving.
Nobody said anything, and it made your heart leap into your throat even harder.
The cool metal of the stethoscope touched your chest and Robby's eyes lifted briefly to your face before he pulled it away.
“Not really helping my exam, Jack,” he said, voice clipped.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jack shrug.
“Can't help it.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I'm distractingly handsome.”
Robby scoffed under his breath and shook his head.
"I think the three of us need to talk." Jack said seriously.
“Not now,” Robby snapped immediately. “I've got patients to worry about, and you should go get that looked at. Make yourself a chart.”
Your head turned toward Jack so fast your neck protested.
“Nah, don't need the paperwork,” he said casually. His eyes found yours and softened just a little. “I'm fine,” he said, tilting his head toward his shoulder. “Just a graze, sweetheart.”
He turned a bit so you could see it—the back of his camo jacket at the top of his left shoulder had gone dark red and splotched, fabric torn open in a thin line.
"You were shot?" you gasped.
"Shot at." he corrected, "I'm alright."
Before you could say anything else, Robby's fingers tipped your chin upward.
You knew exactly what he was doing, you knew this routine. Penlight already in his hand, checking your pupils again, watching for nystagmus, for delayed reaction, for anything off.
Still, your body reacted before your brain did.
Maybe it was because he'd barely touched you all week. Or because he'd spent days keeping distance between you like there was a line painted on the floor. Maybe it was because suddenly today he'd touched your face, your wrist, your shoulders, your hair, all under the excuse of medicine, and your stupid brain wasn't separating any of it anymore.
Your heart rate climbed again, the monitor immediately tattling on you. Its beeping rose in rhythm, its oxygen levels warning for over activity.
“And here I thought I was special,” Jack sighed dramatically.
Robby clicked off the penlight, and said flatly: “Go home, Jack. We're good here.”
"Not so fast," Jack said, dragging the syllables.
Both you and Robby paused, looking over at him. His face had gone serious, the graying curls a bit of a mess as he looked between the two of you, swaying on his feet like he always did.
"I have a proposition to make."
Robby stood a little straighter, folding his arms over his chest. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means… " Jack looked between the two of you, and your eyes were wide, worried, nervous for whatever came next. "I want to make an offer."
"An offer?" Robby echoed flatly.
Jack nodded. Your brows pulled together, uncertainty clouding your brain.
“No,” Robby said immediately.
“You haven't even heard what I have to say." Jack rebutted, "Why don’t we ask her?”
“Because she’s concussed, Jack.”
“Sweetheart—” Jack started, smile sliding back into place like armor as he looked down at you.
Robby moved before he could finish. He stepped up to the foot of your bed, placing himself squarely in front of you, cutting off Jack’s line of sight entirely.
“This is not the god damn time for this, Jack,” Robby said evenly, “Whatever it is you have to offer, it can wait."
The monitor hummed behind you.
“She’s going to X-ray,” Robby continued, thumb hooking over his shoulder at you. “If you want to talk, we can talk outside."
His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
You couldn’t see Jack anymore, just Robby’s back, broad and immovable between you. Whatever expression crossed Jack’s face, it was enough that Robby gave a short nod and stepped forward, hand landing briefly on Jack’s shoulder as he guided him toward the door.
Through the glass you watched them, close enough to read the tension in their posture even if you couldn’t hear a word. Robby rigid, jaw tight. Jack leaning in, saying something low and serious. It felt strange watching two grown men argue about you like you weren’t ten feet away. Part of you burned with humiliation, feeling like a child. Another part was too tired to care. Your head throbbed, your ribs ached every time you shifted, the room too bright.
You laid back in the bed, closing your eyes.
Eventually, when the door opened again, it was only Robby. He was pushing a wheelchair through the frame, his expression set into neutral nothingness, but you could see the downturn of his mouth, the frown he wore as he came to the bedside.
"Everything okay?" you murmured as he helped you into the chair.
“Yeah, honey,” he exhaled. “That man’s got some nerve.”
“S’probably why he likes getting shot at on the weekends.”
Robby chuckled a little at that, and your heart warmed as he said: "Yeah, probably."
After all the tests, all the re-checking and the overdramatic X-rays and CT scan, you were finally getting into the car with Robby after what had turned into a very long shift for him and an even longer day for you.
He shut the door of his steel gray BMW with more care than usual. He didn’t often take it to work, preferring the bike whenever he could, but tonight the car felt quieter, contained, easier. The hospital parking lot lights hummed overhead as he started the engine.
“That all felt… kind of silly,” you said gently, trying to keep your tone light, though the thought of going home and slipping back into the routine of the past week made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with bruised ribs.
Robby glanced over at you as he pulled out of the lot, the evening sky behind him pale blue, the sun already dropped behind the buildings. In the height of summer the light lingered without color, stretched thin across the horizon. He wore that tired smile he often did after a long shift, soft but worn.
“Just had to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly, his voice a deep rasp of exhaustion. “What do you want to listen to?”
You reached for the screen and put on one of your favorite playlists, hesitating only a second before you did. It felt like a small olive branch. On any other night it would have meant takeout on the couch, his arms around you while you watched more reruns. It felt almost normal. He drove mostly in silence, eyes forward, one hand resting loose at the bottom of the wheel, deep in thought in that way he often was after work, and you told yourself that this, at least, was something steady.
Halfway home, stopped at a red light, he turned toward you.
“Honey, are you happy?”
You blinked at him and reached up to lower the music until the car fell quiet except for the hum of the engine and the distant sound of another car passing through the intersection.
“What do you mean?” you asked softly.
His eyes shifted back to the light and then to you again, as if he was weighing the words before he let them out. “I want you to be happy.”
You opened your mouth and then closed it again.
What you had with Robby, before the mess of this past week, had been the only steady, good thing in your life. Every road you’d taken had led you here. There had never been a clean formula for you, no simple checklist of school, job, marriage, children. But life had shown that that was never for you, no matter how much people said it like it guaranteed anything. They never talked about this— finding someone who felt like home without needing the rest of it. They never explained the peace of being taken care of and trusted and guided, about wanting the safety of his control and the way he made decisions with you in mind, the way he steadied you without diminishing you. After everything—your parents, the accident, your ex—this had been the thing that made sense. It had been everything.
You let your shoulders sink back into the leather seat, your gaze resting somewhere beyond the windshield, the quiet answering him before you did.
When he looked over again, something vulnerable in his expression forced you to speak.
“Nothing in my life has ever compared to what I have with you,” you said gently. “I’ve been upset this past week because it felt like that was slipping away.”
He nodded once as the light turned green and eased the car forward.
“I am happy with you,” you added after a moment, your voice steadier now. “I’ve never felt so taken care of, so seen and understood. I made a mistake, and I know I’m paying for that. It’s just…”
He leaned over slightly, eyes still on the road, and took your hand in his. His thumb pressed into your knuckles in a slow, grounding squeeze.
“You really scared me this week, Michael,” you said.
He brought your hand up and pressed his mouth to the tops of your knuckles. “I know.”
"You've never been like this before, avoiding me, barely talking. We live in the same house but it felt like… you were… like a ghost."
He looked over at you briefly, "I felt a little like one."
Your brows pulled together at that, a different kind of ache settling in your chest, not biting like your ribs or throbbing like your head, but heavy all the same. Worse than the guilt, the shame of everything. You dipped your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke:
"I'm so sorry I did this to us."
He shook his head, more firmly this time, coming to another red light and finally turning fully toward you.
“We are a team,” he said, his voice low but steady. “As long as you want to be one, it’s you and me. I shouldn’t have shut you out. What happened…it caught me off guard. It made me scared for things I didn't realize I was afraid of. It made me realize how much I’ve invested in you— in us. Made me see how much I care.”
You reached up with your free hand and cupped his face, your fingers sliding into his dark hair, scratching lightly behind his ear the way you knew he liked.
“Me too,” you whispered.
His hand moved up and down your arm slowly, reassuring, until the light turned and he eased the car forward again, the quiet between you no longer sharp but thoughtful, settled, waiting.
When you pulled into the driveway a little while later, neither of you moved right away. The engine hummed beneath you while the headlights washed over the garage door and the shrubs along the front walk, throwing long shadows across the siding of the house.
But when you reached for the door, he stopped you. Your eyes lifted immediately towards him, a question between your brows, but something on his face made your skin rise in goosebumps. The crease that had lived between his brows all week had disappeared. There was no tension pulling at his mouth anymore, none of that exhaustion sitting around his eyes. His face had gone still, settled into something calmer. His arm rested across the center console between you, stopping your movement without effort, his brown eyes holding yours from only a few inches away.
“I want you to go inside and take a shower,” he said quietly, his voice low beneath the softened music and the idle hum of the car.
Your pulse gave a hard thud against your ribcage.
“I want you to use your special body wash. The perfume we picked out together.” His head tilted slightly. “Do you know the one I mean, honey?”
You swallowed. “Yes, Robby.”
His gaze stayed on your face for another moment, watching you carefully, and something curious moved through his expression at your answer, at the way you were already sitting a little straighter without realizing it.
“I’ll be back in about thirty minutes, okay?” he said. “I’m gonna grab us dinner.”
You nodded.
“Give me a kiss.”
The request was gentle, and yet, your stomach dipped.
You leaned over automatically, pressing your mouth to his. He made a soft sound against your lips and his beard brushed warm and prickly against your skin.
“Okay,” he murmured after he pulled back. “Go on.”
You nodded again and reached for the handle, suddenly far too aware of your own body, of your heartbeat, of your hands, hoping desperately that he couldn't see the way nerves had started jittering all through you as you climbed out of the car.
A long, hot shower later with your rose-scented body wash, your Maison Francis perfume misted along your neck and the skin of your inner wrists, you sat very still in the living room.
Your hands worked slowly through your hair, gathering it and plaiting it down your neck before coming to rest against your bare knees. Your brain felt a little fuzzy now, close to the way it felt after sitting in warm water too long, sleepy and a little hazy. It always started like this. The feeling of cotton slowly gathering in your head before you finally stopped fighting it. The smell always started it— pulling at the quiet place inside of your head, unraveling all your busiest thoughts, your deepest worries.
When the front door opened, you didn't even flinch. You just waited, your eyes heavy lidded and chin tilted down. Through your lashes, you saw the tips of his socks appear in front of your knees.
And then a thick, broad hand came down beneath your chin and lifted your face.
His eyes found yours immediately. Deep brown, those little lines around them digging in at the corners--crows feet people called them. You never thought they looked like that. They looked like years of laughing, of smiling, of joy worn into skin.
You smiled up at him.
"Hi, pretty girl." Robby said softly.
"Hi."
"How are you doing?"
You hummed softly. "Really good."
"That's good." He smiled. "I'm gonna go put these away and I'll be back, okay?"
You nodded. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheekbone before he let you go again, and your shoulders lowered with a quiet exhale you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
You watched him from where you sat as he moved into the kitchen and unpacked the reusable grocery bag. You caught a glimpse of jar of pasta sauce, a box of noodles and vegetables laid across the counter one by one. But you didn't move towards him, didn't bother trying to help. You knew what he wanted from you right now, what he needed. And you'd give it to him. Because it felt right-- to be here, to be in your place with your knees buried in the rug, your body bare and exposed for him.
When he finished, he poured himself a glass of scotch and walked over to the couch. He sat with a long exhale sinking from his chest. The coffee table had been moved, just like always on nights like this, pushed off against the wall so he had a clear view of where you sat.
He settled deeper into the cushions, taking a sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a soft click against the coaster.
"Come here, honey."
You crawled, very slowly, until you were just in front of him. No touching, no reaching for him. Just… in wait.
He leaned forward, taking one finger and letting it graze down your face.
"You are so pretty, my best girl." he whispered. You smiled at that, your brain melting down little by little. "Are you going to be good for me?"
"Yes, Robby," you murmured back.
He smiled a little at that, before leaning away again, and taking another sip of his drink.
"Safeword?"
You licked your lips, "Pickleback."
"And when you can't talk?" he asked, voice muffled in the top of his glass.
"Two snaps."
He smiled, exhaling with bared teeth as the drink went down his throat, "That's a good girl."
When he leaned forward again, you could smell the whiskey on his breath as he said: "We have some things to go over, honey."
Your eyes lifted to him, and he nodded reassuringly.
"It's okay, just need to adjust some rules going forward. You know why?"
You nodded.
"Go ahead, tell me."
"Because I was a—" You stopped when his head tilted slightly, that tiny shift enough for you to catch the correction. "I acted badly."
"That's right." he said, and his hand returned to your face, tracing slowly along your cheek, your jaw. It felt good, this touch, this connection, as he drew lines in the sand and on your face.
"We've been a little confused lately, both of us, huh?" he murmured, "we're going to fix that tonight."
"Yes, Robby."
When he leaned away, he tilted his hips up a bit, and you could just make out the bulge within his cargos.
"Show me that you want this—you and me, this thing we've created together. Show me that you want me."
You hesitated.
"You can touch," he murmured, giving a small nod before lifting his glass again.
Your hands lifted to his legs, a little shaky now. You cupped his knees first, almost testing it, feeling the warmth of him beneath the fabric of his cargos. He inhaled deeply, head tipping back against the couch for only a moment, though his eyes never left yours. Slowly, you let your hands slide higher, fingers tracing up his thighs until they reached his lap, and you carefully began undoing his belt, pulling down the zipper before easing the fabric lower.
Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, finally cupping his growing length as he shifted beneath your touch. He hissed a breath through his teeth, knees widening slightly to make room for you.
Pulling him from the confines of the briefs, your fingers moved with care, wanting him to feel every gentle tug of your hand, wanting him to understand what you were trying so desperately to say without saying it. You watched his face as you bent down, lips brushing a soft kiss against the tip, and his shoulders lowered with a heavier exhale, though his hips gave the slightest movement toward you.
The hand not holding the scotch lifted and tucked a nonexistent strand of hair behind your ear, fingers settling against your jaw as his thumb brushed your cheek.
“You make me fucking crazy,” he whispered, voice rough around the edges now. “Do you understand?”
You nodded.
His hand tightened slightly against your face and your fingers twitched where they held him. “Words.”
“Yes, Robby,” you murmured. “I understand.”
"Do you understand that I like to share you, but under my terms?" he asked quietly, eyes holding yours. “That you and I—this—we—come first?"
Your hands traveled up and down his cock, feeling it twitch and harden and warm to your touch like velvet.
You nodded again, 'Y-yes, Robby."
"So why did you do it?"
Your brain was a little too foggy to make out a real answer, so all you said was: “He has pretty eyes.”
“Yeah?” Robby chuckled softly, already knowing there was more to that answer. “I’ll bet he was a good kisser too, huh?”
You nodded, "Yes,"
You knew where this was heading, and even though you knew you might not like every part of it, you let him keep leading you forward. Because you trusted him.
"Did he feel good inside you, baby?"
You bit your lip, wriggling as your pulse jumped, but you nodded. Your hands had begun working faster, twisting and reaching down to fondle his heavy balls.
His lip curled, "Words."
“Yes."
And then he moaned a little when you used a little bit of his precome, slathering it over his tip.
"Can I please use my mouth, Robby?"
"Not yet—tell me how he felt—did you come?"
The pulse that had been hammering in your chest was traveling south, blood surging in humiliation, in want, nearly painful between your legs.
“He felt big,” you admitted quietly. “And... yes.”
“How many times?”
“Once.”
He smiled at that. "Aw, only once? So he didn't get to see you whining and begging, did he?" his tone was proud, knowing, even though his voice was threaded with hunger, "When you beg for me to stop making you come over and over?"
"No, Robby."
You were leaning in, mouth agape, nearly drooling at how much you wanted him in your mouth— needed him. Needed to show him how much you wanted him. How it didn't matter what you'd done with Jack, didn't matter right now because all you wanted was him, the man in front of you, who knew you better than any of them. All you wanted was Robby's closeness, his attention, his praise.
"Go on, you can use your mouth now," he said gently, letting go of your face, "good girl answering my questions."
You moved down onto him immediately, your mouth already warm and waiting, and both of you let out helpless sounds at the contact of it around the smooth, velvety tip of his cock. Something rough cracked out of his chest at the feeling of your lips gliding down his member, your own noises swallowed as you glanced up at him through your lashes. He had leaned back into the couch now, mouth parted, eyes closed.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned.
You moved eagerly, bobbing your head to chase more of those sounds, his praise. Your jaw unhinged to accommodate the wide breadth of him, nose never really reaching his belly that was covered in wiry hair where his shirt had ridden up. Your fingers curled into the fabric and pushed it higher. He let out a breathless little laugh at that, understanding immediately before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere beside him.
When he looked back down at you, his breathing had gone uneven. He gathered your hair into his fist, just guiding your rhythm. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, steadying your pace. “There you go, honey. There you go. I know you missed me.”
You hummed pleasantly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of the tip of him brushing the back of your throat.
"All the way down now, okay?" he coaxed. Your lashes fluttered a bit, hollowing out your cheeks. "That's it."
You could feel every ridge and vein pushed up against your soft palette, your tongue flat and soothing to the underside as you breathed through your nose.
"Now you listen."
Oh, fuck. You knew that voice. It was like your brain, once ridged with memories and thoughts—wants, needs, fears—had gone smooth and mushy, every sharp edge softening until there was only him. His eyes on you. His voice. His pleasure and wants. When he got like this, voice rough around every syllable, lower and gruffer and cracking just slightly, it fully submerged you into that head space you only ever found with him.
Your eyes, though a little watery, found his as he held you down.
"You are mine." he growled. "I don't care about the title—girlfriend, boyfriend, partner, whatever—you are mine."
His voice was lethal, his lip curling. He held you down on his cock firmly, and you breathed through your nose. This wasn't just bruised pride or irritation from what had happened, but fear, you realized. Fear of losing you, of losing this. And the best way he knew how to face fear was with control. And you'd give him everything every time.
“I’m in charge of who you kiss, who you flirt with, who gets your attention. Who fucks you.”
Your jaw had begun to ache, a deep soreness settling in, but you sat through it, wanted to, welcomed it, because your brain had gone soft and smooth, every thought slipping through your fingers before it could fully form.
"There will be no more playing with anyone else for the next month." he said sternly, pushing you down his cock a little further until your nose pushed into his belly. Your mouth constricted a little at the fat tip of him reaching into your throat now.
"And you will not come for the next month, either." he growled.
Your brows pulled together, and he mirrored the look with a pout, "“Oh, honey.” His thumb traced slowly along your hairline. “I know.”
He gave you a little smile, something gentler finding its way into it. “I know you don’t like hearing that. But it's what you need."
He pulled you up his cock, and when you were free you pulled in a quick breath, chest rising sharply. You felt the spit from your mouth slipping down your chin a little, but then his face lowered, nose brushing against yours before his mouth found you. He kissed you deeply, mouths slotting against one another with growing urgency, both of you breathing unevenly into it as his tongue slid against yours.
When he was done, he used the hand that was in your hair to push you back down into his lap, your lips opening obediently around his cock, pushing it deep into your mouth. He thrusted a few times, letting his balls slap lightly against your chin, and then he was holding you down again. Your mouth watered around him, drool pooling over your tongue, onto your lips as your eyes fluttering shut. The pulse between your legs had climbed to a throbbing, but you did nothing for it. You knew better.
"Everything we have—everything you've let me build with you…" he groaned, and then reached down, fingers brushing your face before his thumb and forefinger found your nose, and held it closed. "…is because of me. Because we chose it."
"Even this—" he breathed, and your eyes widened a bit as your head became fuzzier, your lungs began to beg for release. It only lasted a second before he was pulling his hand away, easing you from his slick coated member. You heaved in deep breaths when he brought his face down to yours, kissing you again before he demanded: "Say thank you—"
"—Thank you—" you gasped.
"Fucking hell that's so good—" he moaned. The kiss was breathless, wet, urgent as you let him have it, your mouth open, tongue awaiting his.
"More—" you moaned the next time he pulled away.
"Yeah?"
You nodded.
"Not too much," he whispered, but there was a smile on his face, so soft and warm you almost could feel tears coming. He obliged your request, pushing you back down onto his throbbing cock, fucking your throat in earnest until he held you down once more, holding your nose for a little longer than the first time, until you were spluttering around him.
"Fuuckkkk," he groaned even louder, and finally pulled you off entirely, his hand cupping your face, your chin held in the crux of his palm as he squeezed your cheeks. Your tongue dipped out to collect the drool that had been slipping from your open mouth, and you could feel your pulse jumping, your inner thighs sliding together with the amount of arousal you'd created for him.
“Okay, okay,” he cooed, petting your head with his other hand, “deep breaths. Deep breaths, honey. How are you doing?”
You hummed, breath still uneven and quick, chest rising against him while you tried pulling air back into your lungs. You nodded.
“Good,” you murmured.
"What a good girl you are," he murmured, pressing a fat, wet peck to your lips before his hands were tucking under your arms, and you rose with him from the couch.
Your legs automatically wrapped around him, and you couldn't help the way your hips undulated against his belly, as your body moved on something like instinct, all want and need and nothing else. The sensitive, slick skin of your core brushed up against the thick tuft of wiry hair at the base of his member, making you moan. Your mouth found his neck, suckling just above the jugular. And your hands felt disconnected from you entirely, wandering over him without thought, fingers curling into his hair and scratching lightly against his scalp as you held onto him. You could hear him chuckling fondly under his breath at your desperation, one arm circled around your middle while the other hand kept smoothing over your hair, down your back, petting and reassuring. He just kept whispering I know, I know.
Soon, you were being laid onto the bed, his groans about his back rumbling warmly against your ear as he lowered you down onto the soft duvet. He stayed over you for a moment, his weight pressing you pleasantly into the mattress, chest warm against yours, the heat of his skin making your limbs feel loose and floaty.
"You with me, huh?" he cooed, smiling down at you. His hand still hadn’t left your hair, fingers combing through it in slow strokes that kept your thoughts soft and drifting like clouds. You nodded, tilting your face to kiss him again, your lips lingering against his while he stayed laid over you.
“Why don't you turn over for me?” he murmured eventually, sitting back.
You obeyed without thought, rolling onto your stomach over the comforter. Your sore muscles pulled as you stretched your arms over your head, a little whine slipping from your throat before you folded your arms beneath your cheek so you could look back at him over your shoulder.
He was looking down at you with open affection, completely bare, peppered hair dusting his chest and stomach, thick around the base of his length. The sight of him sent another pulse of warmth through your body, your hips wiggling restlessly against the mattress before you could stop yourself. As if in answer, his cock jutted out in excitement for you too.
Robby let out a low breath through his nose, gaze dropping to your ass as his hands spread over you, kneading slowly, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh before he pulled you open. Your moans filled the room along with the sticky, embarrassing shlick of your lower folds being spread and opened as he looked at you.
"What a mess you've made, honey," he said softly.
“Please…” you whimpered, pushing your hips back into his palms without thinking.
“Please what?” he asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice even before you looked back at him.
"Touch me, please," you whispered.
"I am touching you." he teased back.
Then, while he held you open, you heard the wet gather of spit in his mouth. Your eyes opened wider just in time to see it fall, warm and thick against your skin above your slit before it slid downward through your folds and over your clit. You mewled at the feeling, your body jerking, the neediness and desperation no longer able to hide. Your mind felt smooth and fuzzy, your body begging for some form of release, hanging onto every brush of his thumb, the feeling of his cock twitching against you too.
"You'll take what I give you, and what will you say?" he asked, and finally, his thumb swept over your pussy, tracing the trail of spit down to your clit.
The sound you let out could've been heard by the neighbors.
"Thank you!" you moaned.
He nodded, his thumb still tracing you, your folds so sensitive it had your hips moving, rolling back, searching for more.
"You're welcome, honey," he said, and then moved off the bed, his hands finding your hips and yanking them up so your face was pushed down into the bed, your knees propping you up.
You gasped at the first feeling of his mouth on you. Flat tongue, prickly beard—it was wet and hungry and needy as he cupped his tongue against your clit, flicking the tip of the wet muscle until he was flattening it again and licking all the way up to the skin between your openings. Every lick and kiss sent shocks through your spine, and you moaned loudly into the duvet, fists clutching at it desperately. Your eyes had rolled to the back of your skull, mouth hanging open at the pleasure of it.
Without thinking, your knees spread wider for him, toes curling at the feeling of his tongue working deeper between your folds, licking until his lips closed around your clit. The gentle suction made your stomach jump violently.
"Taste so fucking good, honey," he murmured against you, voice vibrating directly through your body while his hands spread your ass even wider. “Did Jack eat you out, baby? Did he get a taste?”
Your brain lagged badly behind the question, and all you could do was moan. But a quick whack! to your thigh had you jumping, remembering he had asked a question.
"No!"
He hummed low in satisfaction before diving back in, mouth wrapping around you again while his tongue flattened and dragged upward. You couldn't stop moving against him now. Your hips rolled helplessly into his face, chasing the pressure every time he eased away even a little.
"Oh—oh, fuck—Robby, please—" you begged, hips wildly chasing the friction. His tongue moved with you, moving between long strokes and suckling your clit, his hand coming up to just gently prod into your pussy, the teasing of the pad of his thick finger enough to make that cresting wave of an orgasm roll closer and closer. Your moans had turned into cries, like a cat in heat just mewling his name, begging and begging for more, even if it sounded more like gibberish with the state your hazy brain was in.
"Mmmm—Robbyyy— right there—"
And just as you were about to crash into the wave, orgasm swelling, thighs shaking, ready to scream out in pleasure—
He stopped.
He pulled away, his hands going back to grip your ass. The loss of it had you crying out loudly, hips bucking uselessly while you petulantly kicked at the bed.
He tsk'd his tongue at you, and when you peered over your shoulder, you saw him shaking his head, "Don't you remember what I said, pretty girl?"
You whined miserably, thrashing on the bed, earning another smack high against your thigh that left heat blooming under your skin.
"No coming for a month." he said very sternly.
And then, to your dismay, he went back in. His tongue flattened, tracing over your swollen skin in lazy strokes while he slurped softly at the arousal gathered like a basin of nectar, obscene wet noises filling the room. Your whole body clenched around nothing, orgasm trapped inside you now, throbbing painfully close without ever breaking.
You whined again, but stopped your thrashing, burying your face into the bed.
"Remind me why you're not allowed to come, baby," he said softly, kissing your clit gently.
You jumped at the contact, voice muffled in the bedspread: "M-bad girl."
When you peeked an eye over your shoulder, he was shaking his head gently at that. "Not a bad girl," he said, and licked a stripe up your pussy again, and you felt your walls constrict, begging for something, anything.
The ache inside you deepened. Every slow drag of Robby's tongue pushed you right back toward the edge again until your stomach felt tight and shaky.
And then he pulled away again.
You wailed in protest, dropping your hips to the bed, and kicked your feet. Your body felt tense with the need of release, muscles tightening and loosening and tightening again.
He climbed over you then, mattress dipping and you felt his cock rest in the curve of your ass as his mouth came down to your ear.
"You are not a bad girl, honey," he murmured, nipping at the top of your lobe, "you are my best girl, say it now—"
"Mmm…yr…" you sighed weakly, too distracted by the drag of his cock between your cheeks to force the words out properly. He chuckled a little, and pulled back just to look down at his cock wedging itself into the cleft of your ass.
"I'm going to fuck you now, okay, honey?"
You nodded adamantly, and then realized what he meant as his thumb traced down your vertebrae, lower and lower until it pressed gently against the tight ring of muscle there.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god.
“S'alright,” he murmured as if reading your thoughts. “Remember last time? You were so good. Just gotta relax for me, okay?”
You did remember it, in some distant memory your brain was trying to scrounge up now. He had been so gentle, and you'd promised him he was the only one who could have your tight little hole.
His hands flattened along your back, massaging gently until one wrapped around his cock, the other reaching for the lube in the bedside table. The cool slickness made goosebumps break across your skin immediately, a soft hum slipping from your chest with your next breath.
Robby prepped himself, fisting gently along his cock, and he started by just tracing it along the seam of your folds, collected your slick, pooling arousal, making you let out another simpering sigh at the feeling. You knew better than to beg for him to fuck you there—once Robby had something on his mind, he would take it. And you were always so eager to give whatever he wanted.
When his cock pressed ever so gently into your hole, you squeaked a little.
Immediately, he folded himself over your back, pushing his hands so they could come up under your body and flush your spine to his chest and belly. One of them came up under your chin to hold you even closer.
“Breathe in,” he said softly.
You obeyed automatically, lungs filling deep while his weight pressed you down into the mattress.
"Breathe out."
Again, you did as you were bid. Your breath left you shaky and uneven. He hadn't moved yet.
"One more time, honey, deeeep breath—"
He joined you this time, both of you inhaling, chests expanding together, and then—together again—you both exhaled, and he notched the fat tip of his length into you.
"Ah-ah-ah—" you gasped.
"Keep breathing baby," he cooed, his bicep coming closer to your face, your chin tucked into the crook of his elbow.
“Keep breathing, baby,” he cooed against your temple, arm tightening around you while your body strained around the stretch. Your muscles trembled violently at first, trying to resist before slowly, slowly beginning to give. All you could really focus on was his voice, the warmth of him around you, the deep drag of air into your lungs. By the time his hips settled flush against you, your hands were clutching hard at his forearm.
He kissed the side of your head, his breath a little ragged as he moaned at the tight feeling of your muscle around him.
"S'all mine, huh, honey? My pretty girl, my pussy to play with. My ass to take."
All you could manage was a weak whimper.
"Say: im your best girl, Robby, go on now—" he whispered.
“I—mmm…” you moaned when he pulled out barely an inch before easing back in again. "I'm…"
"Mhm, that's it, use your big girl words now." he softly urged as he pushed back in, only gently beginning to saw his hips. He was hardly moving at all, just a soft lull of movement to ease you into it.
"I'm y-your best girl…" you gasped, mouth hanging open, eyes fluttering as he pulled out even further, and pushed back in again.
"That's it, that's a good girl—" he groaned, and like he couldn't help himself, his next thrust in was rougher, and your eyes bulged a little.
He kissed the corner of your open mouth, "Okay?"
You nodded quickly, one hand reaching back blindly for him until your fingers tangled in his hair. He held you tighter in response, his breathing growing rougher against your cheek while his hips started moving in earnest.
"What a good girl, letting me fuck her little ass, huh? Only mine, this is all mine—"
“Yes—yes, yes—” you tried to answer, but every word dissolved into moans because his thrusts were getting harder now, faster, driving deep enough to make your entire body shake with each one. Soon, the room filled with wet slapping sounds and the strained noise of both your breathing. Heat kept building low in your stomach again, strange and different this time, tingling down your spine and making your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
"Robby—"
"Hmmm?"
"I—mmmm ohhhh I feel—"
"What do you feel, honey? Tell me, tell your old man—"
"Might—might come—like this—"
"Is that so?" he asked.
You nodded desperately, licking at your lips, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of the pressure. Your fingers tightened into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp.
“Don't you dare,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot as his teeth bared against your cheek. “Hold it.”
"Noooo—"
"Yes."
The firmness in his voice made your stomach clench hard. Even while he kissed your ear gently afterward, his hips kept snapping faster against you, driving you right up against that unbearable pressure again. It felt so odd—a tingling in your spine, though your pussy pulsed so hard it was nearly painful with neglect.
"Robby!"
“I'm gonna come, baby, fuck—hearing you moan my name like that—Jesus you're so fucking tight—my best girl, my good girl—don't you dare come—”
Tears gathered hot in your eyes from the intensity of it, your whole body wound tight around the orgasm he wouldn't let you have. You weren't upset. You just needed. Needed him. Needed something.
Suddenly, he was pulling out from your ass with a quick dip of his hips, and you let go of his hair to heard him letting out the loudest groan, deep and wrecked from his chest, the sound of his fist against his wet cock, the spluttering of ropes of come up your back.
You laid there, pussy throbbing, your orgasm lost, your muscles tight and loose all at once at the loss of him.
A second later he rolled onto his back and pulled you onto his chest immediately, chest heaving in breaths of relief. His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye where a tear had slipped free.
"I know, I know," he cooed, "C'mere."
You curled into him bonelessly, burying your face against his neck while your body slowly came down from everything. His skin was damp and hot beneath your cheek, your limbs still trembling every now and then. Across him, you could hear the soft rustle of tissues when he reached for the box beside the bed and started carefully cleaning your back.
“Here,” he whispered after he was done. You opened your eyes blearily and tilted your chin down to see him holding your water bottle up toward your mouth, thumb already resting against the straw so it wouldn’t wobble.
You hummed in appreciation and took a few small sips, throat still dry, lips swollen and warm.
“There you go,” he murmured.
When you were done, you sighed and let your cheek settle back against his chest. Your fingers wandered lazily over him, tracing little circles into his skin while his heartbeat knocked steadily beneath your ear.
His arm tightened around your shoulders, pulling you closer still before he pressed a careful kiss to your forehead. “How are you doing, honey?”
You hummed sleepily. “M’good.” Your lashes fluttered against the skin of his throat before you tipped your face up just enough to ask quietly, “How’re you?”
"I'm good."
You kissed into his beard once, then again, little absent-minded presses of your mouth along his jaw until your lips brushed softly against his. “Talk to me,” you murmured.
He sighed. "I missed you."
You smiled faintly, lids feeling heavy, your brain still a little fuzzy, "I missed you more."
He grinned fondly, his hand coming up to brush your hair back from your face. "Why don't we watch something for a bit, I'll go make some dinner."
"Okay,"
“Do you wanna come sit with me in the kitchen, or stay here?”
You shook your head immediately against him. “I’ll come.”
“Okay, honey.”
It took you a minute to convince your body to cooperate enough to climb out of bed. Your legs still felt loose and shaky beneath you, and there was a lingering heaviness between your thighs every time you moved, a pulse that kept reminding you of the events of the night. Robby hooked an arm around your waist to steady you while he dressed you in a pair of his boxers and a big sweatshirt. Eventually, he slid on his own shorts and you followed him out towards the kitchen.
The house felt different now in the aftermath, softer in the evening light, the lamps automatically turning on with the darkening hours. You climbed onto one of the barstools of the kitchen island with your water bottle clutched in both hands while Robby moved around the kitchen barefoot.
Your body still felt warm and heavy in a way that made you want to curl up somewhere close to him and stay there. And every now and then he drifted back toward you without seeming to really thinking about it, leaning in to kiss the top of your head or rubbing your neck gently while the pasta boiled behind him. At one point he'd put the kettle on, and handed you a mug of peppermint tea.
Time passed slowly as you sipped at it while he cooked, watching him take care of you. The windows over the sink had gone completely dark, kitchen lights soft against the granite counter tops. Finally, when everything was done, he plated the food and brought it to the small round dining table.
"C'mere," he said again, beckoning you with his fingers, the other hand patting his thigh.
You climbed onto his lap without hesitation, your spine settling against his chest while his arm wrapped loosely around your middle. He fed you slowly between bites of his own food, twirling pasta against the fork before bringing it to your mouth while you sat warm and pliant against him, sipping peppermint tea between bites.
Neither of you spoke much, but it didn't feel necessary. This was exactly what you needed: him, taking care of you, feeling needed and wanted. You, being taken care of and shown how special you were to him.
By the time you'd wiped your mouth and your tea was empty, the ache of your body had softened low and manageable.
Robby had turned on an episode of The Office, settling the two of you back onto the bed beneath the comforter. You tucked yourself against his side, one of his arms beneath your neck so his hand could stroke through your hair. The television light flickered blue across the room, catching against the planes of his face every time you looked up at him.
"Can I ask you something?" you said quietly.
His fingers paused briefly in your hair before starting again. “Of course.”
"What did Jack say today?" you said carefully.
Robby sighed softly through his nose.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” you assured him quickly. “I was just curious.”
He shifted then, turning toward you more fully so he could dip his chin and look directly into your face. His gaze studied your face, flitting over your eyes, your lips, your hair as he continued pushing his fingers through it. And then, landing his soft brown eyes back on you, he said: "He wants something that's a bit more complicated than he thinks."
Oh?
Your eyes brows threaded together in uncertainty.
Robby leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose gently before pulling back again. “Let me just…” He sighed again, dropping his hand from your hair to rub his thumb along your shoulder beneath the blanket. “I need to talk to him again first. Clarify some things before you and I really get into it. Is that okay?”
You nodded slowly, though your teeth had already found your bottom lip. Your eyes drifted back toward the television, but you weren’t really watching anymore, your thoughts beginning to move in circles.
His finger hooked gently beneath your chin and guided your face back toward him.
“Hey,” he whispered.
You looked up at him again.
“We’re good,” he said softly. “More than good.”
Something in his expression tightened, vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself be around anyone.
“You’ve been really patient with me this week,” he continued quietly. “And I appreciate that more than I think I’ve said. I’m sorry again about all of this. About shutting you out. You mean so much to me, honey. I want this, I want you. More than ever before.”
You cut him off before he could keep spiraling, leaning forward to kiss him softly.
“It’s okay, Robby,” you murmured against his mouth. “I’m sorry too. You and me. Always.”
His eyes closed briefly at that. Then, he smiled and breathed deeply into the kiss. He rolled over you slowly until he was hovering above you again, broad shoulders blocking out most of the television light while the muffled sounds of the episode kept playing somewhere behind him.
part one | part two | part three | part four | masterlist | ao3
jack abbot x reader, michael robinavitch x reader
summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. Jack takes you home, and the lines you thought were drawn in the sand start to blur.
|| smut MDNI 18+ angst, heavy flirting, free use kink, cuckholding, widower!jack, annoying!robby lol, arguing, possessive behavior, reader does not act like she ought to in this fair warning, pinv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names like baby / sweetheart, mama dana as always, mentions of blood and needles (v brief), complicated feelings, eating and also forgetting to eat, im gonna be so real neither reader or jack are all that well behaved in this, mentions of langdon x reader, , mateo x reader & crus x reader 👀, canon suicidal ideation, fainting, mentions of jack's prosthesis, jack is a little bit of a soft dom here ||
a/n: first time writing these characters please forgive me !! jack has been the hardest by far to write for me but I hope I made you proud lol I did one good read over / edit of this so !!! im sorry if there's mistakes!!
wc: 12k sorryyyyy I got carried away!
“You’re looking mighty proud, Dr. Langdon,” you sang as you stepped into the locker area, fresh off the elevator from hospice care.
You often visited them upstairs. Around a year ago you found it actually helped to see the people that would feed you, keep you sane, and talk to you some of the hardest days. At first you avoided it, would get nauseous just thinking about stepping onto the fifth floor. But over time you realized how much they had been there for you. And now, between Robby and his attendings and residents, and the nurses and doctors upstairs… you really had a community here.
It was still early morning. You’d hitched a ride with Robby on his motorcycle, your hair still a little messy from the helmet now shoved into one of the lockers. The ED was shifting between night and day crews, tired nurses drifting toward the doors with bags over their shoulders while fresh coffee smell started creeping in from the lounge.
When the elevator doors opened, you spotted Frank heading towards you from the opposite end of the hallway.
There was a real smile spread across his face when he looked up at you. Not his usual tired little shy grin you'd gotten used to seeing the past month or so he'd been back for. It warmed your cheeks to look at him like this. Bright enough it immediately caught your attention as he walked past with something close to a bounce in his step, one hand hooked around a Red Bull already cracked open.
“Hey, you,” he chuffed a laugh, ducking his head with a shrug, “yeah—I mean—”
Another breath left him quick through his nose, eyes lit up despite trying to hide his pride.
You turned towards him as he passed, and he did the same—the two of you circling each other through the narrow row of lockers. He grabbed something from inside his and shut it again with his hip, taking another sip of his energy drink and still smiling.
You paused, smiling widely up at him, "Tell me."
He looked so handsome like this: glowing, forehead a little shiny with dappled sweat, tips of his hair hanging in front of his pretty blue eyes.
“I, uh…” he smiled again, almost disbelieving, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Just did a reduction on a diaphragmatic rupture.”
Your smile dropped instantly, eyes widening. “Are you serious?”
"You know what that is?"
“I mean, Robby told me about it—holy shit, Frank.” You stared at him, lost for words for a second before going on. “I read about one in last month’s Emergency Medicine Journal that Robby gets, and he kinda explained it to me, ya know, in civilian terms.”
Frank nodded, still trying and failing to hide how pleased he was with himself. “Sixteen year old kid,” he said. “Dirt bike accident. Came in satting like shit. Everybody thought tension pneumo at first.”
"That must've been so intense."
“First night shift since I've been back and I’m apparently supposed to go home and sleep after that somehow.”
“Says the guy drinking a Red Bull.”
He looked down at the can in his hand like he’d forgotten he was holding it, laughing quietly before taking one last swig before turning and tossing the can into the trash across the room.
"How are you?" he asked, turning back to you.
You leaned back against the lockers, letting out a long sigh.
"I…" you pursed your lips. "I'm fine. Probably not as good as you are at the moment." it was meant as a tease, a joke, but came off a little sadder than you meant.
He tilted his head, the smile easing from his mouth as his eyes moved over your face more carefully. “Wanna talk about it?”
You couldn’t help but smile up at him a little. Always attentive, Frank Langdon was. Always patient enough to stand and wait for you to say what you meant, even when you didn’t really want to.
“Not really. Just…” You looked down, folding your arms over your chest. “Not sleeping super well.”
Partial truth. The other half of it was something you weren't entirely sure how to name. You couldn't put your finger on this feeling wriggling around in your head the past few weeks.
Frank nodded, stepping a little closer to you, "You can always talk to me, ya know?"
You looked back up at him, softer now. “I know. Thank you.”
“Mhm.” He leaned a shoulder lightly against the lockers beside you. “Though for the record, I don’t think hanging out upstairs counts much as therapy.”
You laughed quietly through your nose. Of course he knew. “And what does Dr. Langdon prescribe instead?”
“That depends.” His eyes flicked over your face again, brow furrowing in mock concern. “How severe are the symptoms?”
“Hm.” You pretended to think about it, bringing your forefinger up to tap on your chin. “Trouble sleeping, a little irritability. General sense of doom.”
“Ooof,” he nodded seriously. “That’s bad.”
“Mm. Terminal, probably.”
That got another laugh out of him, head ducking for a second before he looked back at you again, something warmer settling into his expression now. He made another face then, one of his thinking faces, though there was a little amusement too.
“What?” you laughed. “What’s that face for?”
“Guess I know how to take your mind off things for a bit, is all.”
“Oh?” your smile widened.
Frank pushed off the locker so he could brace one hand against the locker beside your head, leaning in as he looked down at you. The hallway light caught against the tired lines beneath his eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw after too many hours on shift.
“Guess I was just hoping since…” His tongue darted out over his bottom lip absentmindedly. “Since I saved that kid’s life, maybe…”
You smiled slowly, a glint of delight coming back to your eyes. “Do you only save lives so you get rewarded, Dr. Langdon?”
His mouth twitched upward immediately. There was something almost competitive in the way the two of you looked at each other suddenly, both waiting to see who would crack first and say the thing sitting plainly between you. It felt playful. Easy. For one, you were grateful for the subject change. On the other hand, you couldn’t remember the last time Frank flirted this openly with you. Or maybe it was because he usually wasn't so obvious. Though, maybe it was the fact you were laying it on just as thick now.
“Only when I know you’re coming in,” he teased, his voice lowered and warm enough to send heat creeping up your neck.
You lifted an eyebrow, chin tipping up as your eyes dropped to his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to come by more often then. Make sure you’re not neglecting your patients.”
“Guess so,” he murmured.
He leaned closer. Only inches away now, close enough you could smell the fruity aftertaste of Redbull on him, the antiseptic of sanitizer, and lingering scent of his aftershave buried beneath twelve hours of hospital air. You watched with bated breath as he tilted his head, eyelids lowering. He began to dip down toward you, your lips nearly—
"What's goin' on back here?"
Frank pulled back fast, though not completely. His arm still caged you against the lockers. You turned your head toward the mouth of the hallway to find Robby standing there with a stack of papers in one hand, brows drawn tight enough to carve a line between them over his reading glasses.
“Just talking to Dr. Langdon,” you said innocently.
Frank finally stepped back fully under Robby's glare, the warmth of him leaving with it. The confidence he’d had moments ago seemed to drain out of him all at once, shoulders tightening beneath his scrub top.
“Maybe you can let Dr. Langdon get back to work now,” Robby said sharply, pretending to look over the papers in his hands. “West Bridge is rerouting patients to us. Flooding incident. Gonna need all hands on deck.”
“Shit,” Frank muttered, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
But he made no move to leave yet. He just stood in front of you, looking a little out of place suddenly, like he’d gotten caught somewhere between staying and going. You wondered what this past year of meetings and evaluations and drug screenings and apologies had really done to his confidence. If Robby had ever actually sat down and talked to him honestly, or if he’d done what he always did and buried it beneath work until the silence made it impossible to bring up. He sure as hell never wanted to talk about it with you, no matter how gently you'd ask.
The silence stretched.
When the three of you just stood there too long without anyone making a move to leave first, Robby finally spread his arms a little, papers still in hand as he looked between the two of you.
“Now?”
Frank gave a small nod at the dismissal, finally stepping away from you to head down the hallway with him. Robby had already started to turn when you reached out and caught Frank gently by the jaw, your fingers brushing along the stubble there as you turned him back toward you.
“We’ll talk later,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
The flush that climbed into his cheeks was immediate, and he brought his hand up to catch at your elbow, giving it a light squeeze. He didn't say anything, but smiled a little, almost sheepish but lighter somehow, like the reassurance settled his nerves even by a fraction.
As you started to follow behind him out into the main open area, Robby suddenly planted a hand against the wall in front of you with a loud smack, cutting you off before you could pass through the doorway.
"What exactly was that?"
"We were just saying hi."
"Hi and a goodbye kiss?" Robby asked sharply.
You shrugged, unbothered on purpose, even as the suddenness of him blocking the doorway made your pulse jump beneath your skin. “You used to like when I flirted with your residents.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Your stare hardened.
“Oh, I see,” you said slowly, folding your arms over your chest. “So there’s suddenly rules now? What else would you like to add?”
“That’s not what I said.” he said, pulling his glasses off and tucking them into his shirt collar.
“No?” You tilted your head, “Cause last I checked, you didn’t exactly mind sharing.”
“Langdon’s different.”
Ah, of course.
“Because he went to rehab?” you asked. “Because before that you had no problem letting me—”
"He's unstable—"
“And you’re not?” you shot back before you could stop yourself.
You saw it in the way his stare sharpened on you, his jaw ticking under his beard as he looked down at you without answering. The morning shift noise carrying faintly from out in the department beyond the archway.
“He’s been back two months,” you said, hissing quietly through your teeth as the irritation grew. “You let him come back. You let him stay. He’s doing everything right and you still look at him like he’s one bad day away from sticking pills in his mouth again.”
Robby shifted the subject, as always. “You seem awfully concerned about him lately.”
And maybe a month ago, you would've backed down. Maybe you would've softened to him, let him steer the conversation away from himself and onto you, but today was different. Hell, the last few weeks had been different. That wriggling in your brain was something ugly, just sitting under your skin since your time with Brendon Park.
You lifted your chin. "What's that supposed to mean?"
“It means,” Robby said carefully, “I don’t think Langdon’s in a position to get attached to things that aren’t his.”
Your eyebrows shot upward and before you could stop yourself, a short disbelieving laugh escaped you.
"Oh my god," you scoffed, "this is about ownership, isn't it? And you're marking your territory."
Robby’s head was already shaking before you finished, one hand pinching briefly at the bridge of his nose. "Why are you acting like this?"
"Like what?" you snapped.
“Like we didn’t already agree to this.” His voice dropped lower still. “To me calling the shots on our… relationship. I think I’ve let you get a little too comfortable lately.”
The word sat strangely between you now. Relationship.
“That’s because, Dr. Robinavitch,” you said, your own voice tightening now, sharpened by defiance, “I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t belong to you. Actually—” you laughed once without humor, “—I don’t belong to anyone.”
Something shifted faintly across Robby’s face at that.
“And also,” you continued before he could cut in, “you agreed to this too. To me flirting. To me choosing sometimes. There was never a problem with it before. And you know what I think?”
Your pulse was beating too hard now. You could feel yourself getting too wound up, too close to saying something you wouldn’t be able to take back. But the irritation sitting under your skin the past few weeks had finally found somewhere to go. You felt petty, and suffocated, and—and—
"I think you are just too prideful to admit you’re more angry at yourself than Frank. Because he fucked up, and somewhere in your head you think that means you—”
"Enough!' he snapped, voice cracking down the center. You both looked at each other for a long time then, silence heavy and stretching until it became harder to look at him directly.
You could feel him looking at you then in a way that made heat creep up the back of your neck, like he was seeing something he hadn’t noticed before.
“Think it’s time you went home,” he said flatly. "Don't you?"
You held his stare another long second before slowly dropping your arms and smoothing your expression back into something sweet.
“No,” you said softly. “I don’t think so, Dr. Robinavitch.”
Then you stepped around the arm still braced against the wall.
“Think I’ll stay awhile and see what night shift is up to instead.”
The noise of the ED buzzed around you as you walked out into the open area of the desk, the last of your adrenaline flicking through your fingers as you shook them off. Phones rang around you, monitors beeped in an off rhythm, and someone was laughing loud near the lounge, the doors opening and nurses coming in and out. The whole department had that strange early morning feeling to it, night shift hanging on by threads while day shift slowly poured in to replace them, everybody tired in different ways.
Dana was planted in front of the boards, reading glasses low on her nose as she scribbled something down onto a chart balanced against her forearm.
“There she is,” Dana called once she spotted you. She pulled the glasses down fully and opened her arms wide. “Thought maybe Robby chained you to that motorcycle of his or somethin’.”
You snorted, stepping into her quick squeeze before leaning against the desk once she let you go.
“Morning to you too.”
“Mornin’, angel girl.” Dana capped her pen and pointed it at you. “Hey. You busy?”
You opened your mouth to answer before realizing you actually didn’t know. After the weird tension with Robby in the hallway, suddenly the idea of finding somewhere else to be sounded pretty appealing.
“Why?”
“We’re hosting a blood drive downstairs,” she said. “Red Cross is beggin’. Critically low supply again. You should donate if you can.”
Honestly, it sounded perfect. Downstairs, quiet, away from Robby and whatever the hell that conversation had just been.
“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Actually that sounds kinda nice. Who's running it?”
“Mateo and Javadi.” Dana narrowed her eyes immediately after saying it. “Nobody’s ever said a blood drive sounds nice.”
You saw her eyes flick over your face and behind you before she handed you the flyer. The paper crackled softly between your fingers as you skimmed over dates and eligibility requirements and little cartoon blood drops smiling in the margins.
As you read over the flyer, your attention snagged suddenly on the feeling of warmth near your shoulder, so close that the fine hairs along the back of your neck lifted before you even turned around. The smell of Irish Spring and coffee suddenly embraced you as a voice said low by your ear:
“Hey.”
The single word slid down your spine.
You turned and found yourself nearly chest to chest with Jack Abbott.
Jesus Christ.
You’d always thought he was handsome, obviously. Everybody did. But up close after a night shift he had this worn roughness to him that somehow made it worse. Dark circles beneath his eyes, jaw shadowed from not shaving for a day or two, black t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. His curly salt and pepper hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times overnight.
His eyes, though, his eyes were focused on you with intent, a small smile pulling the corner of his mouth.
You leaned back against the desk, "Hey yourself."
Amusement flickered across his face, his hands behind his back as he loomed before you as he swayed on his feet, "How are you?"
You couldn't help the way you licked your bottom lip as you inhaled, "Good."
He nodded once, his gaze dropping to your mouth and then over your face slowly enough to make your pulse stumble.
“Good.”
"Oh brother."
You smiled, shoulders dropping at Dana's voice behind you. You could just picture her eye roll as she watched the interaction.
Jack smiled too, barely glancing behind you at all. The thought occurred to you suddenly that he was almost as intimidating as Dr. Park, but an entirely different way. Brendon's attention felt sharp, invasive, like being circled by something dangerous. And with Jack, it felt warm but in a lighter way. Your spine tingled when he looked at you like that—knowing, cheeky even, a twinkle in his eye—your chest pushing out as your flesh lit up in goosebumps, legs beginning to feel wobbly and unstable under his gaze. Where you didn't know Park's intentions when he pierced you with that shark like gaze, you could read almost every thought across Jack's.
"Long night?" you asked.
He let out a quiet laugh through his nose. “You could say that.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That finally got a real smile out of him, brief but enough to crease the corners of his tired eyes. God, he had a nice smile.
Dana moved around the desk so she could catch your eye as she pointed at you both aggressively with her pen.
“Absolutely not. Nope. I know that look.” She pointed toward the hallway. “Go donate your blood and let this man go home and sleep before he has to be back tonight.”
Jack's gaze never left yours.
“Can’t yet,” he said quietly. “Still got a few patients I need to sign off on. Couple discharges.”
“You’ve been here fourteen hours,” Dana snapped.
“Fifteen,” he corrected absently.
Your eyebrows lifted. “Geez.”
He shrugged one shoulder, swaying a bit in front of you, though there was something almost sheepish about it under your attention now, like he suddenly realized how wrecked he probably looked. His eyes only left yours to look at the flyer behind you.
“Donating?” he asked you.
“Dana’s bullying me into it.”
“Good,” he said simply. "The vampires upstairs in their ivory tower are getting restless."
You laughed softly through your nose while the approval settled warm in your chest in a way that felt embarrassing, considering it was something so silly. Despite whatever hard night it had been, Jack always had a way of lightening the mood, even if it was with terrible jokes.
"Hey, Abbot!" someone called, and Jack’s attention finally pulled away from you and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Dr. Henderson approached from down the hall, ipad tucked beneath his arm, navy scrubs still clean despite the long shift.
"Hey, trouble," he said, nodding his head up to you, his charming gap in his teeth showing as he smiled on his approach.
"Hey, Crus," you smiled, leaning back further against the desk.
Dana made another exhausted little tsk noise as she sidled back behind you at the desk.
Crus looked back at Jack, expression shifting more serious. “Ms. Jones from triage has been waiting ages for that arm x-ray. I’m gonna pull ultrasound down here and clear her myself. No reason for her to sit in this hellhole longer than she needs.”
Jack nodded once. “Cool. See if you can dispo a few more stragglers while you’re at it too so you can get home in one piece.”
Crus nodded, but then paused. So did Jack. There was a bit of an awkward silence.
"Anything else?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised.
Crus glanced down at you, smile turning cockier. “Just wanted to say hello to my pretty friend here.”
“You already said hi,” you teased.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jack's jaw ticking.
“What’re you doin’ after this?” Crus asked.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Dana cut in sharply. “Get your butt downstairs before I gotta start carryin’ around a god damn yardstick to beat these brutes back.”
You stood quickly, grabbing the flyer from her again and turned to Crus, "If you happen to be here when I'm done, I'll come find you."
He smiled even wider at that.
You glanced at Jack then with a little wink before turning away without waiting for anything from him. The last thing you caught was the pursed set of his mouth, his eyes narrowed faintly at your back.
The thing about Jack Abbot and you…was, well, that there was nothing about you and Jack Abbot at all.
Which was strange, considering there had been something with most of Robby's closest residents and attendings. Not everyone, obviously—but enough that you knew that Jack knew what you were to those around him too. Nobody in the ED was exactly subtle.
And then there was the black ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. The one he twisted absently when he was talking to residents, one he never took off, one that seemed to sit between him and everything else like a hazard sign bolted into concrete. Even if his wife had died years ago.
But Jack was flirty with everyone. That was just who he was. Playful, funny, forever making terrible old man jokes just to get a laugh out of somebody during a hard shift. He liked making you laugh especially. You’d noticed that early on.
And while his stares could make heat creep all the way down your chest and settle into your belly, and looked at you sometimes like he was already halfway through some thought he shouldn’t be having, you also knew he never meant anything by it.
Because he never did anything about it. Ever.
You wondered sometimes if Robby had ever even offered, or if there was some invisible line between the two of them that wouldn’t allow for it. They’d known each other so long they were closer to brothers than coworkers. Maybe there were just certain things you didn’t touch when it came to Jack Abbott. The idea of anything being off limits in Robby's mind made your jaw tick again.
You knew you shouldn't have been so defensive earlier, of Langdon or of anyone else. You did have a nice arrangement with Robby, one that made your mind shut off when he took the reins, an arrangement that made you feel wanted and needed and…
You didn’t even want to think the word.
Loved?
Please.
As if any of this meant anything deeper than helping the staff blow off steam after brutal shifts, letting them forget for a little while about dead patients and screaming families and all the things they carried home. That’s all you were. A cute little distraction around the ED.
And in return, you got to feel like you belonged somewhere. You got to feel like even Robby—
"Juice box?"
You blinked hard and looked up.
A curly headed mop of hair tilted down toward you, warm brown eyes and pretty tan skin and a thick-lipped smile waiting patiently while he held out the little apple juice box toward you.
You smiled automatically, fidgeting in your chair as you reached out to take it. “Thank you, Mateo”
He nodded, dark curls falling around his forehead. “I’m about to head out, but you were lookin’ a little pale over here.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “V’s gonna take over now.”
You glanced toward Victoria Javadi helping someone else tape gauze over the inside of their arm, smiling brightly while she thanked them for donating.
“Cool, yeah,” you nodded quickly, forcing your thoughts away from handsome attendings and complicated arrangements. “Sounds good.”
He paused in front of you, "You good?"
"Mhm, sorry—" you shifted around the reclining chair, "just, tired—I think I was starting to fall asleep."
"…or pass out." he corrected knowingly, "I'll get you a sandwich."
You smiled sheepishly, "Okay, fine, thank you."
He winked before stepping away toward the snack cart, and when he came back a minute later with a wrapped sandwich. Instead of leaving again, he dropped down onto the little rolling stool in front of you.
“Gotta take this out first.” He said, reaching for your arm, his fingers warm against your skin as he peeled the tape back from the crook of your elbow. “Can’t let you wander around the hospital still attached to us.”
You laughed softly, welcoming the touch.
"I uh…" Mateo's eyes flickered towards the doorway before coming back to your arm, "I heard you and Robby earlier."
Your stomach tightened, "Oh."
He still wasn’t looking directly at you, focused instead on removing the needle smoothly before pressing gauze firmly against your arm.
“I just wanna say…” He shrugged a little. “I think you’re right to defend Langdon.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
“He’s earned the right to be back here,” Mateo continued quietly. “And I know you…” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Well. You’ve helped me through some pretty shitty days too.”
Your eyes softened. People knew Langdon had gone to rehab, though maybe not everyone knew the full story of what happened a year ago, how ugly it had gotten by the end, or the way everything between him and Robby had blown apart afterward. Still, it made something in your chest ease, knowing there were people here besides you willing to stand behind him.
“That being said," Mateo went on, "I don’t want you thinkin’ people only want you around because of…” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, flushing faintly. “You know.”
You smiled, a chuff of soft laughter spilling from you, but you let him go on.
“People actually like you,” he finished simply. “You’re cool as hell to have around.”
You reached out without really thinking about it, hand wrapping gently around his forearm. You weren't sure why that made your throat tighten suddenly as you said, "Thank you."
He smiled back at you before finally securing a rainbow bandaid over the little cotton pad at your arm.
“There,” he patted your elbow lightly, “no heavy lifting.”
Without overthinking it, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck before you could leave, sitting up and bringing him in closer. He hugged you back immediately, warm hands settling against your spine before curling around your waist, holding you against him.
“Don’t let Robby’s shit day stop you from comin’ around here, yeah?” he murmured.
You ducked your face briefly into the side of his neck, warm spice and bergamot filling your senses. Your brain betrayed you immediately with flashes of those same hands gripping your thighs months ago, his mouth against your stomach, the low sound of your name on his tongue.
“Yeah,” you sighed softly.
Then when you finally pulled back and looked over his shoulder, you caught Javadi watching the two of you from across the room. The second your eyes met hers, she looked away sharply, mouth tightening as she threw something into the trash harder than necessary.
Your stomach dipped, and you let go of Mateo quickly after that, standing up and thanking him again before making a fast escape out into the hallway.
By the time you made it back upstairs, the little cotton pad taped to the inside of your eblow was starting to itch beneath the rainbow bandaid, your half-finished juice box crinkling softly in your hand every time you squeezed it. The sandwich Mateo gave you was nowhere to be found now, left forgotten probably on your recliner downstairs while you got distracted spiraling through your own thoughts.
Which, apparently, was becoming a habit lately.
The department had picked up since earlier. Stretchers lined parts of the hallway now, triage louder than before, somebody coughing hard near the waiting room while a monitor alarm chirped steadily from one of the trauma bays. You could smell the burnt, forgotten coffee from the lounge in the air and the floor cleaner by the 'wet floor' sign in the middle of the room.
You slowed near the desk, eyes drifting automatically through the movement around the department.
Mostly looking for Crus.
Partially avoiding Robby.
Which was stupid, because the second you thought it, your eyes snagged on him across the department anyway.
He stood in front of Dennis Whitaker, both hands clutching the tubes of his stethoscope while he listened to the resident presenting. Robby looked exhausted already, dark circles beneath his eyes and a pained look across his face as he stood there.
But then he looked up, the eye contact so sudden it made your stomach dip. His attention was caught on you completely, something shuttering carefully across his face as he forced a neutral expression. Whitaker was still talking, oblivious to the sudden change in his attending's attention, and after a long moment Robby finally looked away, turning his attention back towards the chart in Whitaker's hands.
“Look who survived her heroic blood donation,” Dana called without looking up from the computer.
You wandered toward the desk with a quiet sigh. “Barely.”
Dana snorted.
“Crus still here?”
“Mhm. Went up to radiology with one of the nurses maybe ten minutes ago.” She clicked through a chart before looking at you over her readers, “He’ll wander back down eventually."
Well, you sure as hell weren't going to wait down here for Robby to find you.
“I’m gonna go up,” you muttered.
Dana pointed at you immediately. “You wanna eat somethin’ first?”
You waved her off anyway and headed toward the stairwell before she could mother you any harder. The elevator dinged somewhere down the hall and you glanced toward it hopefully, only to find a crowd of transport staff immediately flooding doors again with a patient bed.
Yeah, nevermind. The stairs it was.
Heading up the stairway corridor, the noise of the ED dulled to muffled echoes behind you, the stairwell smelling of dust and stuffy industrial metallic. The only sound accompanying you the further you got was the sound of your footsteps and heavier breathing.
By the third flight, your legs felt heavy, chest heaving in lungfuls that usually wouldn't have winded you so much. Your head felt a little floaty, and you had to tighten your grip to haul you up onto the next landing. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while you stood there a second, listening to the distant hum of hospital life vibrating through the walls around you. Somewhere above, a door slammed shut.
Two more to go.
You pushed upward again.
When you finally reached the radiology floor, you stepped out into the quieter hallway with another long breath, smoothing your hair back from your forehead. The halls up here always felt strange compared to the ED—slower paced, colder, less frantic.
Before you closed the door of the stairwell, you glanced back and saw something peculiar.
The door across on the landing was propped open with a towel just next to the small sign bolted to the metal.
ROOF ACCESS
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Why was it open?
Something about it made your stomach do a little dance. It wasn't exactly fear, but maybe curiosity. Worry, even. You knew who liked to spend time on the roof, after all.
You stared at it another second before turning toward it instead of the radiology department. The heavy metal door groaned softly as you pulled it open wider, another narrow staircase stretching upward above you. You glanced back once, making sure the towel still sat wedged near the hinge to keep the door from locking behind you, before starting up.
Your lungs burned with every breath, the climb catching up to you all at once. Cold sweat prickled along the back of your neck beneath your hair, the rooftop shifting faintly beneath your feet when you stopped moving too suddenly.
Too many damn stairs.
The air was still cool for a Pennsylvania morning, late summer clinging stubbornly to the afternoons but finally starting to ease, mornings carrying the promise of fall again. The breeze skimmed over the sweat dampening your skin and raised goosebumps along your arms as you stepped fully onto the rooftop.
And there he was.
Standing near the edge with his beck to you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tan cargos. He didn’t turn around when the door shut behind you, and for a second you wondered if he already knew it was you or if he was just too lost in thought to care.
"What're you doin' up here, Jack?"
His shoulders sagged slightly at the sound of your voice, head dipping forward for a second, chin nearly brushing his chest before he let out a long breath through his nose.
“Thinkin’ about throwin’ myself off,” he muttered.
You walked closer slowly. “Mm. Bit dramatic.”
He huffed a little amused laugh at that, though you couldn't see his face. You stood just behind him at the railing. He was so quiet your chest had started thumping against your ribs. Play with me, you wanted to beg, joke back, please.
Down below, an ambulance siren wailed somewhere out on the street while another backed into the bay beneath you, the sharp beeping echoing upward between buildings. A car alarm chirped a few blocks away before abruptly cutting off.
The city moved on while you stood in silence.
"That bad?" you murmured after a moment.
He looked up at the skyline, "You know...I always liked sunrises more than sunsets. Sunsets get all the attention, but there's nothing like seeing the sun rise again and again. Despite how shit it may seem, it just keeps coming, doesn't it?"
"Like you?"
You maybe shouldn't have said it, but you couldn't help it. You wished he'd just look at you. The nausea twisting in your stomach had gotten worse now, your vision still faintly shaky from the climb, but you kept your eyes fixed stubbornly on the broad line of his back beneath the black cotton stretched over his shoulders.
“Had a little girl this morning,” he said instead of answering you. “Left in a hot tub too long. Came in with burns all over. Her little heart was giving out before we could even get her onto high-flow and start pushing fluids.” He shook his head slowly. “Always the kids, man.”
Your eyes dropped toward the rooftop gravel below your shoes. The ground shifted faintly again and you closed your eyes briefly, fingers clenching together as you leaned harder against the railing.
“Shit,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”
"Me too." he whispered, almost too quiet against the wind. "Why are you up here?" he asked, barely glancing back.
But the second his eyes actually landed on you, you saw his expression change. He did a double take to look directly at you, his eyes widening as he took you in.
You opened your mouth to answer him but your vision had gone completely fuzzy. You couldn't hold onto the railing, all your strength feeling like it had zapped from you in a moment's notice.
Oh—
Oh, fuck—
Jack turned fully toward you at the exact moment your knees buckled.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hey—!”
The world dropped violently sideways before a pair of strong hands caught you hard around the waist and shoulders, hauling you against him. You weren’t even sure how he’d gotten to you that fast, only that suddenly there were two of him swimming in your vision.
“Jesus Christ,” Jack breathed.
Your vision came back in strange pieces. Pink and gray sky, his black t shirt. The feeling of his hand gripping the back of your neck.
“Easy,” he muttered, and somewhere in the back of your mind you felt his thumb softly caressing the column of your throat. “Easy, easy. I got you.”
“I’m okay,” you mumbled automatically.
“Bullshit.”
You could feel his breath against your skin, minty from whatever gum he'd brought with him on his shift. Irish Spring soap flooded your senses stronger than before. His body radiated warmth through the thin fabric of your shirt.
"You donated blood this morning, right?" he said, asking quietly.
"Mhm," you said, closing your eyes for a minute.
Jack closed his eyes briefly like he was physically containing his irritation.
“So you climbed seven flights of stairs after donating blood?” His hand tightened slightly at your waist. “Did you eat anything?”
"Forgot my sandwich. Mateo, he…" you sighed, content in his hold, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "Juice box too."
"Okay, baby, we're gonna get you home."
Baby. Jack had never called you that before. He'd flirted with you, made eyes at you, but never the pet name. And with him holding you so close, your stomach was rolling again, but not from the nausea.
You hummed contentedly, and he held you there for a long moment. When you opened your eyes, he was still staring at you.
"You're right" you said gently.
"Yeah?" he breathed, "Why's that?"
"The sunrise is so pretty."
Jack glanced behind him automatically toward the skyline, the sky dusty blue now with long streaks of pink still dragged through the clouds. Morning light painted the side of his face pale gold when he turned back toward you again.
“Makes you look pretty too,” you added, a faint smile pulling at your mouth.
Jack stared back down at you for half a second before he mirrored the look.
“Okay,” he groaned, carefully easing you upright again while keeping one hand firm at your waist. “Definitely time to get you horizontal before you start hallucinating.”
Jack kept his hand against your waist as he guided you back toward the stairwell, watching you carefully every few seconds like he didn’t fully trust you not to tip over again. The rooftop door whined and slammed shut behind you.
“No more stairs,” he muttered immediately, steering you toward the elevator hall instead.
You smiled faintly. “Bossy.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Eventually you made it back down to the ground floor, the ED exploding with noise once the doors opened. The morning rush had hit, the elderly from the nearby nursing homes being wheeled in quickly and codes being called around you.
Jack reached for your hand, guiding you through quickly. It was warm, rough around the palm, fingers curling firmly through yours.
"I gotta tell Robby—" you tried to say, but as you glanced around looking for him, you saw Robby standing with a gown half on him, gloved hands pulling it over his shoulders as him and a group of others stood around a patient. Jesse was there, cutting off a patient's shirt as they began moving quickly.
"Looks a little busy." Jack muttered.
You looked to the main desk, spotting Dana and calling to her as you approached.
"Can you tell Robby I'm heading home?" you asked, jerking your head to the trauma bay he inhabited, "Jack is gonna take me. I feel like shit."
Something gentled slightly across Dana’s face then, less curious than before.
“Yeah, honey. I got it.” Her eyes flicked over your face once and immediately narrowed. “Jesus Christ, you do look awful.”
Before you could defend yourself, she reached into one of the patient nourishment carts, yanked out a wrapped sandwich, and tossed it directly at you.
Or, well, at your head.
Jack caught it one handed without even looking.
“Make sure she eats the whole thing.” Dana snapped.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jack answered, back turned to her.
You laughed quietly under your breath while he tucked the sandwich beneath his arm and started guiding you toward the exit again, still holding your hand.
And then that strange prickling feeling crawled up the back of your neck again. Awareness, a sixth sense someone was watching.
As Jack guided you out the doors, you turned around to peak at the ED one last time, and realized people were watching you.
Dana stood behind the desk now talking quietly to Robby, who had stepped partly out of the trauma room. His gloves were gone now, one hand braced against the doorway while he listened to her, but his eyes stayed fixed on you.
Langdon stood farther down the hall beside a patient room, ipad tucked beneath his arm while an older woman spoke to him from the stretcher. But his attention had drifted completely past her shoulder now, blue eyes caught on you too.
Crus had reappeared near the lockers, backpack slung over one shoulder as he headed toward the opposite exit. He slowed slightly when he saw you.
Even Brendon Park, who hardly ever wandered down here, was halfway down the hall with Yolanda Garcia beside him flipping through imaging on a chart. He had looked up at your departure too.
The whole thing felt suddenly surreal.
All these people.
All these tangled little relationships and secrets and conversations and hands on your body and soft moments everyone knew about.
They were all looking at you, with your hand in Jack's, leaving with him. It made your chest tighten oddly, holding onto his hand harder as he guided you out.
“Better?”
You licked the last crumb from your thumb, crumpling up the plastic sandwich wrapper with a sigh as you leaned back into the passenger seat of Jack’s truck.
“So much better.”
Your head still ached faintly, but with actual food in your stomach now, you finally felt like your body was catching back up to itself. The cold shaky feeling had mostly faded too. When you checked yourself in the visor mirror, there was finally color back in your face instead of that ghostly gray pallor from earlier.
You looked over at Jack with a little smile.
He was already looking at you.
“There she is,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You finally stopped looking like a Victorian child with TB.”
You snorted a laugh immediately. “But a cute Victorian child, right?”
"Very cute," he said, not yet turning on the car as the two of you settled in to the warm leather seats.
You licked the last bit of salt from your lips and slumped further into the seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest. He was still looking at you a little strangely.
"What?"
His hazel eyes softened slightly. “You scared me a little up there, y’know.”
“So did you.”
He looked away then, one hand settling onto the steering wheel while you studied him quietly from the passenger seat. The salty shade of his scruff that had grown in, the exhaustion still sitting in his eyes despite the teasing. His wedding ring caught dimly in the morning light where his fingers rested against the wheel.
The police scanner clipped suddenly to life near the dashboard.
“—I 376—multiple vehicle MVC, possible ejection—”
Both of your heads turned automatically toward it.
Jack’s posture changed instantly. It was subtle, but immediate— shoulders straightening, his eyes sharpening as he reached over, the static crackling through the speaker.
“—three critical, one pediatric—”
“Shit—sorry—” he muttered, quickly shutting it off.
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, willing the thoughts and the memories from your head. Not now, today was already such a mess. Not now. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly, threatening to send the sandwich right back up again.
“Hey.”
You felt his hand wrap around yours then, only realizing afterward how hard you’d dug your nails into your own thigh.
“Hey,” he repeated softer. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you even have that thing?”
Your eyes cracked open again to see Jack leaning across the center console now, still holding your hand, thumb moving against your knuckles.
“I, uh…” He sighed, glancing down toward the space between you before looking back up again. “I don’t like the quiet.”
"You n' me both," you muttered. "But a police scanner? You couldn't try like, white noise? An audiobook?"
He smiled a little at that, "Boring."
“Right. Well I’m sure your cortisol levels are just phenomenal listening to active disasters all day.” You shook your head slightly. "Not to mention your weekend hobby of being shot at."
That pulled a real smile out of him now, teeth flashing briefly. "My therapist said I needed a hobby."
You rolled your eyes, "And fishing wouldn't have sufficed?"
"Too quiet. You're starting to see my dilemma now."
“Oh, I can think of a few things that could keep your mind occupied better than this.”
The second the words left your mouth, heat rushed up your neck. You rolled your lips together, wishing you could've shut your mouth sooner. Shit.
Jack opened his mouth to say something, his eyes dropping to yours, and then he slid away.
You looked away immediately, staring hard out through the windshield toward the concrete pillars of the parking garage while your stomach twisted itself into knots. You could still feel the warmth of his hand around yours, which somehow only made it worse.
God. You wanted to crawl under the truck.
"You know why I haven't given in?"
You blinked, turning your head slightly. “What?”
Jack tipped his head back against the seat, eyes fixed somewhere up toward the roof of the cab now instead of at you.
“Why I haven’t…” He swallowed once. “Been part of all that. With you.”
Your heart was suddenly lodging itself into your throat.
"No." you whispered.
He looked over at you.
"Same reason why everyone else was looking at you when I was holding your hand as we walked out." he said.
His voice had gone softer somehow, lower now, like he was trying not to say too much and failing anyway. Every word came out careful and quiet enough that it made you want to lean closer just to catch them. You’d never imagined this with him—not really. Not beyond the flirting and the long looks and little moments between shifts. This kind of honesty from Jack Abbott felt almost frightening.
You didn't really understand what the meant by that.
He held your gaze for a long second before looking down at your joined hands still resting near the center console.
“But it’s not—” You tried to laugh lightly, though it came out strained. “It’s just hooking up, Jack. Just blowing off steam.”
He gave you a knowing look, "I don't think so, sweetheart."
Your skin felt hot and as awake as a live wire under his watchful stare—the way he could see it all so clearly, the thing you'd been trying to not name in the past few weeks, the thing that made you spit venom at Robby this morning.
"If I…If we—" He stopped himself, tongue dragging slowly across his bottom lip while his jaw tightened. Your heart was hammering in your throat now as he went on: "I'm not exactly built for anything casual."
You tipped your head to look at him, trying to keep your face relaxed, forcing a small smile that you didn't feel, "Jack—"
“I’m serious.” His voice sharpened slightly for the first time since getting into the truck. “I can’t do casual. I’ve never been able to.” He looked away briefly, his mouth opening to inhale like he couldn't catch a steady breath. “And after my wife…”
The cab of the truck suddenly felt too small.
“Since Eve died,” he said carefully, “I’m not really right in the head, sweetheart.”
Your chest twisted at the sound of his honesty, the exhaustion not just from the shift but from whatever he was dealing with inside, whatever all the long nights and the police scanner and the active duty seemed to distract from.
"It doesn't have to be like that," you murmured, turning to fully face him, "We don't have to do anything, I like being friends. I've never asked you to—"
"But fuck," he let out a harsh breath, eyes boring into you, "I want to."
You stared at him for a long moment without blinking. Part of you wanted to change the subject immediately, to laugh it off, to rewind the entire conversation before either of you started saying things that couldn’t really be unsaid. Brendon Park's face suddenly appeared behind your eyes:
Because one day someone’s going to slip up and you’re going to realize it’s a lot less about the sex than you think.
You looked away from Jack and back out toward the concrete beams of the parking garage.
“I can’t be your girlfriend, Jack.” Your voice had gone strangely stiff now, every consonant sharp. “I can’t be Robby’s either, and he knows that. That’s why this works.”
"I'm not —"
“The last time I was somebody’s girlfriend,” you interrupted, “my parents died.”
Jack went completely still beside you. Your throat tightened immediately, like your body regretted saying it the second the words were out, but now you couldn’t stop them.
"I had taken them to my boyfriend's house, and his parents were so fucking drunk when we arrived they could barely hold a conversation," you said quickly, your eyes beginning to burn at the corners. "His dad kept getting angrier and angrier, shouting over my mom every time she tried talking, and his mother was making comments about my body, about how I should ‘lock her son down before somebody else does.’” Your laugh came out thin and shaky. “And my boyfriend just sat there letting it happen, laughing at their awful comments.”
His hand tightened around yours.
“I was so hellbent on convincing my parents they weren’t always like that, that he wasn’t always like that, but they wouldn’t listen.” Your breathing had gone uneven now, tears thickening your voice. “They kept telling me I deserved better, and I thought they were judging me for planning to move to the city with him, so I just—I snapped.”
You let go of Jack's hand to press the heels of your hands hard against your eyes.
“I told my own dad I hated him.” The words cracked coming out. “That was the last thing I ever said to him.” Your shoulders shook harder. “And he turned around with this look in his eyes, and that’s when that fucking truck—”
Jack’s arms were around you instantly.
One second you were sitting there trying to force the words out and the next he was leaning hard over the center console, pulling you into him so quickly it knocked the breath from your lungs. You sobbed against his chest, and you could feel his mouth pressing against the top of your head as he said: "I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything—"
You could barely speak, you were crying so hard. You'd never told anyone all of that. Robby only knew pieces, but he never knew why you'd blamed yourself. He was the only one who ever understood without having to know. It was why it worked with him, why everything had been good until now. Both of your own darkness tucked underneath this feeling of being wanted and seen and understood, his and your own.
You clutched onto Jack’s shirt, tears staining through the soft black cotton, until eventually your breathing began to even out into uneven little pulls of air instead of outright sobs.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered finally, dragging the back of your hand hard across your cheek as you tried pulling away.
But Jack wouldn’t let you go.
His arms only tightened around you instead, one hand spread broad against the middle of your back while the other stayed firm at the nape of your neck.
As you sucked in air and tilted your head up to look at him, to try to get him to understand, you stopped when you saw the look in his eyes.
You became suddenly, painfully aware of how close he’d gotten.
His face hovered only inches from yours now, your knees pressed against the center console while his body leaned over it to hold you. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the rough drag of his thumb where it rested against the back of your neck.
He whispered your name.
And then was leaning in.
His lips tasted like faded coffee and old minty gum, like a low burning fire— the warmth of standing out in the cold too long, even though it was a tepid day outside the windows of his truck. You parted your lips in surprise, and he leaned in deeper immediately, kissing you harder now, but still so careful you could feel him holding himself back. You could’ve sworn you heard a broken groan slip from his throat at the feeling of you opening for him, his body otherwise perfectly still around you.
He pulled away. The light of the mid morning sun began to paint his face so you could still see just the barest speckle of hazel outlining the pupils that had blown wide with desire.
"That was stupid." he said, only just a whisper.
"Uh huh," you murmured, and then dove back in.
You pressed yourself against him harder, breath hitching as you moaned against his mouth, hands fisting into his shirt, pulling him closer. It felt frantic, like you'd been possessed with a newfound hunger. He only broke away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere blindly into the backseat before his hands were on you again. He was slipping them under your shirt before downright pulling you on top of him. You went willingly, knees sinking awkwardly into the crux of the seat on either side of him, straddling his hips. The position pressed you flush against him and your breath caught at the hard bulge beneath the cargos pressing against you.
He was kissing you again, and jesus, he kissed like he fucking meant it—tongue plunging into your mouth, suckling at your top lip and letting his teeth graze over it. Your hands went to his hair, fingers carding through like you could only just get him close enough, hips pushing down onto his, and you could feel a bulge in his cargos that only made your brain fuzzier. You tangled your fingers into his hair, over his shoulders, anything to try and drag him even closer while your hips rolled down against him.
"Fuck, Jack—" you whimpered as you ground down again. He let out a pained moan, his hands going to your face, before he pushed you away.
The two of you sat there panting into the same air for a second, his eyelids heavy but still fixed on you completely while your hands stayed curled against his shoulders.
"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, calloused hands at the sides of your face with his thumbs imprinting into your cheeks. He tilted your head this way and that, and you wondered, with the way he was looking at you now, if he was cataloging this all to memory in case you said no.
You nodded, letting your own hands travel up to his face, feeling the scruff of his graying stubble along your soft digits.
Jack’s eyes fluttered shut briefly at the touch. And then he was opening them again, a fire sparking behind his pained look, and he suddenly pulled your face down so you were mere milometers away from him, feeling the way he spoke more than you could hear it, "Say it."
"Yes, Jack," you whimpered, "I'm sure."
"And Robby?"
Fuck.
“I’ll talk to him,” you whispered, your breath catching when Jack’s mouth brushed slowly against your bottom lip again. “Tomorrow."
"Tonight."
You nodded frantically, "I’ll explain everything tonight.”
“What a good girl you are,” he murmured, and kissed you harder. His hands left your face to push your shirt up over your head, and you couldn’t help glancing around before your hands fell to the clasp at the back of your bra.
Jack’s hands were already there, undoing the hook and eye without fumbling once. “Tinted windows, sweetheart.”
You smiled against his mouth and let the bra slip free, breasts bare beneath his hands. He cupped you gently at first, then rougher, palms working over you with a greedy sort of focus that made your stomach tighten. He broke the kiss again to take one into his mouth, and your lips fell open at the feeling of his tongue against your pebbled nipple, a moan shaking out of you as his other hand kept a tight hold on the other.
“What a cute little thing you are,” he murmured against your skin, kissing the valley of your breasts before taking the other nipple into his mouth fully. You watched his brows pull together almost painfully, his eyelids fluttering as he groaned low against your skin.
"Jesus Christ, Jack, please—I need more—want more of you—"
He unlatched himself from your breast with a pop and nipped your chin, "Backseat."
You scrambled off his lap with a yelp when his palm cracked against your ass, laughter bubbling out of you as you climbed into the wide backseat of his truck.
He followed after you, and you only caught the quick flash of metal from his prosthesis as he climbed over the console before he muttered a curse and dropped down beside you.
"Lemme take this damn thing off—" he muttered, annoyance in his voice.
"Do you need help—"
He shook his head, already working at the straps, cargo pant leg shoved up high over his knee so you could watch him unfasten it. You’d only really seen it a handful of times before, usually when he was adjusting the socket after it rubbed him raw through the day or messing with the suspension during a shift.
It was off soon enough. He set it carefully in the footwell before leaning back against the window, his leg swinging up onto the seat. The fabric of his pants was pulled back down over his shin, sagging slightly once the prosthesis was gone.
“C’mere,” he murmured, giving a small tilt of his head. You started to scoot toward him, but he stopped you with one finger pointed your way. “Those off first.”
You smiled knowingly and unbuttoned your denim shorts, shoving them down your legs until you were left in nothing but your panties. Jack let out a slow sigh, eyes dragging over you in open appreciation.
“Seen enough?” you teased.
“Not even close,” he said with a grin, reaching out to pull you back onto his lap.
He pulled you down onto him with both hands, one settling firm at the back of your thigh while the other cupped your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his before you could even laugh again. The kiss turned messy fast, all heat and teeth and the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin, and you could feel the way he exhaled through his nose when you shifted against him, the low sound he made vibrating right into your mouth.
Jack’s hand slid slowly up the inside of your thigh, broad palm dragging over warm skin until his thumb hooked beneath the waistband of your panties.
“You're a squirmer," he said against your mouth, "Nervous?"
You laughed at first, "And you are a tease—"
But the word broke into a gasp as his fingers slipped beneath the lace of your panties, his rough fingers sliding easily against the supple, wet skin, arousal you'd made in the time from your first kiss to now coating his digits. You grabbed at his shoulders harder, letting him nip and kiss at your jaw, the sharp pricks of stubble tickling your sensitive skin. His fingers moved slowly at first, just sliding back and forth as he cursed under his breath.
"Gonna let me take care of this?" he asked, though his voice was thin and hoarse.
You nodded, gnawing at your bottom lip as you jerked against his touch. He kissed you again while his fingers worked between your legs, slower than you wanted—seemingly on purpose—with teasing circles that had your breath stuttering into his mouth. Jack seemed to enjoy every little reaction out of you, every jerk of your hips, every soft noise you failed to swallow down. You could feel him smiling faintly against your lips each time.
"You make the prettiest sounds, baby," he said. "Wonder what you'd sound like with my cock in you."
"Oh, please please please," you whimpered, dropping your forehead to the broad crest of his shoulder.
“Gotta get you ready first,” he tsked softly, the pads of two fingers sliding from your pulsing clit down to your entrance, making you shudder.
He pushed both in at once, the stretch making you wince. You lifted your head to look down at him, and saw his brows pulled together in a little cooing face.
"Ohhh, I know. But if you can't take my fingers, how will you ever take my cock in this tight little pussy, huh?"
Jesus fucking Christ he was going to kill you with that mouth of his.
You whined as he pushed deeper, knuckle-deep now, and just as you settled against his palm, your clit rubbing against the meat of his hand, he crooked his fingers inside you and your eyes nearly rolled back.
"Oh fuck!"
“That’s it,” he coaxed again. “S’alright, c’mon baby, ride my fingers.”
You whined, petulant, unable to help it. He had you like putty in his hands, fingers hitting that perfect spot inside you that only left you wanting more and more and more. You started lifting yourself off his hand only to sink back down again, your breasts bouncing softly in front of his face. It was so good, just the right amount of stretch and friction, each drop down making your clit swell and brush against his hand.
"Jaaaackkk—" you whined as your impending orgasm came rolling towards you quicker than you expected.
He must’ve felt you tightening around him because suddenly he held you still, stopping your hips before easing you back against the bench seat, crowding over you.
“Hey!” you squealed, the orgasm nearly there before he snatched it away. You watched as he sucked on his fingers before looking back down at you.
“You’re not coming unless it’s on my cock right now,” he growled, kissing at your neck while fumbling with his cargo pants, shoving them down enough to free himself.
You managed to smile, breathless albeit, and snake your hand down between the two of you.
His cock was thick—that was the first thought, girthy and like velvet in your hand. He hissed in a breath as you wrapped your hand around him, and you watched as his eyes rolled back.
"How long has it been, Jack, since you were with anyone?"
His heavy lidded gaze dropped back to you. “Long, long time, baby.”
"Since—?"
He nodded once. “Just me, myself, and my best friend Righty here,” he said with a rough little laugh, wiggling his hand between you.
You laughed with him softly. “Cornball.”
He smiled crookedly down at you before wrapping his hand around himself again, guiding the head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your back bent up in euphoric bliss as sensitive skin touched sensitive skin, both of you moaning at the contact.
"Tell me again," he said, "I need to make sure you're—you're— oh shit—"
"I'm sure, please for the love of god, fuck me."
"Now who's bossy?" he chided, and then notched his cock at your center, and both of you hitched a breath. Your hands flew to his biceps, toes curling.
“Need you to breathe, sweetheart." he said, though his voice was tight with restraint, "Let me in.”
You looked at him suddenly wide eyed, worry pinching between your brows. “Fuck, I don’t—I don’t think you’re gonna—”
"Fit?" he teased with an eyebrow cocked, and pushed another inch.
"Oh god, ohgodohgodohgod—"
He laid himself over you then, elbows braced on either side of your head so he could cup the back of your skull, kissing you slowly. “Breathe, sweet girl. Tried to tell you I had to get you ready, didn’t I?”
You nodded against his mouth and forced yourself to exhale. The second you did, Jack pushed fully into you until he was buried to the hilt, his balls pressing softly against you.
"Ohhhhhh…" you moaned, head craning back as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.
He kissed you again, letting you adjust, "Jesus, you feel so fucking good." His mouth dropped into the crook of your neck, suckling the skin there as he groaned. He pulled out barely an inch, and you clung to him immediately, arms looped tight around his neck, ankles crossing behind his back.
"No-no—need—need a second,"
“I know, I know, just a little,” he soothed, kissing your ear. “Fuck, this is not gonna last long.”
He pushed himself up just enough to slip his hand between your bodies again, one hand still holding the back of your neck. The second his fingers brushed over your clit, your whole body jolted.
"Ohmygod—"
"How's that feel, pretty girl?"
"So—so good. S'like you're splitting me in half, you're so big, Jack, oh—god—"
He chuckled, kissing your chin before fully kissing you on the mouth, breathing you in, and he began to move.
You whined and moaned and gasped for breath as he slowly began to saw his hips, until you were boneless beneath him, fully adjusted, and he finally began to fuck you in earnest.
His fingers still pressed back and forth over your clit, and he went between watching your face and kissing you, as if he couldn't decide which he liked more.
"Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, jerking his hips up into you "can't believe I waited so fucking long to do this—ah, ah—"
All you could do was moan, as if every word you'd ever learned had melted from your brain. You were molten beneath him, moans and lewd mewling of pleasure spilling from your mouth, his cock pushing deep inside, stretching you open. His breath was heavy, moaning along with you, not a care in the world. Somewhere in the haze, you noticed the truck windows had fogged over completely, the concrete walls of the parking garage barely visible beyond the glass.
"Fuck, fuck fuck, please tell me you're close—can feel her tightening up on me, I'm gonna come, please, oh fuck fuck fuck fuck—"
"Yes, Jack, please, come for me, I'm gonna—me too—" The words finally came back to you just enough to urge him on, your hips lifting to meet every thrust until he hiked your leg higher around his waist and drove deep enough to make your spine bow off the seat.
White burst across your vision at the new angle, making you cry out as the pressure finally tipped you over the edge. His fingers never left your clit while you came around him, gushing and tightening hard, every pulse of your body dragging him right after you as his own finally snapped tight.
His head bent back onto his neck, mouth open, a guttural sort of noise leaving him. You felt the shudder that went through him before he finally let himself collapse into you fully, broad body heavy against yours, his forehead tucked against your neck while both of you fought for air.
The truck felt stifling now, windows completely fogged over, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex.
You stayed like that for a while, your fingers tracing the freckles of his shoulders, the large planes of his back. Eventually his breath evened out and he lifted his head enough to look at you.
“Hell of a first date.”
You stared back at him with a flat expression, though a smug little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
“Get off, old man,” you teased, giving his shoulder a playful slap.
He laughed under his breath and finally peeled himself off you, both of you damp where sweat had gathered between your skin, though in your hazy state you could barely bring yourself to care. Getting dressed felt strangely intimate. Every now and then one of you would catch the other staring, and when you pulled your bra on his hands were already on you, straightening a twisted strap.
By the time you both climbed back into the front seat, the truck didn't smell so sweaty as Jack cracked the windows briefly, letting late morning air pour in while he started the engine.
The drive back to your place was quiet, but not in any awkward way. You let Jack turn the police scanner back up, static crackling between dispatch calls while he translated bits and pieces for you as they came through.
He’d asked if you had any lunch or dinner waiting for you at the house, and you told him you did, that you’d probably spend the rest of the day reading or trying one of those YouTube Yoga routines you always saved but never did.
One of his hands stayed loose on the wheel while the other rested on your thigh almost the entire time, thumb dragging back and forth absentmindedly over your leg whenever he stopped at a light. And before you knew it, you were turning down the street into your neighborhood—Robby's neighborhood—and Jack was idling at the driveway.
“You gonna talk to him?”
You exhaled slowly through your nose and nodded once. You knew who he was talking about. “Yeah.”
“Tonight?”
Your fingers twisted together in your lap for a second before you forced them still. “I said I would.”
Jack was quiet, but you saw him nodding out of the corner of your eye.
"Have a good day, Jack." you said gently, hand already at the door handle.
"Hey—hang on."
Your fingers loosened against the door handle as you turned back toward him, nerves fluttering low in your stomach all over again.
“Just wanted to say…” He rubbed at the back of his neck briefly before looking at you again. “I understand. What you meant earlier.”
Your brows furrowed slightly.
“About being casual,” he clarified quietly. “I’m gonna try.”
You nodded, gnawing at your lip a bit, "Good. But...if it's too much, we don't have to do anything you don't want to. I like being your friend."
He smiled, but didn't answer that. Instead, he said: "I appreciate you letting me in. About—everything."
Your eyes settled on him, softening. "Same to you." you said quietly.
He held your gaze for a long moment after that, a small smile pulling at his mouth, almost…a little sad. Like the both of you knew something, but weren't saying it out loud.
“Go to bed, Jack,” you murmured, breaking eye contact first as you pushed the truck door open. “I’ll see you soon.”
manipulative pope cody + ‘just the tip?’ + breeding kink drabble :3
this is for my moots who inspired me to blurb! i luv you~ @valleyanimalz @dirtygir1 @bbuuunnyyy @groovyangelkisses
*nasty smut below the cut teehee* ! mdni !
pope cody hates that you make him wear a condom, that you have been making him wrap it up for the entire two month relationship. he feels it’s an unnecessary barrier keeping him from feeling all of you and filling you up properly. but, he agreed the first time because he was so desperate to be inside you. always has been. always will be.
now, even after you’ve fucked more times than he can count while protected. he’s fed up. he knows that you’ll like it bare. that you’ll need it. that you’ll never make him wear a stupid condom again when you learn how good it feels when he sinks into you raw. you just need his help. need your strong, heroic boyfriend to take that step that you cant take yourself. god, he’s so good to you. that’s what he tells himself when he formulates his plan.
he made sure you came on his face at least three times. until your legs were jelly, brain mush, voice hoarse from begging him to stop. ‘i-i can’t’ you had whined, ‘ ‘s too much andy!’. he did it to get you into that floaty head space where you’re babbling mindlessly and lax for him.
and you’re exactly that as pope crawls up your body and settles where he belongs, above you and inbetween your legs. still, you breathlessly slur the question that he despises. “condom?”
he feigns frustration even though this is exactly what he planned. “shit— i left my wallet in craig’s car… i don’t have one.”
your response is a needy whine that morphs into a gasp when he rests his cock against your drenched folds and slowly slides back and forth. “can i just have you like this sweetheart?” pope rubs his thick length upwards, angry pink tip catching your clit with every pressing glide. you whimper through your desperate nods, nails clawing at his shoulders, fusing your knees to his ribs to stay spread for him. such a good girl, he thinks to himself.
he keeps his ruttings short. almost playfully light in order to not get you anywhere besides out of your mind from teasing. just how he wants it. when you start to wriggle beneath him, whimpering a few mindless “please please please”s, he looks down at your aching pussy to see her clench around nothing. poor baby, she needs me so bad, he tells himself.
his dick is so coated in your slick releases that pope ‘accidentally’ notches at your opening. staying in motion, he pushes in ever so slightly. your eyes shoot open in surprise “ohh- andy!” you squeal. frustration bubbles in his chest, but he doesn’t give up. because your panic simmers to pleasure and your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you moan at just his bare tip breaching your wet heat.
he buries his face into your neck to hide his satisfied grin, licking and suckling the skin how he knows you like. “jus the tip sweetheart? please?” he emphasizes his wimpy whines with an inching forward of his hips. your nails tear at the flesh on his back as you shudder. “p-promise?” you croak out in hazy compliance. his reply is strained. “ ‘course honey.”
popes promise — to him at least— goes up in flames when he slips a tiny bit further inside and is met with warm, silky tightness. fuckkk. he groans, muscles tensing and you cry out, eyes rolling back. his thrusts are shallow and unsatisfactory. after a only a few, he’s twitching in need, pathetically trying to inch deeper.
you notice, starting to whine and pant. “you cant andy! i’m not on the pill!” the words almost make pope start to piston in and out of you. the thought of coming in you until you’re swollen with his baby infiltrating his mind. that you’ll be tied to him forever and— oh yeah. that’s happening, he decides.
pope leans down to kiss you languidly. trying to tongue fuck you into submission. your pussy is rapidly fluttering around the first inch of his cock, telling him that you want this just as bad as he does. he uses his words. “you just feel so good sweetheart. need you so bad. need all of you.” a breathy moan slips from you at his praise as you return his kiss greedily.
you pull back and blink up at him with your glossy eyes and kiss bitten lips. when your legs start to wrap around him, crossing tightly at his back, he knows he’s almost home free. “okay... i- i need you too andy.”
you barely get the words out before he hastily pushes all the way inside of you. guttural noises of pleasure are ripped from you both as you clench around him so prettily and he stretches you out so perfectly. it’s searing, intimate and raw. so fucking raw.
as pope starts to thrust in and out of you eagerly, obscene slapping sounds echo throughout the room. he whimpers loudly at the warm, wet feeling of you and the noises your body makes for him.
when you shakily tell him between moans “you h-have to pull out.. okay?”
it takes all of his dwindling restraint to not laugh in your face.
part one | part two | part three | part four | masterlist | ao3
brendon park x reader, michael robinavitch x reader
summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. Brendon finds you after you discover a woman on the street with a traumatic injury.
|| smut MDNI 18+ big warning for body gore! sorry! medical gore (not reader, amputation, how else was I gonna get the shark to come down to the ED?), Dr an-ass-to-everyone-else-but-you Park, comfort, pet names, free use kink, cuckholding, kinda phone sex at one little part, come eating, dom!robby, mouth inspections, big dick park, bigggg boyyy park, size difference, size kink, m!recieving oral, dirty talk, throat fucking, reader has no physical descriptions except for having female anatomy and hair long enough to pull into a ponytail. again, I do not condone this sort of dynamic unless spoken about with a respectful consenting partner. READER HAS PTSD / FLASHBACKS, sorry I cant have a horny fic without a tragic story attached whatever sue me ||
a/n: I know some people arent into bj fics but the way I would suck the soul outta park the shark...mkay yeah goodnight
The walk from the coffee shop to the hospital wasn’t far, just a few blocks down, but you took your time.
The summer sun warmed the tops of your shoulders, the condensation around your iced matcha cooling in your grip. You could hear the last bits of ice sloshing around, already starting to melt only ten feet out into the hot July weather. The girl behind the counter had actually gotten your name right, written in looping marker, a little heart next to it that made you smile.
Pittsburgh bustled on around you, a passing ambulance wailing catching your attention as you walked toward the same destination, the sound rising and falling as it pushed through the intersection ahead. The hospital came into view at the end of the next block, glass doors sliding open and shut, people filtering in and out in small numbers.
Hopefully it was an easy day for them, but you knew better than to say that out loud in fear of jinxing the last half of the shift.
You stepped into the street at the white striped pedestrian crosswalk, adjusting your hold on the cold cup in your hands as you took another sip, the drink cutting through the blazing summer heat. And as you came to step up onto the curb on the other side, you heard the sound of screeching tires.
A truck suddenly pulled up to your right, jumping the curb as the front wheel bumping hard against the concrete when it came to a stop, engine still running. The driver’s side door flew open so fast it bounced once on its hinge.
"Help!!!" a woman screeched, blood on her jeans and across her shirt. Her voice was shrill, panicked: "I need help, please—I don’t know what happened! She was working on my farm, and I—please!"
The cup slipped from your hand, hitting the ground behind you with a hollow plastic crack, liquid spilling out and running toward the curb, green bleeding into the gray. You were already moving, your shoes slapping hard against the pavement as you ran to the passenger side, your hand fumbling on the handle before you yanked it open.
Your brain sort of…stalled for a second as you looked in.
A woman sat slumped in the front seat, her body angled awkwardly against the console, blood soaking through her shirt, her entire right side drenched in it, dark and wet and still spreading. Where her shoulder should have been—
It didn’t register at first. She looked like a realistic mannequin. A costume with fake blood from the Halloween store. It just…it looked… Just wrong. Just—
Your eyes dropped to her lap, and again, your brain was having trouble matching reality to logic. An arm, pale, unmoving, manicured pink fingernails. Not a prop or something from a costume set.
Her arm.
You looked her over, her head tipped back against the seat, her mouth parted, her skin pale and damp.
"Ma'am?" you squeaked, fingers going straight to her carotid, and you felt a very thin, thready pulse. You turned to the driver, "Go get someone from inside!"
You didn’t wait to see if she listened.
Moving without thinking, you set the arm carefully down on the passenger side floor so it wouldn’t fall, hands already going to your own shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one quick motion, leaving you in your bralette and cutoffs, the fabric bunching in your fists as you folded it over itself.
In any situation where someone is bleeding profusely and you don't have a tourniquet, you always apply pressure. Whether its with your hands, with your shirt off your back, doesn't matter. Pressure. Always remember pressure. Memories of Jack Abbott teaching you life saving first aid one day when his shift was less eventful and he had sat with you in the lounge over a cup of coffee. You're gonna want to look and see if it's stopped bleeding—don't. You'll only lose whatever clot you'd created with the pressure. Constant pressure, it could save someone's life one day.
You pressed your shirt hard against what was left of her shoulder, your hands slipping immediately, the blood soaking through the cotton quickly, warm and slick as you leaned your weight into it.
“What's your name?” you asked loudly closer, trying to keep her there, your forearms already starting to shake with the force of it. You brought your hand to her sternum, trying to see if she'd react to pain. She let out a little moan. “You're okay, you're gonna be okay. Open your eyes!”
Your own gaze lifted, distracted by movement on the other side of the car. Instead of the driver doing what you'd asked, she had already slid back into the car on the other side, "I have to go. I can't. I'm sorry." she began to say, as you shifted your arm around the hurt woman’s back and pulled her out of the passenger seat. You felt one of her shoes catch on the lip of the door, readjusting her full weight into you as you stumbled back a step to keep from going down with her.
Once she was out of the car, you leaned in to grab her arm, but suddenly, the car was moving.
“Hey!” you shouted or gasped or screamed, you couldn't remember. You had one arm around the bleeding woman, the other reaching into the vehicle just in time to grab her disconnected limb. And just like that, the car jerked forward, the open door slamming shut as it pulled away from the curb.
“Shit, shit shit—hey! I need help!” you yelled, throat scraping a little at the panic in your voice. You turned toward the hospital doors, people already starting to notice. Thankfully, Ahmad the security guard saw you and he was next to you in seconds.
"What the fuck!?"
"They just—they left her, oh my god—" you panted, the smell of the fresh blood flooding your senses.
Ahmad called into his walkie for help, and soon a gurney was coming around the corner from the ambulance bay, and a group of nurses and— to your surprise, Robby— came to your help.
"Jesus—" Robby cursed under his breath, grabbing you by the arms to pull you upright and out of the way as they took the woman from your hold and placed her on the gurney. His worried eyes scanned over you, squeezing your arms, checking you over as you stood shirtless on the side of the road. His eyes soon snapped to the patient—Jesse had stepped in immediately, his hand replacing yours at the woman’s shoulder, pressing down hard on the blood-soaked shirt.
“Proximal traumatic amputation—left shoulder,” he called out as the team walked together, “Massive bleed—checking her pressure now. Weak carotid, probably going to need blood.”
Robby was leading you inside with everyone, a hand at your back to keep you walking. The cool blast of AC hit you as the doors opened. "Alright, get her in a room, Dana, what's available?!"
"Trauma one!" She shouted from the charge nurse desk, pointing
The entire team turned on the dot.
“Someone grab the arm—careful—don’t lose it,” Robby barked as they cleared the doorway. “Mel’s on EFAST. I want MTP activated—blood in the room now. Get a saline flush going on that leg. Move!”
He turned to you once she disappeared into a trauma room, catching your arm to stop you just outside the doors. "What the hell happened?"
"I—" you swallowed hard, your hands shaking, blood still slick across your fingers, and your vision began to blur. "Oh god—"
His hands covered yours, hiding them from your view, "Are you hurt?"
"No—no," you said quickly, shaking your head hard. "I'm fine, uh—she—she was dropped off. On the curb! I just happened to be there. She—the lady who was driving said it happened at her farm and—and then, Robby, she just drove off!"
"Okay. Okay, thank you, honey. We've got it from here." he said, the edge gone from his voice now, grounding for you even as your ears started to hum and as his attention kept pulling back toward the room. "Do you want to go sit down and—"
You shook your head, eyes widening. "No, no—please, can I stay with you?"
He hesitated for a second, eyes flicking through the trauma room doors again, then back to you, then down at your hands in his.
"You sure?" he asked.
You nodded.
He gave a short nod back and guided you in with him, his hand pressing once at your back as the doors swung open.
Noise hit you all at once—monitors beeping, voices overlapping, orders being called out and answered, someone already on the phone with surgery, the room moving fast around the woman on the bed. You watched on, Robby setting you in the corner, grabbing sterile gloves and beginning to say something—but your ears were ringing louder and louder.
His eyes flickered over to you between his questions and orders once in a while, arms crossed tightly around his chest. Your lungs were beginning to feel shallow, not enough air being pulled in. God, there was too much blood, it was all making you dizzy, the smell and the sticky feeling on your fingers putting you right back in this same room years earlier. Suddenly your vision swam and it wasn't the woman from the road in the bed, but your parents, breathing tubes down their throats as everyone yelled and scrambled to save their lives, leaving you pushed in the corner as you watched on.
The door to your left swung open, a couple heads glancing up before dropping right back to what they were doing. A young man stepped in, clean scrubs, badge swinging against his chest as he moved uncertainly into the room, hovering like he didn’t know where to stand before drifting closer to the bed.
"Ortho consult?" he said loudly over the space so that you could hear him even over the buzzing between your ears.
No one answered him right away, but made room for him to take a look at the woman's shoulder.
“Time of injury?” he asked, glancing around, then back at the shoulder. “Do we have the limb? Was it preserved? I need to get a photo for Park—”
Robby looked up, "He couldn't come down?"
"Busy upstairs with a crush injury—" he said quickly, pulling his phone from his pocket, thumb swiping across the screen, "I only started yesterday as a resident, can't say for myself—." he said, looking closer at the open wound.
Robby let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head as his arms crossed tighter over his chest. "Jesus…"
As the new resident leaned down to snap a photo of the amputation, he smirked up at you.
"Hey, shark bait."
You barely heard him, but you did see Robby's head snap up from across the room.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
He faltered, already shrinking under it. "I just—you know—her and Brendon—"
Robby's lip curled as he jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out."
The resident didn’t move.
"Now," Robby snapped, voice suddenly very sharp and very scary. "Go upstairs, find Dr. Park, and tell him exactly what you just said. Word for word. Then you will tell him to send me a grown up who knows how to keep their mouth shut and actually knows what the fuck to do."
The resident turned, snapping another quick picture before shoving his phone away and getting out.
Robby stood there staring at the closed doors, shoulders tight. Then he let out another long exhale through his nose, and turned back to the room.
"Alright, let’s go people, once we get her stable she can go upstairs," he said, already back in the zone, each instruction coming out with a little less patience as everyone worked to get the woman stable. Whitaker had already taken her arm, setting it into a metal basin, saline sloshing as he flushed through it, hands moving fast but careful as he explained every step to his posse of med students.
Robby was on the move again, circling behind his team. He held his hands up to not brush any residents and nurses as he cut across the room, and then he was in front of you.
The snap of his gloves came first, latex pulling tight before he stripped them off, dropping them into the bin without looking. His hands were warm when they closed around your arms, thumbs pressing in to get your attention.
His face swam in and out of your vision.
"Honey," he said, voice cracking a little as he leaned down to your eye level. "I don't think you should be in here. We got this. Go find Dana, okay?"
You nodded, or, at least, tried to. Your fingers still curled into yourself as you swallowed thickly, the smell of iron flooding your senses.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder, leaning out into the hall. "Princess, where the hell is Dana?"
"Outside for a smoke!" she yelled from the main desk. And once her eyes landed on you, they widened, and she hurried over. "You okay?"
You nodded again, this time a little stronger, your breath coming a little easier with the door open, the smell easing off.
She stepped in close, one arm coming around your shoulders, steadying you. Robby said something low to her and she nodded, already guiding you away from the fray.
"C’mon, let’s wash your hands," she said, her voice softer now as she guided you down the hall, her hand staying at your back, keeping you moving when your steps slowed.
She brought you to the sink in the room, reaching past you to turn the handle, letting the water run until it warmed before pulling your hands gently under the stream. The sensor clicked, soap dispensing into your palms, and she worked it in carefully, her fingers moving over yours, between them, over your wrists, rinsing away what had already started to dry there. The only sounds were the running water and the buzzing in your head, though you were starting to be able to breathe better without all the machines around.
She rinsed your hands clean, then reached for paper towels, patting them dry and then guided you to the plastic chairs in the middle of the room. She filled a small paper cup from the sink and brought it to you.
You realized then she'd brought you to the lounge. It was quieter in here. It didn't smell like blood, but of someone's salty ramen that was heated up in the microwave, the machine beeping its reminder to whoever forgot it.
Princess had brought over a container of baby wipes, and began pulling them out to wipe your face, your neck. Each one came away with so much blood on it you didn't know what to do. She was crouched in front of you, setting the cup down on the round table, her deep, dark eyes on your face. "You’re alright," she said, quieter now. "Just need a minute. Everything’s okay. You’re here. It’s Wednesday, five in the evening, July 30th, 2025. You’re alright. Breathe."
July 30th, not March 4th. Everything was okay. You weren't here to await the prognosis on your parents lives, but here to see Robby. Robby, you're...friend? What was he? He was your rock, your…your…
You breathed in deeply, your tremors starting to settle. Princess nudged the cup closer, and you took it, fingers wrapping around the thin plastic, cool water sliding down your throat.
The door opened abruptly, and though you thought you'd see Robby come back to check on you, but it was another familiar face.
Brendon Park.
He filled the doorway, broad and stoic and intense.
"Leave." he said shortly to Princess. She rolled her eyes and dropped the last wipe she'd been cleaning your shoulder with onto the table. She quickly glanced at you with an eyebrow raised, and you said a small thank you before she walked out the door.
His sharp eyes watched her, towering over her small stature as she slid past him and out the door. He shut it behind her, and finally looked over to you.
He was across the room in two wide steps, closing the space quickly, lowering himself in front of you. One knee hitting the tile, bringing himself level with where you sat.
"Hey," he said, so differently from his razor sharp dismissal of the nurse, his hands coming up to soothe your thighs. "Hey, look at me, bunny."
Bunny. The nickname Brendon had for you, because of how wide your eyes would get the first time he made it clear he wanted you. Intimidating, terrifying, and yet…you’d come to learn that beneath that piercing, narrowed gaze and that massive, unshakable ego, he was soft in the places no one else ever got to see.
"Did you—did you check on the patient yet?" you asked, your voice catching a little as you wiped at your eyes, fingertips coming away damp. You hadn't realized you'd been crying.
He caught your hand before you could drop it, turning it in his, holding it between his palms. His touch was anchoring, and he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your knuckles. You caught a flash of the pink spiral bracelet he had on his left wrist.
"Not yet, but she's stable. I wanted to check on you…Heard you found her."
You nodded, chin wobbling.
"You were so brave, bunny." He pressed another kiss to your knuckles, slower this time, his thumb brushing once along the side of your thumb. "My resident, on the other hand, told me he was kicked out of the trauma room. What exactly did he say to you?"
The question pulled you out of wherever your brain had gone in the past twenty minutes, just enough to let a small flicker of amusement break through, like a light in the darkness, as Robby’s face came back to you.
"He called me shark bait," you said, a half smile tugging at your mouth, though it came off as more of a grimace. "You should’ve seen Robby—"
"Robinavitch is going to look like a saint once I get a hold of that fucking kid."
The way his voice dropped predatorily gave you a shiver.
"Brendon—"
He kissed your knuckles again, cutting you off, his grip steadying you where you sat.
"Be a good girl and wait for me, okay?" he said, his eyes holding yours, making sure you were actually listening. "I’ll handle that prick and come find you again later. Gotta save this lady’s arm. Could be in surgery a while."
You nodded. "Thank you…for…" you sighed, shaking your head and looking away, "I don't know."
He stood, letting your hands slip from his, but his touch didn’t leave you. His palm came up to your jaw, tipping your head back to look up at him. You followed the movement, craning your neck and taking him in: broad shoulders, slicked-back hair, his scrubs pulling tight across his chest and arms.
His thumb traced over your bottom lip as he said, "You're welcome, bunny."
Eventually, Princess came into check on you with Dana at her side, as if she had needed back up in case Brendon was still circling the room. They moved you down the hall to a quiet room, handed you a change of clothes and stayed just long enough to make sure you were steady before they went back to their duties. The door clicked shut and the noise felt like it dropped off all at once.
You sat for a little while, hands in your lap, and you could swear there were bits of blood beneath your fingernails even though Princess had scrubbed you clean. It was just the feeling, the memory of it. You flexed your fingers, reminding yourself it was the here and now, that you were okay. You felt silly, a little selfish thinking of your own memories instead of the woman going into surgery. You prayed she'd get her arm back.
You swallowed, shoulders tight, breath evening out slow through your nose. She was here, she was stable, and getting the help she needed. That was all that mattered.
The door opened again before you could sit with it any longer.
Robby came in, his eyes tight and brows thick with threaded worry, striding to the bed quickly and pulling you up into him like he needed to feel you against him. You went easily, arms sliding around his middle, your cheek finding his chest, and let him rock you where you stood, the sway of it doing something quiet to your nerves that hadn’t quite settled since the trauma room.
"How are you?" he sighed into your hair, his hold tightening like he meant it. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."
You pressed your face in a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie, warm against your skin, familiar in a way that had your throat stinging again. "S'okay, I'm okay," you murmured, your voice still a little frayed at the edges.
You pulled back to look at him, hands bunching the back of his hoodie, holding tightly onto him.
"Honestly I'm…" you sniffled, trying to catch yourself before you really started to cry, "I'm glad I was there when I was. What if that lady just…left her on the side of the road or something?"
Robby was looking at you in that way he got sometimes, something thick behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite pin down, pride and worry and something softer tangled up together, his mouth pulling into a small, tight smile.
"I'm so proud of you, honey," he said, voice gentler now, the edge of it worn down. "You took such good care of her before we got there. And… the fact that you're worried about her and not the memory of... It makes your old man real proud is all."
You gave him a small smile. "You're so sappy today."
"You make me sappy," he said, a soft, breathy laugh slipping out of him, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose like he needed a second to collect himself. When he looked back at you, it was steadier, more like him again. "If you want to go home, McKay is heading out early, she could take you and—"
"No, it's okay," you cut in gently, shaking your head, the idea of leaving so soon not sitting right with you just yet. You didn't want to be all alone when your nervous system caught up to you, if the memories flooded again and no one was there.
"I told Brendon I'd wait for him."
"Oh, it's Brendon's turn is it?" he smirked, his hands giving your arms a small squeeze. It felt good to fall back into this, it felt like solid ground.
"He came to check on me." you said gently, remembering him in the lounge, "it was really sweet."
"Can't say that's the first word that comes to most people's minds when they think of Dr. Park—"
Your fingers slipped under his hoodie to pinch at his back, earning a quick huff of a laugh out of him.
"He is very sweet, actually. He's just… ya know, shy about it."
You knew it sounded ridiculous the second you said it, but you meant it anyway, thinking of the way he’d looked at you, held you, spoke to you.
"Oh, shy is actually the furthest from what that man is!" Robby laughed, louder now, shaking his head.
You smiled, a little wider this time, and then it softened again on its own, your thoughts circling back, something nudging your mind. There was a flicker of hesitation there, something you couldn’t quite ignore now that you’d brought the conversation back to what you'd come for all along.
"Is…that okay with you?" you asked, the question coming out slowly, your fingers still hooked in his hoodie. "If he comes in to see me?"
You weren’t even sure what you were asking for exactly— permission, reassurance, some kind of line you hadn’t crossed yet?—but there was an uncertainty in your stomach, of needing to make sure.
"Anything you want, honey," he said, and there was no hesitation in it, just that same steadiness he always gave you. "Do I need to check on you?"
Heat rushed up your neck, settling hot in your cheeks, your teeth catching your bottom lip as your gaze dropped. Your body knew what that meant before your brain caught up.
You nodded, almost automatically. "Part of the deal, isn't it?"
"Yes," he said, quieter now, something thick and low threading through his voice as he looked at you, "yes it is. Why don't you tell me your plans for Dr. Park today?"
Your head tipped back a little in surprise. "You really want to know?"
"Of course I do." His voice dropped further, almost a whisper now as he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath move across your lips. "I like to know what my girl gets up to with my staff."
"Technically Brendon isn't on your staff, Dr. Robinavitch…"
That smile pulled across his face, sharper, more of a leer than genuine joy. "Humor me."
You were a little confused, but when had Robby ever given you a reason not to humor this thing you'd created? He was always so open with sharing his ideas with you, his fantasies, his wants and needs and curiosities. It made the two of you a good match, after all. You were eager to fulfill all of them and he was more and more open each time you did. It was like peeling back layers of a person, under their mask, under their outward-facing humanity, and seeing the deepest, darkest parts, and taking him by the hand, letting him lead you through it to the other side.
"I think…" you murmured, your hands sliding up around his neck, fingers brushing along the sweat at his hairline. "I think I want to make him feel good. I just need…to turn my brain off and just…"
The word stalled somewhere behind your teeth, making you feel suddenly very shy.
His arms were wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you up on your toes so you were flush against him, hips to hips, your chest pressing up into his. "…Yes?"
"I really want to…" your eyes lowered, and your voice was hardly a whisper when you said, "suck his dick…"
"What was that now?" he asked, turning his head as if he couldn't hear you right, so that his ear was right at your lips.
"Robbyyy…" you whined, tipping your head back in half frustration, half nervousness.
He pulled you against him even harder, and you suddenly realized the prodding against your belly was his cock, covered by layers of fabric but still pushing into you, throbbing. Your breath caught in your lungs, belly flipping and sending a rush of heat through your spine.
“C’mon, I know you’ve got it in you. Use your words.”
"I want to suck Brendon's dick." you admitted, holding your breath.
Robby hummed, satisfied, and leaned down to kiss you. "What a good girl," he murmured against your mouth before his tongue pushed in, cutting off anything else you might’ve said. The kiss went deep fast, messy, hungry, pulling a desperate little squeak from you as he bent over your frame. As you tipped back, your leg lifted to balance yourself, and he used it, hiking over his hip and guiding you back until the edge of the hospital bed was at your back and he was lifting you across it.
"You drive me fucking crazy sometimes, you know?" he moaned, his kisses growing sloppier by the second. Your moans were climbing higher in octave as he drove his covered member into the crook of your lap, harder and harder, pushing you deep into the thin mattress.
"Fuck, Robby, please—"
"Let me see your mouth—" he demanded, pulling back just to look at you, "gotta make sure you're ready for Dr. Park, don't I?"
You opened it with a little smile.
"Stick your tongue out."
You did as you were bid.
His expression shifted, something darker settling in as he looked at you like that, stretched out on the hospital bed, compliant, waiting. You could feel the way your body reacted to it, the way your pulse picked up in your chest.
He grabbed a glove from the dispenser, snapping it on quick, and then his fingers were at your mouth, pushing in without hesitation. At the same time, his hips pressed harder into you, making you moan desperately.
"Gooood girl…" he murmured. "Gonna go deeper now, let’s see if you can take it."
You focused on your breathing, slow through your nose, your body adjusting around him, letting him guide you. When you tried to close your mouth, he pulled back fast, tapping your tongue in warning.
"Keep your tongue out." he said roughly.
"Yes, sir," you answered, the words muffled but automatic, your tongue back where he wanted it.
He pushed further this time, testing and watching you closely. You caught the way his throat moved when he swallowed, the way his pupils widened as they locked on you.
"What a good girl, not even gagging when I have my hand down your throat." his beard twitched as a smile pulled from his lips, "what if I—"
He pushed in a third finger, your lips stretching around his gloved digits. Your eyes began rolling back at the feeling of him invading your mouth, his cock begging to be let out to give what you needed. You locked your ankles around his lower back, bringing him even closer.
Suddenly your throat constricted when his fingers pushed a little too hard on your gag reflex, and he let out a wrecked groan, pulling his hand from your mouth in a flash and replacing it with his tongue again.
He couldn't seem to help himself today. Usually he was good about checking you over and going about his business, waiting until he was home to have his fun. But today he couldn't stop kissing you. And he was kissing you hungrily. They were wet and sloppy and all you could do was respond in equal fervor, trying to keep up with his abrupt eagerness.
"Fuck, I love kissing you," he groaned, his mouth still pressing into yours between words. "Such a perfect girl… so good to me. Gonna take such good care of Park, aren’t you, honey?"
"Yes, Robby," you moaned as he dragged his covered cock up into you again and again.
"And tonight, when we get home, I want you to be on my bed, naked, and I'm going to—"
"Robby!" a voice came from the door, following by a few quick, hard knocks.
Dana.
He groaned under his breath, shoulders dropping, and then he was moving, pulling back, helping you sit up like nothing had happened even though your body was still humming with heat and your heart still thrummed in your chest.
"Yeah, come in," he said, already sounding like himself again once he cleared his throat. He didn't face away from you, just waited to hear her come in over his shoulder.
Dana stepped in quick. "Got an incoming trauma at the backdoor." Her eyes flicked to you, apology plain there before she added, "MVC."
MVC. Motorized vehicle collision.
Suddenly all the heat from your body drained out at once.
"Okay," he said, pushing his hands into his face, dragging them down until he sighed and added:. "I'm coming."
She nodded, and shut the door behind him.
Robby looked back down at you, a little sad in his eyes.
"I'm sorry—"
"It's okay, of course," you said quickly, understanding and a little breathless. You plastered on a smile as much as you didn't feel its effects, and added: "Go save lives."
He bent down, kissing you for longer than absolutely necessary, and then pulled away with a whispered, "To be continued. I'll let Dr. Park know you're in here."
You nodded, humming as you licked your lips. "Bye."
Robby looked over his shoulder at you as he got to the door, "Bye, honey."
It didn't take too long for Brendon to find you, to hold you, to talk to you about the day you'd had. He spent a long time just sitting next to you. He'd stayed like that for a while, his hand at your back, massaging in circles while he listened. It was something you wished everyone got to see, though… selfishly, there was another part of you that thought it was sweet that he was only like this with you. Besides, you knew he wasn't always sweet or gentle. He was good about knowing when to give it to you just how you liked it.
And it definitely didn't take long after you told him what you'd wanted to do to him that both of your clothes were discarded into the corner and he was pushing himself down your throat.
"That's it," Brendon sighed, "turn off that pretty little brain of yours and take it."
It was actually working. Your brain felt fuzzy in the most intoxicating way, senses filling with the smell of musk and his cologne—something like evergreen and citrus with expensive clean essence. You couldn't help the way your eyes slipped shut as it settled over you.
The sounds, stacking on top of each other until they were all you could hear, were like a symphony orchestra that lulled you. It was the deep, throaty pull of his breathing, the rough noises he let out without thinking, the wet, obscene suction of your mouth, and rhythmic contact of his balls against your chin.
It began to pull you under, your mind drifting, going quiet.
His hands moved to the back of your head, gentler than anything else about him, and you opened your eyes, looking up.
"I got you," he murmured, voice lower now, closer. "Gonna get this out of your way."
He pulled you down his member, slick with your saliva, to get you closer, your throat contracting around the invasion of the thick, mushroom-shaped tip. He was so thick it had your lips stretching, your jaw feeling like it needed to unhinge just to take him fully. You breathed through your nose, eyes only able to see the beautifully cut V of his hips as he held you in place.
"Stay right there, bunny."
His fingers worked through your hair with a gentleness that didn’t match the rest of him, the most intimidating doctor of the OR, with his sharp gaze on you. He gathered the strands back, keeping it off your face. The pink spiral tie slipped from his wrist, stretched between his fingers before he pulled your hair into place. He'd done it so many times to you before, with the concentration only a surgeon could have while he tied it off without causing any strain to you.
“Aren’t you gonna get made fun of for a pink hair tie on your wrist?”
He’d smirked, snapping the plastic lightly against his skin.
“I’d love to see them try.” There’d been a note of amusement in it when he looked at you knowingly. “Been a while since I’ve had a good fight.”
“People are gonna ask questions,” you’d sang in a knowing-tone, trying to match his playfulness even as you put your clothes back on from the side of the hospital bed. You'd only known him a few weeks then, only seen him in private once before this. He'd decided to carry a tie with him at work after your first encounter where your hair got in both of your faces, and stuck to you in sweaty strands.
He’d stepped in closer then, crowding your space without touching you, tall enough that you had to tilt your head back to keep his eyes, his glower sending shivers down your back.
"Let them, little bunny." he whispered, pushing your hair back behind your ear, "And I'll tell them the truth. That if they'd pay more attention to their own problems, maybe they'd get their cock sucked as good as I do. Only losers can't handle a pink hair tie on their wrist."
You'd laughed it off, but he'd meant it.
“Better,” he soothed, wrapping his hand around the ponytail he’d tied, lifting you back to pull you off him. You were left catching your breath, a thin line of spit still connecting you to him.
“Fuck—yeah,” he muttered, his other hand coming down to himself, fisting the head slowly at the top as he looked at you. His mouth parted, eyes fixed on your face in bliss.
"You're so cute like this, bunny," he moaned, "even cuter when my cock is in your mouth, don't you think?"
“Yes, Brendon,” you answered softly, breath still uneven and your lips parting again as his hand kept you in place, held open for him.
“Why don’t you go ahead and touch yourself,” he went on, a small smile pulling at his mouth. He traced your open lips with the tip of himself, coating your bottom lip in a trail of his precum and your own spit. “I can feel you fidgeting. She’s eager, isn’t she?”
You hesitated for a moment, rubbing your lips together uncertainly.
He leaned down then, pressing a brief kiss to your mouth. His voice quieter when he spoke. “What is it?”
"I—” you swallowed. “I need… permission.”
“To touch yourself?” he asked, a flicker of something amused passing through him. “I’m giving it to you. I want to watch.”
You shook your head, a small wriggle of embarrassment making your stomach flip. “I need it from…Robby.”
That got a laugh out of him, his thumb coming up to wipe at your bottom lip before he stood again. “Jesus… You two are...” he shook his head, not finishing the sentence.
His hand stayed on your hair, but he released himself to reach down into his pocket. He took out his pager, your eyes widening—
"What're you doing—"
“Robby? It’s Park.” His voice shifted back to his usual short-worded, clinical, controlled tone as he brought the device to his ear. “Yeah, she’s fine. She wants to ask you something.”
He held it out to your ear.
“Honey?” Robby’s voice came through, a little distorted. “Everything okay?”
"Hi, Robby, yes," you said, breathlessly, your skin hot with a little bit of shame as you eyed Brendon above you. His eyes had gone dark with arousal, his hand still at the back of your head. He swayed his hips so his cock touched your lips as you spoke. You kissed it gently.
"What do you need?" Robby asked.
"Ummm…" you said, then licked Brendon's tip when it prodded at your face again, then spoke again, "I was…wondering if I could touch myself."
"You—? Oh."
There was a moment of quiet on the line, and then you heard Robby's voice muttering something to someone away from the speaker, and a moment later he was back.
“You’re with him right now?”
Your throat tightened. “Yes.”
"Fuck," he breathed. "Let me hear it. Let me hear how good you take it, and then I give you permission. But honey —I hope you're ready to be up very late tonight."
"Yes, Robby." you said, goosebumps rising over your flesh.
You looked up at Brendon. “He wants to listen.”
He raised an eyebrow, something darkly curious flickering across his expression, but he nodded.
You leaned back in, your mouth finding Brendon's cock again and opening wide, tongue out flat to massage the underside. His breath left him in a long exhale, his hand tightening slightly where it held you, the phone kept close. You pushed yourself up and down onto his length, bobbing until you gagged on an especially rough thrust against your palette.
“That’s my girl—” Robby said, quieter now, like he was trying not to be overheard. “Okay, be good. I need to go. You can have one. Do you hear me?”
Brendon's hand was still around your hair, pushing you down onto him further. "Mhm", you muffled, half a choked moan.
The line went dead.
Brendon pulled the pager away, tossing it aside, his chest rising and falling heavier now, something in him sharpened by it all.
“Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered. He pushed himself back between your lips faster now, “Go on, now. Show me.”
Your hand moved tentatively down your body, until you pushed a finger under your panties and pressed into your center. You were an absolute mess. Sopping, slippery, your hand barely finding any friction where it met your clit. You moaned around his dick, the sound muffled, helpless.
His head flew back, Ah, ah, fuck— chest rising and falling breath catching, spilling out in uneven bursts. It filled your ears, core pulsing in time with it, like your body had locked onto his rhythm, gaining momentum towards the edge with every passing second.
You closed your eyes, letting him take the control he wanted, the control you wanted to give. He pushed his cock so far into your mouth your nose nearly touched the skin of his belly, and your throat began to convulse around him.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Bunny—I’m gonna—oh fuck,” his voice broke roughly, choking on a groan as he went on: “you take me so well… such a good girl… that’s it—keep touching that pretty pussy.”
All you could do was moan, your vision blurring, your body tightening as the feeling built. Your fingers moved faster, sloppier. Your throat jerked as your body began to tighten up.
“Yeah,” he breathed, watching you, “I can feel it… you’re getting close, aren’t you?” His grip shifted, steady, insistent. “C’mon—come with me. Let me see what Robby gets to have, huh?”
That sent you over the edge. Your mouth fell open around him and he continued to fuck into your waiting, wet, wanting lips until he was pushing your head down so hard your nose finally did press into his navel, hot spend filling the back of your mouth.
"Swallow." he growled between moans, and you listened—barely tasting the salty tang of his release since he was so far down your throat.
When your hand came up to tap at his thigh, he eased back immediately, grip loosening, pulling away with a quiet breath. He adjusted himself back into his pants quickly, then dropped down in front of you, close again.
His hand came to your face, steadying you, and he kissed you—hard at first, then slower, taking his time as he licked the remnants of himself off your tongue.
Finally, as you caught your breath and he caught his, he pressed gentle, chaste kisses to your lips until your lips felt bruised.
"You—" he kissed you, "are—" another kiss, "—amazing—"
You giggled, sighing dreamily, bringing your hands to his hair. It was a little stiff from where he'd slicked it back, but the nape of it was beginning to soften from sweat. "Thank you for coming to see me. I had fun."
"Glad I could turn it around for you, Bunny." he said. His hand slipped behind your head, undoing the tie he’d put in, careful as he pulled it free and slipped it back onto his wrist. “Don’t wanna forget this—for next time.”
You smiled up at him as he stood above you, hiking his hands under your armpits, and raising you up to your feet.
"You sure you're okay?"
You nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m going home soon anyway. It’s almost eight—Robby’s probably done.”
“Does it ever…” he started, and then stopped, something changing in his expression when he looked at you. It was the most uncertain than you’d seen him before.
“What?”
He shrugged with those expansive shoulders, adjusting himself, buying a second. “If you were my girl, I wouldn’t be sharing. That’s all.” He paused. “You’re too perfect.”
"I'm no one's girlfriend." you replied, maybe a little sharply.
He looked at you for a second longer than he should have, something tightening in his eyes. It was like he was building up that persona he wore around the hospital. The Shark—with his dark, heavy brow and pinched face.
“Robby should be careful,” he said, quieter now.
“Why?” you asked, your mouth pulling into a frown as you watched him.
He sighed, stepping close to you, and bringing his thumb and forefinger to your chin before lifting your face to look up at him. For a second, you remembered how intimidating he could be as he stared down at you with that piercing gaze.
“Because one day someone’s going to slip up,” he said quietly, his voice dropping. “And you’re going to realize it’s a lot less about the sex than you think.”
You couldn’t tell what your face gave away. Your mind stalled, blank, but your stomach dipped, the words slamming heavier than anything else he could have said.
He dropped his hand from your face, eyes staying on you a moment longer before he turned, stopping at the door to look back once more.
"Have a good night, Bunny. It was good to see you."
part one | part two | part three | part four | Masterlist | ao3
frank langdon x reader, michael robinavitch x reader
summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. And today, it's Langdon's turn.
|| smut MNDI 18+ f!receiving oral, fingering, dirty talk, free use kink, dom!robby, praise kink, pussy inspection, m!masturbation, face riding, medical malpractice lol, they do it at the hospital, orphaned reader, reader has trauma, no reader age specified but always legal, reader has no physical descriptions except for having breasts and hair long enough to grab, takes place during s2e14, reader likes Flamin' Hots cause I like Flamin' Hots, the relationships in this fic are not healthy!!! I do not condone this!!! but its kinda hot!!!!! power imbalance, pet names like honey / sweetheart / baby, reader calls langdon 'frankie' sometimes ||
a/n: listen... I had ONE little daydream about being shared by the pitt men....... and here we are....
"Look who we have here!" called a familiar voice from the center of the bustling ED.
The cool air hit your bare skin the second you stepped inside, AC blasting hard enough to slip under the hem of your shorts and across the damp curve of your chest where your blouse hung low. You shivered at the abrupt change, rubbing your hands once along your arms as your sandals flipped over the tile. The place was alive in the way it always was: doctors and nurses calling codes and medication orders, rumbling of stretchers over tile, machine chirps overlapping one another as you walked by.
"Just what the doctor ordered," came the same voice, her Pittsburgh accent thick. Dana came around the desk before you could answer, her sneakers squeaking with each step, and pulled you into a hug that smelled of hand sanitizer and coffee. As she pulled back, her palm slid down your arm, eyes checking you over.
"Was that a nurse joke?" you asked with an eyebrow.
"I only got a few, so I use ’em when I can," she shot back, not missing a beat. Then her eyes narrowed. "You eat today? You look a little peaky."
"Yes, Dana," you said, a little put-upon, you’d heard her mothering comments a hundred times, but even now your mouth pulled into a smile.
She gave you that look. Her brows lifted and lips pressed flat like she didn’t buy it for a second.
"I had a bagel!" you insisted, tipping your chin up just a bit.
"Okay, okay," she relented, one hand lifting in surrender, though her eyes stayed on you. "But just so you know, I got my good LaCroix stash in the lounge and some flamin' hots I know you like. Hidden behind the protein shakes in case anyone got greedy. I’d make an exception for you, though, angel girl."
"Thank you, D—" your face lit up, "the tangerine?"
"With your name all over it."
You grinned, and she hooked an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she steered you through the emergency department. Her hand was warm and firm where it rested against you, guiding without asking.
As you passed Perlah and Princess, they both paused at the desk. Their eyes followed you and Dana across the room, widening for a second before flicking to each other, something silent passing between them before they looked back at you.
"Not a word, ladies—" Dana said, pointing at them without even looking. They both straightened and spun their chairs around to face away.
Dana walked you a few more steps before stopping, turning you in front of her with a light hand still at your shoulder. Up close, you could see the tired lines at the corners of her eyes, her lips pursed tightly like she was thinking too hard about something.
"Now listen—" she said, lowering her voice to separate it from the rest of the noise around you. "Robby’s havin’ a bit of a day." Her eyes flicked down the hall, then back to you. "I’ll send him over as soon as he’s free, alright, angel girl?"
"Yes, Dana," you said gently, "is he okay?"
"Are any of us ever really okay?" she shot back, but there was something heavier sitting under it.
You nodded, your fingers brushing absently at the hem of your shorts. "I understand."
"But that’s why you’re here, innit'?" she said, her tone easing, the hand that was on your shoulder sliding down squeeze your upper arm. "Brighten things up a little. They need you, kid."
You smiled softly. Dana was always like this, as much as she had once hated the idea of it all the moment she became aware of you and Robby's…situation. But it grew on her the more she realized how much you meant to everyone, how you lifted their spirits too, nevermind the fact that you and Dana just plain liked each other. And yes, sometimes there was the typical testosterone shoot out where the men of the ED became territorial or antsy if you were around, Dana always said they were no better a pack of hungry wolves! when they got a whiff that you were in the hospital.
"Right in here, hon," she said, pushing open a door with her hip.
The room was quieter, the hum of the main floor dulled to a low murmur, curtains pulled tight across the glass and the overhead lights dimmed. The bed in the center was clean and fresh, no blankets or usual patient gown.
"Robby said go on ahead and get changed," she added, nodding toward the bed. "Leave the top on, alright?"
You nodded, already hooking your thumb into the button of your denim shorts.
"He’ll be here any minute," she went on, pausing in the doorway, one hand still braced against the frame. "You holler if you need me. And don’t you go leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye."
"Yes, ma’am."
She gave you a quick wink, then pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click.
When the room quieted, you took a moment to gather yourself, shunting your shorts down to the floor before picking them up again, folding them neatly and setting them off to the side. It was almost always the same routine when you came to see Dr. Robby. Once, sometimes twice a week if his schedule allowed. Sometimes he’d text you not to come in if things were bad. Sometimes he’d tell you to come in now if they were worse.
You and him had a good deal.
He’d found you after the crash. Or what was left of you, anyway. You’d come in shaking, blood barely beginning to dry down your arms that wasn’t yours, your parents already being rushed past you on separate gurneys, machines breathing for them before you could even understand what was happening.
That day--and the months that followed--were all a blur. But you remembered him, his steady voice and kind eyes. He was always there.
You never left their bedside, not when the machines took over or when the doctors would come in with those sad eyes and pitiful looks on their faces. People who you thought you were close to started to avoid you once your parents got moved permanently upstairs to a shared room on life support.
But Robby came every day to check on you. Other people started to come too. For him, you knew realized after a while, since they all had those same scrubs on, all of them had badges--residents, attendings. They'd bring you coffee, or just sit with you when he couldn’t. You got used to seeing the same faces, and they got used to seeing you.
You’d promised your parents you’d never date again. You weren’t sure if they could hear you, but you told them anyway. You told them if you could go back and change that night, you would. You would’ve never taken them to that god-awful dinner with your piece of shit boyfriend—now ex, thank you very much. His family was just as bad as he was. You should have known. About him, about them. About how the car ride would go after, your parents telling you that you deserved better, that they couldn’t believe you’d settled for any of that.
The whole ride had been tight with hurt feelings and raised voices, your dad turning in his seat to argue, your mom trying to calm him—and then the light, run red, and the sound that followed.
You’d never let them down again.
When the time finally came to take them off their breathing machines, to let them go naturally instead of artificial lifesource, you didn't have anything to go back to. Your job had let you go for not showing up without telling them what happened. Your bills went overdue and you were evicted from your house, the recliner by your parents’ bedside becoming the only thing you could even kind of call yours. Even then, you knew you’d be buried in debt for how long you kept them hanging on.
Robby took you in.
He had no hesitation, he didn't even let you argue. You vowed to him you'd never be his girlfriend, and that was fine by him. You told him you'd be an easy roommate if he let you stay for free. You'd cook for him, keep his place clean though he was barely there. You'd do and be anything else he needed.
And he needed you.
He'd come home to find you after his shifts, and you'd be there on his darkest days, and on the good ones too. You were something soft for him to fall into, something warm and steady after everything he carried through those hospital doors. A place for all that restless energy to land, for his hands to find you, for him to press his cock into you until the day finally left his body. Sometimes he'd let you take care of him instead, climbing into his lap, easing him back, letting him breathe while you did the work. In exchange, he gave you a place to stay, his credit cards, his company. He rebuilt you from scratch, a broken girl who'd been left all alone, now his one way or another.
And he began to change. His fellow attendings noticed, his residents noticed. People started asking questions. He'd bring you around just so you could say hi and get out of the house. He wanted the hospital feel like something other than the place you lost everything. You’d stay close to him at first, tucked into his side or in the break room, smiling when people spoke to you, letting them fuss over you a little because it felt…good. To be seen, wanted, loved. They already knew your face. They already knew your name. They felt like family.
Robby saw how his staff gravitated towards you any time you came in. And he was never territorial like some of your exes had been. If anything, it made him more confident, standing taller. Whenever anyone paid you a compliment near him he'd always puff his chest up, smile, and say That's my girl.
It wasn't anything at first-- when things really changed. that is. You'd gotten so used to Abbott's long and intense eye contact, Langdon's lingering touches and sweet words. Even Park, with those cocky smirks he never bothered to hide when he saw you. You'd started wearing less and less, choosing thinner fabric so if you got a chill, your breasts might peak and they'd get an eyeful, or you'd bend over in your little skirts Robby would buy for you to give them a flash of a pretty black thong beneath. You’d catch the way their eyes followed you around the ED, the way conversations stalled for a second before picking back up.
It was the night that Robby told you to give his resident a kiss goodbye when things really shifted direction. You'd listened, did as he told without hesitation, and that night he'd taken you home and nearly broke his king sized headboard with the force of how he fucked you into the mattress.
So…yeah. Things changed. He saw how much happier his staff was when you were around, how the whole place seemed to ease just a little with you in it, and you liked the way he looked at you because of it, the quiet pride in his eyes.
You were like his little reward to give out, and you were more than eager to please.
Though, there was a catch.
Robby saw you first. Always. He needed that moment with you before anyone else got their treat. He'd come in and check that everything was in 'working order' and that you were ready for his chosen resident or attending. Only if someone earned you, did they get to enjoy what was his.
"And how is my best girl doing today?"
It was a familiar voice that cut into your thoughts, one with a kind, rough crack through every word. He was so tall, hair mussed and fussed from where you knew he'd dragged his hands through it all day. Brown eyes twinkled down at you as he pulled on the usual blue sterile gloves, coming to the bedside of the hospital bed.
"Good." You sat up on your knees and pursed your lips, waiting for his greeting. He bent down and pressed a fat peck to them, humming contentedly. "How are you?" you added.
"Oh, living the dream as always," he said, shaking his head, laying his hands on either side of the guardrails raised around your bed.
"That bad?"
"I've had worse," he said softly, smiling at you, and then patted the end of the bed. "Scoot."
You grinned back and moved toward him, coming to the end of the bed, beginning to lay yourself down—but not before planting one more kiss to his lips, then along his bearded jaw. Your hands pet over his shoulders, his arms, until you could no longer reach him and you were flat on your back. His fingers hooked into your panties immediately, pulling them swiftly down your legs and putting them in his pocket. Then he guided your feet up to the stirrups and placed both hands on your knees, his touch warm despite the gloves, and opened your legs for his gaze to settle between them.
He hummed his approval, and dragged one hand light down the center of your thigh, "And how is she doing?"
"Better now," you whispered, breath catching as his gloved fingers pressed against the pearl that had throbbed all day at the thought of this. Your eyes closed in contended bliss.
"You haven't been playing, have you?" he asked, glancing up, head tipped.
Another rule: no touching unless he says so.
"No," you said quickly, opening your eyes. "Just thinking about you. About coming to see you."
"That so?"
Your hand came up, finger pressed between your teeth in anticipation. He dragged his finger down the seam of your center, and you could hear the humiliating shlick of wetness that gathered there for him, making your tummy flip.
"You must've been thinking some filthy things to be this soaked already, honey," he said, voice edged with amusement.
You nodded.
"You gonna tell me what you were thinking about?"
He worked two fingers along your folds, slow, thorough, up and down, spreading you open, circling your clit, making your hips undulate under his touch.
"Um—oh—yes, please, oh—"
And then you heard a thick, throaty sound, and he was spitting onto your already soaked core, making you mewl.
"Easy, easy," he added softly, "Gotta be a good girl and stay quiet now. These glass windows are only so sound proof, honey. Now c'mon—tell me what you were thinking about today."
"Well—I heard—um, I heard…"
You hesitated. Robby wasn’t going to like it. Maybe you could pivot.
"You seemed in a bad mood when I was texting you—and—" you scrambled, grasping for something safer, "and when you're in a bad mood you get rough with me and—and—"
"Hm…" he hummed thoughtfully, and reached up with his hand that wasn't teasing you, pulling the fabric of your top down so your breasts spilled over the neck band. You gasped, but smiled when his fingers twisted your nipples, making them pebble beneath his touch.
His other hand now pressed at your entrance, the slick sound of latex and wet making your eyes roll back so you couldn't watch him play. "You like when I'm a little rough, honey? That it? Thought I'd take my reward for myself tonight?"
"Mhmmmm," you moaned.
You opened your eyes once more, and instead of seeing his usual sweet demeanor, his kind brown eyes, he was now looking down at you with a stone face.
"You're lying."
"I'm not!" you squealed, and then choked on a moan as he entered two thick fingers into you.
He pulled back, then thrust again, hooking them up, working against the front of your walls as his lip lifted in a sneer. "Good girls don't lie to their doctors. Now tell me what you meant—go on."
"Ah! Ah!" you moaned, head thrown back.
"Tell me or this stops and you go home."
You brought your head back up to look at him over your breasts, sweat beginning to dabble your skin.
"Frank—" you hiccuped, "I heard Frank is back."
He paused the thick, long thrusts of his fingers inside of you. His eyes darkened even further, huffing out a sarcastic laugh you knew all too well.
You had been right, bad day to bring it up.
"I just—I missed him, Robby, I'm sorry—it’s been a while, and I kept thinking how—oh fuck—"
He began finger-fucking you in earnest then, the loud sound of your slick all over his hand as his lip curled, eyes black, "Language, young lady." he growled.
"You're lucky he's earned you today." he went on. "If you'd come in here moaning his name with my fingers inside you without him acing that fucking manual reduction—"
He spat on your pussy again, the glob hitting you right on your clit before his thumb began working the little bundle of sensitive nerves. You were wailing like a damn cat, back arching in a boneless arch.
"Come for me, baby, c'mon, show me what's mine, make her soaked for my fucking resident."
Your thighs seized up, and jaw came unhinged, mouth open wide as you moaned his name.
"Robby, Robby, Robby," you gasped, thighs shaking, hips riding his fingers, until you were all breath and sweat and heat and all he could do was watch you.
"That's it, that's my good girl, nice and easy now, breathe," he soothed, his other hand sliding from your chest, down to your waist where he squeezed you assuringly, then resting warm at your knee, petting slow as he eased his fingers out of you. He brought them to his mouth, licking them clean. "Think she's ready for him. Don't you?"
You nodded, eyes half lidded. Your brain felt light and foggy, dazed as you watched the chief attending strip off his gloves.
"Robby…" your voice came quieter now, uncertain, your fingers curling into the hospital bed sheet beneath you. "I'm sorry I brought up…"
He moved to your side, bare hands replacing latex, fingers combing through your hair, grounding, warm, welcome. He helped you cover up your breasts again to keep warm. "I'm not mad at you for wanting Langdon, honey. Just—caught me off guard. I know you missed him."
"You missed him too, didn't you?" you murmured, leaning up just enough to press a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose.
Robby closed his eyes at that, a breath leaving him before he straightened, tossing the gloves into the bin. "Stay put. I'll bring him in."
It was only ten or so minutes later that the door was opening again, and Frank Langdon entered.
"Frank," you sighed, a smile pulling at your lips. You sat up in the bed.
"Hey, you," he said, but he didn’t come any farther once the door shut behind him. He stayed there, leaning back with hand still on the handle, like he hadn’t decided if he was staying or leaving.
"Umm… how are you?" you asked, a little unsure now.
"I’m good. I’m—yeah, I’m good," he said quickly, then glanced up at you, "You?"
"M'good."
You watched him—he'd changed since the last time you saw him. He wasn't as antsy as he usually was. Sometimes he'd come into the room bouncing off the walls, sometimes he'd come in irritated, but the ten months away seemed to have settled him down. It almost put you off a bit. He was suddenly hard to read.
"Come here, please," you said, reaching out from where you sat at the edge of the bed, your legs dangling.
His eyes flicked to your outstretched hands first, then up to your face, then down again, catching himself. It made your heart twinge. You always liked when he looked at you. Why didn't he want to look at you?
"I—" he shook his head once, like he was trying to clear it. "We should probably just—talk first."
"Hug me first?" you asked softly, wiggling your fingers where they were waiting for him.
You missed him too much, you didn't even bother trying to hide it. You just needed to know he was okay, that you and him were okay. There was a funny feeling of butterflies in your belly that didn’t quite feel like excitement, something you weren’t used to having around him.
He let out a slow breath, looking down at the floor for a second before finally pushing off the door.
"Yeah. Okay. Just—" he muttered, more to himself than you, as he crossed the room.
You didn’t give him time to finish the thought. You were eagerly at the edge of the bed, arms and legs wrapping around him the second he got close, clinging tight like a little barnacle.
"Missed you," you said softly, muffled by the way you pushed your face into his chest.
He stayed still for half a second before his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head. "Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hummed, fingers wandering up his back, over the ridge of his strong shoulder blades, then down along his waist. "You smell so nice. Just like I remember."
He let out a quiet chuckle, but his hands slid down to your upper arms, gently pulling you back. "Listen… we need to talk."
Your stomach dropped. Your brows pulled tight as your thoughts started to spiral, one worse than the next—he didn’t want you anymore, he was leaving for good, you’d done something wrong. So many things began to cloud your thoughts, worries, insecurities you thought you'd thrown away after all this time. The confidence you'd built over the past few years crumbling under his intense stare. You pulled back from him too quickly, but he didn’t step away, still standing between your legs like he hadn’t fully committed to the distance.
"I—" he exhaled, dragging his hands over his face. "Do you know why I was gone, sweetheart?"
You nodded.
"You know I was in rehab, then?" he said, quieter now, his hands lowering again, hovering near you like he wanted to touch but stopped himself again.
"Yes," you whispered.
"Well, I've been making my amends, owning up to the things I did. Trying to be better," he went on. "Been 186 days."
"That’s amazing," you said softly, your hands finding his waist again. Okay. Now you understood. This wasn't about you. This was about him. His journey, his need for reassurance.
He nodded, licking his lips as he looked down at you. Once it had clicked that he wasn't rejecting you, you suddenly could see how hard he was fighting himself from giving in. "But that means I can’t— as much as I appreciate you asking for me, sweetheart—we can’t—"
"Oh, but Frankie," you whined with an exaggerated pout as you pulled him in again, arms wrapping tighter around his waist. You had to crane your neck to look up at him, your legs wrapping around him again, breasts pushed up into his stomach. "I missed you so badly! Didn't you miss me?"
He let out a breath, his hands settling on your shoulders, steadying you. "I did, baby. I missed you too, but—"
"What if—" you wet your lips, your gaze dropping briefly to his mouth before lifting again, "what if we just kissed? Please? I've been thinking about you all day."
He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes fixed on you. You could see it there, the wheels turning in his head and how he paused. He was hesitating. Your feet pressed into the backs of his knees, waiting.
"Just a kiss?" he asked.
You nodded.
"I—" he sighed, "Okay. But only kissing, you understand?"
"Yes, Frankie," you said, already beginning to purse your lips up at him, "I promise."
He leaned down, finally, finally. You let your eyes flutter closed, waiting for him, and when his lips pressed against yours, you sighed dreamily into him, winding your legs tighter around his so you could feel him flush against you.
You couldn't help the noise that slipped out of you when his tongue traced the seam of your top lip.
"You're getting too excited," he murmured, but he didn’t stop.
You moaned again, hands gripping at his back, trying to keep them from wandering where you wanted to, keeping them locked around him instead. With how close you had him against you, you could feel the growing press of his member through his cotton pants on your stomach, and you shifted just slightly, pressing yourself even closer.
You opened your mouth for him, his thick, wet tongue finally finding yours, and it wasn't only you making pathetic little whines anymore— Frank had let out a suffocated moan at the taste of you, too.
"Fuckkk…" he whispered against you, his hands sliding from your shoulders to your face, tipping your head back even more so he could deepen the kiss, taking more, licking and eating at you, each press of his lips and slide of his tongue more urgent by the second.
He was fully hard beneath his black scrubs now, and you could feel him pushing into you just as much as you were pressing into him, not an inch of space between the two of you. Your breasts felt sandwiched against him, almost to the point of soreness, but they were aching for his touch, the throbbing between your legs only getting worse.
"I missed you so much, Frankie," you said again, pulling back to breath for only a second before kissing him again, his pillowy, swollen lips panting for breath. He smelled like mint, like that aftershave he always used. It was Pavlovian, only making you want more, practically drooling from your mouth—and between your legs—for him.
He let your tongue explore his mouth just the same, tasting behind his teeth for more of him, and when you suckled on his tongue between your lips, he groaned as if it pained him. He pulled you away with one more gentle lick to your lips, looking down at you.
His blue eyes were half lidded, a mirror of your arousal with pupils dilated, his pulse thick and quick where you felt his heart against your jaw when you rested your chin on his chest.
"I know, I know," he said softly, pressing one more kiss to your lips. "Come on, get up."
Your heart jumped in your chest, "But you said—"
"—Only kissing," he nodded, and he reached back behind him to unlatch your fingers from his shirt where you'd clung to him. "Be a good girl and listen now."
You knew better than to disobey, and pulled yourself away, albeit reluctantly, sliding off the bed and coming to stand beside him.
"Just kissing," he murmured, quieter this time, more to himself, the words coming out under his breath as he climbed up onto the bed. He shifted the thin pillow, flattening the stretcher before looking back at you as he settled onto his back.
"Take that off, baby. C’mon now, not done with you yet," he said, voice gentle.
You obeyed instantly, pulling your top over your head and tossing it aside, leaving you bare while he stayed fully dressed.
He patted his chest, coaxing you. "Up here, you know I've got a bad back—"
You climbed over him eagerly, a soft giggle slipping out when he smiled up at you and pinched your ass. He let you resume kissing him again, and you couldn't help but rock against the outline of his throbbing bulge. He didn’t let it go on long—his hand slid into your hair, fingers threading through before tightening at the nape, making you gasp, then tipping your head back.
"Getting too excited again—" he warned.
"M’sorryyyyy," you whined, hands pawing at his chest. "I told you I’ve been thinking about you all day."
"Yeah?" he whispered, nipping at your chin, and you nodded. "What a sweet girl you are," he added, cooing as he brushed his lips against your skin while he spoke. You gnawed at your bottom lip as he kissed up your jaw, suckling the skin under your ear, until you felt his breath against the shell of it as he said, "gonna let me kiss your pretty pussy, baby?"
You gasped, and made to pull away, but your hair was firmly in his grip.
"Yes, Frankie," you moaned in answer.
"Climb up." he ordered.
He helped you climb on top of him, your knees settling at the top of the bed, your hips lining up with his shoulders before you pushed yourself upright.
"Are you sure I’m not gonna suffocate you—"
"Trust me, if this is the way I go out, I’d die a happy man," he said with a breath of a laugh. "Besides, we’re in a hospital. If I pass out, there's plenty of doctor outside that door."
You giggled again, carding your fingers through the front of his long brown hair. He brought his hands up to squeeze the cheeks of your bum, hoisting you up so your core was hovering above his mouth. He leaned up and planted a light kiss to the top of it, and you gasped.
"Just as sweet as I remember, come closer," he murmured, and as you let yourself down onto him, he hooked his hands over the back of your hips and suddenly pulled you flush on top of him.
"Frankie!" you gasped, instinctively trying to pull away, worried you might hurt him.
"Shh, sh, sh," he cooed, his hands locked around you, "let me enjoy this."
You moaned when his tongue flattened over the slick seam of your folds, gathering all the arousal you'd made for him. Finally, you gave in as his lips closed over your clit, pulling hard. Your head fell back, a hoarse moan leaving you as your hips began to move against him, up and down, slow at first, then needing more.
"Ohhh, Frankie, holy shit—" you mewled. Your tongue peeked out to catch the bit of drool that had began to pool at the corner of your open mouth. "Feels so—ohhhhh…"
"Yeah, baby? Tell me." he moaned, a little muffled against your skin. His tongue kept up a rhythm then, cupping your entrance and back up to your clit where it swirled around, lips closing on the nub. You jolted a bit at the abrupt pleasure.
"So good, so so good," you whimpered, and as you opened your eyes to the feeling of the bed rocking, you looked behind you where his hips were moving, gently up into the air with no relief.
"Let me—"
"No, no," he cut in, breathless. "S’okay. Let me take care of you. You just—enjoy."
"But I wanna—!" you said petulantly, reaching around to touch his cock through the cotton pants.
He groaned at the contact, letting you quickly untie his scrubs and shove them down just enough to free his pulsing member. Your hand wrapped around him, velvet at the head and thick and warm at the shaft, but only for a second before he pulled your hand away, replacing it with his own, working himself with a rough grip. The sight of him like that—pleasuring himself, his cock red and angry with a pearl of arousal at the tip—made your mouth part and your brain fuzzy.
His other hand came up to cover your mouth as you let out a loud moan when his tongue plunged deep into your pussy, and you held onto his wrist for support. His hand moved to press two fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them, hard, tongue sliding between his two fingers, letting your teeth graze the top of his knuckles just how you knew he liked his cock sucked.
You heard a very muffled oh fuck come from between your legs, and you let your hips rock harder and harder against his face. You no longer seemed to care if you suffocated him to death. You were so so—
"Close! Frankie, I'm so close—I'm gonna—"
"Come all over my face, pretty girl," he said, tongue flat so you could ride against it, "doin' so good, you're such a good girl, I'm gonna fucking come too, oh fuck fuck fuck—!"
You weren't able to watch how his eyes rolled to the back of his head as your spine arched, stiffening, toes curling as one hand gripped his wrist, the other flat against the wall to steady yourself. You tried your best to stay quiet, the ecstasy coursing through your bloodstream too strong, and Langdon took his fingers that were in your mouth and buried them deeper down your throat. The pad of his fingers pressed at the back of your tongue where you began to gag on him, choking your moans, and he went stiff under you as his own orgasm tore through him.
You road out the wave of your orgasm with his, feeling the thick ropes of his spend shoot over your back. Soon, it quieted with only the sounds of your breathing and those of the hospital coming back to you outside the doors.
Frank was panting beneath you, both of his hands coming down to sooth you at the junction of your thighs, kissing sweetly at the apex of your center until you were a fidgety mess, twitching from overstimulation. You shifted back, giving him room to breathe, but he didn’t let you get far. You ended up seated on his stomach instead, his arms wrapping around your hips from over your legs.
"Thank you for…asking for me today," he said, a shy smile tugging at his mouth as he looked up at you. His lips were still shining, parted as he caught his breath, taking in slower, shallow lungfuls. "I think I needed it."
You rested your hands flat on his chest, letting your fingers drift back and forth over his pecs, up along his collarbones, to his strong shoulders and neck—tracing, remembering, like you were relearning him all over again. Your smile softened, just a little sad around the edges.
"You almost said no." you said quietly.
He pressed his lips together, rolling them once before answering. "I know. I’m sorry… it’s not—you, you know? It's a me thing. I wasn't sure if ..."
"I know." you whispered, touching his lips to quiet him.
"C’mere," he said gently, patting your leg, guiding you off him. You swung your leg to his side, and he scooted over to let you lay against him. He tucked himself back into his scrubs without much thought, more focused on pulling you close, his arm sliding under your head so you could rest against his shoulder.
He let out a long breath, "I meant what I said, about trying to be better." he whispered.
You believed him. Though you never saw anything the matter with him before, once you heard about his addiction, it made you wonder if you ever really knew what he was like beneath all the hubris, if the fidgety Langdon you knew was really him. You were glad that he was still here, beneath it, next to you now. He still had his gentleness, his sweet way with words. He was just… more mellow.
"And I owe you an apology too. I let a lot of people down. And you were nothing but good to me."
You tilted your head up, resting your chin against his chest. "That must be so hard to admit. You’re doing so well, Frank."
He huffed out a small laugh. "I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry."
"For what? You were perfect. You still are."
"Far from it," he said, softer now, "but thank you, sweet girl." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your nose.
You hummed, eyes slipping closed.
"I should probably clean you up and get back out there," he said after a moment, though he didn’t move.
"Stay for a few minutes," you murmured, wrapping your arm around his middle. "Just lay here with me."
He looked over at you with his eyes half closed, a grateful smile pulling at the edges of his lips like a string was tied to each end. "Alright."
You settled your cheek against his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed under your ear, so steady, so warm, so him— and let your eyes close, drifting asleep as he dozed beside you.
Spock at his core is a sensitive gay boy Desperately trying not to be gay nor sensitive. And everybody knows he's both gay and sensitive because he's not very good at hiding it but he's still like nobody can know I'm gay and sensitive
Congrats on 500! Can you do the reader from "give something new a try" interviewing at PTMC for a fellowship, and some fluff with her and Rabbot?
continuation to this.
pairing: dr. michael “robby” robinavitch x f!reader x dr. jack abbot; rabbot x f!reader | rating: mature. mdni | wc: 1.8 | fluff and the tiniest, barely, not even there angst
a/n: idk if this is exactly what you wanted, but i hope you like it! and of course i couldn’t keep it to the word count i set for myself 😔
robby had seen you arrive. it was around 8:30 when he saw gloria parade you around with dr. nae, head of dermatology, showing you the emergency room before going up to the dermatology department and then her office.
jack, him and you had kept in touch after that one night in cancun.
robby woke up early the next morning, ordered too much food again for breakfast, basically everything he thought you might like and some more. jack had gone on a run and when he got back, he found the older man pacing around the balcony.
“trying to carve a path to the ocean?” jack joked, the laughter stopping when he saw the amount of food. “you’re anxious. what’s going on?”
robby nodded, pointing at your sleeping body. jack sighed. “we’ll ask for her phone and see how this goes. she’s a nice girl, i really… liked her too.” jack squeezed robby’s shoulder when he let out a defeated sound. “we’ll work it out.”
they didn’t hear the ruffling sounds of the sheets nor your footsteps, their conversation only being interrupted after you popped your head over jack’s shoulder and said in a chirpy but sleepy voice “good morning.”
they reciprocated. you saw the breakfast table and frowned in confusion “you invited more people?”
jack laughed and robby, embarrassed, answered “no, i don’t know your favourites, so…” he gestured at the assortment of foods.
“so you ordered the whole menu.” you laughed.
“yeah, basically.”
you made your way to robby, hugged his now covered by a white t-shirt torso and kissed his lips, just a small peck. “thank you.”
you felt a chest on your back, it’s jack sandwiching you between him and robby. “i want one too.” he says, stealing one kiss from you and one from robby.
you sat down to eat, made small talk about coming back to your respective homes, what you were going to do the next few days. it’s when you were in the middle of stuffing your face with some pain au chocolat that you hear jack clean his throat, trying to get your attention and some courage.
“we really liked you and we don't want this to end here and would love to keep in touch. see where this goes.”
you smile at them, nodding. “me too. give me your phones.”
jack was the only one with the device, and after you inserted your contact, he promised to send you robby’s.
it was when you were about to board the plane that you saw that jack had made a group chat for you three. you joked, asked him if he had to google how to make one. he told you that robby was the old one of the group, only to get a “🖕🏻” as a reply.
being honest, to say that you “kept in touch” after that one night was to underestimate what you had going on. you talked daily, sending pictures of before and after your shifts, what you were doing on days off, food or whatever you thought the other two would like.
jack and robby would visit you whenever they had any time off, either just one of them or, if by chance they could get time off together, the two of them would fly out to chicago to be with you.
it was nice, sometimes even a bit overwhelming, as you felt cared for in a way you had never felt before. neither of you dared to name what you had, and you weren’t going to be the one to do so in fear of losing it.
robby checked his phone every thirty seconds, his mind playing tricks on him with the phantom vibrations. dana had noticed the attending obsessing with his phone, something he never did, but it was princess that asked him “is everything ok, dr. robby?”
“yeah, everything is fine.” he nodded. “just waiting for a call.”
the woman nodded, turning to dana with wide, conspiring eyes.
not even five minutes later, he hears a voice calling “mikey.” in hushed tones, as if not trying to grab attention.
robby sees you by the emergency doors, doesn’t even look at dana when he tells her he is taking a break as he walks towards you. with a hand on the small of your back, he quietly guides you to one of the rooms used to talk to family members of patients privately.
robby closed the door, locking it. you were about to “hey” him when his lips crashed on yours. it caught you off guard, but it only took him guiding you to a wall for you to kiss him back. it was a bit messier than what robby’s kisses usually are, his anxiety seeping through it.
“hi.” you said, smiley and breathless.
robby hugged you tighter, his forehead on yours. “you have no idea how much i missed you, pretty girl.” he let go of you, but still held your hands. “so, how did it go?”
“i got it!” you beamed. “gloria and dr. nae said the position was basically mine already. they loved my cv, were impressed by my research and the letters you and vera sent. they just wanted to see me in person and show me the hospital.”
“that’s amazing, honey.” robby hugs you again. “what are you going to do now?”
“i’m going to the hotel. i came in straight from a double shift and i need to sleep.”
robby nods and kisses you again. he guides you out of the room, telling you should have stayed with either him or jack. he tells you they got the rest of the week off to be with you when you tell him you didn’t want to bother them.
you could feel eyes staring at the two of you as you walked by the central hub on your way out.
“who’s the hot blonde staring at us like she’s about to scold you?”
robby stops, and stares at you. “hot?” you give him an eyebrow raise. he sighs “that’s dana, she’s our head nurse.”
“nice. so i’ll be seeing her a lot.” you say, a mischievous smile growing on your face.
you feel robby’s grip on your waist tighten a bit and when you look up at him, the tip of his ears are red.
“oh my god, is that jealousy, mr. robinavitch?”
“no.” he says like a five year old.
“it is! aww, that’s cute.”
he gives you a pointed look and grabs your phone “where’s your uber?”
jesse walks by, saying good morning to you both.
“oh, who’s that?”
“nope.” robby says, pulling you into another kiss.
jack had insisted on taking you out to celebrate, somewhere nice where you three could eat some nice food and talk. you had to almost beg him to stay home, that all you wanted today was to be somewhere quiet with the both of them. “i’ve been pulling double shifts the past few weeks just so i could have a few days off with you here.” you told him.
so he agreed. picked up at your hotel, scolded you for not staying with either him or robby (you told him you didn’t want to bother them and he mumbled something you didn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure mimicked you.), cooked your favourite while you sat on the stool by the kitchen counter, watching him.
robby arrived around 7:30 and jack joked, saying it was the first time robby left a shift on time.
dinner time felt domestic, you and robby helped set the table while jack finished the dishes, you talked, robby sharing a bit of the day, the older men told you a bit about how the hospital worked, talked about your future co-workers and the students.
you were sitting on the couch, laying on jack’s chest while robby massaged your feet when you started talking about moving to pittsburgh. you told them you were starting by the end of next month, so you had about forty five days to start the process.
your last shift is in ten days and you had already told your landlord that you’d be moving out, breaking your lease. he was a nice old man, and did what he could to reduce your early termination fee.
“i want to get here at least two weeks before i start working,” you groan when robby presses a tender spot. “so i can settle down calmly. i want to see if i can find anything near the ptmc.”
“there’s an apartment available in this building.” jack says.
you snort, turning your head to look at him. “i don’t have attending money, handsome.”
he hugs you tight. you sense him and robby exchanging looks, they always did this when they wanted to ask or tell you something they thought you might not agree on.
“you could live with one of us.” this time, unlike it usually is, it was robby suggesting.
you got up and sat down on the rug covered floor to look at the both of them.
“you don’t have to, it’s just a suggestion.” he backtracked.
“if you do want to stay with us,” jack began, knowing the voice inside robby’s head was sabotaging him. “you can have your own room, your own space if it’s something you need.”
robby agrees. “jack’s place is bigger than mine, closer to the hospital too and he works nights, so you’ll have time for yourself.”
you are silent. they can see your brain working overtime.
“tell us what you’re thinking.” jack pokes.
you sigh and run a hand through your hair before speaking. “i don’t want to intrude what you have.”
they look at you with puzzled faces.
“it’s you and robby, and i’m the–“
jack interrupts you. “it’s you, robby and me. it’s us three. you’re not someone we see on the side to make things fun.”
“did we ever make you feel like this, honey?” robby asks, voice so tender it made your eyes water.
“no.” you said, barely above a whisper. “i just didn’t want to assume anything. we never talked about what we had and i didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
jack pulls you back to his lap, making you assume your previous position, only this time to have robby lay on your tummy.
“we’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now, but decided to wait until you’re here. it’s stupid and sorry we made you feel this way, but do you want to be our girlfriend?” jack finally asks.
“or partner. are we too old to have a girlfriend?” robby adds.
you laugh. “it’s fine, grandpas. you can have a girlfriend.”
they both poke you, one on each side. “so is that a yes?” jack questions you.
“mhm.” you bob. “i always wanted to have two boyfriends and for those boyfriends to be boyfriends too.”
domesticblisss’ 500 followers celebration. click here and see how you can request!
pairing – dr. michael “robby” robinavitch x f!reader x dr. jack abbot; rabbot x reader
rating – mature. minors dni
wc – 6.6k
summary – reader is on a medical convention with her attending. what happens when she meets two charming doctors at the resort’s beach on their day off?
warnings – age gap (reader is in her late twenties to early thirties, robby and jack are in their late forties/early fifties). smut with a fluffy ending. complete filth. mmf. yes, there’s old men yaoi in this, robby and jack get frisky with each other, please be aware if you are not into it. voyeurism, female masturbation, fingering, a bit of manhandling, facesitting, oral (f and m receiving), protected sex and use of lube. p in v, double vaginal penetration, slight face fucking, some breathplay, spit play, slapping, pet names/name calling (sweetheart, honey, pretty girl, good girl, dumb, little slut, slut, trouble, sir), multiple orgasms, squirting. drinking (no one gets intoxicated, no dubcon). soft dom!jack, hard dom!robby. reader is the proud owner of a bush. once again, reader is a menace. reader has this grey area relationship with her attending that she doesn’t really see it, but it’s sort of implied. couple of e.r. nods thrown there. she/her pronouns and afab!reader. no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity, but reader is described to wear one of robby’s shirts and to have a soft tummy. all lowercase for styling purposes.
a/n – hello, i come here today offering you some pure filth. tomorrow? probably some filth too, idk. this had me writing bulletpoints in the middle of the market. it’s named after my favourite threesome song, no i in threesome by interpol. also, i wanna thank you guys for following me, i just hit 500 followers yesterday. i’ll doing something to celebrate this week, maybe blurbs or headcanons, so stay tuned. also, i’m annoyed by how i described reader’s clothes in one scene (you’ll know which one it is), just know it looks like the jumpsuit fleabag wore when she met the hot priest for the first time. well, i’m rambling once again. ciao! feedback is appreciated! hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading 🤎
dividers by @/uzmacchiato
you hate conventions. you hate how stuffy they feel, how you have to smile and fake laugh and play pretend, only to stroke the easily bruised egos of doctors who one day could be your boss. it fucking sucks that you can’t be yourself.
but still, you come. you come because, for some reason you are still to find out, your attending loves you. not in the “i expect something sexual out of you” way (which you wouldn’t complain, to be honest, she’s a beautiful woman), but maybe in a “i see me in you” way. it has been like this since you were an intern, and now as an r3, you two only seem to get closer.
it’s great, you can’t lie. you adore her and you are thankful for everything she does for you, it’s like having a best friend and a mentor all in one. yeah, people talk a lot, speculate about your relationship and even rh got involved once, but it’s nothing besides a mentor and her mentee bond.
and because of that, you’ve been to so many conventions and expos that you’ve lost count.
yeah, you hate it, but it has its perks. like staying at a beach resort in cancun.
it’s the second to last day of the convention, the one they usually let everyone do what they want during the day and throw a big party to close it off at night. so you do what most of the people do, you go to the resorts’ beach.
it’s earlyish, around 8a.m. the sun is not that hot yet and it’s pleasant enough for you to bask in it. as you expected, the beach is not crowded, most of the doctors usually sleep late on the last day and you like to take advantage of that. so you set your towel on the sand, untie your bikini top so you don’t get any tanlines, reapply your spray sunscreen and turn the music on your headphones on. you brought a book, one of those spicy romances that you liked to read to escape reality, but this one wasn’t doing it for you, so you decide to just enjoy the music and the nature’s view.
your approach to the beach is a bit methodic. you tan for fifteen minutes in the front, turn around and tan for another fifteen on the back. then you stay for god knows how long in the water and get back to the hotel for breakfast. it’s usually when the beach starts to get a bit more crowded, by 09:30.
it’s around the ten minute mark of your back tanning session when you feel someone approach, they sit down on the bench-like shaped rock that nature had carved over the years. they are lucky enough to start talking in that ‘in between songs’ silent period, so you hear a male voice say “you here for the medical convention?”
you pause the music, something you don’t do for many people, take the headphones off and raise your head to see the owner.
it’s a man in his late forties, handsome with an edge. these really soft looking, salt and pepper curls that you know it would be great to pull on, the stubble of a day old beard and the prettiest hazel-green eyes you have ever seen. he is tanned, freckled skin and toned body. he doesn’t really have a six pack, but there’s hint of a v line that is making you salivate. you can see that he wears a prosthesis on his right leg, and that somehow just adds to his aura.
after your eyes get used to the clarity once again, you answer. “yeah, you?”
he nods. “dr. jack abbot. attending, emergency medicine. just jack,” he shakes his head and snorts “i’m not a doctor right now, am i?” he extends his hand, offering a handshake. you take and offer him your name, when you are about to give him your position and what you are specialising in, he says. “no, hold on. let me guess.” he sees you are struggling with the straps of your bikini top, wanting to tie it again so you can sit up and give him better attention, so he gets up and offers to tie it for you. he smells so good, woody, earthy and a bit salty. the tip of his fingers brush against the nape of your neck and goosebumps rise over your arms. you think he notices it as he lets a little huff out. he pulls the strings a bit and asks “too tight?” and you shake your head. when he finishes, he says “there you go.” and you sit up.
“so… you’re an r2, maybe r3, in dermatology.” jack says, very confidently.
you laugh. “close, you’re good at this. i’m an r3, almost r4, in dermatology and emergency medicine.”
“double specialty?” he whistles. “you’re a tough one, huh?”
“or maybe i just hate myself.” you laugh and he shakes his head.
“you look like a smart girl.”
“thanks.” you feel the heat rise on you face. “what about your guard dog over there?” you say as you point to the other man sitting on a lounge chair in one of the huts that oversees the beach. you had noticed he has been staring for a while.
you had seen him around the resort before. he’s tall, with dark hair and a beard that is getting some grays in it, very charming. he’s probably in the same age range as jack, but opposite to jack, he has a hairy torso and a soft tummy, one you would commit crimes just to lay your head on. he has an almost boyish charm to him, kind eyes that fools the untrained ones, he definitely hides some darkness in there.
jack laughs at your choice of words. “that’s robby, he’s my best friend.” jack cocks his head back at robby. “what do you think he is?" you look at him, take a good look at him. he smiles and waves at you. you return the gesture and hums, pretending to be thinking. “trauma surgeon. chief attending?”
jack laughs an honest laugh. “oh, he’s gonna hate that.” he cleans his face from a happy tear that fell and continues. “tell me, sweetheart, did you have breakfast already?” you shake your head, denying. “come on then, join us.”
jack helped you up, helped you gather your belongings and even carried your beach bag for you. his hand felt warm on your middle back, and made you wonder how it would feel like somewhere else.
“she thinks you’re a surgeon.” jack says and laughs when robby’s face sours.
“you think so little of me, honey?” robby says as he extends his hand for you to shake. “michael robinavitch. you can call me robby.”
you laugh shyly at the tone of his voice and accepts the hand shake. you give him your name and your position and specialisation and his eyes wide, followed by an acknowledging nod. “so we got a genius between us. smart girl.” he gives you that sweet smile again.
the constant praise from two of the hottest men you’ve ever seen is making something boil inside of you that you only felt when you used to hookup with the attending surgeon during your intern year. he left for a better position at a hospital in new york. no one ate you out like he did. you miss him. robby reminds you of him a lot, maybe that influenced your answer.
you have a surprisingly good time with the two of them. they are funny, jack in a cranky way and robby in a self deprecating way. sounds weird but it’s very charming. they ask about you first, so tell them you are a resident at chicago county general hospital, that you liked it there but that you are not sure if it’s going to be your end game. you tell them about your attending, how she always brings you to these events, only to, when robby asks her name, find out they went to med school together.
they tell you about pittsburgh and the ptmc, how different it is to be attending during the day and night (you can see the stark difference between them, jack is more laid back, the kind that has already accepted the woes of life and just goes with it, and robby… well, he looks like he is one wellness check call away). jack tells you about the military and robby about how it was working during covid. you guys talk about hobbies, you tell them you don’t have much time right now, but that you like to knit to destress, jack tells you how he is a volunteer tactical medic, to which you say “oh, so you work as a hobby?” he shakes his head and laughs. robby says he is working on a bike and goes for rides, you nod your head in a slight condescending manner and say “and you are in a midlife crisis and have a death wish. hot.”
robby looks at you, purses his lips a few times and smiles. “you’re trouble.”
you nod and tell him. “yeah, an old man told me this, once. you remind me of him.” and smile. both him and jack laugh.
conversation flows so easily between the three of you that you lose track of time. you only realise you’ve spent all morning with them when your attending texts asking if the outing into the city you two had decided to go on last night, for lunch and shopping, is still up. so you tell them you got to go, you say your goodbyes and jack asks “will we see you tonight at the party, sweetheart?”
you nod. “yeah.”
to say you were nervous for the party was an underestimate. did you have a reason to? maybe? you don’t know. yeah, you wanted to see robby and jack again, maybe hookup with one of them, they seemed interested. were you seeing things where there aren’t none? maybe, you were really trying not to think too much about it.
so you got dressed, thanked your past self for packing the outfit that always grabbed the attention from older guys when you wore it, black wide legged trousers and the black high neck top with a plunging cut, comfortable black heels and cherry perfume. enough make up to just accentuate your features.
you spent more time pep talking yourself than anything else.
not long after, your attending knocked and you left for the bar together.
it’s not a party per se, they closed the bigger bar of the resort like they do most years, hired some local band to play live music while people talked, drank and ate. it is nice, it is a distraction, the food is good and the drinks are even better. it is also a good opportunity to talk, to make yourself known, to maybe get in the good graces of some attending or director of a hospital in an interesting city.
your attending knows you don’t want to stay in chicago, which makes her sad, but she’s supportive enough, she has been there too and wished someone had done the same for her, so she introduces you to everyone she knows.
and that’s how you spent the last two hours, forcing smiles so many times you jaw aches, talking to men and women about your skills and hoping they would remember you a year from now. it’s tiring. your feet hurt and you need a drink. also, no sight of robby and jack the whole night. you wonder if they will show up.
you excuse yourself, tell your attending you need some air and head to the outdoor area. there is a smaller bar counter there, one used to serve the few people that are outside smoking or the ones that don’t want to be bothered by the crowd.
you sit down, ask for a paloma and, after it’s served, you turn around to people watch.
you loved doing this during conventions, it was rather funny seeing the uptight doctors let loose. so far you have seen one being carried out by his friends, completely shit faced, another resident, probably an r1, throw up behind a bush, the neurosurgeon you attending hated leave with someone who definitely isn’t his wife, and your attending chatting up the cardiologist she always hooked up with during these events. that made you laugh and shake your head.
“what’s so funny?” you heard the same voice that asked you this morning if you were here for the convention, ask.
you smile at jack. “nothing in particular.”
he looks at you for a while, takes in your form, eyes spending a little too much time on the plunging cut of your top, then on your lips, the red of your lipstick a bit too mesmerising, and finally, he looks you in your eyes. you sip on the last of your drink as he does, almost as a dare.
jack looks good, knit cream shirt that hugs his muscular chest and arms, almost popping when he flexes it, and a deep shade of brown slacks that sits so pretty on his butt. a nice watch on his wrist, nice pair of dress shoes, hair messy enough to be effortlessly stylish. picture perfect for a date night.
he shakes his head, finally taking the seat beside you. jack leans on, lips almost touching the tip of your ear lobe. “see that guy over there?” he points to a tall man, probably in his fifties talking to a woman. he continues after you nod. “he got so shitfaced once in one of these that he woke up buttnaked in the corridor near his room. the maid was the one to find him in the morning.”
that made you laugh harder than it should, and hold jack’s arm in reflex. “oh, that poor woman.”
“what are you drinking?” jack asks and you tell him. “had too many of those?”
“no, this is my first one. don’t really like going over the board in these events.”
jack hums in agreement. “good girl.” the praise makes you bite the inside of your lower lip, the way jack squeezes your arm lets you know he saw it. “want another?”
you nod.
“another one of what she’s having for her and whiskey for me. neat.” he tells the bartender.
comfortable silence falls between you as you wait for your drinks, the thumb of the hand that squeezed you is now on your elbow, tracing soft circles. you wonder if jack realises what he is doing or if it is automatic to him.
it makes your legs press together a bit harder.
when the bartender finally hands you your drinks, jack grabs them and asks you to follow him. he takes you to one of the conversation pits a bit further from the loud bar and near the sand. as if he read your mind, he tells you “robby is having to kiss ass right now. something about a possible donor to the hospital and the directors wanted him to talk to her.” you nod.
he notices you looking at the ring on his finger. “no wife waiting at home. well, just the one in the urn.”
your face contorts when you squeeze your eyes shut. “jesus, jack.” you laugh and he follows you.
your laughter is interrupted by robby complaining. “i swear to god, if gloria makes me do this again i’ll be jumping off the roof.” he bows down and kisses your head. “hi, honey.”
you smile and wave your fingers at him.
something about robby’s outfit makes you overheat. nice shoes, dark wash jeans with a straight cut, white button down, the first two buttons unbuttoned, enough to give you a peak of his chest hair, and a black jacket. well fitted, so well fitted that it frames his shoulders perfectly, showing how broad he is. it’s making you lightheaded.
“chief attending, the face of the ptmc, baby!” jack exclaims and robby shoots him a warning look.
they talk about admin stuff, the donor and things that don’t really concern you, so you just sit there looking pretty and nodding sometimes.
they are talking about something that happened in one of those donor parties when your attending calls your name. she sees robby sitting near you and goes to talk to him.
“robby, hi! haven’t seen you in a while.” she tells the older man as she hugs him. robby introduces jack and she introduces her cardiologist fling.
he squeezes your shoulder and you see how fast robby’s and jack’s eyes ping pongs between his hand, him and you. you stifle a laugh.
your attending looks at you and the two man, how close you are sitting next to them. she gives you a knowing smile. “sweetie, just stopped by to tell you i’m heading back and see if you need anything.”
“i’m good.” you tell her.
she nods, looking at you a bit longer than necessary. she turns to robby and starts talking. “robinavitch, you’ve got a precious gem in your hands. you better take good care of her. she’s the best professional i’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”
“don’t worry, i will. keep singing her praises and i might steal her from you.”
“we’ll see.” she laughs. “bye guys.”
robby is quiet, you notice him studying you while you and jack talk enthusiastically about procedures he did during the military, he was in the middle of explaining a surgery he did in the middle of the desert when robby asks “why don’t we head back too?” the two of you look at him. “what do you say, honey?”
you nod, getting up. “yeah, let’s go.”
the warmth of both of the men’s hands on your back is dizzying.
the walk back to their room is quiet. you think it’s robby’s by the way he is leading. you’re thankful his suite is located on the opposite side of the resort of yours and your attending’s.
when you arrive at his room, you notice it has the same layout as yours. spacious, big tv, a desk with a chair, king size bed and floor to ceiling windows that led to a view of the beach. you love that you can hear the waves crashing.
you sit down on the end bed, jack following suit, sitting by your right. his hand is less shy now, roaming around the small of your back with the slowest pass of fingers, squeezing your waist from time to time. robby is still by the threshold looking at the two of you, silently. it’s when jack kisses your shoulder and gives it a nip that makes you bite your lip that robby speaks again. “honey, you know that–“
you interrupt him. “robby, i know what you want. wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want the same. i clocked your ‘me and my–“ you pause, considering which word to use. “friend saw you from across the bar and really liked your vibe’ vibe.” jack laughs at your comment, giving the base of your neck another nip, you whimper and continue. “it’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last.”
robby nods, uncrossing his arms. you tap the spot on your left, and he sits.
you turn your head to face him, a smile on your lips. “hi.”
“hi, honey.”
you smile again, look from his eyes to his lips a couple of times and kiss him.
it’s hot, but not messy as you thought it would be. robby kisses you with precision, a hand on the back of your head, through your hair, to bring you closer. it’s commanding, imperative, his tongue works yours with ease, taking everything you have to give.
jack still on your neck, biting you hard enough to bruise. his hand squeezes your breasts through your top. he notices that you are braless, and pinches one of your perky nipples. you moan in robby’s mouth and that makes him tighten the grip on your hair.
you lift your right hand, feeling around to find jack’s head. you run your fingers through his hair, gripping it tight to pull him to join the kiss.
robby groans when he feels jack’s lips connect with yours. the feeling of both of their tongues on yours is thrilling, makes a shiver run down your spine and your pussy get wetter.
both of your hands are occupied playing with their hairs, also pulling them closer.
you pull out to take a breath. robby and jack continue kissing without you, the hottest sight you have ever seen. it’s rough, borderline animalistic, the way the men are eating each other.
you sit back on the bed to watch, bracing yourself on your elbows. they bite and pull, undressing each other. your breath hitches when they unzip their slacks, hands working with expert movements on the other man’s cock.
you unzip your own trousers, fingers rapidly making their way to your throbbing, neglected clit. you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with the sight. it is maddening, you have been in threesomes before, say a configuration and you have done it (your first years of medical school were… something), but this, the sight of two of the hottest dudes you have ever seen, the kind of men you and your friends would fantasise about on sleepovers, going at it is truly maddening.
you wonder if this is how tashi felt in challengers.
you can feel the beginning of your orgasm building and it’s the moan that slips past your lips that breaks their bubble.
it’s overwhelmingly hot the way they are looking at you, almost predatory. they are heaving and the way their hard cocks move with the motion of their bodies is hypnotising.
it’s not those monster cocks people talk about in books or fanfiction, but big enough that you know they will hit the right places. jack’s is longer, a bit thinner in girth but slightly curved upwards. robby’s is shorter but thicker, enough to make you worry about how you are going to make it fit.
jack is the one to break the silence. “look at her, robby. the poor thing is having to touch herself.”
“we are bad hosts, jack. we invite her over and leave her like this.” robby says in such a condescending tone that you get wetter, somehow. “but this isn’t about us. i’m sorry, honey.”
they come over to you, assuming their previous position by your sides. jack helps you take your shirt off and robby’s eyes widen the slightest bit when he sees you braless.
he kisses your necks, makes the way down your shoulder to your left breast, peppering small kisses. before he takes your nipple between his lips, he asks “you’re a little slut, aren’t you? a needy, little slut.” you hum and nod.
jack pops the nipple he was sucking on out of his mouth, slowly licking it before saying “answer him, sweetheart.”
you gulp and nod and say “yeah, i’m a needy little slut.” in a breathy voice.
“good girl.” jack tells you and goes back to sucking your nipple.
robby nods, give your perky tit a couple of kisses before starting to suck it himself.
it’s overwhelming in the best way possible. the way they alternate between licking, sucking and lightly grazing their teeth has you bracing yourself on the duvet, and your other hand working faster on your clit. you are at the tipping point of your orgasm when you let out a shuddering moan and jack notices. he grabs your wrist, taking your hand out of your pants, it makes you whine in protest and he shushes you. jack brings your hand to his lips, sucking one of the two fingers you were using. he calls robby, who looks up at the two of you. he quickly understands what jack wants and opens up his mouth so jack can shove your fingers in. robby sucks them, humming.
you whisper a “shit”, breathless.
robby tells you are very sweet.
jack agrees.
they get back to assaulting your nipples and jack’s fingers replace yours on your clit. he let’s out a barely understandable “fuck” when he feels your bush.
you were always one to wax, until one day with that surgeon ex, where he told you he felt weird about eating you hairless and asked you to grow it out. you always kept it trimmed like it is now, and somehow that was always a hit with the older guys you used to go out with.
you’re once again thankful to your past self for cancelling the brazilian and going for a bikini line instead.
jack is so dexterous with his fingers, maybe it’s a combination of the size of his digits and the pressure that he is applying that makes your orgasm fastly build again and crash without a warning. it knocks the air out of you.
both of the men get up, jack lays down on the middle of the bed while robby takes your pants and underwear off.
you can hear jack tell you to sit on his face, but the orgasm hit you so hard, your ears are ringing. it takes you a bit to compute what he had said.
robby stands by your side, sarcastic smile on his face and cock painfully hard. “one orgasm made her dumb, jack. a dumb, needy little slut.” he holds you by your arm, not strong enough to hurt, but enough the manhandle you up on your feet. robby takes you to where jack’s head is and jack orders “sit, not hover.”
you sit, and holy fucking shit, jack’s tongue feels great on you. it’s the pressure, the way he alternates between sucking and licking your, the way he grips your thighs so hard you know you will have five bruises on each one. you grab his hair to use it as leverage so you can move your hips to chase another orgasm. looking down, you see his hazel eyes clouded, staring at you with the hint of a smile. you are a bit lost in this trance when you feel a tug on your hair. robby brings your face down to his dick and cocks his head, silently telling you to suck it.
you do. start with kitten licks on its head, tasting the salty pre cum. you kiss your way down to the base, playing with his balls a bit before tracing a messy wet path back up, finally taking it inside your mouth. you sink it down slowly, getting used to the thick girth and the weight of it. it hits the back of your throat, making you gag a bit, but quickly you control your breath. the tip of your nose hits robby’s tummy and the coarse hair tickles you. you look up at him, making a show of shaking your head slowly, as if trying to swallow more.
robby gives you an incredulous looking toothy smile, muttering “you really are trouble huh, my little slut?”
you smile at him and pull your head all the way back before setting a semi fast pace to suck his cock, hitting it on the back of your throat every time.
it is so much all at once that you only remember you are riding jack’s face when he pinches your nipple to come out for air. he laughs at the sight, thumb still stimulating your clit before he dives back in, this time, easing his index and middle finger inside your weeping hole. obviously experienced, jack finds your spongy spot in record time, and massages it in a torturous speed, that combined with his lips sucking your pearl, brings you closer to the edge one more time.
you pull robby’s dick out of your mouth fast, a line of spit connecting your lips to the head of his cock.
“fuck, i’m– i’m cumming!” you announce. robby wipes the spit all over your face, bringing your lips back to his cock once again. he chokes you on it, just enough to make you lightheaded, enhancing the shocking feeling of your second orgasm. he pulls you back with a somewhat proud face and you tumble over to jack’s side. your chest heaves as you look for air, the hormones released making you laugh.
jack turns to you, hand caressing your belly and he tries to kiss your shoulder, but you stop him.
“sensitive?” he asks and you nod. he noses your hair line and tells you “breathe, pretty girl.”
you do. ten seconds or ten minutes pass, you are so blissed out that you have no idea. you can hear robby walking around the room and unzipping something, perhaps a bag. something plasticky hits jack’s chest and when you finally open your eyes, you see him rolling a condom down his shaft.
still a bit wobbly, you sit back up. jack comes closer to you, holds your sweat covered, hair sticking to it face. “you ok?”
you nod quickly. “yeah.” voice a bit hoarse from getting your throat abused.
jack smiles, “you are doing great, baby.” he kisses your lips. “so good to us, pretty girl.” he lays back down, and when you are going to align yourself over his dick, he tells you to turn around. of course you do as told, finding robby sitting at the end of the bed, looking at you. you straddle jack, stroke his cock a few times and sink yourself in it, the speed punching the air of both of your lungs. jack holds you down for a bit, getting adjusted to the feeling.
he squeezes your waist and moves his hips up, signaling for you to start moving too. tucking your feet under his hips, you start to ride him, slowly increasing your movements. robby holds your jaw, thumb tracing circles to the underside of it.
“maybe she’s not that dumb, jack. didn’t even need to tell her to ride it.” he squeezes your cheeks, kissing your pouty lips. “but she’s still a slut.”
you smile at him.
“you like this, don’t you?” he asks
“yes, sir.”
the grin he gives you is almost cartoonish.
“lay back on his chest.” robby instructs, helping you. jack holds your waist, scooting back up to the headboard. he starts plowing into you.
robby positions himself between jack’s thighs and wastes no time, attacking your clit. the scene is pornographic, robby licks and sucks your clit, alternating his attention between your pussy and jack’s cock, sucking and gurgling on it when the pipe slips out of your cunt.
you adjust yourself against jack’s torso, all you can do is laugh. not a mocking laugh, but an incredulous one, full of want and desire, not believing that one of your dirtiest dreams is coming true. your right hand goes to robby’s head, not forcing him closer or anything like that, just relishing in the feeling of how it moves. you do the same to jack, left hand sneaking up to play with the curls on the nape of his neck.
“feels great, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” jack asks, a bit breathless. you nod and moan when the tip of his cock hits the right spot. “you have no idea how this feels for me. your sweet tight pussy and mikey’s warm mouth? i’m in heaven.”
you feel robby let out a huffy laugh while sucking your clit, the vibration making your legs close around his head.
“you gonna cum again, baby?” jack questions,
you barely let out a shaky “yeah” when your orgasm hits. it’s a soundless one, your mouth forms an “o” shape, your fingers tight around jack’s curls, hand pushing robby’s face closer to your core while tightening the leg hold you had on him, whole body shaking.
robby’s face is so red when you finally let go of him that it wakes you up a little, the fear of having hurt him bubbling up.
he has such a happy look on his face that ends up lessening your worries.
robby climbs up to you, gives jack a fiery kiss and turns to you. “open your mouth.” you do, and stick your tongue out. robby spits on it and you swallow, smiling up at him again.
“you good?” he checks on you.
“i’m great.” you say, stretching your arms and relishing on the feeling of jack squishing the soft of your tummy.
“do you want or need anything?”
“you.” you tell robby.
“really?”
you hum.
robby kisses your temple. “since you’ve been so good to us, i’ll let you choose how you want me.”
you scurry out of jack’s embrace and ask robby to get up. grabbing two pillows, you lay prone, using one to rest your head and the other you position under your stomach.
robby shakes his head and gives your ass a slap. “you are heaven sent, trouble.”
he grabs the condom you saw him set on the bedside table earlier, and shows it to you before rolling it down his shaft.
you feel robby caging your legs between his as he starts to sink into you. jack caresses your head, tells you to breathe, knowing that, after everything the three of you did, robby still is a tight fit.
you mumble a “fuck” when he is finally all the way in and he warns you when he’s going to start to move. it’s overwhelming, robby has his right arm around your neck tight enough to cloud your thoughts and his soft stomach fits perfectly on the curve of your back. you sneak a hand between your legs to touch your clit. all of this combined with the heavy weight of robby’s body make you cum embarrassingly fast.
“shit, you squirted.” robby says. “good girl.”
he snakes his arms around your waist, turning you around so you are on top of him. jack is standing up now and you see them looking at each other.
jack is the one to speak now. “sweetheart, look at me.” you do. “i’m gonna ask you something and you can say no. do you think you can take both of us, at the same time?”
you splutter, looking at him at a loss of words. this is a fucking fever dream. you notice you have been silent for a while when robby runs his hand through your arm.
you nod, probably too enthusiastic for your liking. “yeah… yes, i can try.”
jack nods and grabs a bottle of lube from god knows where.
he squirts some of the gel on your pussy, you hiss at the cold. jack takes his time loosening you out, spreading it around, two of his fingers sharing space on your cunt with robby’s cock.
jack squirts more lube, now on his own cock. he positions himself between your legs and tells you he is going in. it is so slow you think you are going to pass out from anticipation. it doesn’t hurt, the lube helps out, of course, the only thing you feel is a pressure towards your stomach. jack finally bottoms out and you release the breath you were holding.
jack kisses you, reassuringly. they start moving in sync and it is such a weird feeling. it is good, of course it is, but it is like a puzzle that finally came together.
their groans fill you with a sense of pride, giving you a bit of a power trip. it is not long after that they come, robby first and jack a few seconds later.
you don’t come this time and you couldn’t care less after the other four you had.
jack slips out and sits by the end of the bed. you move too, laying by robby’s side on the bed. the three of you stay in silence, letting your breathings regulate. you hear jack get up and go towards the bathroom, then the sound of water running. he comes back a minute later with a warm, wet towel.
“open your legs, sweetheart.” he cleans you so delicately that it makes you swoon. you hadn’t noticed, but robby had gotten up too, and comes back with a bottle of water for you. “drink, honey.”
you feel two pair of eyes staring at you as you gulp the water down. “what?”
jack purses his lips and shakes his head, a hint of smile on his eyes.
“are you ok? how are you feeling?” robby asks.
“i’ve never been better. holy shit.”
they laugh at your answer.
“come on, then.” robby nudges your thigh. “let’s shower.” he pulls you up and you ask jack if he is coming with you two. he shakes his head, tells you he will shower later.
robby tells you that jack doesn’t like showering together, something about his leg.
you notice that there are a few clothes waiting for you in the bathroom, a shirt and boxers.
“pee.” robby says, folding his arms and pointing at the toilet with one finger.
you laugh. “i’m not peeing in front of you.”
he looks at you with a pointed look. “i had my face on your pussy five minutes ago and you don’t want to pee in front of me?” he says, laughing as he enters the shower box. “alright.”
“asshole.” you giggle.
you join robby under the water. it’s perfectly warm and the pressure does wonders on your muscles. robby is incredibly sweet, a contrast from the man calling you a slut moments ago. he holds you close and kisses you all over. robby takes time washing and conditioning your hair and scrubbing your body. you try to do the same for him, but he tells you to go get dry and put on some clothes.
the shirt he let out for you is one of his old ones from college, a little frayed and soft from being over used.
when you get back to the bedroom, you find jack sitting on the bed, zapping channels. he kisses you and you ask if he is ok, he tells you he has never felt better.
after everyone had showered, robby ordered room service. pizza, burgers, fries and tiramisu, some wine and coke too.
you have been eating in silence for some time now, barely paying attention to what was on the tv.
“you guys always do this?” you break the stillness.
“what? this?” robby points between him and jack. “or this?” he points between the three of you.
you had meant the latter, but you say “both.”
they look at each other, but jack is the one to answer. “we do this sometimes.” jack says, talking about the both of them. “to let out some steam. but it’s the first time with somebody else, we had thought about it, but never found someone we liked.”
you nod, shy smile. “cool.”
you finish eating in silence, robby cleans out the mess and puts the food cart out in the corridor.
“d’you want to sleep here?” he asks.
“mhm.”
robby tidies up the bed and as he does, he casually asks “do you know where you are applying for after your residency ends? where you want to work, maybe a fellowship?”
“i’m considering my options.” you say as you climb on the bed. jack is already laying there, waiting for you. you lay by his side, hugging him. robby goes right after, holding you two.
“maybe you should consider pittsburgh.” jack tells you.
“i will.”
a follow up blurb
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated.
You've taken up a job at the local aquarium as one of those pretend mermaids for the amusement of children and tourists. Does it pay well? Enough to convince you to dunk yourself underwater several times a day, at the very least.
What you thought was a cheap, obviously fake costume seems to have given the marine hybrids the wrong idea. They believe you are one of them, and - most importantly - the only available mate of the tank.
You could feel their hungry stare on you from the moment you plunged into the water. Luckily, they know to behave when there's an audience, but as soon as the doors close, they begin their relentless teasing. Tugging on your tail, pinning you to the glass walls, trying to breed you and mark you as their own.
Perhaps if you let them witness the truth, they will finally cease their pursuit. In a desperate attempt, you dove in without your costume, eagerly showcasing your bare legs as evidence. Which, lamentably, only made it worse. Ah, so that's why they couldn't properly touch you. Some piece of glittery fabric was blocking their access to the important bits.
On the bright side, after your courageous act, you found a new check sitting on your desk. It appears you've been promoted - whatever you're doing with the hybrids is improving their mood greatly. Keep going!
the more time you spend in active recovery from any given self destructive behavior or addiction the more you understand the common conception of the "relapse" as defined by a broken "streak" to be, like, so bad for one's own well-being that it would be funny if it weren't resulting in just a lot of misery and death
I told my girlfriend to think of quitting vaping as training her endurance by seeing how long she can run before she gets tired, then doing it again and hoping to go further next time. She said it really helped her.
