gremlinkat1992

[gremlinkat1992]

And thank you for telling us this Noah

[gremlinkat1992]

thinking about tease jack who sends robby tasteful nudes when he’s at work and blushing robby who has to take five in the bathroom so he’s not walking around the er half hard.

their message thread is littered with pictures of jack, all with varying levels of explicitness. one of him in bed when he wakes up, his curls rustled from the pillow and his bare chest on display. one of him in the bathroom mirror after his shower, a towel slung low across his hips and a goofy smile across his face. one of just his leg, but with a bottle of lube and a vibrator laying haphazardly on the sheets next to him. all of them make robby feel like his skin is on fire, but he always make it through, taking deep breaths and thinking about the dog bite in curtain three until he feels the blush start to recede.

that is until one day when jack is feeling particularly shameless. this time, when robby opens the picture from jack, he immediately closes his phone and beelines it for the private bathroom. the picture is of jack smirking as he lays on his stomach on the couch. that part is innocent enough. what gets robby’s attention, however, is that just over jack’s shoulder, in the background of the photo, is jack’s bare ass. the angle is perfect, and the way jack’s back is arched to show off his fat ass has robby hard in his cargos instantly. he drops his pants and spits into his palm before he can think twice.

a few hours later, when jack wakes up from his nap, he’s surprised to see that robby sent him a picture. robby never sends him pictures. when jack opens it, his jaw drops. it’s a photo of robby’s cock, the head red and leaking, robby’s big hand wrapped around the length. underneath it, robby’s written look what made me do, baby. want you open and ready for me when i get home. only right you should make it up to me. jack knows he should feel bad that he teased robby so much, but he’s too worked up to care. all he can really focus on is the picture of robby’s drooling cock and what he needs to do to get robby to send him more pictures just like it in the future.

[gremlinkat1992]

Got Your 6 - Jack Abbot comfort blurb

Jack helps his girlfriend through hard moment. - DEAR NONNAAAA im so sorry this took so long!! I truly hope this is What you were looking for <3

Warnings: AFAB!Reader has a vaguely mentioned past of SA. mentions of medication poisoning, reader is fuguing, small mention of neurodivergence, PTSD, hypervigilance.

Robby noticed it first. He saw it written all over your face throughout your whole shift. Robby and Jack had a pact ever since their respective partners ended up on the other’s shift. ‘Keep an eye on yours, you keep an eye on mine?’ was the general gist. Jack always made sure to keep an eye on Mrs. R and in turn, Robby always made sure to keep an eye on Mrs. A, you.

He sent Jack a text first thing, making him aware that you were in “walking fog” mode, as you like to put it. He knew you were both two ships passing in the morning when Jack got home from his shifts. You were always one foot out the door trying to make it to yours. A quick kiss and a swift swat of your ass on the porch, and you were both on off on your separate tasks. Work for you, sleep for Jack.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as he got that message from Robby, he called off for the night. Shen was just promoted to night shift attending, they could handle the load for one night.

He tried to get home before you did, running out to grab some of your favorite snacks, candles of your favorite smells, a Hidden Object book. He even grabbed a new throw blanket with your favorite texture and a couple fidget toys; anything to help ground you.

His plan was to have the candles burning when you walked into the house, in hopes that the calming scents would start to ground you. Unfortunately, Pittsburgh traffic had other plans.

By the time Jack walked through the front door, your shoes were already kicked off in the door way, your scrubs haphazardly thrown around the living room, and your backpack is slumped up against the wall on the floor. After taking a few minutes to organize your things, he goes on his mission to find you.

He pushed up the door to your shared bedroom and found you curled up in the middle of the bed in your sports bra and boy short panties, holding your knees and just...staring.

You were in a completely fugue state as Jack moved around you in the bedroom and the en suite, setting up and lighting the candles and snack stations, putting two fluffy towels in the dryer and the blanket he bought.

You barely felt the dip in the bed when Jack pressed his knee down in an effort to lift you up. He strained slightly, having put more weight than usual on his prosthetic.

After collecting you in his arms he walked with you into the en suite. The shower was running already, How did you not hear that? You let out a tiny whimper of sound against Jack's chest. His lips press against the top of your head. "Can you stand for me, princess? Just 30 seconds?" He asks softly. You nod and lean up against the counter when he sets you down. He undresses you fully and them himself.

With strong hands under your thighs, he hoists you up and your legs instinctually wrap around his legs. He walks into the standing shower with you and slowly moves forward, letting the hot water roll over your skin, igniting your sense again. You wince softly at the temperature, but you know he would have never made it hot enough to actually burn you.

Once you are both standing under the spray, you lay your head on his shoulder. Despite the water causing steam to rise from your skin, Jack can feel your tears through the shower spray. He doesn't say anything, question you, or push you in any way to expand. He just allows you to cry.

With a strong arm under you, his other hand reaches forward for the temperature knobs and he starts to slowly twist them until the water starts to turn cold.

The competing temperatures against your skin were slowly bringing you back to the present. Suddenly you started to feel each individual drop of water on your skin.

You let your own feet and legs down and stood against Jack, resting your body against his. He continued alternating between hot and cold water for the next couple minutes until he heard a soft content sigh leave your mouth.

He took an extra couple minutes to actually wash you both. He helped you sit down on the built in marble shower seat and left the water on warm as he moved dripping wet and naked through the house to the laundry room.

He came back, tossing the new blanket on the bed and moving to the bathroom with the warm towels from the dryer.

He wrapped you up after turning off the water and walked with you back to your bedroom. Sitting you down on the bench at the end of your bed, he handed you a Capri Sun juice: straw already in the pouch, and bag of Lay's sour cream and onion chips. You always said these snacks reminded you of being on a picnic.

You nibble slowly and took shallow sips as Jack moved around the room, grabbing comfy clothes for you to wear. Unfortunately, you were they type of neurodivergent who hated socks, so he skipped over those.

After dressing you in a pair of his Comfrt brand sweats and one of his old Army tshirts, he wraps the warm blanket around your shoulders.

For the first time since he found you in the middle of the bed, you look up at him. No smile yet, but he can see YOU started to move behind those pretty eyes. He waits for you to finish your little snack before he hands you your plague doctor squishmallow that he got you for Valentines Day this year.

Once you have that in your arms, lightly sprayed with Jacks cologne, you fully "wake up". You look up at him and a soft, cat like smile spreads across your face. "Hi..." you say softly, resting your chin on the stuffed animal.

"Hi pretty girl...where'd you go?" He asks, hand gently cupping your cheek. You rest against his handle instantly.

"Just...a long week...and yesterday....I coded a man for over an hour who was only in the ER because his wife found out he was sexually assaulting their adopted daughter....so she waited until he took his Nitroglycerin...and then slipped 4 100mg sildenafil in his water...." your eyes still on him. He senses the ache in your chest. Your past always finding a way into almost every single shift you work.

"Good mom" Jack says, sitting down on the bench next to you and bringing you into his arms.

"He lived...he fucking lived...and I was mad. I'm a physician....and him living pissed me off...and me saving him? I feel like i want to hate myself" You admit.

"Did you save him? Did you make sure he lived?" He asks, keeping his eyes on yours, laser focused. You nod.

"Thats all you can do as a Doctor, sweet girl. We both know that. We both took that oath and we both meant it. You did your job yesterday. And maybe he survived...but he won't really ever be the same, will he?" he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, grounding you with his touch.

"No...the Police were there before he even officially came back to life...for both of them" you say, sounding sad that the mother is also getting charged. You wish your mother would have been that strong. She wasn't.

"its just...ever since I worked on him, my hypervigilance has been through the roof...ever loud noise, any hand on my arm to move me during a trauma, Robby raising his voice as a resident, the smells, everything was having me turn my head in preparation to fight or flight after I worked on that man....I'm so exhausted." You finally fully admit.

You let out a long, deep breath and finally feel your muscles start to relax. You stand up slowly to stretch, letting your sore muscles pull and expand over your bones. You moan softly as a few pops and cracks fill the air.

"Wait....you're home..." You say, finally catching up to real time.

Jack chuckles and stands up with you. "Robby gave me the heads up about how you were feeling today...i couldn't just leave you in the trenches like this, not when I know how to help you" He says, hands on your cheeks, eyes boring into yours.

You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips and rest your head against his damp chest. "Thank you" You whisper against his skin. He walks with you to your side of the bed and helps you under the covers.

After removing his prosthetic, he slides in the other side and scooches up behind you, throwing an arm over your middle, brushing against the squshmallow you were still holding.

"We're a team, ya know....You gotta tell me when you're feeling like this. I've always got your 6"

You giggle softly at the military jargon and push back into his body, letting his warmth take over your completely. You press a soft kiss to his bicep before letting your head lay on the other one pressed under your ear.

"Aye Aye, Captain" you say playfully and he pinches your side playfully.

"Smart ass..." He grumbles before nipping at your shoulder, causing you to squeak.

After several minutes of quiet, besides the soft hum of the fan in the corner, you hear Jack start to let out even puffs of breath. Sleepy boy, you thought to yourself as you snuggled further against him.

"I love you, Jack" You say in a soft voice, hoping not to wake him. He was still half conscious when you spoke, giving him butterflies. No matter how many times you told him you loved him, it still always felt like the first.

With a soft, lazy kiss pressed to the back of your neck, Jack whispers, "I love you, too, sweet girl"

Taglist: @blackleatherjacketz @floatinglakecore @robbyslittlelamb @aryacoulson @wintrymix

[gremlinkat1992]

@wittyogredemon asked for something romantic and smutty with Pope. it's my first time writing him so hopefully it's good lol

Tongue-tied and tangled on the leash – Andrew 'Pope' Cody x reader

summary: mostly just self-indulgent fluff and smut <3 warnings: smut, afab reader, sub!pope, pope is probbaly ooc word count: 2k

You're lounging on the couch, legs stretched out onto the wooden coffee table. Your boyfriend's head rests on your thighs and you busy your hands by tangling them in his curly auburn hair, nails drumming against his scalp absentmindedly.

Your real focus is on the ugly purple bruise on his jaw. Andrew had come home sporting it along with a bloody nose, split lip, and bruised knuckles two nights ago, brooding and refusing to talk about it.

Knowing what he did for work, you knew that this could happen one day, but the expectation did nothing to quell the anxiety buzzing through your veins. Objectively, you are lucky. This is a pretty minor injury compared to what could have happened. Still, the thought of Andrew in any sort of pain is devastating to you.

"What if we just ran away?" you blurt out, hands momentarily stilling. He nuzzles into your touch, trying to get you to keep playing with his hair. He makes a confused hum.

"Like, to some cottage in the woods. Away from all of this—" you gesture vaguely. "Just the two of us." You twirl a strand of his hair around your index finger.

He opens one eye and squints up at you. "A cabin in the woods? Do you want to kill me?"

You smile adoringly at him and jab your finger into his shoulder. "A cottage, not a cabin. There's a big difference."

He can't help but match your smile with his own tiny one. "Is there?"

"Yeah. Cottages have, like, gardens and cute, cozy kitchens and shit. Cabins are where people get murdered." The corners of your eyes crinkle in fond amusement.

Andrew hums thoughtfully. "A garden would be nice."

"Yeah. We could plant flowers."

"It sounds nice."

"One day," you murmur, imagining the two of you cozied up in front of a fireplace, not worrying about Smurf or the cops or him getting hurt.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You gently run your finger along the splotch of purple on his face, your expression turning serious. You still didn't know exactly what had happened. All he had said is that he's had worse, which does nothing to reassure you.

A rush of air escapes your lungs as you decide to broach the subject. "You were careful, right?"

He sits up, his spine straight and rigid. "I'm always careful. I'm good at what I do." There's a hint of defensiveness in his tone that you hope to quell.

You turn to face him and curl your legs under you. "I know." You reach out to take his hand. He eyes you suspiciously but reaches out to link his fingers with yours. "I just need you to be careful and stay safe. I need you, you know? I can't live without you."

He softens at the vulnerability in your tone, but there's something in his eyes that tells you he doesn't quite believe it. After all this time, he still can't wrap his mind around the fact that you need him. Not to punish or hurt, but to love.

"You'd manage," Andrew says gruffly.

Your eyes narrow at him. You aren't annoyed at him, more at the people who had made him feel this way. "No, I wouldn't. I'd die without you."

"That's dramatic." His expression remains firmly set. If you didn't know him any better, you'd think he was angry, but you think you can see the corner of his lips quirk slightly.

"It's the truth." You keep your voice steady, honesty pouring out of every syllable.

His fingers twitch at his sides and you can sense his restlessness. He wants to run away from the care and love you're showing him, but he knows better than to try, just as you know better than to push further.

"Just stay safe for me, ok?" You make an effort to soften your expression.

"Yeah." His fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt anxiously. "I need you, too."

The honesty in his voice makes you smile a real grin, wide and delighted. You grab the back of his neck and pull his face to yours, kissing him deeply.

Andrew's hands immediately come up to cup your face. His fingers dig into your cheeks, as though to keep you from going anywhere, like you'd ever even think of leaving.

You pinch the skin at the back of his neck, a reminder that you're here. He relaxes a little at that. You know that sometimes, pain grounds and reassures him. It doesn't make sense to you, but you'd do anything for him.

You let him slip his tongue into your mouth when he gently probes at your lower lip. He licks into you like he's trying to permanently imprint your taste on his tongue and you let him.

Once you've decided that he's had enough, you lean back on the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows and straightening out your legs. You grab the hem of his shirt and pull him closer.

He adjusts himself so he's sitting on his haunches between your legs. He caresses your thighs, starting at your knees and slowly moving up until he reaches the hem of your fluffy pink lounge shorts. He shoots you a questioning look and you nod.

Almost reverently, he slips them off, going much too slowly for your liking. You try to hide your impatience and watch the way his breathing speeds up at the sight of your bare thighs.

"My panties, too." You don't hide the command in your tone and relish in the responding shiver. Dutifully, he tugs off your underwear as well, going much quicker this time.

Once he's done, he crawls closer to you until he's hovering above you, forcing you to lean back against the armrest. You make eye contact and, at this proximity, you can see the way his pupils have dilated.

He places a sweet kiss to your jaw and eagerly trails lower. Once he gets to your bellybutton, he looks up at you with heady eyes to see if you'll object. You don't. You're so worked up by now and you're glad that he's so eager to get his mouth on you so you can keep up some semblance of control.

He scoots further down the couch until he's flat on his stomach and nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh. Carefully, he presses kisses around your vulva, not quite touching you where you need him to.

You let out a breath of exasperation. He knows better than to tease you, but you know that this is more about teasing himself. He's making himself wait before he can indulge in your taste and your pleasure. It's sweet, in a way, so you stifle your groan of annoyance and let him take his time.

When he finally puts his mouth on you, you can't help the way your hips buck against his face. "Fuck," you cry out as he gets into it, sucking your clit and lapping at your entrance intermittently. You grip his hair hard enough to hurt and it only spurs him on more.

Andrew eats you out with a sort of desperation you aren't used to. It's lust, love, and devotion all wrapped up into one overwhelmingly dedicated tongue.

He's practically memorized your body by now, easily finding all the spots that make you whine, squirm, and clench. You're pretty sure you've ruined the couch by the time your pleasure crescendos into a white-hot orgasm. You're panting by the time you come down from it and you open your eyes, which you just now realize are clenched shut. Andrew is looking up at you with utter adoration, as though he found absolution between your thighs. His chin rests on your stomach and he looks relaxed. His body is lax and pliant and his eyes slightly glazed over.

"Good boy." You tug his hair and do your best to suppress a giggle at the ensuing groan. "You like that, hm?" you tease. He presses his lips together and stays silent. It doesn't matter. You know the answer.

You pull off your top before tugging him even closer so you can kiss him again. This time, you take control, biting his lip hard, just shy of drawing blood.

"Want you inside of me," you murmur, forehead resting against his.

He's all too eager to obey, quickly peeling off his pants and boxers and lining himself up at your entrance. This time, he doesn't make you wait and slips into you in one go. You feel the stretch deep in your body, but you're wet enough that it only feels pleasurable.

He moans loudly once he's fully seated inside of you, joined with your own whimper. He knows better than to move without you, though, and looks at you expectantly.

"You can move. Go slow, though," you say in a commanding drawl that makes his head feel fuzzy.

He keeps his thrusts measured and steady even as he shakes from the restraint he's exerting. He wants nothing more than to snap his hips and bury himself inside you in quick, pleasurable thrusts, but more than that, he wants to be good.

You let out a long, drawn-out moan. This pace feels perfect after the intense orgasm you just had. You throw your head back against the arm rest and you know you'll have a nasty cramp in your neck the next day. "Yeah, like that, feels so good," you say in between pants.

He admires the sight of you consumed by pleasure, a consolation prize for the slow pace he's forcing himself to fuck you at. A droplet of sweat beads on your neck and he bends down to lick it up.

After a few minutes, his self-control begins to wane and he picks up the pace a little. Your eyes narrow and you pull his hair punishingly. "Slow," you remind him.

He whines, a needy noise so unlike him. His breath catches as he slows down again. It's almost painful. A desperate 'please' slips past his lips and the sound of him begging for you is so erotic that you can't help but give in.

"Yeah, fuck, you've been so good. You deserve it." He looks at you hopefully and you pull him down for another kiss. "Go faster," you whisper against his lips.

With your permission, he does what he's wanted to do all along and buries himself to the hilt inside of you over and over again, his hips moving quickly. He's addicted to your warmth, barely conscious of anything other than the feel of you wrapped around him. He lets out a heady grunt every once in a while, but is otherwise silent. You, on the other hand, can't stop the steady stream of moans that leave past your kiss-bitten lips.

Only once you've come again, squeezing deliciously around his cock, does he allow himself to focus on the pleasure curling up his spine. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and mouths at the junction of your shoulder.

"Please, can I come?" He lets out an embarrassing whine.

Indulgent after two orgasms, you nod your assent. He waits a few seconds to see if you'll be cruel and force him to pull out, but when you don't, he lets himself fill you with his seed, letting out a few quiet groans.

"So good. You deserve to feel good. So good coming for me, Andy. Behaving so nicely," you murmur mindlessly, praise spilling past your lips like syrup.

In the aftermath, you maneuvers him so his head is resting on your chest, hands stroking his hair.

Mind hazy from pleasure and praise, he doesn't have it in him to disagree. His hand strokes your hip bone gently.

"One day we'll get a cottage," he says quietly. He turns his head so he can nuzzle his cheek against your sternum.

"Yeah?" You smile lovingly.

"Yeah," he confirms. "One day, I'll get away from all this. With you."

You reach down to grab his hand, squeezing reassuringly. "Together."

[gremlinkat1992]

in the beginning, god created heaven and earth; for what it's worth, i think that he might've created you first.

pairing: andrew cody x f!reader

warnings: blasphemy? set in the church heist season, so yeah. unspecified age gap (reader is in college), hints of fluff, smut - fingering, unprotected sex, use of a vibrator, one slap, reader is a virgin but it's very subtle imo, depending on how you look at it..kinda soft dom!andrew

summary: you finally have some fun at church when a new guy joins bible study.

w/c: 7.2k cca

a/n: nothing, andrew cody just penetrated my brain for a second. this is kind of just a foreplay before i write something really disgusting for this man. also, just for the sake of the story, let's pretend he'd been scouting new canticle for longer than three weeks. i hope you enjoy!!

You weren’t a religious person, but it’s not like you didn’t believe in anything. You believed that there was some kind pull, besides the magnetic one, that brought you closer to your destiny, and it only depended on how much you fought it if you wanted to change or avoid it. You believed it, because despite your religious views, church had turned out to play a pivotal role in your life.

Words couldn’t describe how much you hated church. Well, that’s not entirely true, you just hated the reason behind why you went and the fact that it was basically against your will. You prided yourself in standing your ground, but this time, you tried to swallow that pride and not to be naïve at least once in your life. This way of thinking had been caused by your aunt who had made a deal with your parents: she would pay for your college tuition, and in exchange, you’d start going to New Canticle. It was presented as a fait accompli to you, even though you had never met bigger atheists in your life than your parents.

Fucking hypocrites.

Your aunt thought you were troubled. She had never dared to say it out loud to your face, but you could tell from the way she talked about you with other people, or the way she grimaced at your choice of clothes.

At least she hadn’t taken that away from you. Yet. Not that she hadn’t tried. She had offered you a few pieces of her own clothes, “appropriate” for church, but you had managed to convince her that you were allergic to rayon, which was all her clothes were made of.

So, yeah, she didn’t like the way you were turning heads, but she had made herself believe that patience and consistency would get you to the place that she was at.

That was the part you hated, but some of the people from church were actually pretty cool. Nice. You liked Amy, she never forced anything on you even though she was heavily invested in that lifestyle and work, organizing events, teaching Bible study all while practicing celibacy and staying sober. You thought she should replace your aunt as a head coordinator, but nobody was ready to have that conversation. Amy was also the only person to compliment your outfits, and it made you feel empowered. Not that she was the only one who liked it, some of the men there always had their eyes on you and they were trying to hold themselves back from acting on whatever their disgusting minds were telling them to do. You could just tell. However, poor Amy had earned herself a don’t encourage her speech from your aunt, so she had to limit her compliments eventually, and often settled for throwing you a thumbs up after she’d made sure that nobody was looking.

And then, Andrew joined Bible study. There was a lot of people circulating through the sessions, but you had never really paid attention to who chose to stay longer compared to others like you did to Andrew.

You had never tried to get anyone’s attention with the way you dressed, but the one time you wished it would catch a man’s eye, the man in question didn’t really seem to care. Yes, he stared a lot, but he stared at many people which, to be honest, made you a little petty.

It also seemed that he was close to Amy, and at first, you thought they were dating, but when you asked her about it, she assured you that that was not the case. According to Amy, he just seemed a little lost, broken, like someone who needed guidance which she’d offered simply because of her own agenda. It was always the same spiritual crap over and over again.

“So, go for it if you want.”

Your head snapped to her, arching an eyebrow at her. “Are you serious? Aren’t you supposed to deter me from that?”

“Not that I think there is no hope for you, but you don’t belong here. What we do here isn’t you. And I mean it in the nicest way possible.”

Your lopsided smile grew into a full-on grin as you hugged her arm, squishing your cheek against her shoulder.

“You’re such a cool person, Amy, you know that? I’m sure you’re God’s favorite. And I am serious.”

She started shaking her head bashfully, her cheeks reddening at the compliment, but you didn’t stop convincing her until she stopped moving her head and thanked you. You really loved Amy, and you weren’t sure how long you’d last here if it weren’t for her.

And just when you thought you couldn’t love her more, she arranged a tour of the New Canticle for you to give to Andrew, which he had supposedly asked for.

“But don’t tell your aunt I had something to do with it.”

You would never.

So, that was your first close contact with him after just admiring him from afar during Bible study sessions where you got to listen to his somewhat skeptical views on religion. Honestly, you were still trying to figure out whether he did believe in God, whether he was convincing himself that there was a God or if he was just trolling.

“So, who have you killed?”

You asked him after you’d shown him all the classrooms, the cafeteria and the counseling rooms, leading him to the empty auditorium which he already knew, but you wanted to be somewhere quiet with him, taking a seat in the furthest corner of the room. He didn’t sit at first, towering over you as his nose twisted at your question.

“What?”

“Well, you know. It’s the criminals that often turn to faith. Thinking it will save them or whatever. My aunt, for example, steals decorative rocks from the botanical gardens.”

He chose to stay silent still, sneering at the ground with his nose still twitching and eyes skating all over the place.

“Well, what did you do?” he rasped out, his tone slightly defensive.

You huffed. “Nothing, yet.”

He finally sat down, and you twisted in your seat just enough to face him. You had noticed it before, but God, did he have an amazing posture. You almost envied him.

“You never talk. During Bible study, I mean.”

Oh. So, he did notice you.

“Yeah. I really have nothing to say. Well, I do, but I don’t believe in God, and I don’t want to spoil it for Amy. She works really hard on… everything.”

You were confusing him word after word.

“Why are you here, then?”

“Bad parents and inappropriate clothes,” you said with a lifted corner of your mouth, thudding your skull against the wall behind you and lolling your head to the side, studying his expression.

His face finally relaxed, but you didn’t know if that was good in this case. Up to this point, you could at least tell that he was either confused, disgusted or offended. It had to be one of these emotions. But now, you had no idea what he was thinking, he was just staring at you with empty eyes. Neither one of you broke the eye contact, and you thought you saw him lean in, albeit unintentional. It was more like he lost a balance for a second, but he straightened up quick.

His eyes scanned your body, from the black crop-top to the high-waisted skirt and over your bare thighs, before returning to your hair and taking in the small clips holding your front locks away from your face.

“I think you look nice,” he said with a shrug, and despite the slightly insincere tone, you chose to believe him just for your own sake.

Since then, he’d always come to find you instead of Amy, and now her thumbs up’s gained a whole different meaning. Andrew even began to show signs of smiles from time to time before he’d catch himself and put on the stoic mask of which he was pretty fond. You weren’t exactly sure what he wanted to accomplish with that façade, but it always made you stifle a laugh.

You started to wear shorter skirts too, just for him, from jean skirts to tennis skirts or little black skirts with side slits, combining them with almost see-through, white blouses or small knitted vests, each piece revealing the shiny little cross on your chest. You also bought more dresses that you thought he might like

You did all of that for quite simple words: You look nice.

Andrew didn’t have any other compliments in his vocabulary, and frankly, you didn’t care. You yearned for this one specific line every time you were headed to the church. It was everything you needed to hear to get through, the addiction growing with each day.

Of course, your aunt had eventually noticed. Not only that you had started to reveal more skin, which was the polar opposite of what she had been trying to accomplish, but also how Andrew started to linger around you.

Your aunt didn’t like Andrew to begin with, so whenever she heard you giggle at something he said that wasn’t meant to be funny (which made his lips twitch into a soft smile too, even though he had no idea where your humor stemmed from), it made her fume.

“He’s the spawn of something evil. I can feel it. And you know I don’t use that phrase lightly,” she had said, and it made you roll your eyes. She claimed that she actually hated that phrase, so this must have been serious for her.

You honestly didn’t give a shit. He could be Satan and you’d still want to fuck him. Probably even more so, although you didn’t tell her that, because you were sure that you might as well say goodbye to your degree if you did.

Your aunt’s last straw was during the preparations for a garden party.

“What’s this for?”

You jumped at the sudden voice that was too close to your ear, feeling the hot breath brush against your skin as you threw the numbered sticker into its respectful box, right next to the box of sidewalk chalk and the pile of plastic mini racing flags.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me,” you gasped as your hand flew to your chest, turning to see Andrew peeking over your shoulder.

He hung his head, swallowing as he took a step back with his hands shoved into his pockets. You cursed yourself for making him do that. Andrew was sensitive to the variations of the word scare and you definitely didn’t want him to think that you were scared of him

So, to compensate, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the neighboring desk covered in pamphlets. Your chest puffed out when he didn’t flinch this time, a big difference to when you first started talking.

You showed him a pamphlet with cartoon turtles, explaining to him that the church was holding a turtle race before you ranted about how it bordered with animal cruelty.

“That’s… horrible,” Andrew drawled out, and you gazed at his face.

“I know, right? And they think I’m the devil because I wear skirts.”

Yeah, so you baited him a little bit, but it was worth it, because Andrew’s head snapped to your lower body immediately, bending backwards and craning his neck as his eyes scanned over the back of your bare legs and to your backside. Your eyebrow pinched together for a split second as you smiled at the fact that he probably didn’t even realize how it must have looked.

“You look nice.”

Your smile grew wider, and Andrew smiled too, holding eye contact as you thanked him. His smile didn’t even falter this time.

But you were an obnoxious guest in God’s home, and the spell just had to be broken by none other than your aunt inserting herself between your bodies and plastering a too wide of a smile on her face.

“Andrew! Will you be joining us for the garden party? We’re having a turtle race. It’s so much fun, especially for the kids.”

He glanced at you just in time to see you roll your eyes as you folded the pamphlet and returned it to the stack.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other activities that don’t support animal cruelty?”

Your aunt’s forced smile slowly fell from her face, her head twitching towards you as you pretended to organize the piles before she looked back at Andrew.

“Did she get into your head, too? Honey, they are pet turtles. We make sure they are well fed, have enough water and are protected from the sun.”

“Yeah, but you’re putting unnecessary stress on them, you know, with the screaming and placing them into an unfamiliar environment. They could get injured, too. And what about those stickers, are you sure they are non-toxic? I can ask my friend who works for Welfare Services, and I’ll let you know what he has to say about that.”

It was quiet for a moment before your aunt said she’d talk to other coordinators about it and left, throwing you one last lethal look over her shoulder.

You nearly jumped up and down, but instead, you chose to stand on your tiptoes and kiss Andrew’s cheek.

“You’re fucking amazing. Thank you.”

Apparently, Andrew’s niece loved turtles, so he knew a thing or two about them. He helped you discard all the pamphlets and promised to give the turtle pellets to a local organization that tried to protect turtles and tortoises.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the day, even though you knew you should probably prepare for a piece of your aunt’s mind.

Except, it didn’t come. She drove you home and that was it, didn’t even come inside to tell your parents on you. It didn’t feel right, but you chose to ignore the nagging feeling, thinking maybe God, if there was one, chose your side instead of hers this time.

Andrew didn’t come to Thursday’s Bible study. It was weird, because he had never missed a class, and he occasionally visited you on other days too. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, because literally anything could have happened, maybe he was babysitting Lena, or he was sick. Naturally, you tried to text him, but there was no answer. So, you called, and again, nothing.

He didn’t come on Sunday either and you almost wanted to go home and change, because what was the point if he wasn’t there to say you looked nice? It led you to realize just how addicted you had become to his presence. Having Amy there just wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him.

He did show up on Tuesday. But not once did he look at you. He didn’t come to say hi or jab at other people in the group. And when the class ended, he jumped to his feet. You clenched your jaw as you watched him scurry away, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of your chair before you shot up too, but Amy stopped you before you could leave the room.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’ve gotta–”

“I know. That’s what it’s about.”

You frowned, looking at the now vacant hallway as you let Amy tug you into the corner of the room.

“I overheard your aunt talking to Andrew the other day.”

So, apparently, your fucking aunt had told Andrew that you were too young for him and purposely made it sound like he was some kind of a creep.

Which was fucking ridiculous, because you were the creep, essentially.

“I would’ve told you sooner, but I never thought he’d take it to heart.”

You thanked her and rushed outside, hoping you’d still be able to catch up to him. When you exited the building, you searched the parking lot until you finally saw Andrew speedwalking to his car. You looked like a fucking idiot, running after him and calling out his name, and he didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge you, not even after you called out his name for the second and third time.

You weren’t going to let him get away though, so you sprinted off in his direction, and just as he started the car, you ripped the passenger’s car door open.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You know I look like a crazy person, right?” you said as you plopped yourself onto the leather seat of the Dodge, while he just stared ahead, completely non-verbal. “You could at least acknowledge me, you know. I know you’re a man of few words but come on. You could have at least talked to me.”

Your eyes were jumping all over his face, your chest rising as you tried to steady your breathing. He turned off the car.

“You’re too young.”

“Too young to what?” you asked, demanding some explanation that would make sense. You sure as hell weren’t going to let him get away without a reasonable argument. Which, by the way, there was none. “Andrew. Too young to what?” you pressed.

“I don’t know!”

“See?” you braced yourself against the dashboard and the seat as you leaned forward a bit. “She’s just putting words into your mouth. I fucking told you my family is crazy.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the headrest, releasing a deep sigh.

“Do you like me, Andrew?”

He didn’t answer and his eyes remained closed. Like a fucking brick wall. So, you decided to be bold, climbing over the console and straddling his lap. His eyes snapped open then, hands landing on your hips as if to push you away, but he didn’t. You cupped his face, locking eyes with him.

“Because I liked you. When you still talked to me. I’m not liking you right now.”

“Your aunt–”  

“Fuck my aunt! She’s scared of you. And she hates me. That’s why she told you all those things.” Your thumb was absently stroking the skin under his eye, and you thought how pretty he was, how those once empty eyes were now filled with… something. Either you were right, or you were becoming fucking delusional. You didn’t care which. “I like you, Andrew. I like dressing up for you. I like it when you tell me I look nice. I miss it.”

Him. You missed him.

His lips twitched, and you swore you could see his cheeks change color. His eyes flicked to your lips, but he still seemed not to have made up his mind and you were done forcing yourself on anyone.

Scoffing, you began to remove yourself from his lap, but he caught your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, sitting you back onto his thighs and eliciting a gasp from you.

With his fingers tangled in your hair, he yanked you down into a kiss, and as your lips molded together, you finally let all of your weight settle against him, rubbing your soaked panties over the rough material of his jeans, and in response, his hips bucked upwards.

God, you wanted him so bad.

Your hands fell to his belt, clinking sounds echoing through the car as you tried to unbuckle it, accompanied by the smacking of your lips. It was a few moments of no progress, you should have moved on to his zipper by this time, but your hands were shaking and you just took too long to open the fucking pants, so you had to break the kiss.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he watched you struggle, his ears picking up on the shuddering breath you released. You just nodded, swallowing down the embarrassment that was creeping up on you. “Are you sure? You want this? One hundred percent?”

Your eyes flicked between his face and your hands still on the belt before you exhaled, not realizing how irregular your breathing was.

“I do.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes suddenly softened, and for the first time, you could name the emotion that crossed his face. Pity.

You were still hoping that he would spare you the further embarrassment, that he'd be a jerk who just took what he wanted, ignoring the new piece of information he'd just learned. Not with your luck.

“You’ve never had sex, right?”

“Shit...” Your body slumped. “Did I just ruin this?”

“No!” he said incredulously, while still keeping his voice down. His fingers tugged some loose strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ears. “But maybe we should slow down. Is that okay with you?”

“Like, how much?”

“Well, I need to stretch you out for my cock first. Which could take some time.”

More heat rushed to your cheeks, your stomach twisting as you murmured a soft okay.

So, you didn't fuck him, but you convinced him to make you cum with his fingers, at least, because otherwise you would have probably thought that he’d ghost you or something. You told him that it would be a promise that he really would fuck you eventually.

Actually, Andrew didn’t need much convincing, he was pretty eager to touch you, too. You loved the way he watched you come undone into his palm, with hooded eyes and lower lip caught between his upper teeth.

He had to tell you multiple times to relax first, because you were too focused on the finish line, instead of the feeling of his fingers dragging against your walls.

“Don’t chase it. Let it come to you. I’ll be here as long as it takes.”

He was so patient with you, the entire span of his focus was on your reactions to certain flicks and twitches of his fingers, learning what made you flutter around him. His hot breath teased your skin, ghosting over your neck and chest, but he never once touched his lips to you, not even when you curled your fingers into his hair and tried to guide his face to your breast.

Once your hips started to move on their own, spearing yourself on his fingers as the heel of his palm grinded against your clit, Andrew brought his other hand to your breast, pinching the stiff peek and tugging hard. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you, and with the last curl of his fingers against the spongy spot inside of you and a few flicks of his thumb over your clit, you came all over his hand. Your thighs squeezed his hips in an attempt to close your legs, muscles quivering as the orgasm ripped through you.

You brought your mouth to his, licking along the seam before you nipped at his bottom lip. Well, Andrew would later argue that you straight out bit him. And he wasn’t wrong as you broke the skin and drew some blood, which would turn into a small bruise the next day. He growled when he felt the sting, fingers instinctively pushing into you even harder and making you let go of his mouth as you cried out.

When you came down from your high, he slowly withdrew his hand, bringing it to your lips and making you suck your juices off his fingers.

“Do you taste sweet?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

“When I taste you, it will be with my face buried between your legs. Not today, though.”

You pouted before you leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped you with his palm cupping your chin and fingers squeezing your cheeks together.

“That would be cheating. Nice try, though.”

“Are you saying you’re not gonna kiss me anymore?”

In response, he kissed you on the tip of your nose and you thought you were going to melt right then and there.

“Do you have a ride home?”

Well, Amy had probably already left, so Andrew took you. The whole ride, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the steering wheel that was shining with your cum and spit, and he only smirked when he caught you. You tried to kiss him goodbye when he dropped you off, but evidently, his mind wasn’t as clouded as yours, so he still didn’t let you until the next day.

You both agreed that Andrew would stop coming to the church unless there was Bible study, in order to protect you from your aunt. He really didn’t want to get you in trouble, however, that didn’t mean that you couldn't see each other outside of church. He often waited for you in his car whenever your ride was provided by anyone else but your aunt, making you cum with his fingers, whether it be in his lap behind the wheel or the backseat, which you personally preferred, because of the way he'd hover over you which made you significantly wetter.

You kind of enjoyed Bible study too, because you made sure he suffered while he tried to act like he didn’t want you.

You’d cross and uncross your legs, offering him quick glimpses of your underwear, or the lack of it, and sometimes, you’d press yourself against him, just long enough to stuff said underwear into the back pocket of his jeans.

Sadly, you never got to see the expression on his face, because you were already risking too much by even being in his proximity.

You also liked to make a show of bending over, and you knew he was aware that with the skirts you wore, you’d be putting yourself on full display. He always rushed over in order to shield your ass and pussy from unauthorized eyes, only for you to reveal that you were wearing undershorts.

You weren't that slutty.

You kept him on his toes and he’d punish you every single time by ruining your orgasms until you begged him to let you cum.

“I swear I will never fuck you if you keep this shit up.”

“Promises, promises.”

Andrew swiped a hand across your cheek after that. Very gently. It felt like a caress, really, before he asked if it was okay, and you nodded. Of course it was okay. You’d let him do unspeakable things to you, but he had boundaries, unfortunately. He had never feared to slap you harder since then, threatening that one of those times, it would land on your cunt. You couldn’t wait for that to happen.

With each passing day, you were getting closer and closer to being able to take him, as he’d put all the work into stretching you out with his fingers. He never used anything else. Not his mouth, not his cock. He had also never let you touch him, always swatting your hands away when you got too grabby, and puppy eyes didn't help you in this case which was a disappointing discovery.

You were getting impatient and frustrated and he must have sensed it, because after he fingered you on a Wednesday night, he gifted you a flamingo vibrator. Remote controlled.

“I want you to wear this. Tomorrow, at Bible study.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Well, that depends on how you behave. Do you want to try it out now?”

You were feeling brave.

“No.”

So, you did as he told you, pushing the vibrator into your already slick pussy and covering it with baby blue panties before heading to the church.

You had never really paid attention during Bible study, but now your focus on other people was completely out the window. Your brain was keeping your body on high alert and all you could think about was Andrew, the vibrator inside of you, and that he might finally fuck you after this.

Andrew was manspreading on the couch right across from you, a complete opposite from your tightly crossed legs. Shit, you’d always managed to keep your dirty thoughts about Andrew at bay during Amy’s classes, but now, you just imagined yourself in his lap with your back against his chest and your legs split open by his thighs while he played with your pussy and fucked you with the vibe in front of everyone. Suddenly, you wanted those men and women to know that your body was a playground dedicated to Andrew, that he was the only one who owned you and got to do whatever he wanted with you.

You tried not to tear your eyes away from his hand which was stuffed in his pocket, probably holding the controller, and you hoped to catch a movement once he was ready to press the power button. You weren't even blinking.

But he was messing with you. He knew what you were trying to do, so he moved his hand as he pleased without even touching the remote, making his next moves unpredictable. You still jumped every time you caught the tiniest movement of his hand or even his knees rocking back and forth occasionally, while Andrew held eye contact with whoever was currently speaking, not having the slightest problem with keeping the conversation going. But he still hadn’t turned the vibrator on. Was it even working?

And then you heard your name.

You lifted your head. “What?”

“I said I’d like to hear about your opinion. You said you didn’t believe in God, right?”

Asshole.

“Yeah, um...” It had been a long time since you spoke at one of these things. “I’m just not a fan of the idea that some higher power is going to ‘save’ us. We bring obstacles onto ourselves and onto each other, and it’s up to us to overcome them, with or without the help of other people. Real people.”

You heard a few murmurs from the people that were new here, otherwise, nobody was really scandalized by your words.

And before you could find the source of those whispers, you yelped, your body jolting from the buzzing sensation that was quickly spreading through you all of a sudden.  

“I mean, I’m not saying you have to believe in God, specifically. But not even a different form of higher power? You don’t consider science a higher power? When you die and someone shocks you back to life? That’s not higher power saving you?”

Andrew emphasized the word with a switch to a higher setting, your pussy clenching around the device torturing your clit as it worked double duty from the inside and outside, the combination growing more and more intense. You really didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You didn’t even have the stregth to argue that his logic still included the help of other people, but you knew this wasn’t even the point he was trying to make. Your silence gave Andrew a chance to continue. “You think you have all the power?”

And here we go.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pain, and luckily, someone who had probably thought you too ignorant, chimed in with some enthusiastic commentary on God’s unconditional love.

At this point, you had lost yourself in your head again, too focused on the pressure blooming in your lower belly as you squirmed in your seat, unable to sit still.

The feeling wasn’t too different from the one Andrew had brought you with his fingers several times before, but this time, it was bordering between pleasure and pain. You couldn’t stop your hand from flying to your stomach, pressing gently against your abdomen and hoping the ache would vanish, but it only intensified, and Andrew took that opportunity to turn the vibe up even more.

It had come to the point where you had to stifle down your whimpers, biting your lip a little too hard in the process, and before you could let your vocal chords generate any sound, you jumped to your feet and excused yourself.

Fuck. You should have checked if you’d left a wet spot on the chair.

You made your way to the spacious restrooms, bracing yourself against the marble counter as you finally released a mewl, pressing your thighs together before you splashed some cold water on your face and the back of your neck.

There was absolutely no way you were coming back to that room. You couldn’t. And before you had a chance to question whether Andrew would be disappointed in you or not, the door opened, and his figure appeared in the mirror reflection.

“Andrew,” you whimpered, brows pinched together as you gripped the counter a little harder.

He was quick as he moved towards you, creating some distance between your body and the sink before he lowered himself to one knee in front of you.

“Let me see,” he said, your hands already working together to pull your dark jean skirt up, bunching it around your hips and revealing your ruined panties, all soaked through. Andrew was a menace, that much you knew, but you still didn't expect him to grip the waistband of your panties and tug upwards, making you cry out as it pressed the vibrator harder against your clit.

He murmured a quiet fuck before he ripped your underwear, his hand disappearing into his pocket. And just like that, the vibrations stopped and you could breathe again.

“I’m gonna pull it out.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you prepared yourself for the pain, but it never came. You were so wet that the vibrator slid right out, slick noises echoing through the bathroom before he shoved the wet device into the pocket of his jacket.

“Fuck, look at yourself.”

You couldn’t help but think that he moved like a ballet dancer, swiftly standing up and twirling around to stand behind you. His hands on your hips moved you a step further from the mirror so you could see the reflection of your lower body.

With your ass pressed against his front, he brought one of his hands to your pussy, gathering some of your juices on his middle finger and lifting it in front of your faces just to see it glisten under the golden lights.

“So sticky.”

He rubbed his thumb against the wet finger before he brought it back right onto your clit and instinctively, your body tried to escape the touch while simulataneously chasing after it as your ass pressed against the bulge in his pants. You were so fucking sensitive, your clit so red and puffy that you thought it was going to explode.

Andrew completely ignored your overstimulated state, only shushing you as you cried out when he touched the throbbing bundle again, not any less softer than before. He couldn’t even keep the pad of his finger on it as it kept sliding off.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he grunted against your ear, and you nodded frantically, already reaching behind you for his belt, but he caught your wrist. “Nuh-uh.”

Andrew set your hand back on the counter, hinging your hips slightly and then you heard the clinking of his buckle, the leather swiping over the skin of your ass as he undid his pants, and you imagined what it would feel like if he hit you with it.

“I really wanted your first time to be in bed.”

“I don’t care,” you rushed out, afraid that he would change his mind. Jesus Christ, he must have thought you were pathetic. And he would be right. Andrew nodded, mockingly rising his eyebrows and curling the corners of his lips downward with his eyes glued to your drenched cunt.  

“I’m sure you don’t.”

And then you felt him tap the head of his cock against your clit, your hips rocking forward at the unexpected touch before backing into him. He coated his shaft in your wetness, sliding it up and down, spreading your folds and bumping his cock against your nub a few more times before he finally pressed himself against your hole.

You tried to rock back, and Andrew had to stop you from doing that because you were too sloppy and it didn't help either one of you. He slid into you slowly, and you barely felt any pain when he pushed deeper and deeper, because you were just so wet. Honestly, you felt so proud of how well you were taking him, until he spoke.

“Christ, I’ve never fucked anyone so tight.”

After all the work he’d done on you to prepare you for his cock, he still needed to give you time to adjust to his size before he grabbed your shoulder while his other hand stayed on your hip, sliding out slowly. You fluttered around him, and he had to put every bit of strength into not cumming right then and there.

He watched you in the mirror, the chain around your neck dangling in the air as you bit your lip. You were perfect. Looking so sweet and innocent, like something that was worth ruining. And he wanted to ruin you so bad, for others, and for God, too, even though you never offered yourself to Him and weren’t planning to. Andrew wanted you for himself.

When he pushed back in, you mewled, enjoying the beautiful stretch. You felt so snug around him, almost feeling every ridge of his cock as he bottomed out, and you couldn’t help but imagine having your lips around him. You probably weren’t even going to fit half of him into your mouth, but you wished he made you. You wished he made you choke him down as he told you what a good girl you were for swallowing all of him.

“Spread your ass.”

Your mind was fogged, and you spread your legs wider instead.

“I said your ass,” he said through gritted teeth, grabbing your hand and yanking it toward the globe of your butt harshly. Your other hand joined too, spreading your cheeks as he gripped your upper arms and started picking up the pace, trying to find a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure if he did it for the aesthetics of it or if he thought that it would help him glide in and out a little easier. It did not. At least you didn’t think it did, because he still felt too big.

Skin slapped against skin, your pussy was squelching with arousal and breathy gasps escaped both your mouths. Suddenly, Andrew moved forward until you were pressed against the cold marble, your hip bones bumping against the edge with every thrust of his cock. He bent over you, bringing his lips to your shoulder and scraping his teeth against your skin. His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and fondling before one traveled higher and squeezed the sides of your neck, propping your chest up as he lifted you, pressing your back against his front.

You focused your eyes on the hand around your throat, feeling your walls clench around him at the sight. He grunted, pressing down on your pulse point and slowing down the delivery of oxygen to your brain which was already malfunctioning anyway, so you didn't really care. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it made him buck his hips harder against you, bringing his fingers down to your center and pinching your clit between his ring finger and middle finger. The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing down on you and making you feel like your body was imploding.

Your back arched into him, your legs quivered and your hands slammed against the counter as you braced yourself. Andrew fucked you until he came too, lifting one of your knees next to your hand and squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh to sink deeper into you, holding back his moans when he finally filled you up with his cum. Before he could come down from it, you heard footsteps in the hallway.

Andrew quickly walked the both of you backwards, keeping you speared on his cock, until he slammed the door of one of the stalls shut. You heard them cross the threshold to the restroom, and Andrew’s hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth with a firm hold as your released a small gasp when you squirmed against him. You squeezed your eyes shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder, trying to calm yourself down and hold in any other noise that could accidentally come out of you.

When you opened your eyes, Andrew was once staring at you, and suddenly, you felt cheeky again.

You clenched around his softened cock, which, besides a strict look, earned you having your nose covered along with your mouth, significantly limiting your oxygen intake. You were sick enough to gush around him at the thought of him killing you with his cock still inside of you. You closed your eyes again, focusing on slowing down your breathing as you waited for the person to leave.

When they finally did, Andrew spun you around, grabbing you under your throat again and slamming you against the door.

“Just for that, I should bend you over my knee and spank your ass so hard that you won’t be able to sit for weeks.”

“My ass should get in line then. I’m still waiting for you spank my pussy.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath. You’re too fucking greedy for that.”

He kissed you then, sweet and slow, like he hadn’t just almost broken your hip bones or made you lose consciousness.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, your eyes crinkling as you smiled at him and brought your lips to his again. When you broke the kiss, he chased after you with a soft smile, leaning his forehead against yours as your noses bumped together. Then he pulled away.

“Okay. Now, I want you to walk out of here,” he said, as he tucked his cock into his pants. You nodded, reaching for the toilet paper, but his hand caught your wrist. “No. I want to see my cum trailing down your thighs.”

Fuck.

“Where should I go?”

“My car,” he said as he fished his keys from his jacket, placing them into your palm. “Wait there until the Bible study's over. You do not touch yourself, you do not make yourself cum with anything that you might find in the car. Understand?”

What did he have in his car that you could use to get yourself off?

“Yes. Where will we go?”

“My place. I want to be able to take my time with you. You have a punishment worth five strikes coming your way.”

“Five?!”

“And counting.”

You knew just about the one, but what about the rest? What the hell did you do?

“Well, letting me fuck you in a church is a big one. Leaving in the middle of the class is another. You also wore your panties–“

“You didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to–“

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

You snapped your mouth shut, glancing down at your feet.

“What is the last reason?”

“Thinking you could somehow outsmart me in there.”

You rolled your eyes, because that’s not what you were doing.

“Jesus, did I fuck a brat into you? I’m gonna leave because otherwise I’ll lose count of how many times you actually deserve to be punished.” Although he tried to act like a hard-ass, he couldn't leave without kissing you again, squeezing your hips one more time before he blindly fixed your skirt, petting the sides of your thighs as he did so. You sighed when he removed his tongue from your mouth, staring at you with hooded eyes before he slapped your ass. “Car. Now.”

>> part 2

[gremlinkat1992]

death by a thousand cuts

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐 need this man in my bed guys, its not funny anymore

wc - 1.7k | content warning - minor car accident, talk of death, hospital stuff, michael being insecure about his age, age gap (a little over a decade ish, hurt with comfort, break up (but not really), somewhat suggestive

summary - michael breaks up with you because of an insecurity, but a call from a hosptial changes his prospective

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Michael thought it was for the best when he broke up with you, he figured you were far too young for him and deserved someone who could keep up with you and your lifestyle. You argued back at him that you weren't even that much younger, telling him he just wanted a reason to break up.

He tried to soothe you, tried to tell you that it was him and not you.

But nobody on the receiving end of a break up ever believes that they weren't the problem. When you had stormed out of his apartment, Michael sat down and rested his head in his hands, this was the right thing, he told himself.

You needed someone your age to love you. He was sure this was the right decision.

Well, that's what he was trying to convince himself of anyway, he loves you so much. You breathed a new life into his exasperated soul, took him to bars with you to meet up with your med school friends, made him these great home-cooked meals after trying to convince him you couldn't cook well at all. He laughed in your face that day when he tried your from scratch cinnamon rolls, told you they were the best thing he'd ever tasted, besides you of course.

He remembers the way you got shy and playfully slapped his shoulder, as if to scold him for such a crude sentence so early in the day. His lips curled into a smile at the thought of that day, and then the smile turned into a grimace when he realized what he just did.

The feeling finally sinking in that he had just broke up with you. He felt a sudden urge to run after, to tell you it was all a mistake and to just come back inside so that he could make it right.

But he resisted. Forced himself to take a deep breath and make dinner.

Michael ate in complete silence, the only sounds heard in the room were that of the plate and his uneven breaths. The night continued in a daunting silence, a feeling settled deep into his gut telling him something he couldn't quite pin.

After a few hours Michael finally willed himself to sleep, hoping to wash away the night before with some much needed rest. Just as he had fallen asleep he got a call, one that would change his world forever.

"Hello?" Michael answered.

"Is this Michael Robinavitch?" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"This is he."

"We are calling on behalf of Y/n Y/l/n, she's been admitted into the ER following a car accident." The voice on the other line sounded far away, like Michael had gone underwater.

"Is she okay? What happened? Is she conscious?" Michael was asking questions faster then his brain could process, already jumping out of bed and rushing for his shoes.

He dropped the phone in the process and let out a loud curse before picking it up and making sure the nurse was still on the other line.

"I can't share that information over the phone, Ms. Y/l/n is currently here at UPMC." The nurse explained in a calm tone, ensuring all the information met Michael's ears. Michael was quick to agree with everything and saying he was on his way.

His heart was racing, so many possibilities flashing through his mind. Wether or not he would be showing up to identify your body or bringing you home, where you belonged. He hated the idea of you laying cold in a hospital bed with no heartbeat and a white blanket covering your frame.

He jogged over to his motorcycle, forgetting his helmet and took off for UPMC, every moment not by your side was a moment wasted.

Michael can admit how fucked up it is to only now realize how much he can't live without you and how stupid he was for putting you here, because in his mind, this was all his fault. Had he not been insecure about his age and underestimated your love for him you would've never left, you would've been safe and sound in his bed.

He will never forget the look in your eyes when he said it was over, the way you searched his eyes for answers, to see if maybe he was joking around. He looked away from you then, not able to stare at the direct disappointment he was causing in you.

A coward. He was being a coward, Michael should've looked you in the eye and swallowed every inch of pain he directed at you as punishment.

The wind in his ears drowned out all the voices screaming in his head, all of which explaining in graphic detail what he could walk into you look like.

Wondering if you were going to be hooked up to wires, or maybe a machine breathing for you, or the worst possible scenario — you not being in a room at all but in the morgue.

Moments before parking his bike he took all those horrible thoughts and shoved them so far down even he wouldn't be able to find them. This was about you. Everything right now, was about your survival.

Michael ran into the emergency room with haste, he imagined fire trailed behind him with how quickly he went up to the receptionist.

"I'm here for Y/n Y/l/n," Michael spit out, sounding out of breath.

"Ah she's waiting in room nine, you can go back and see her!" The nurse smiled.

Michael was taken aback by the wording the nurse used, why are you just sitting in a room? Nothing logical was running through Michael's mind, like the fact you are probably completely fine, he couldn't get his hopes up like that.

He made his way over to your room, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to walk into.

As he opened the door he saw you puffy face with an ice pack on resting on your head, a sling holding your left arm, and a look on your face that showed you were quite irritated.

"I told them not to call you, but apparently it's hospital policy to call your emergency contact in the event of a head injury," You mumbled refusing to look at him.

"Yeah, that's how it is at PTMC, can't allow people to drive themselves home with a wicked brain injury," Michael says with a laugh hoping to raise your spirits a bit. "I'm sorry they called regardless," your voice was small.

"I'm glad they did, I have some apologizing to do" He huffed out, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to your bed.

"Please, don't try to take it back because I'm injured."

"Although you being injured is the whole reason I realized how much I need you in my life, that is not the main reason."

"So I had to total my car for you to realize you're an absolute idiot?" You let out a slight laugh, relishing in the idea that this is what it took for him to understand what you were telling him.

You were still mad at him though. Rightfully so — but that doesn't overrule how much you love Michael. This wasn't how you planned the night to play out, you figured you and him would be twisted in bedsheets while talking about your day while he played with your hair.

"Talk to me Robby, I'm your partner." You urged, "you're supposed to be able to talk to me."

"I'm just so scared of how this ends." He finally spits out.

"Who said this had an end? You are slowly torturing yourself with the 'what if's' you're forgetting to live in the here and now. I. Want. You." You punctuated the last part, hoping to get it through his thick head, and into that beautiful brain.

Michael had tears in his eyes, "I'm so sorry," He broke down. His head falling onto your uninjured hand, he felt you lift it and run it through his hair. Rubbing his head delicately, allowing him to feel the brunt of his emotions.

"God, I shouldn't be making this about me, is your pain level okay? You uncomfortable at all, kid?" Michael looked around quickly like he was on shift and you were his patient, "I am so high on morphine right now, If I receive anymore I will be on an entirely new planet." You joked.

Everything felt normal, like what happened in the last six hours meant nothing. You knew that this whole thing would need a quite lengthy conversation, but you were feeling too good to worry about that right now.

You finally got him to calm down enough to lay next to you, tricking him into keeping you warm with his freakish body temperature. "We can talk about all this soon, and I'll explain everything then," he started, "But for right now, I need you to heal and be alive so you can scold me for being stupid later on." Michael snorted.

He had a superpower of knowing exactly how to cure a moment of certain emotions, are you sad? No big deal, he has a story from when he was ten and tried to ask out a girl who was four grades above him, who then called him adorable and walked away.

You yawned while you nodded your head in agreement, this wasn't fixed quite yet and that was okay. Being injured and on pain medications makes things ten times more foggy, but you were safe in the arms of the man you loved.

The sound of his heart soothed you right to a dream of pure bliss, pain free and warm. You don't remember being discharged, or Jack coming to pick you up because Michael refused to put you on the motorcycle without at least eight layers of bubble wrap.

Jack also had some choice words with Michael about the situation, the two of them had helped you up the stairs and into Michael's apartment. You were obviously exhausted, and couldn't be alone with the concussion you were nursing, so here you were, back at the scene of the crime.

You fell right into his bed, your claimed side untouched from the night before and cold. After Michael was effectively called out by Jack, he climbed into bed next to you, watching your chest rise and fall evenly. He watched you intently the rest of the morning, hand gently caressing your hair down while he thought of every way to make this better.

But for now, while you rested soundly next to him he would thank the universe for your safety and would never take it for granted ever again.

[gremlinkat1992]

being so whiny and needy whilst robby reads his book w his glasses on like you’re literally humping his leg and hes letting you use him however you need and then when you’ve finally come he then he puts his book down and flips you over and gets to be the one to use you, literally fucking you so hard you cant walk for days :)

robbys sat in bed propped up against his pillows reading his latests book about… whatever. to be honest you dont really care. all you care about is fucking unreal he looks in those glasses. you lay next to him, phone discarded somewhere on the bed as you pull the covers down from his lap leaving him in just his boxers and tshirt. your manicured hand (which he payed for) draws slow teasing patterns up his thigh until you reach his boxers, where his hand quickly darts out to grab yours without looking away from his reading with a gruff, “be patient, let me finish this chapter.” before he all but throws your hand back into your lap and focuses back on his reading.

but thats impossible. how can he expect you to be patient when hes laid out so perfectly. hes basically showing off. you huff, and roll over to stare at the ceiling for all of 30 seconds before making your way over to straddle his lap and still he doesn’t acknowledge you. you try again, this time running your hands up his chest under his shirt pawing at his stomach and chest. his hand connects roughly to the meat of your ass, the sound echoing through the room. a warning.

you remove your hands deciding to instead fiddle with the end of the sleep shirt you wear. youre even closer to him now. you can feel him. feel his dick starting to harden beneath you. your body has a mind of its own as your hips starting grinding against him, the wet patch on your panties already staining his boxers. he leaves you be for a bit until he lowers his book to his chest keeping it open and harshly grabbing yours without looking jaw in his large hand. you dont stop your movements, instead letting out a pathetic whine and staring right into his eyes as you disobeyed him. at your defiance he lets go if your jaw momentarily, only to land a soft slap against your cheek, just enough to get your attention solely on him.

“i told you to be patient.” his hand returns to your jaw and his grips causes your lips to pout, “its your choice. be good and listen to me or act like a needy whore. wait.”

at that he goes back to reading his book as if nothing happened, as if you weren’t even there. you think over your options. you do want to be good, but youre so pent up. youve been at home all day waiting for him to return from some stupid work lunch and youve been dripping ever since you watched him get out of the shower this morning. so even though your rational brain knows you should just wait, hes a fast reader anyways, you find yourself moving again, rubbing yourself over his half hard dick.

you brace your hands on his soft stomach to get more leverage to really get the friction youve been desperate for all day. you bite your lip in a poor attempt to stifle your moans as you loose yourself in the pleasure. god it feels good. hes not even touching you and it feels unbelievable. it doesnt take you long to get the edge, feeling the tight coil in your stomach begging to be broken. with a few more needy thrusts it does so, causing you to cry out pathetically at the seemingly never ending waves of heat and pleasure that roll through your trembling body.

eventually once youve come down you notice that robby has finally placed his book on his nightstand. smiling at your victory you lean forwards, only for robby to flip you, pressing your face into the mattress and making you arch your back. he leans down by your ear his voice deep and commanding.

“i told you to wait but you just couldnt fucking listen could you, too desperate for my dick you couldnt wait five fucking mintues? what happened to my good girl huh? wheres she gone? because i know that she would never hump against me like a needy dog when i told her not to. i guess i better teach you a lesson, huh baby? remind you how to be good for me?”

you were in for a long night.

[gremlinkat1992]

Work husbands in sync

[gremlinkat1992]

So we have

Police Officer Shawn (Southland)

Bad Cop Police Officer Shawn (Chicago PD)

Politician/Mayor Shawn (Rescue)

Doctor Shawn (The Pitt)

And now Firefighter Shawn

I know I said we have to have lawyer Shawn next but I would also like to throw in Professor /Teacher Shawn into the mix as well(with him wearing glasses)😏🤤

[gremlinkat1992]

we always walked a very thin line

Summary: You're a travel nurse starting your first day at PTMC for your six-month contract. You meet a particularly grumpy Dr. Robinavitch and make it your mission to win him over.

Tags: slow(ish) burn, nurse x doctor, dr. robby x reader, no use of y/n, age gap, implied previous trauma

Chapter 1

First days are always hard. 

You know that, especially after six moves in the last year and a half, but it doesn’t make another first day any easier to face.

You show up to PTMC half an hour early, toting two boxes of donuts and a Box o’ Joe. Bribing the staff to like you is one way to make a good impression. You learned that at your last position.

“Well, hi there. Look at all of this,” an older blonde nurse says as you walk in, just managing to balance everything in your arms. She’s smiling, and comes around the counter to greet you.

“Where can I put these?” you ask, holding up the boxes. 

“Let me help you.” She takes the donuts and nods towards a door halfway down the hall. “We’ll put these in the staff room.”

“Thank you,” you say gratefully. “It’s my first day.”

“Certainly off to a good start. I’m Dana, your charge nurse for today.”

“Great to meet you.” You tell her your name, and she smiles warmly.

“You’re our new travel nurse, right?”

You nod. “Fresh off the plane from Parkland.”

Dana’s eyebrows go up. “And you came here?”

“Yeah. PTMC has a great reputation.” It’s true, and even if that’s not the whole reason you’re here, she doesn’t need to know that right now.

Dana smiles and waves you back out to the floor. “Glad to hear it. Now, go put your stuff in a locker and I’ll show you around.”

By the time you get settled, the other dayshift doctors and nurses have made their way in. Senior residents are getting their sign-outs, and the med students and interns are milling around the board, chatting quietly about the patients they’re going to see.

“Donuts and coffee in the breakroom, courtesy of our newest travel nurse,” Dana says brightly, gesturing at you. You wave at everyone, feeling the weight of their stares, but then the chatter breaks out and people start peeling off towards the staff room to get some sugar and caffeine.

“Robby,” you hear Dana say, and you turn to see a tall man approaching. He has dark circles under his eyes and plenty of lines across his face, but none of it detracts from his handsomeness. He smiles at Dana, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Have you met our new travel nurse?”

“Right, one of Gloria’s new bright ideas to relieve the nursing shortage,” he mumbles, half to himself. He turns to you, smile fading a bit as his eyes narrow. “Travel nurse, huh?”

“I’m so happy to be here,” you say, smiling as wide as you can. You’ve met doctors like him before: all bluster and gruffness, but really big softies inside. You’ll wear him down eventually. You always do.

“Sure. How long are you here?” You can tell he’s really asking when you’re leaving, but you brush that off, keeping that bright smile on your face.

“My contract is for six months. Then I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will.” He nods, still considering you carefully.

“She just finished a stint at Parkland,” Dana adds helpfully.

Robby’s eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t let the mask fall. “Good for you. Welcome to the Pitt.”

The first shift is pretty standard, learning the ropes and getting to know the staff. Everyone is clearly skilled, and the pace is exactly what you’d expect at a trauma center ER. You support plenty of IVs, chest tubes, and wound dressings, and it feels like you’re finding a good rhythm with the rest of the staff. Dr. Robby seems to keep his distance from you a bit, but you try not to take it personally.

As you get to know people over the first few weeks, you find ways to bring them things that will make them smile: Kit-Kats for Dr. Santos, fidget toys for Dr. King, Earl Grey tea for Dana. You also try to bring in food or coffee a couple times a month. It never hurts to fuel the team around you while chaos swirls.

It’s just Dr. Robby you can’t quite figure out. You’ve brought him coffee, protein bars, candy, muffins, and you’ve gotten no response. No sign if any of those things even remotely appeal to him. The most you’ve seen is a gruff nod in acknowledgement.

He’s definitely the toughest case you’ve seen. As much as you try to be bright and sunshiney, he just gets more distant. 

You don’t give up, making sure you’re as prepared as possible for every procedure when it comes up. When he needs something, you’re right there. When he asks for an opinion, you offer one. Every time he turns around, you’re there, supporting and building trust with the rest of the team. It’s only a matter of time before he crumbles.

Or so you think.

It’s not until a multiple victim car accident comes in that he does crack, but not in the way you expect. 

You’re assisting on a chest tube when Robby storms into the room, throwing the doors open in his wake. You can tell from the look on his face that something’s brewing, you just don’t quite know what.

“Differential?” he barks at Dr. King.

She rattles off the possibilities and he shakes his head, letting out a long, low breath. 

“No. Come on, you need to step it up, Mel.”

You see her crumple a bit, and your spine straightens. Mel is one of the sweetest people you’ve met since moving here, and watching her grumpy attending snap at her makes you see red.

“What’s your diagnosis then, Doctor Robinavitch?” you bite out.

His head snaps towards you, brown eyes searing into you. “Excuse me?”

“If she’s wrong, you must have some other idea. So what is it?”

He shakes his head again, eyes flaring. “Go see if Dana needs help with anything. We’ve got this.”

You snarl, but back out the doors, knowing it won’t do any good to keep fighting with him. You can see how Mel’s lip is quivering, and you already know she doesn’t do well with conflict, so taking yourself out of the equation seems like the best option.

“What’s up with Robby today?” you ask Dana, as soon as you get out to the nursing station. 

She shakes her head. “Wish I knew, honey.”

Once the patient stabilizes, Robby blows out of the room and heads straight for you. You knew he would. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”

You raise an eyebrow, but follow him towards the lockers. 

“I don’t appreciate you undermining me in front of my staff.” He folds his arms across his broad chest, frowning down at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

He towers over you, stormy brown eyes blazing with anger and maybe something else. “You have no right to question how I manage my emergency room. You’re not even a member of my permanent staff. You’re a travel nurse. Remember that.”

His words sting a little, but you shake it off. “I guess I just don’t like bullies,” you say, tilting your chin up and squaring your shoulders. He’s not going to intimidate you into backing down.

“Are you saying I’m a bully?”

“To Dr. King in that room? Yeah.” He sucks in a sharp breath, but you don’t let him get going. “You know she’s sensitive, and if you don’t, you need to work on your observational skills, because anyone can see that.”

He’s breathing hard now, face turning red. “She was wrong.”

“Okay, and there was no other way to say it?”

He rolls his shoulders, still staring down at you like he wants to set you ablaze. “I’m sure there was, but in the heat of the moment, you know how it goes.”

“No, I don’t. There’s no excuse for talking to someone like that. Especially not someone like Mel, who is a great doctor and a good person.”

His jaw clenches, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Fine. Heard. Any other feedback for me, or do you just want to throw it at me in the middle of a trauma bay?”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Are you kidding?”

He steps closer, and you can almost feel the heat emanating off his body. “That’s what you did.”

“Because it was justified.” You feel your fists clenching at your sides, even as you feel yourself leaning towards him, almost wishing he’d get closer.

“And in the future, I’d appreciate it if you gave me feedback privately.”

“Like you did for Mel?”

He grinds his teeth a little and runs a hand over his face. “Listen, I know I’m not your supervisor…”

“That’s right. You’re not. And I bet Dana would say the same thing if she knew what happened.”

He continues speaking as though you didn’t say anything. “But you need to show me some respect.” 

“Fine. As long as you show it to everyone else.”

He sighs, but the color is receding from his cheeks and he looks almost resigned. “Deal. Now, can we get back to work?”

“Gladly.”

You turn on your heel and head back to Central, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

--

Not sure if this is anything, but I'm having fun writing it. I am on my third rewatch and there is no end to my hyperfixation in sight. I hope you enjoyed, and I appreciate you reading this far!

[gremlinkat1992]

SOMEONE, SOMEDAY, SOMEWHERE [8]

MICHAEL ‘ROBBY’ ROBINAVITCH x F!READER

<< prev || masterlist || next >>

wc: 5.3k

Warnings: light angst, pining, jack & samira being levelheaded adults, mental health talk, robby tries so hard to be good, he lifts reader over his shoulder at one point, the mattress protector makes another appearance, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, forced orgasm, robby gets lost in the sauce

A/N: sorry for the wait! this fic is taking all of us on a ride. it continues to surprise me. any ideas i have for it end up going in completely different directions lol. anyway, enjoy~

─── ⋆⋅ taglist form

If there's one thing that will never fail to make Robby feel incredibly lonely, it's watching Jack and Samira interact, especially if it's been a while since the two have seen one another.

He's happy for his friend—downright ecstatic. Samira is good for Jack. Robby hadn’t understood or even tried to at first, but he recognizes it now, and he appreciates the hell out of it.

But, that doesn't change the fact that seeing the way they look at each other and speak to each other and sink into a state of oneness is painfully isolating. Beautiful, but isolating.

Robby doesn't think he's ever had that with anyone no matter how well he knew them, how much he loved them. Maybe he never worked hard enough for it. Maybe he just doesn't have that in him. No matter what, Robby is certain that the problem lies with himself, some sort of human disconnect—slashed and separated like skin beneath a scalpel. No matter how hard he tries, Robby just can't stitch it back together.

Despite his sutures coming loose whenever they're around, Robby wouldn't trade Jack or Samira's friendship for the world (even if it took an understandably long period of time for the latter to warm up to him).

They're both kind, funny, brilliant…

And, they both love to fucking meddle.

"—then he goes and does exactly what I told him fucking not to," Jack groans, head hanging over the back of the couch like he’s just too exasperated to sit up straight.

Samira’s dark eyes are wide as she leans forward to look past Jack. “Robby, no,” and it sounds like she’s begging. “Please tell me you are not getting involved with anoth—”

“Swear to God, if you say another resident—”

“You’ll what?” she challenges, and all Robby can really do is level his best ‘don’t test me’ expression at her, something that used to make her back down but now has no effect. Samira stopped being intimidated by him a while ago, something he’s generally happy about except for in instances like this.

Sighing, Robby rubs a hand down his face, grumbles, “just drop it,” and tries not to scramble for his phone the second it chimes on the table.

He reaches for it calmly, keeps his expression carefully blank, does not let his disappointment show when he finds a text from Cassie about a scheduling issue.

“—actually seems pretty down about it. Maybe we should—”

“—has no fucking business doing this right now, that’s all I’m saying—”

“—could be good for him, though—”

Robby doesn’t even look up from his phone when he tells them, “with how much shit you two talk, I figured you’d be better at fucking whispering.”

Samira has the class to at least look sheepish. Jack, not so much. He stares at Robby for a few unsettling moments, the weight of it nearly unbearable, before he exhales heavily, “I just worry about you, man.”

Chuckling through his nose, Robby knows he sounds bitter when he asks, “what can I do to make you stop?”

He cringes as soon as it’s out of his mouth because Robby knows exactly what he can do to give his friend some peace of mind. It’s what Jack has been fucking harassing him about since PittFest. What had begun as gentle encouragement for Robby to see a therapist has now turned into something desperate, and if he’s being honest, one of the reasons he hasn’t taken Jack’s advice is to spite him.

Jack opens his mouth to reply, but Robby stops him before he can actually speak— “don’t answer that,” then stands up. “I’ve gotta work out some scheduling shit anyway. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

It’s not an excuse as much as an escape, one that his friends graciously allow him to make. He claps Jack on the back, squeezes Samira against his side and tells her, “keep the old bastard outta trouble for me, yeah?”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re calling old…”

“I’ll do my best,” she talks over Jack, and Robby thinks that’ll be it, but then she adds, “let me walk you out.”

There’s no use arguing. There’s no reason to argue. If there’s one thing he owes Dr. Samira Mohan, it’s his fucking ear. He put her through hell during her residency, so the least Robby can do is listen to her, whether it’s about medicine or personal matters. She has more than earned it.

“You know he means well,” she starts, arms crossed over her chest as she leans against Robby’s 4Runner. He doesn’t look at her, just nods, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

She makes a little noise, something between a snort and a tut, then nudges his shoe with hers and changes tactics— “is she cute?”

Robby’s head snaps up, and he finds Samira grinning at him, eyebrows high with curiosity and maybe a little suggestion.

It makes him choke on his own laughter, makes him blush, makes him shy, and god dammit—

“Oh, she must be really cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this red—”

“Samira,” he tries, and his palms feel like ice against his blazing cheeks, but she does not relent.

“Do you need me to grab Jack’s blood pressure cuff? This cannot be healthy.”

“Samira, please,” he groans through his hands, peeking through his fingertips when he hears her airy giggle.

Her eyes are still dancing with mirth, but there’s also a gleam of understanding in them, a mercy not everyone possesses, and Robby is filled with relief when her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

“I don’t have to tell you that you have some stuff to work out,” she starts in a tone that’s almost tender.

“And, yet—”

That tenderness immediately hardens, “let me finish,” and he snaps his mouth shut. “You’re a good man, Robby, but you could be better. Why don’t you want to be?”

“I’m fine,” he grits, gaze trained on his feet again.

“Maybe today. Maybe right now. In general, though?”

He is so fucking tired of people assuming (correctly) that something is wrong with him. Is it really that obvious? Is he so fucking transparent that everyone can see straight through him?

“I’m sure she’s very pretty and very smart, and maybe she’s exactly what you need. Don’t you want to be that for her, too?” Samira poses.

It makes him pause, frown, slide his tongue over his teeth as he nods robotically. Samira is considerably shorter than him, but somehow when Robby meets her eyes again, it feels like he’s looking up at her. His head is still dipped low, body curling inward, the epitome of self-conscious after being so thoroughly called out.

“She doesn’t need another person to take care of,” Samira continues, “which means you’ll have to take care of yourself.”

“Jesus, I’m so glad you don’t work for me anymore,” Robby laughs, though it lacks any real humor.

She smirks, “that makes two of us.”

Confident that she’s made her point (she has), Samira gives him another short hug, tells Robby, “just think about it,” then makes her way back inside Jack’s house.

He wants to be angry. He wants to tell everyone to fuck off, that he’s doing just fine, that he is the best he’s ever been.

That’d be a lie, though, and as he reverses out of Jack’s driveway, Robby resigns himself to the fact that until he actually handles his shit, people are going to keep trying to help him, stuck waiting for his next inevitable breakdown.

They keep throwing him lifelines, and honestly, Robby’s arm is pretty fucking sore from tossing them back.

•

It takes eight days and some liquid courage for Robby to speak to you again. He may have overheard you talking with Santos about going to the bar everyone frequents, and then he may have decided to swing by himself—what a coincidence.

He sees you see him, and Robby’s gut clenches when you just press your lips together and nod the way you would at a passing stranger.

It’s understandable. His behavior at the graduation/birthday party had been downright fucking juvenile, and he’s embarrassed about it. Truly.

But, any time he thinks about the way you so casually said that name, how easily it had rolled off your tongue… it irks Robby even now. Oh, Theo doesn’t care.

He wonders how much time you actually spend with Theo. Just how often is Theo bringing you coffee? How much space does Theo take up in your mind?

Robby shakes his head in an attempt to derail his own train of thought, finishes the beer he’s been nursing, and when the bartender nods at the empty bottle and lifts his eyebrow, Robby holds a hand up, “no thanks.”

There are eyes on his back, as there have been since he first stepped into the grungy (but beloved) establishment. A small gaggle of his own residents and nurses are tucked into a corner, and though you’re from an entirely different department, you fit in flawlessly, sitting close to Mel, laughing with Santos, not paying any attention to Robby.

He refuses to approach the table, has no intention of dragging you away, but as soon as he catches your eye, Robby motions toward the patio, brow pinched in imploration as he mouths, ‘please?’

You sigh, and Robby considers just fucking off. If it’s that much of a chore—

Then, you excuse yourself from the group and start making your way toward the side door. After waiting a few beats, Robby follows after, hoping no one is paying too close attention. He’d be naive to think the two of you have flown under the radar, but he really does not need rumors to spread any more than they likely already have.

You’re leaning on one of the few tables that’s out of view of the bar windows, fingers curled over the iron edges, shoulders forward, kicking at nothing on the ground.

Robby has to stop a couple yards away from you, knows that if he gets too close, he’ll want to touch, and judging by your body language and the way you’re staring at him, the last thing you want are his hands on you.

So, Robby takes up his usual stance, fists in his pockets, balancing on his heels as he takes a deep breath and admits, “I owe you an apology.” No use beating around the bush.

Your lips twitch up on the same side that you arch your eyebrow.

“You think?”

There’s a slight bite to it, just a tiny graze of teeth, but it’s enough to make Robby wince internally.

Still, he rolls with it.

“I acted like a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I just…” He tilts his head back and blinks up into the night, watches a satellite flicker and pass through the sky as he contemplates. Robby knows where and how he plans for this to end, but the shit that comes in between…

Letting his gaze find its way back to you, he notices how your face has softened, posture a little more relaxed, opening yourself up to him all over again and making Robby wonder what the fuck you even see in him. How many times are you gonna let him get away with being an asshole? Don’t you know that you deserve better?

“You gotta stop lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart,” he huffs out, grinning in spite of all his self-deprecation.

“Like what?”

He can’t help but step a little closer. “Like you’re ready to just move on. Like you already forgot—”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you assure him, “I’m still annoyed, probably will be for a while,” but your little smirk has grown into a lopsided smile, and Jesus Christ, you drive him so fucking crazy, all the time. It’s like—it’s like he can’t even fucking think when you’re around.

“But, you’re apologizing,” you shrug, glance away and murmur, “I like that about you. You’ve held yourself accountable when you’ve fucked up.”

He swears to himself, a whispered, “god dammit,” then says a little louder, “the fact that I’ve fucked up enough for you to notice a pattern is a problem.”

“Two times. Not enough to call it a pattern.”

“Once is never, twice is always,” he gruffs with a click of his tongue.

Pushing yourself to fully sit on the table, you cock your head to the side then ask point blank, “what are you actually getting at here? Do you want me to stay mad at you, or what?”

“No, I just—” Robby raises both hands to scratch at the short hair on the sides of his head then rubs down his face, skin likely pinking up in the wake of his fingers. Finally, he’s able to get it out, “—I’m not good for you. Not right now. Not with where I am right now.”

So fucking dramatic, it would make him cringe if it wasn’t so true.

Your feet hang a few inches above the concrete, and the way you’re swinging them is almost child-like. Robby fights the impulse to get closer, wrap his arms around you, pull your body against his, but no no no. He can’t do that. He’s said what he said, and he needs you to sit with it, needs you to come to your goddamn senses.

All you do is nod, several seconds of head bobbing, until you let out an airy laugh and shake your head, “yeah… yeah, I kinda figured. Jesse wouldn’t have warned me that first day for no reason.”

“Jesse warned you about me before you even started?”

Your eyes shimmer with clear amusement, “tried to, but it was too late,” an exaggerated sigh— “I had already fallen prey to your sad-boy charm.”

Robby snorts, “is that what you’re calling it?”

“That’s what it is, but hey, it works. Obviously.”

You’re still smiling at him, but it’s a doleful thing, almost pitying, and even though he can’t see any tears in your eyes (thank fucking God), they reflect that same sadness.

You understand. He knows you do.

“It’s fine,” you shrug and look away from him. “I should be focusing on my fellowship anyway.”

Both of you are quiet. You’re staring at your hands, mouth pulled to the side as you chew on the inner corner, and Robby tries not to think about how much he wants to soothe that smooth tissue with his tongue, tries not to think about the overwhelming fucking ache that’s filling his ribcage.

How is he going to do this? How the fuck is he gonna stay away?

“Hey, Robby,” you pull him from his thoughts, draw his eyes back to yours and— “one more time?”

The heat that travels from his neck and down his spine is like a torrent, unstoppable and undeniable.

“Seems a little counterproductive to what I’m trying to do here,” he tries, but any argument he might have, whether it’s firm or flimsy, is negated by the way he steps in closer.

When you spread your legs to make room for him, Robby audibly groans. This is not how this was supposed to go.

You make him so fucking stupid, make him weak, and so he stands in the space between your thighs, shivers when you caress the back of his neck, lets you pull him down until your lips are against his, and the feeling alone is enough to dull that pain in his chest.

Robby brought you out here planning to cut everything off, urge you to find someone better, convince you that you can, but how is he supposed to do that when—

“You make me so fucking crazy, you have no idea,” he rumbles, licking into your mouth for a moment only to pull away, “not a god damn clue.”

You lean into his palm, stare up at him through pretty eyelashes, “I think I have some idea, actually,��� and Robby knows he’s a fucking goner.

“One more time,” he agrees, knowing damn well that this is a bad idea.

Just add it to the list.

•

As soon as Robby pins you to his front door, he’s hit with a staggering sense of Deja vu, taken back to the night he met you, the first time he touched you, felt you, held you.

He’s dizzy with it, one hand braced on the solid surface behind you to keep himself upright while the other wraps around your neck to keep you in place. He doesn’t squeeze, simply secures, and when your moan vibrates against the heel of his palm, he matches the noise with one of his own, grinds his hips forward despite his cock not being anywhere near where he needs it to be.

The kiss is heady, humid, impossible to break even when he starts walking back toward his bedroom before deciding it’ll be easier to carry you there. The way you squeal when he bends and hoists you over his shoulder makes Robby laugh hard enough to ignore the slight twinge in his back, and when he tosses you onto his mattress you reward him once again, your elated giggle ringing in his ears like a song.

Stripping takes no time at all. Robby watches as you scoot further up the bed, an awkward sort of crab-walk that you laugh the whole way through, and all he can do is smile and want.

"King size bed was a good choice," you tell Robby with your arms locked around his neck where he hovers over you.

"And, I intend to make very good use of it tonight," he rumbles, beard grazing your cheek as he speaks low in your ear, "the bed and the mattress protector."

"Oh, is that so?"

Robby nods, then attaches himself to your neck to leave the first of many in a trail of bruises, marks that he sucks and bites into your skin, a little more vicious the lower he gets. You've got your hands in his hair, back arching, whining for him as he drifts downward until settling right where you both want him to be—between your legs.

The sound Robby makes at seeing your pussy can only be described as a whimper, dripping for him, lips puffy with arousal, excitement, and God, you're so fucking pretty, especially when he uses his thumbs to spread you open, stare at the way you spasm in anticipation.

You plead, "Robby," all breathy and desperate, and it's all the encouragement he needs. A long swipe of his tongue and then he's wrapped around your clit, suckling at the little bud while sliding his middle finger into your slick heat, adding his ring on the next thrust.

He’s got you panting and trembling within minutes, pushing absolutely obscene noises from your pussy.

“Come on, honey, you know what I fuckin’ want,” Robby mumbles, crooking his fingers in just the right way to make you cry out. You’re pulling his hair, swearing up a storm, and Robby can hear the sloshing of fluid, can feel it soaking his hand.

When he pulls his fingers from you, you moan low in your throat and gush. Robby is quick to part your folds again, shoves his tongue inside to taste. He can feel precum leaking from his cock, shamelessly ruts against the bed as his eyes roll back.

You’re not self-conscious like you were the first time, but you also know him better—know that Robby isn’t exactly shy during sex. What you might not know is just how fucking obsessed he is. What he wouldn’t give to stay right here, make you cum over and over until all you can do is cry and drool and let him.

He laps at your sopping hole, licks up the squirt streaming down the creases between your hips and pelvis, cleans you like a dog cleans its bowl only to make you soak the sheets all over again.

Beard drenched, face dripping, Robby clambers back on top of you, smirks at how shaky you are when you raise a hand to thread through his hair.

“You are… a monster…” you huff, your smile lopsided and dazed.

Robby shakes his head, smearing your own arousal over your mouth as he hums, “no, just greedy.”

Your pupils are blown out as you lick the gloss off your lips. “Well, as it happens—” you kiss him, harsh and hot, and the way Robby immediately loses himself in it makes it easy for you to shove him over, “—I’m greedy, too.”

Watching as you slink down his body, Robby has the thought that this will be the first and probably last time he ever feels your mouth on his cock. He considers telling you not to, that he doesn’t want to know what he’ll be missing out on once this is all said and done, but then you wrap your fingers around him and moan when he twitches in your hand. You look hungry for it, and he’d be a fucking fool to deny you (and himself) of this experience.

The first lick sends his head into the pillows, and the second leads his knuckles to his teeth. You suck on his tip like you’re trying to nurse something out of it, pausing to gather more spit on your tongue and drool it all over him.

He doesn’t feel ready for this—any of it, but before Robby can spiral too far, you bob down a little further, little further, then pull back for a moment before repeating the process. The ridge of his cock slides against your soft palate, makes you gag once, and Robby pets over your hair with the hand that isn’t fisted in his sheets.

“Just go slow,” he groans, a short, “fuck,” punched out of him when you take him deeper. “Go slow for both of us.” Because if you don’t, he may very well cum ahead of schedule.

You glance up at him, might be smiling, but it’s hard to tell with how he’s stuffing your mouth.

Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t look at you for this.

A few minutes of tortuous bliss later, you manage to relax your throat enough for his cockhead to slip inside of it, and Robby can’t help the long and raspy, “fuuuck,” that it pulls from him. His thighs flex with the effort of not thrusting, fingers twitching in your hair, but when he feels your tongue swipe back and forth on the underside of his dick, his hips buck.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” he tries when you splutter and back off, only his tip remaining sheathed.

Your eyes are watery and your lips are swollen, but you don’t seem upset. If anything, you look a little high, let the rest of Robby drop from your mouth only to kiss and lick all over his spit-slick length.

“S’okay,” you murmur, eyelids fluttering in what might be pleasure as you sink down on him once again.

The rhythm and the sounds and your nails scratching down his thighs, oh, he’s in Heaven. Your throat is tight, spasms chaotically, and Robby is positive that if he reached down to touch, he’d feel the bulge of his dick through your neck. The thought alone is enough to make his gut tighten, a warning that if he doesn’t stop you now, it’ll be your stomach full of cum instead of your pussy.

Before he can pull you off, you do it yourself, but it’s only to take a deep breath, and then you’re taking him again, more and more until fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s your nose against his pelvis, your lips around the very base of his cock, and Robby hisses, begs, “off, off, off—holy—”

He tosses you like a ragdoll, face down, ass up, throws his own head back as he slides into you.

You moan his name like he’s never heard before, back arching, leaking drool all over his pillow while Robby uses his fingers as a makeshift cockring, has to squeeze himself almost painfully as he gives a few shallow thrusts.

He paces himself until he no longer feels like he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm, then, in a voice that’s all gravel, Robby tells you, “lemme know if it starts to hurt.”

It’s the only warning you get before he starts fucking you. Deep, merciless, skin slapping skin, the kind that makes you cry, “oh—f-f-fuck, Robby, ohh God—” as your toes curl and your pussy sprays.

“Yeah?” He reaches for you, arms around your waist to lift you, press your back to his chest so he can spew filth into your ear. “Feel good, baby?”

“—nng—so good, ohh, you feel so fucking good…”

“This pussy was made to take my cock,” he growls, hand between your legs now, landing a few little slaps to your cunt just for emphasis, and you groan like you’ve been wounded even as you nod your head. “Don’t fucking forget it—” he laves his tongue up the side of your neck then sinks his teeth into it, “not gonna let you forget it.”

He’s rubbing circles over your swollen clit, relentless as you start to fall apart. Arm around you, Robby holds you tight against him, feels your muscles start to lock up as you climb higher and higher until you reach your peak and fall from it.

He fucks up into you the whole time, playing with your clit until you’re twitching and crying because it’s just, “too much, t-too much—”

Except Robby is too drunk off your orgasm, wants to wring another one out of you, wants you out of your fucking mind.

He barely even knows what’s coming out of his own mouth, just nonsensical filth and praise, “feel so fuckin’ good, keep squeezin’ me like that—juuust like that…”

You can’t help the way your pussy clenches, an erratic pulse that envelopes his cock as you whine and hiccup and let your mouth hang open so that Robby can hook his fingers over your bottom teeth—“c’mon, baby, show me how much you like it… gimme one more.”

He grunts when your body starts to curl and your thighs start to shake and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t actually talk around his fingers, but Robby is nearly positive that the way your mouth moves, the lift of your jaw and the shape of your lips, and the vibration of two syllables—“wanna say my name, baby? Yeah?”

He slides his fingers from your tongue, grips you by the throat instead and holds you against his shoulder so he can hear your pretty chant, “Robby, Robby, Robby—gonna… m’gonna—”

“There she is, that’s my fuckin’ girl.”

You’re a god damn wreck, falling apart right there in his arms, and Robby lets you. Wants you to.

He slows his thrusts to give you a chance to breathe, peppering your neck with kisses and love bites. When he’s sure you’re not about to pass out on him, Robby pulls out and guides you to lay down on your side, settling behind you and lifting your leg so he can push back in.

Deep, languid thrusts have him panting, groaning, rasping, “where do you want me?” He hadn’t even realized how close he was, so caught up on you that he didn’t notice the heat coursing through him, pooling low and building building building—

“Inside, wanna feel you—please—”

You’re not even done telling him before Robby is twitching and spilling inside of you, cockhead pressed against your sensitive cervix as he paints it with cum. He’s not surprised when it starts to seep back out around his cock, but he’s not expecting for you to reach down and feel it. Fingertips light, dancing over where he’s stretching you, Robby shivers at the touch and gives a weak thrust that makes you gasp.

“Good lord, Robby,” you huff, and both of you fall into breathless laughter which turns to hisses when he slowly pulls out.

There is a substantial mess between the two of you, but he can’t find it in himself to care as he throws an arm over your waist and brushes his lips across the nape of your neck.

You sigh, finding his hand with yours and squeezing. It makes Robby smile into your skin even as his heart drops.

“You sure you wanna stop doing this?” you ask, and it could be a joke if there was any hint of amusement in it, but there isn’t.

“No,” he runs his nose across that C7 vertebra, “the last thing I want to do is stop.”

“But,” you offer so he won’t have to.

“But, I think it’d be wise to press pause until I’m a little more,” he chuckles to himself, “stable.”

You shimmy out of his grasp but it’s only so you can turn over and face him (cringing at the mess as you do), and you’re so close that Robby starts to go cross-eyed while looking at you.

“You say that like you’re unstable.”

If he could, he’d rub the back of his neck, but the way he’s laying makes it nearly impossible. He opts for tracing yours instead which, as it turns out, is just as grounding, maybe even more so.

“I…” How should he put this? “Fuck, okay—it’s been brought to my attention that I’ve got some shit I need to work out.”

You raise your eyebrows, stare at him for a moment before snorting quietly.

“Sorry, it’s not funny, I know—the delivery just…” You shut your eyes, shake your head a couple times, then work your arm under his until you’re able to smooth your palm down his spine.

“We’ve all got shit to work out,” you tell him, “that’s not me being dismissive, I’m just saying I get it, and I want—” you pause to nip his lower lip, pushed out slightly from the way he’s sliding his jaw, “—you to do whatever you’ve gotta do. I can distract myself.”

Even in this post-sex bliss, he finds a way to catastrophize. What do you mean by that? Distract yourself how? With work? With friends? With another man?

“God, it is unfortunate that you’re so fucking hot when you get annoyed,” you mutter, trying to hide a smirk without much success.

“What are you—I’m not annoyed.” He’s not. He’s just… on his way.

“Yes, you are. Every time you get irritated your eyebrows raise a certain way,” you argue, then actually press on his left one, “right here. This is where the magic happens when you’re pissed.”

Robby grabs your hand and guides it down to his mouth, makes you giggle when he catches your pinky between his teeth.

“Careful. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like looking at my face.”

“So, what if I do?”

Robby stares at you in a way that he knows is effective. (Apparently, he has Bambi eyes, whatever the fuck that means.) “I’d say you’re making it extremely difficult to press that pause button.”

You hum like you’re considering it, then before Robby knows it, you’re pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

“We can press pause in the morning.”

And, your grin is so sweet and so satisfied, Robby can’t help but mirror it and relent, “okay. After breakfast.”

“Ooh, how do you feel about crêpes?”

He shakes his head side to side as if he fucking cares. “I’m more of a waffle guy myself, but I guess I can make an exception.”

Extraordinary measures tonight. Pull the plug tomorrow.

[gremlinkat1992]

Castles Crumbling

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Doctor Reader

We are BACKKKK with another installment of the Welcome to the Pitt series, featuring Robby and the reader's relationship post Adamson's death. Word Count: ~3.7k

TW: ANGST with a happy ending. Smut (18+ MDNI) unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding kink!Robby. Asshole/Dick Robby. Therapy/Couples Therapy mentions. Platonic Jack x reader and I FINALLY reveal their past (I’ve been keeping this in for TOO long because I didn’t know how to bring it up 😂). Mentions of suicidal ideations, black outs and PTSD. Kinda mentions of Jack during the war/when he lost his leg. Mentions of death (Adamson, Jack’s late wife). COVID and an Inaccurate description of hospital/ER settings during 2020. Everything medical I know is from medical dramas starring Noah Wyle. Fic title from the Taylor Swift song - which I listened to a lot brainstorming for this. Side note THANK YOU for all the love. I recently hit 900+ followers and I can’t believe ya’ll stick around for me - love you all.

And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now

“Michael,” you moaned out as your husband drove his cock in and out of you. 

It has been like this for the last month. Every night, when Michael felt himself fading too far into one of the stages of grief, he would do the same thing. His fingers would find the waistband of your pants, and his face the crook of your neck. He’d start whispering things in your ears. 

“Please, sweetheart, I need you.”

“Let’s keep trying for that baby.”

“I love you so much, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

It was the last one, that was the hardest for you to believe right now. Since Michael had to make the call to take Adamson off ECMO, the only time the two of you weren’t fighting, was when he was on top of you. You wondered if he even still loved you, or if he just loved using you.

“You feel so good,” Michael said, bringing you back to the present time. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to have our baby.”

A month ago, that was the only thing you dreamed of, but now - you had no idea how much more of this you could take. You let out a sniffle you didn’t know you were holding in, but you turned it into a moan, as Michael started hitting that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. You came before you could comprehend what was happening. The moment your pussy began to squeeze him in all the right places, he shouted your name, and came, hard. He filled your hole until it was leaking. He rolled off you as he pulled out. The two of you laid there in silence, before Michael spoke.

“You should go pee, don’t want you getting a UTI, baby.”

He wasn’t going to clean you up. He wasn’t going to help you to the bathroom after turning your legs into jello. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes as you got up and straggled to the bathroom to clean Michael’s cum off you. You let out a sob you didn’t know you were holding in. He wasn’t acting like the man you married, the man who you fell in love with. The man you fell in love with would never make you clean yourself after sex. After you cleaned yourself, and peed, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You began to wipe your tears. Tomorrow will be better, you thought. You went back out to your bedroom, to see Michael laying on his side of the bed, his boxers back on, reading his latest book. He didn’t look up as you grabbed one of his tshirts and a pair of underwear to sleep in. You got dressed and crawled into bed. You laid down facing away from Michael. He put his book down, as he ran his fingers through your hair. You smiled, it felt like it had before everything happened. Before you were stabbed, before the pandemic - which turned the wedding of your dreams into a courthouse wedding, before you both lost Adamson. It felt familiar. 

“You going to bed, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t want to give your current emotional state away. It would end in a fight, you knew it, just like last time.

“Okay, get some rest,” Michael said as he kissed your temples. 

You smiled. Your happiness was short lived, because instead of holding you close as he always did, Michael rolled over, facing the other side of the bed. You looked over your shoulder, as he adjusted the comforter around himself. 

“I love you,”  you said.

You were met with silence. You tried to tell yourself maybe he was already asleep, but you began to wonder if it wasn’t him, if it was you. If he didn’t love you anymore.

When your alarm went off the next morning, you rolled over to find Michael’s side of the bed empty. You sighed at the coldness, meaning he had been up for awhile. You didn’t hear the shower running. You walked out of the bedroom to check the living room and kitchen. You were met with a note on the kitchen counter.

Went in early. -MR. No heart, no love you, not even his name - just his damn initals, like it was a paper chart. You crumpled up the note and threw it in the trashcan, as you stomped off to take a shower and get ready for work. 

After your shower and getting dressed in your scrubs, you grabbed Michael’s hoodie - the one he let you borrow one day in The Pitt after you had only been dating a few months. You never returned it. Even after many washes, and him not wearing it, the zip up still somehow smelt like him.You zipped it up, as you walked out the front door. 

Your walk to PTMC was lonely. Even with Michael’s state of mind the past month, the walks to and from work had remained your one consistency. He took the one thing you felt the two of you had left, and he broke it. You could feel it, the castle crumbling, the fairy tale life you thought you were building with Michael was falling apart, and he was doing nothing to stop it. It was breaking your heart. You loved him. You begged him to start therapy, with your therapist, with Jack’s therapist, with another therapist in the city, with anyone. As you walked, your mind wondered to the conversation, or rather another fight, the two of you had a few days ago when you suggested therapy. 

“You think I need a fucking shrink? I killed Adamson, it won’t be the last time I kill someone, part of the job sometimes. Can’t save ‘em all..”

“For the last time, you didn’t kill him, Michael. COVID did, just like the-”

“Don’t mention the fucking girl. Took Adamson off ECMO to save her and I killed them both.”

“You didn’t kill anyone. Please, Michael, just talk to someone. My therapist is taking new clients. I think it would help you. I think it would help us.”

“I don’t need help. I’m not fucking crazy.”

“I know you’re not crazy, Michael. You’re grieving, and you’re taking it out on me - the one person trying to save you.”

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart.”

“At least come to therapy with me? I think it would be beneficial for you to hear how I fe-”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. I’m not fucking crazy. I don’t need a fucking therapist.”

The sounds of sirens brought you back to reality. You sighed as you crossed the street and entered PTMC.  

As you walked down to emergency department, you were greeted with familiar faces. You walked up to the central nurses station after entering the department. You smiled at Dana.

“Have you seen Robby?” you asked her.

She shook her head, “No, did he not come in with you?”

You sighed, “He left a note at home saying he was coming in early.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure he’s around and I just haven’t seen him, kid.” Dana said, trying to reassure you.

 You ran your hands over your face. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t leave and lie about where he was going. You felt like your world was spiraling. “Hey Dana?” you asked the charge nurse. She turned to look at you. “Think I could borrow a cigarette?”

Dana nodded her head,  as she reached in her bag and handed you one of her cigarettes. “You know, it will get better, he will get better.”

You just smiled as you took the cigarette, and put it in your pocket of the sweatshirt. You turned towards the elevator, but stopped. You turned back to Dana. 

Before you could say anything, she handed you a lighter, “You’re gonna need this, kid.”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver,” you said as you headed to the roof.

When you got to the roof, leaned forward against the rail. You debated standing on the other side, but stayed where you were. You put the nicotine stick to your lips and used the lighter to light it. The moment the taste hit your lips, your thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

“Those things will kill ya, kid.”

You turned around to see Jack. You turned back around and took another drag off the smoke, “That line didn’t work when I was 16, what makes you think it will work now?” you said.

Jack chuckled as he walked up and stood next to you. “Well, the fact that now you’re a doctor too, and you know its the truth just as much as I do.” Jack studied your face, “What’s going on, kid?” He had known you long enough that he knew when something was wrong.

You ignored the question, as you looked at the morning sky. “Aunt Julie loved the sunrise.”

Julie. Jack’s late wife. She was your mom’s best friend. She married Jack when you were in elementary school. They moved into the house next door to your childhood home. When your mom was working, you and your brother often found yourselves at their house. 

Jack sighed at the mention of his late wife. “That’s why I come up here every morning.” He missed her everyday. It was only a little over a year since she passed - some asshole ran a stop sign and hit her. She never saw it coming. It was you who called him when she was brought into the pitt. You who told him with a shaky voice, “It’s Aunt Julie, Uncle Jack, you need to get here, fast.” It was the last time you called him Uncle Jack.

“She tell me exactly what I needed to hear right now,” you said, no longer fighting the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes, as you continued to smoke.

“Talk to me, kid. I’m still here.”

You looked at Jack. He was looking at you with worry, and empathy. You felt like you were 16 again, when Jack caught you smoking in your back yard while your mom was working one of her 2 jobs to keep food on the table for you and your brother. Your dad was never around, unless he wanted to show off to his latest arm candy that ‘he was a good dad’. You never saw him as your dad. Jack was your father figure most of your life, and the reason you wanted to be a doctor. He always laughed at that, saying “At least you didn’t want to join the army and end up losing a leg.”

“It’s about him,” you said looking at Jack.

Jack knew exactly who you were talking about. His best friend. Jack saw the toll losing the chief attending, and the glue that kept the hospital together, was taking on him. Being thrown into the chief attending job while trying to grieve was not an easy task. “Kinda thought something was wrong when he showed up at 3AM claiming he couldn’t sleep and knew we needed the help.”

“Something has been wrong with him,” you said taking another puff of the cigarette, “He’s - he’s losing himself. I’ve begged him to see a therapist, or come to therapy with me, just so he can see how much he is hurting me, too, but he won’t. He fucking won’t. He just -,” you looked up at Jack, “He barely says he loves me anymore. He barely looks at me. I feel like my life is crumbling around me, and I don’t want to lose him.” You stopped fighting the tears, they were flowing heavily down your face. “I can’t fucking lose him, Uncle Jack.”

Jack’s lips parted as you called him uncle again. He knew it meant you were hurting. “You’re not losing him, kid. He’s grieving, he’s stressed,”

“And he’s taking it out on me!” you screamed. “If you’re gonna stick up for him, leave me alone.”

“I’m not sticking up for him,” Jack said, “I’m telling you the truth he’s grieving, he’s stressed, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. If it makes you feel better, I gave him the name of my therapist, too, and he wouldn’t take it.” Jack moved your hair that was sticking to your tear stained face out of the way, “He loves you more than he likes himself, even if he’s not showing it now. He told me just this morning he wished he was in bed with you.”

You chuckled, then huffed, “Then he should’ve stayed in bed with me.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said. Jack looked at you. Jack loved you like you were his kid, and he wanted to punch Robby for what he is doing to you. “You said Julie would know what to say.” You looked at Jack as he continued to speak, “I know what she would say. She’d say ‘follow your heart.’ I also know your heart isn’t ready to give up on him.”

“That’s exactly what she would say.” You put out the cigarette on the bottom of your shoe. You turned to Jack and hugged him tight. “I miss her,” you whispered.

He embarrassed the hug, and he rubbed circles in your back to calm you down. “I know. Me too, kid. That’s why I come up here.”

Jack hugged you in silence after that. You don’t know how long the two of you hugged, until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. The two of you saw him, looking at both of you.

“Need to finish the hand off, Jack, so you can go. You get anymore overtime and uh, Gloria will be on my ass,” Michael said. His eyes drifted to you, your face still flushed from the tears you cried.

“Yeah,” Jack said as he let go of you and walked towards Michael. He looked at his friend, “Stay and talk to her, she needs you.”

Michael nodded his head, as Jack continued walking. You had no idea what Jack said to him, but Michael approached you.

“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked.

You nodded, “Woke up scared when you weren’t next to me.”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry about that, I knew night shift was short-” something stttttttttt*t/witched in Michael as he got a wiff of the lingering smell on you.

“Were you up here smoking?” His tone was the one he had been using when he wanted to start a fight.

“So what if I was?”

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt, and you know how I feel about smoking, and how I’ve battled with quitting. You’re the one always on my ass about it.”

“I know, it’s just-” you wanted to tell him you just couldn’t deal with it anymore, and you needed something to take the edge off, but you bit your tongue.

“Just what? You think you’re better than me?”

You sighed. Michael was definitely starting a fight, at work. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, it’s what you didn’t say.”

“Shut up, Michael! I’m tired of this. I can’t do this.” You walked towards the elevator, and he was right on your heels.

“Sweetheart, wait. What-”

“Don’t you dare ask me what’s wrong like you have no idea,” you said as  stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the door to close, but Michael was close enough to stop it, and slipped in the elevator with you.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” his voice was back to tender. 

“You don’t get to do this! Stop doing this, Michael!” you screamed at him.

“Doing what?” His face was genuinely confused.

“You really don’t know? Are you that fucking oblivious? Do you realize that every night since Adamson died you start a fight with me?” You didn’t give him time to respond, you just kept going, telling him everything you’ve been venting to your therapist for the past month. “Then you get all tsweet, sayin’ how sorry you are, and that you need me. You never even tell me you love me, until you’re inside of me, Michael! I can’t do it anymore!” Your voice turned to a whisper as you continued, “I love you, but I mean it, if something doesn’t change, I can’t do this anymore.”

Michael’s eyes went bloodshot as he relived every moment in his mind. He didn’t mean to fall into that habit, he couldn’t handle the demons in his head telling him he wasn’t enough, and he took it out on you, everytime. “Sweetheart-” he went to touch your face but you turned away. Neither of you had time to speak before the elevator stopped at the ER. 

You practically ran off the elevator, going past both Dana and Jack, not speaking to either. You looked up at the board and grabbed the first case you saw, “Taking the abdominal pain in 15,” you called off as you were gone down the hall. 

Michael stood there, terrified. He can’t believe he didn’t see the effect his actions were having on you. How could he have any idea when he was blacking out and losing time. He didn’t want to admit it, but you were right, and so was Jack - he needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to someone or he was going to lose you. And if he lost you, he had no point in living. He looked at Jack, who stood there with his arms crossed, staring at Michael.

“What did you say,” Jack said sternly.

“I fucked up, Jack.” Michael said, “I -” he swallowed hard, “I - can’t. I keep taking everything out on her. I didn’t realize I was doing it until -” Michael stopped. He looked away from Jack as he mumbled, “What was your therapists number again?”

Jack looked stunned at what Michael had just said. “Did you just-”

“I’m blacking out, Jack. And when I do, I take it all out on her. I don’t know how to tell her, but she said if something doesn’t change, she - I can’t lose her.” 

Jack pulled his phone out and made a phone call. He didn’t speak to Michael, just to the person on the other end. “Good Morning, this is Jack Abbot. I have an appointment this morning with Dr. Underwood. Yeah. Can I send a friend in my place? I believe he needs to talk to someone - immediately.” Jack said to the receptionist over the phone. “Yeah, I’ll hold for Dr. Underwood.”

Jack repeated the situation to Dr. Underwood when he got on the phone. “Yeah it is my friend Robby.” Dr. Underwood agreed immediately at the name drop. Jack had spoke of Robby many times during his sessions with Dr. Underwood, voicing that he had given him Dr. Underwood’s name and number, in hopes that his friend would reach out for help. “Thank you.” Jack said as he ended the call.

“You got my appointment. Dr. Underwood’s office on Penn. You better get going. I’ll cover until you get back.”

Michael shook his head, “Jack, you’re almost maxed out on over-”

“Would you rather deal with Gloria about my overtime, or lose her?” Jack said, as he looked at Michael.

Michael knew Jack was right. He signed. “You must have a lot of pull with Dr. Underwood to-”

“His cousin was in her a few weeks ago, needed an appendectomy.”

Michael nodded. “Okay, I’m doing this.”

“Go. Before you’re late.” Jack said as Michael turned to leave.

“Thanks, brother, I owe ya.” Michael yelled over his shoulder. 

It had been almost two hours since Michael and you had came down from the roof, and you hadn’t seen him - which was odd because he’s so tall you could usually spot the top of his head as he walked around the department. You approached the hub to sit and type some notes, and you were shocked to see Jack still there.

“Thought you left hours ago,” you said.

He looked at you as he spoke, “Robby had to take care of something, told him I’d cover.”

You grew concerned, “Is he okay? Is something wrong?”

“He just had to take care of something,” Jack said.

He had distracted you just enough for Robby to slip through the ER. You felt your phone vibrate and saw a text.

Michael 💞: meet me in our spot. 

You texted him back on my way, and put your phone in your pocket and headed down the hallway towards on-call room 3. 

You opened the door slowly as you saw him standing there. “Michael? Are you okay? Jack said you had to take care of -”

“I went to see his therapist,” Michael admitted.

You looked up at him, “You did?”

He nodded, “I’ve been uh, blacking out. I guess. I didn’t realize how bad it was, until you put me in my place today. Fucking scared me when you said if I didn’t change you were done. I know this doesn’t fix it, but I’m sorry, sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

You looked up at him, and saw his bloodshot eyes and the tears in his eyes. “Baby,” you whispered as you tried to reach is face and wipe a tear away.

“I know you said something about us going to therapy together - ya know, couples therapy. Think that might help us.” Michael said.

“You’d be willing to try that?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

“Sweetheart, I’d be willing to wrestle a bull if it would help fix us. I love you. I love you so much, please, I don’t want everything to crumble around us. Let me fix us.”

You had to fight tears of your own back. You just nodded your head, as you spoke softly. “Yeah, yeah let’s fix us.”

Michael hugged you, tight. Like if he didn’t hold you tight, you’d be gone. He kissed your temples, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“You know, we had to go back out there. I gotta relieve Jack. Probably gonna have him come in late, to shave some of this overtime so Gloria isn’t on my ass.”

“You know, I can help, I could stay late a night or two. You don’t have to do this alone, Michael.” “Yeah, I know sweetheart,” he said as he bent down to kiss you. “I know I keep saying it, but I love you. And I don’t want you to ever forget it.”

“I love you too, Michael. Always.”

[gremlinkat1992]

Okay he's in Fire Country. Now I can't wait to see Firefighter Shawn. Is this man going through tropes for us on purpose.

x

[gremlinkat1992]

Shawn Hatosy ticking off the fanfic tropes one by one like the king he is 👏

Boxer

Deputy Chief

Cowboy

Solider

Detective

Criminal

Mayor

Doctor

Police Officer

Firefighter

[gremlinkat1992]

Thinking about virgin!reader who is a new resident at the Pitt. You're good at your job and have earned praises from both Robby and Jack. You look up to them, respect them, and appreciate them.

So during a birthday celebration for one of the other residents at a bar near PTMC, you corner Robby and Jack to proposition them.

"The thing is, I'm a virgin, and it's something I'm really insecure about and it's making it hard for me to start any kind of relationship because I get so in my head. My therapist suggested I find someone I trust, who has experience, to sleep with me. To rip the band aid off and get it over with, you know? So naturally the two of you came to mind."

Jack nearly choked on his drink and Robby's eyes almost popped out of his head. You wanted them to take your virginity?

"We're your bosses-"

"Oh I know. This would be a one night, one and done type thing. No strings and no messiness. Nothing for HR to get upset over." You batted your eyelashes at them, completely serious in your offer. "What do you say?"

"Oh fuck kid, you feel so good." Robby moaned above you as his cock drove into you over and over again, his tip kissing the deepest parts of you. The force of Robby's cock into you was deep and brutal, his hips hitting your ass with each trust, his large hands encompassing your hips and holding you face down on the mattress.

Both him and Jack had already come in you twice, each, and just as you'd hoped they were still going strong. They'd fucked you in a few different positions, on your back, your knees, and now on your stomach.

Pressed between Robby and the mattress, you could barely string a sentence together, your head empty from how good you felt. You'd come more than they had since they'd insisted on prepping you for their impressive lengths, using their fingers and mouths to get you ready and wet. They each took a turn eating you out, licking and sucking until you were crying and begging them to stop.

"Fuck I don't think I can let this be a one time thing." Robby grunted as looked down to watch his cock disappear inside you as he thrust all the way in, fucking his and Jack's cum deeper into you, keeping it where they wanted. "Your greedy pussy keeps sucking me deeper baby, you want me to fill you up again? You want to feel us dripping out of you?" You moaned at the thought, unable to form words.

"Yeah, you wanted your older attendings to stuff you full, to fuck you and fill you." The sounds in the room were obscene, the wet slid of Robby's cock and skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "You a dirty girl who enjoys being fucked by two old men?"

"Yes, god Robby-" You gasped as your orgasm came crashing through you, your limbs shaking with the force of it and your walls clenching around Robby's cock. Your eyes rolled back as you drooled onto the sheets, your head fuzzy from the pleasure.

"Oh fuck kid-" Robby groaned, his hips slapping against your ass until they stilled, burying him to the hilt inside you as he came. You felt his hot cum spilling into you and leaking out around the edges of his cock and onto the sheets. Robby collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort, his cock still in you.

"I don't know how I could ever let you go after this." Robby's words had you whimpering against the sheets, your limbs feeling like jelly.

"What do you say sweetheart?" Jack asked from where he knelt next to you on the bed. He stroked his cock, still glistening from his last turn inside you, while he watched you both. "You want me and Robby to be your first and your last?" You whined in response and saw Jack smirk through your half-lidded eyes. He caressed your cheek with the back of hand before shifting closer and angling his aching, leaking cock towards you.

"Good girl. Now open up."

dividers by @ cursed-carmine

join my taglist!

@seeminglyincurablesadness @aryacoulson @sweeethearts @4rtem4r

[gremlinkat1992]

Was tagged by @thekristen999 to share a snippet of what I'm working on. I actually have a couple of WIPs currently, but here's a small bit of the one I've been working on today:

****

He drops his bag by the door, slips off his sneakers and pads into the kitchen.

Finding Jack at the stove top is a rare sight. Not because he doesn't like cooking, his partner of four months is the only one of them who actually enjoys it, but because it's rare for either of them to have the time to cook a proper meal.

Instead of seeing Jack at the hospital for their usual handover, they have the next four days off together. Robby's been looking forward to it all month.

He leans against the door jam for a moment. Jack hasn't noticed him, and Robby takes the opportunity to watch him work. Jack hums along with the music as he chops up some herbs before pushing them all onto the flat edge of the knife and dropping them into the saucepan.

Through the thin, old t-shirt Jack's wearing, Robby watches the way Jack's back muscles shift as he moves. The sight draws him in, begging him reclaim what's now his to touch.

"Smells good," he says finally, signalling his arrival.

Jack almost jumps, his head spinning around sharply. When he sees who it is, his whole body relaxes, and he returns his attention to the pan of simmering pasta sauce. On the back hob, a pan of pasta is boiling.

Robby pushes away from the doorway crosses over to press himself to Jack's back. His skin is warm through the t-shirt and as Robby presses his nose into Jack's hair, he notices the ends of his curls are still damp.

"You showered without me," he pouts.

****

Tagging anyone who wants to share what they are working on!!

[gremlinkat1992]

#he was so done