Toxic!Jack Abbot is really good at pushing your buttons.
cw: 18+ mdni, smut with tiny plot, jealousy, toxicity, age gap (mid 20s reader, 40 year old Abbot)
Jack Abbot felt so blessed to meet his match when he met his favorite fucking brat. Really, couldnt have asked for someone any sexier than someone who not only expected the world from him but questioned all his bullshit.
That included pulling up into the ambulance bay in that old rickety truck the old fuck claimed as his precious baby (second to you, of course). You left it fucking running, entering the place at six am with less than a fuck to give, foot steps hitting the floor in furry till you reached the hub. Lena gave you an amused knowing look, “couldn’t wait till he got home?”
“Would’ve ended up cursin Robby’s ass out too if I waited another fuckin second.” You grit, leaning against the desk, eyes moving through the busy ER like a tiger searching for its prey. He’s not hard to spot out either, you know his back like the back of your hand, could probably tell God herself where each freckle was placed and then some, every curl on his greying head of hair you knew. All you had to do was catch his eyes, point at him, and turn on your heels.
Had the man following you like the well trained yet bad little shit dog he was.
Jack couldn’t help but love to see you made every once in a while, see your hips switch with every step you took before cursing his ass clean out right outside, “You know and I let you have it last night and then I fucking remembered, ‘Why the fuck would I give a man who likes to entertain women a moment of peace?’ Huh?! It doesn’t even sound like me!”
“I don’t entertain-“
“Me hearing from your friend at your favorite bar that you’re smiling in bitches faces isn’t entertaining Abbot?” You squint, eyebrow cocked. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl, “You’re fuckin playin with me Jack.”
The end of his lip threatened to curve upward, hands up in defense, “I answer a few questions about my job-“
“—Oh, fuck off-“
“—It’s nothing more, nothing less ‘nd you know that. You think I’m asking them to feel me up? If they take it the wrong way, it’s not uo to me.”
You let out a laugh that doesn’t reach your eyes, you poke at his chest with your manicured nail hard enough he numbs back into the concrete of the building, “You wanna play, let’s play! Since you’re big shit!”
You’re already walking away and around the front of the car, Jacks head titling at your plump ass in the jeans he’s sure you used his card to buy just as your round the hood. That damn heart tramp stamp on your lower back he loved so much looking good as ever in the sun light that was starting to peak through— “If you come to my place after your shift I’ll stomp your ass out on the god damn curb Abbot!”
That’s what’s god the bastard smirking, “Please do baby doll! Like I haven’t had a rough enough shift, get me concussed so I can sleep good today.”
Your whip around, irked at how amused he is, “Matter of fact— don’t call till after I got to my ex’s party tonight! You know the one, on the east side with pent house?” You see your boyfriend’s jaw lock in real time, nodding along to your shit, you give him a wave with your fingers and a smile, “Thanks Jacky!”
You see his demeanor change in real time, tongue poking out his cheek, “Like hell you are [+].”
You’re already in the truck. Restarting it and turning up the music you were once playing, you fain confusion, “What was that?! I don’t think- I don’t think I heard you- the music!“
His voice deep with a warning of your name, footsteps creeping up to the open window of the passenger door.
“I’m sorry Jacky, I won’t interrupt your shift any longer.” You purse yout lips, blowing him a pretty middle finger as you swerve off.
No time for Abbot to even recover before an ambulance truck is pulling up.
You’re lucky you two love each other so much, lucky to have a man like Jack who would have you wide open and stuck in the rudest full nelson known to man just before you’re set to go to work, plunging his leaking thick cock till his breeder balls slapped against your gushing pussy lips.
Didn’t care how much you tried to ignore him when he used the key to you’re apartment, didn’t care that you were just to slick your curly hair into a low ponytail and the first things you said after he got out the shower was, “I’ll slap the shit out of you Abbot, get out my fuckin face.”
The bastard is deep inside you, brutal stroke after stroke through your gummy walls. Jacks calloused hands are under your knees, holding you tight as he rails up into you, your skin slapping together as you let out those sweet moans and whimpers he loves so much. His tongue goes up your neck to your earlobe, his husky voice housed in your ear, “No, no baby cakes, look at how pretty you’re making me, can you see it?”
You only sob out, letting him hike your knees to your elbows with his forearms, nudging your head down with the palm of his hand, head peering down to see just how much his cock is shining with your cum drenching him. And you can see it, every hungry and deep pump of his cock inside you. You hiccup, your hands over his and clawing at them,“Fuck Jack!
“Only you are making me like this pretty, nngh- only you can make me this hard.” The angle only making you wetter, strawberry top of his length nudging at your g-spot with every whack, whack, whack, into your pussy. He rolls his hips into you, eyes rolling into his skull, teeth nipping at your skin that will form little bruises later.
He groans, let’s out a breath as he feels his cock twitch, “Shit, I’m sorry honey, you know I’m sorry.”
“You’re not fuckin sorry,” you murmer out, head lulling back onto his shoulder, your cunt clenching and he accidentally slips out your heat, smacking ashint your thigh.
“You just always- mmph- talk. That’s all you do. Talk but you like me all riled up over you.” And Jack can hear it, the way you’re pouting, got every right to be angry, he knows that. And then he hears you let out a sharp inhale, a wet yet soft cry, “Think ‘m easy, makin me feel stupid.”
And Jack hates it, taking your chin in his hand, thumbing away a tear, “I do not think you’re easy or stupid, baby cakes. I’m stupid. Shouldn’t have had those girls near me like that. I’m sorry. You’re the only one I want to do everything with.”
You hiccup, leaning into his touch, letting him kiss your soft and full lips, eyes getting lost in his hazel eyes, “Just- I don’t like them touching you Jack. I- it should only be me.”
Shivers roll down his spine, “Only you baby, course it’s only you. Always you gorgeous.” His hand travels from your face, lips still locking with yours, his fingers circling your areolas, then tweaking them both. Living you gasp worthy kisses as he groped and kneads your breasts. “Gonna you everything you want baby, isn’t that what you want? Fuck- want everything I can give you? Hm?” You let out a moan in his mouth letting him slip his tongue in and wrapping around your tongue.
Jack pants, head resting against yours. “Come on sweetheart, put it back in for me.”
You stupidly nod, fumbling to get his rock hard member in your hand and rubbing it through your puffy pussy lips and against your fluttering hole. Your eyes squeeze shut, mouth agape as he pounds back into you. You can feel it pressing right up against your cervix, his pre sloshing around in your soaking pussing.
“Jaaack- aaangh- shit you’re so big Jack!”
His cock is spreading your fat pussy lips wide, bed rocking as he rolls his hips into yours, he hisses at the way your pussy chokes him, “‘s Just for you honey- thaaat’s it pretty- made just for you, Promise.”
Heat is rolling all over your sticky skin, that tightened in your stomach building every time his cockhead bumps against your g-spot. Harder, thrusts more erratic while gripping on your thighs like a vice, till youre both cumming. Jacks hips stuttering into you as he paints your walls white to the brim, hole overflowing— overstuffed with his cum.
“Jesus baby,” he breaths out, finally letting your legs go, slipping his dick out of you. He brushes your curls back as he turns your limp body towards him, kissing you all over, “Love you so much, my pretty girl. Thought about you all night.”
His hands travel up and down your waist, pecking your lips, “Gonna go see your ex?”
Your mind is fuzzy, yout head giggling so cutely, “What?”
Good, god you’re his good girl.
And he feels your thigh go around him, rubbing your naked body against him, you kiss his jaw, mewling, “mmm- Only wanna be with you Jack, please Jack.”
The older man is cracking a smirk, half hard and easing his cock into your sopping pussy with a filthy, “I knoooow baby girl, ‘m not goin anywhere. All yours.”
a/n: wanted to read a fic based on Drama Baby/Malibu by Babyxsosa so I had to write it🥴
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happy birthday @lancey-lance-963!!!! here’s some hucklerobby bitching <33333
robby had never had his face pressed into a pillow by the back of his neck before dennis.
it all started when the younger alpha started getting territorial and aggressive. robby’s instincts were settled, his own alpha tendencies relaxing as he aged.
the relationship had begun when dennis was still weak in his dynamic. his final year of med school was draining the life out of him and he had no energy to devote to litigating their relationship hierarchy. they had coasted along with minimal friction for months.
now though, dennis was sleeping seven hours a night, he was eating three meals a day, he was working out in his free time. dennis was in tune with his body, and his body wanted him to assert himself as the youngest, most virile alpha.
it didn’t matter that robby was one of his favorite people in the world. it didn’t matter that dennis wanted nothing in the world more than to just sink into bed with robby and turn off his brain. dennis’s stupid alpha hormones just kept telling him his own partner was a threat.
they read books and listened to podcasts. there were a couple solutions that seemed to be universally agreed upon…
dennis liked the more controversial one.
because robby didn’t need to keep his alpha instincts! he would be a beautiful, sweet omega. dennis could make him that.
so one morning, when robby was laying on his stomach, dennis slipped on top of him. it didn’t take long before robby was presenting on his own accord, eager to help along the process, even if he initially resisted.
when dennis bit down on the side of robby’s neck, that alpha scent exploded into a mouth watering omega one. they both sank into it.
It's taken over fifty years, but Dr. Michael Robinavitch has finally mellowed out.
Even the way he carries himself has changed. His shoulders don't live up by his ears anymore, he's got an ease to him that to many of the younger ones in the ER is previously unheard of. He doesn't yell, doesn't snap, swears only for comedic effect, he's even sassing Gloria less, and his smoke breaks are far fewer and further between. Patient satisfaction scores are slowly increasing, but more importantly, staff morale in the Pitt is at an all time high.
The only question is… Where did this all come from? How does Robby, stressed out, burned out, a doctor on the brink, come into work one day with a smile on his face and a surplus of patience?
Some put it down to age. Others, the cynics (Frank and Trinity), say it's the euphoria of giving up. One thing everyone can agree on, though, is that this is a good thing. What's that saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth? No one's gonna waste their time on the whys or the hows when they can simply enjoy it.
What they might notice, however, if they ever cared enough to take a closer look, is how Dennis Whitaker has started limping his way into work most mornings. How he winces when he sits down. How his mouth drops open and eyes screw up in a silent scream when something so much as brushes over his scrub stop where his nipples are.
What no one has guessed, is that their sins are still receiving punishment. Robby has not, in fact, become more lenient, more forgiving. Actually, he might be more ferocious than ever. Just not to them.
Dennis knows the look. Often he doesn't even know what the crime is and he'll never even find out. More often than not, he's got nothing to do with it. But he'll look across the Pitt and see Robby, how his eyes have darkened and fixed themselves on him and his face will grow hot. Someone's been bad.
Frank took an inadequate patient history? Dennis is getting spanked until his ass is cherry red and he's sobbing in his attending's lap.
Mel left a chair out where it could be a trip hazard? Dennis's poor hole is getting stretched more than he thought he could take, thighs trembling as Robby adds a fourth finger.
Trinity mispronounced a patient's name and now they're all getting shit for it? Dennis's nipples are getting abused, tugged between teeth, clamped until they're puffy and scarlet.
Samira spent too long getting to know her patient's college major instead of her symptoms? Robby's cock will be bruising the back of Dennis's throat, balls emptying so far down his esophagus that Dennis can only swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, hands tied behind his back tight enough to burn, unable to even brace himself on his boss's thighs.
It's essentially impossible for a day to go by without something happening to piss Robby off. Not that the offender will ever know it. It always ends the same way; Robby splitting his R1 open, subjecting him to a brutal regime to leave him sore and degraded. His small, useless cock hanging between his thighs as Robby fucks him hard enough that his teeth rattle, two fingers shoved in his mouth so the only noise Dennis can make is a few pathetic whimpers as Robby's cock pulses and fills him deep.
But even if he could talk, what would Dennis say? Stop? No, that's out of the question. He sees as much as everyone else the good this is doing. He sees how at after work drinking sessions those thousand yard stares have been replaced with laughter. Everyone gets along better, all so much happier when things are like this. Dennis sees that for the ten or so minutes he gets to be social post-day shift before the inevitable text from Robby arrives - My place. Now.
If the others knew what went on when their shifts ended and Dennis's second shift, the one spent face down ass up in Robby's apartment, began, maybe they'd be more careful. Or maybe they wouldn't. After all, it's all behind closed doors, out of sight out of mind, and without worrying about drawing Robby's ire they can focus on other, far more important things. Like being good doctors.
Then there's the fact that Dennis has never cum harder than during the long nights bruising his knees. He's never been more consistently turned on... and if he's sometimes the one distracting the others so that desks stay cluttered, charts remain unfinished, and patient names get occasionally forgotten?
Ugh the Hucklerabbot domestic discipline/kept boy/infantilization brainworms are back @queer-reader-07 @puppyjavadi @puppydogwhitaker @sixeyedsharks THIS IS YOUR FAULT
Dennis at Work vs Dennis at home are two very different people. There's a different level of trust for each one.
It was a natural progression. One of those things where Dennis wasn't entirely sure how they got to the point that they were at, but now they just were. He doesn't remember necessarily agreeing, but he does remember feeling better after every new rule and requirement was set into place. No guessing if he was doing something he shouldn't, no issues on if he was fucking up or not; his rules appeared and they told him where he fell.
"What's got you so upset today?" Jack asked him after the third mumbling huff he'd received from Dennis. "Did something happen?"
"I'm tired," Dennis whined. "Trinity kept me up late with a Scream movie marathon and then I couldn't sleep."
"When did you go to bed?"
"Um." Dennis's face scrunched up. "I think around 3? 4?"
Robby shook his head. "Yeah, no wonder our boy's so cranky."
That night he gets tucked into bed, in a shirt that isn't his, kisses on his forehead, whines and protests ignored, and promises of being in soon, "Just close your eyes, baby, you'll feel better in the morning, yeah?"
And even though it's a sharp 10pm, Dennis is out within minutes. He barely notices when Jack and Robby do file into bed, waking only to seek out on of their arms to hold him, and falling back into a deep slumber.
He's cheerful, chipper, better the next day. He sees the look Jack and Robby exchange in regards to his mood but chooses to ignore it. Just like how he chooses to ignore when he gets tucked into bed early again the next night, and the next, and every night after.
Then came the whole stove incident. Not that there really was an incident as much as an accident. Dennis didn't mean to get so close to the still hot stovetop but something fell over and it was second nature to try and grab it and now he's sporting an angry red mark across his hand, biting his lip and trying not to get too upset about it.
But it hurts and he can feel that slight bubble of embarrassment and fear rushing up in his chest.
Not that it matters because Jack grabbed his hand and ushered him to the sink, running cold water over it while Robby fixed whatever mess is behind them. He let out one wary sigh and Jack was murmuring, "You're okay. I know it hurts, kiddo, but it's okay. We've got some burn pads and cream, we'll get it nice and patched up, don't worry. Dad's got you."
He's not allowed to use the stove after that. Robby nudges him out of the way and Jack makes him stand all the way back behind the island in the kitchen, pouting on a barstool until his food is ready. Knives came after that because "You're just a little clumsy, baby. Little boys don't need to use sharp things like that. Let daddy handle it."
As if Dennis wasn't holding sharp objects in the ED on the regular.
Things keep growing. Building. Dennis accidentally stays up too late on his phone, watching videos Trinity was sending him, and now he's getting his phone taken away every night an hour before bed. He tripped over his own laces at work and now Robby is the one who ties them every single morning. Jack catches him jumping one too many times at a scary movie and suddenly they're only watching PG-13 at best. Someone evil and rude and insane showed Robby and Jack Life360 and Dennis gets his ass turned cherry red for driving too fast, gets corner time for not leaving the bar like he said he was, and getting texts of "Charge your phone, Den" when he's sitting at 43%.
And Jack and Robby are so.... daddy with it.
"I understand that, but you're not going. If you want to argue, I'll be home in about 20 minutes and we can have this conversation with the hairbrush. Why don't you go find a corner and wait for me there?" and he's busting his ass to find a spot because Jack sounds way too calm for the threat of the hairbrush.
"We can discuss this as many times as you want sweetheart. You're not changing my mind." and Robby's nodding with every point Dennis makes about how unfair something is, how he really wants to go get drunk without one of them nearby, but Robby's not budging. It's not safe, it's not happening, end of story.
"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want to try that again, little boy?" whenever Dennis gets a little too mouthy and Jack grabs his jaw, arching a brow, tone dangerously low. Dennis squeaks out an apology and gets a kiss on his forehead and a warning swat when he moves away.
Robby's heavy sigh when Dennis does break a rule, when he doesn't eat all 3 meals like he's supposed to, taking an already sniffling Dennis over his knee and pulling down his pants and underwear to his ankles. "I'm just disappointed, baby. You know exactly how your daddy and I feel about that."
Sometimes it bewilders him. He doesn't remember when half of these rules got set into place. He barely remembers if he argued on them or not. He does remember the punishments he gets if he breaks them, and that's enough to obey them.
Dennis doesn't care because all he can focus on is not having to worry about so much. Robby picks his clothes out so Dennis doesn't have to think twice about it. Jack makes sure his student loan payments are complete on time every month, no questions asked and nothing said about it either. They keep his favorite snacks and safe foods on hand always, and the food at his apartment with Trinity never runs out. Jack replaces his shoes when the tread is starting to give out. Robby sees one tear in his scrubs and he has a box from Figs sitting on the kitchen table with his name on it the next day.
So yeah, maybe he's not the same competent, well trained, trusted physician at home like he is at work. Maybe he goes from being given complex procedures to not being allowed to cut up his own dinner. But it's all done from a place of safety, a place of love, a choice that they make daily to prove Dennis is worth taking care of. because they want to do it.
It makes the screen limit with a passcode he doesn't know popping up on his TikTok mindless scroll session a little more bearable. Ish. But what's truly unbearable is Jack using the paddle when he stays up too late on nights he's sleeping in the apartment and Robby making him go to sleep without a twenty minute cuddle session in his old man rocking chair. So he'll put up his phone and roll over to go to sleep on time tonight.
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warnings: non-con, smut, bullying, childhood friends to lovers, boss-employee relationship, breeding kink, obsession, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, butler reader, illumi being a psycho, minor character death, reader tries to cope
word count: 3.1k
i started watching a couple episodes of hxh but couldn't push through, so i dropped it. but then, i got to read 'guessing game' by hypnoswrites, and it was so freaking good it convinced me to go back and finish hxh and i did lmaooo. and damn, illumi is really that cool. so i gotta write about him. as usual, english isn't my first language. if you see a mistake or something weird here and there, it's me fighting for my life. enjoy!
Like bugs when a rock was lifted, everyone around you suddenly scattered when they saw someone approaching, and in no time, they were all gone. Heading in your direction was a boy with short black hair and eyes that were even blacker. You didn't know him; you bet your friends didn't as well, but there was something about him and his lifeless eyes that screamed 'bad news,' and that was probably why everybody were so quick to leave.
Only you stood there as he walked closer, not because you were curious or brave or that you cared that the boy's feelings would be hurt if you left too. You were seven years old, and that was the first time you met Illumi Zoldyck, and you were scared shitless you physically couldn't move.
"Oh, you're not going with them?" he asked.
He looked to be around your age and was a tad shorter than you. Still, just hearing his voice sent shivers up your spine.
Your legs violently shook as you stammered, "Hu—huh?"
"Good," he said with a soft but chilling smile. "I choose you."
"Wh—whatever for?" you asked, feeling like crying all of a sudden.
"To play with me," he said. "Now, do you like hide and seek?"
Hide and seek was all fun and games until you had to play it for six hours straight with no rest and with a playmate like Illumi, who always found you within minutes whenever it was your turn to hide. Even so, he never seemed to get bored and would demand another round, preferably with you as the hider.
"Again," he said after he found you hiding behind a bush.
He always said that—again—making you feel like the game would go on forever, and after three hours of playing, being found over and over again and still having to keep going, you feared it might actually not end. There were numerous spots to hide in the vast public park you were playing at, but Illumi was too good at this. He was unbeatable.
"You are very bad at this."
He hadn't even seen you yet when he said that, and you thought you had chosen a very promising spot this time. It was only when you climbed down from the tree and turned to him that he locked eyes with you and unemotionally said, "Again."
"Again."
"Again."
"Again."
"Huh," he muttered.
This time, he found you at a bus stop near the park, and from the way the bus card was clutched tightly in your hands, you didn't think you had to say anything for Illumi to have a clear understanding that you were leaving.
"I'm tired," you said. "Let's call it a day."
"Sure. It's already late anyway." He looked towards the sun that was starting to set, and then he turned to look at you with that small, creepy smile he'd been giving you way too many times today. "I'll see you tomorrow."
To you, that sounded like a threat. But what could a boy do if you decided to hole up in your home all day? Drag you out? It wasn't until the following morning when you heard your mom call you to come downstairs that you knew he could actually do that.
"You didn't tell me you made a new friend. Illumi here said you promised to meet him at the park to play," your mom said in a chiding tone. "Why are you still in your pajamas?"
Funnily enough, that was the first time you knew his name. His last name, however, wasn't revealed to you and your family until months later, sending your parents into a state of shock when Illumi casually mentioned it while having dinner at your home one night.
Illumi Zoldyck.
You'd been playing with the eldest son of the most dangerous assassin family in the world, and you didn't even know it. And by that time, it was too late to change anything. There was nothing you could do but lower your head, accept your fate, and play any game he was in the mood for, whether it was hide and seek, board games, or whatever random, fun ideas he came up with.
The fun ideas were the worst. Sometimes, it was just you following him around like a shadow because he ordered you not to lose sight of him. If you did, you'd get punished. That was his definition of fun.
Locking you in the sleek, black car his family sent to pick him up was one of the punishments. He'd tell you to get in first, and then he'd follow and sit beside you in the back seat before telling the chauffeur to drive without telling them where he wanted to go. After he made sure you texted your parents that you'd be home late, watching you like a hawk as you typed each word and tapped send, your phone would then be confiscated for the rest of the endless ride.
This meant hours in silence, as you'd rather die than make small talk with Illumi to kill time. And sleeping was out of the question. If he caught you closing your eyes for a little too long, he'd poke you in the waist to startle you out of your attempt.
To keep you up and present. His word, not yours.
If not a car ride, he'd make you watch him hurt something—or someone—often with his weird-looking needles he carried with him everywhere. He'd stick them into his targets, animals and humans alike, and they would cry, drop to the ground, and thrash agonizingly. Only when he pulled the needles out did the pain seem to stop.
He did that to your ex-friends, the ones who fled the moment they saw him and left you to face him alone, saying something about having to complete several missions in order to be allowed to come out of his house and play, and them not wanting to cooperate totally wasted his time.
"Good thing I had her," he said, cocking his head to the side as he observed the writhing bodies on the ground before turning to you. "Good thing she stayed."
You did, and even after fifteen years had passed, you were still with him.
You didn't know it at the time what knowing Illumi would entail, didn't know you'd lose your parents in a car accident just a few years later. Tragic deaths caused by bad weather and slippery road, making them lose control of the vehicle and plunge off the cliff. That was what you were told.
Thereafter, you were hired as a butler by the Zoldyck family, and since then, your new home had been the Kukuroo Mountain. Since then, Illumi had become an even bigger part in your life.
As your master and teacher, he taught you to use nen, to utilize your weak aura and make it stronger. He trained you hard and well enough to work with him, to assist him, heal him, but never well enough to hide from him, never that. His lessons were deliberate, crafted just for you. For some reason, you'd never get to learn how to leave this man.
You had tried to use Zetsu to conceal your aura, so he wouldn't sense you, but the moment you put one foot in front of the other with the intention to leave, he always knew—exactly what you were thinking, exactly where you were.
When it came to hide and seek, Illumi never lost. And although you both didn't play it anymore, it didn't feel like the game had ended at all. For a long while, you had wondered why he'd want to keep you so close to him, or to be precise, why he never grew out of his childish obsession of having you as his one and only, carefully-selected playmate.
The answer came to you one winter night as you watched him sleep, his body nestled against yours under the blanket. Eighteen and constantly questioning your life choices, or lack thereof, you had an epiphany.
You were the only friend he had.
The one he left in the forest on more than one occasion when it was your turn to be the seeker and yet the same one he had asked his mother if he could have share his room. You might call him 'Master Illumi' and do whatever he commanded, but then again, it was you who tended to his wounds while listening to him vent about his day. It was you who played with his hair until he fell asleep.
He had beautiful hair, jet-black, silky, and not short anymore as he'd decided to grow it out. He loved it when you ran your fingers through it. At such times, when he closed his eyes and breathed in and out evenly, welcoming your touch, it was almost like he had ceased being a cold-blooded assassin and had turned into a normal man who sought not violence but warmth. And for a moment, you were safe from his antics, cruel and sadistic antics that had later become something more perverted than evil as you both grew older.
You were nineteen when he threw his needles at you mid-sparring. It wasn't the first time he used them on you, but it was the first time you didn't remember anything after they pierced your skin. Normally, you'd just be paralyzed; you'd still see things that happened around you even though you couldn't move a muscle. But that time, everything went black, and when you regained consciousness, you were lying against Illumi's naked chest in a bathtub and his long fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy.
You remembered trying to get up from the tub, but because you were still disoriented and he was much stronger, you kept getting yanked back against his chest. When you were still enough, he lifted one of your legs and rested it over the edge of the tub, and then he got back to work, fucking your pussy until you came right there on his deft fingers.
He'd been a perverted, touch-starved demon ever since, and it was ridiculous how stable he was with this kind of thing. Because now at twenty two, he still found a way to touch you at every opportunity. Time and time again, he'd grope you when no one was watching. Walking past each other in the hallway would result in him pressing his needle against your throat just to back you into the nearest empty room for a couple of kisses, and more times than you could count, those kisses would then turn into a full make-out session, and he'd end up sucking your neck a little too hard and leave bruises that would raise a few eyebrows.
On some nights when playing with his hair failed to lull him to sleep, it wasn't unusual for him to hold you close and rub his swollen manhood on you while whispering possessively in your ear, reminding you that you belonged to him and him only.
He had taken his time with you, like a predator playing with its pray. Because despite the lewd advances, he had never actually gone all the way, but at this point, you knew it was only a matter of time.
That wasn't to say you were ready when it actually happened.
You didn't know what had gotten into him, but things got a bit intense last night, and by the end of it, you were left battered and beyond used. One minute it was a harmless grinding. You were both lying on your sides, and Illumi was fucking your thighs from behind. His cock was rubbing against your pussy's lips with every thrust but never penetrating, and that was how things were supposed to be. Nothing could have prepared you for the way he pushed his cock all the way inside you in the next unguarded moment. The action was sudden and absolute, as if to tell you he demanded no argument, and all you had to do was take it.
"This is nice," he said in your ear. "You feel so good around me."
"Master Illumi," you gasped and heard him huff a laugh.
"Yes?" he murmured.
"Am I—"
"Am I what?"
He began to move, slowly at first, but it didn't take long before he was pounding hard into you. Both of your naked bodies intertwined, so close, as though they were about to merge into one. In the midst of the intimacy, a series of questions rang deafeningly in your mind.
What if this changed everything? What if this was more serious than you thought? What if this was your life from now on? What if fifteen years were not enough to satisfy his twisted fixation? He had taken your parents from you. An accident? You knew Illumi too well to believe that lie. He killed them, and now he was fucking you, taking your body even though he already had your freedom. What was next, you life? Well, he already had that, too.
You felt tears prick your eyes as you asked, "Am I not your friend?"
"Of course you are," he answered after a short pause. "But don't you get it?"
He grabbed your face and forced you to turn your head to look at him.
"You were meant to be more."
Your thoughts were interrupted when the car came to a stop in front of what appeared to be an abandoned house. Turning your head to the driver's side, you found Illumi behind the wheel, staring straight ahead down the road at a low-rise hotel with an illuminated sign of its name at the top. He wore green today, looking as regal as ever and a tad more content than usual.
All you could think about as you took in his side profile was how sore your pussy was and that it was all because of him. The rest of the night was quickly replayed in your mind, and in all shameful honesty, it was mostly just you being fucked all over the room after that little conversation between you and him.
You remembered trying to fight him when he wouldn't let you rest after dumping his cum inside you for the third time. Annoyed and exhausted, you snapped and tried to strangle him with your nen rope, and for that, you'd learned a very important lesson.
Illumi didn't fight back or even dodge; he let it happen. He merely watched as you tightened the hold around his neck, his face turning redder and redder from the gradual increase of pressure, but never once did he utter a sound. You felt it in your heart that he would let you do it, that this was it, the chance to be free of him, but at the same time, you knew Illumi wouldn't fight a battle he wasn't sure he could win.
And he was right, as always, because he won.
The moment you let go of the rope, he immediately flipped you onto your back, shoved his still-throbbing cock in, and fucked you limp. He made sure you came on it too, and considering you had just tried to kill him, coming so hard your cunt pulsed around his dick was total a disgrace to your pride.
"I'm supervising this time," Illumi said, snatching you out of your memory. His gaze was now shifted to you. "You're on your own."
"You're coming with me, right?"
"I'll wait here."
It wasn't as if you had never been assigned a mission before, but it was the first time you had to complete it alone. The fact that Illumi was going to let you step out of this car, walk to that hotel the target was staying in, kill them, all without him watching your every move, told you more about what he was thinking than words could ever do.
He knew now you would never leave.
But you wanted to, you swore.
He knew last night changed everything.
And you wished it hadn't!
He knew you cared.
Because despite everything, he was your friend, too.
"Do you want me to fuck you in this car," he said and suddenly leaned across the center console towards you, "right here, right now?"
You blinked, eyes wide and face suddenly very warm, and quietly shook your head.
"Then stop looking at me like that."
He said that, but instead of backing away, he placed one hand on your thigh and then slowly dragged it up your body, unhurriedly, like you both had all the time in the world and there wasn't a job waiting to be finished. You held your breath, waiting to see where Illumi was heading with his little touch. When he stopped at your breast and gingerly kneaded it, you finally let yourself breathe and arch against his hand.
"Master Illumi," you whined, wishing whatever switch inside him wouldn't be flipped, so he would keep being gentle to you.
It was almost tolerable like this. This was okay.
"Calling me Master like I haven't spent all night breeding you."
He said against your lips and then he gave them a peck, once, twice, so uncharacteristically sweetly, yet so… him.
"It was good. No wonder Father kept knocking Mother up." He breathed the words out. "I want to do it again, wanna put my babies in you."
Illumi had always been a straightforward person, and he could say the most outrageous things, and you wouldn't be fazed. But now, you felt your face burn just from listening to those last few words that sounded suspiciously like a promise.
"I—I gotta go," you said before withdrawing yourself from his touch.
He hummed his assent and let you go without a fuss; his pitch-black eyes told you he'd wait for you to come back to him, that he knew you'd come back to him, that you'd better not disappoint him by thinking this was a chance to do something stupid.
Like running away from him and the life he had planned for you.
You closed the car door and began to walk, alone, accompanied by no one but the quietness of the night. But despite the illusion of freedom, you knew you were still shackled, tied to the man who had robbed you of the life you were supposed to live, bound by his will to possess you in every way imaginable. Yet you marched on, inhaling deeply and appreciating the solitude that you knew would not last.
Does anybody kind of like people or characters who are portrayed out of character and fanfiction? Or is it just me like yeah like do something you completely out of character is great, like sometimes I do like to see the goody two shoes character be a kind of a homewrecker. Or like I would love to see the normal portrayed hero who is like really cool be seen as a villain who's like a loser
Does anybody have any recs about a like totally spoiled, sugar baby type Dennis Whitaker. Like I don't care if it's Canon or it's something else but like I generally just want him to live the lavish pillow princess life he deserves. Even better if instead of it was Dennis it was low-key like John Carter that will also be great too.
Dennis developing the habit of manhandling Robby in the spot he needs him to be at work when he's too tired or doesn't have the time to explain. He grabs him by his scrubs or arms to move him. Robby lets it happen because the intimacy of the touch makes him a little giddy and he's pretty sure Dennis doesn't realise how often he does it.
Once, he blindly tries to grab him because he doesn't want to take his eyes off the patient but can't find him. Robby is already standing behind him, leaning forward to see but apparently it's not good enough for Dennis. He eventually touches Robby's necklace and, distractedly, hooks two fingers into it to drag him closer so that Robby can get a better look at the patient. Some nurses in the room do a double take. Robby blushes bright red but doesn't ask Dennis to let go. The chain digs deliciously into the back of his neck and he can see the sensual lines of Dennis' forearm muscles from this angle. Dennis has not stopped talking and just holds him there, not even looking at him. The whole thing screams ownership.
He just learned something new about himself in a room full of his colleagues and at the hands of his R1. This is so embarrassing. But shit, it's hot and he can't find the strength to interrupt Dennis and point out how inappropriate the situation is. He really hopes HR doesn't hear about this. Later that day, Robby looks up slip chain chokers and for a hot second considers buying one, hoping Dennis will drag him around the ER by it.
Sugar baby Dennis except it's just Dennis occasionally using the card Robby and Jack gave him to buy snacks and liquor for him and Trinity on their movie nights at her place.
But then one night they're all snuggled up in bed, bundled up in his pajamas under a fluffy blanket between Jack and Robby and he says that it feels like a sleepover. They tease him and Dennis turns red and says he's never been to a real sleepover as a kid. Robby is horrified, he'd gone to sleepovers as a kid, he'd been to camp, he'd done that his whole life. Jack shakes his head and says it's ridiculous, he'd done sleepovers, he'd slept in a pile with other boys his age in a field, if that counted.
So they tell Dennis to invite all the other "kids", both of them know the pittlings are grown adults but they're so young, to get everything he could imagine for a sleepover, and have everyone come over to the big brownstone they lived in, and have a real sleepover. Jack and Robby would stay upstairs, ignore the noise, just act like regular grown ups, staying away from the festivities, just checking in a few times.
Dennis told Trinity and they spent the most money they ever had, burning that credit card till they had Trinity's little car packed with snacks and pajamas and blankets and floor cushions and movies and face masks and palettes of cheap makeup and everything else Trinity knew could be fun. Robby just told him to have fun, Jack reminded him that the pizza place he liked delivered, and kept their promise, staying upstairs.
Dennis didn't know that having some friends over, being surrounded by twenty years old women, watching romcom movies and painting his nails and gossiping, he didn't know how much he missed out on.
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Married long haul trucker drivers rabbot whose favourite part of the job is finding sweet little toys to take on the road with them.
When they stumble across Dennis, trying to run away from home, eager enough to give them both a blow job in the gas station bathroom for a ride, they know they've struck gold.
At first they keep him a little drugged and pliant in the sleeping compartment so they can take their turns with his holes for some stress relief throughout the day.
Until they get far enough on the road that the real panic sets in, because Dennis is finally with it enough to realise they aren't going the direction they promised him they would.
It makes it all the more humiliating when they only smile down at him like circling sharks when he tries to fight them and run.
Feeling weak and stupid as they easily pin him down and keep him tied in place while they fuck him into submission. Until he's been fucked empty and hollow and willing.
Till he forgets a time where he wasnt being used to keep their cocks warm.
As a dumb little add-on to this post, that literally just popped into my head and made me laugh. I present to you this utter nonsense!!!! 🙌
Jack has a few days off while both Robby and Dennis have to work, so he has the whole house to himself for 12 whole hours. What he usually does if he's not called into Swat is just have a nice lazy and relaxing day. This always gets disturbed the moment both his mutt and puppy come home from work almost every time. It's like Jack's not allowed to relax. It's always the same thing too, for some reason, Jack relaxing means that both Robby and Dennis need to both be at their brattiest. It needs to be studied honestly in Jack's opinion.
Without fail, Jack will try to do something nice for his boys like cook a nice dinner for when they get home. But as soon as the door opens and all that can be heard is arguing, all of these nice plans go out the window. Dennis always makes it to Jack first all sad eyes and the face of innocence that Jack knows is a facade. That Dennis is tattling in hopes that his story will buy him a lesser punishment. And Dennis puts on a pretty decent show of painting his innocence while throwing Robby under the bus.
Robby, always the obedient mutt even when he knows he's in trouble, waits until Jack motions for him to explain his side of the story. This is where some details that Dennis has conveniently left out make themselves known. The whole time Robby is telling Jack what happened Dennis will interrupt with emphasis of how Robby was acting while he always has an excuse for his own bratty behavior, not quite yet knowing that this behavior is only gonna worsen his punishment.
By the end of their retelling of events, Jack now has to dole out effective corrections. Because he would like a couple weeks without either one acting out again, but he won't hold his breath. He knows that his mutt and puppy really feed off each others bratty behavior if left alone together for too long. Despite Robby being Dennis' Dom has never stopped Robby from stooping to Dennis' level whenever given the opportunity. This previously relaxing day ends in Robby having only been allowed to cum once after hours of edging, and without permission to touch himself, Dennis or Jack. Meanwhile, Dennis is overestimated and still shaking from his 10th orgasm of the night, ass bright red from 6 extra spanks because he kept miscounting.
And while Jack will say he'd prefer his days off to remain calm, cool, and relaxing. He really does secretly love when his boys misbehave.
That's it. I hope yall enjoyed this, I wrote it while at work. And again, as always, if anyone wants this, they can take it and run with it, enjoy!!!!
He couldn't think, head spinning and light. The faint sound of buzzing filled the room. Dennis couldn't tell how many times he'd cum, just that his thighs were slick and his cunt hurt from constant vibrations. Drooling from both his mouth and cunt. Glancing down at his daddy who was talking to sir their voices muffled to his ears. "s too much" he whimpered out only to be met with a slap to his clit.
"Clearly not you still haven't apologised." Jack growled out, eyes dark with lust. Handing Robby a long rabbit shaped toy. "try this one next brother.
Humming the attending removed the vibrator from Dennis's twitching pussy prepping the toy he was handing. Running it over Dennis's slick clit.
Any other fans of the pitt and interview with a vampire??
Im starting to see Hucklerobby as a version of Devils Minion / Armand x Daniel.
Like Dennis meets Robby when hes young and cant stop thinking about him. When he finds Robby later when hes older, he still cant stop thinking about him and turns him. Especially with the line from The Vampire Lestat "hi dad".
Robby having mommy and vampire daddy issues is just beautiful
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WC- 7.6k (i'm so sorry yall idk what my problem is)
Summary- You’re planning a surprise party for your brother, Jack. Your secret relationship with his best friend threatens to blow the whole thing up.
Contains- 18+ SMUT MDNI, unprotected p in v (bad idea!!! bc always!!!) oral (m and f receiving), this is honestly just nasty sorry yall, robby being a bitch as always, he tries to be mean and dominant but is Down Bad, they kind of take turns as the brat and the brat tamer, r is bestie with pittlings, alcohol usage, brief mention of park the shark but purely to move the plot forward, trinity being a messy gay, nearly getting caught teehee
A/N- divider from @enchanthings! Obsessed with @mariasont’s abbot!reader and i wanted to take a stab at it <3 as always thank you to my bestie @whatif-ialreadydid for being the best beta reader!
Soft sheets envelop your frame as you hunch over your laptop, criss cross applesauce in your bed. Your manicured nails clack on the keyboard, brows furrowed in concentration as you navigate some stupid e-vite website Javadi recommended. Splashes of glittery pinks and purples erupt in your screen, the words "JJ'S 5OTH" sprawled across the top.
You review the information- day, time, location, a sinister smile spreading across your face. Clicking to your laptop's messages, you send the link to a large group chat containing your brother's colleagues.
A buzz ruptures the peaceful calm of your bedsheets, the large, languid frame next to you turning over to pick up the phone. You avert your gaze from your screen, Michael's arms stretching above his head, eyes squinting to see his phone.
"I need my readers…" he mumbles, and your heart beats thrice as fast.
"Old man," you murmur, lips pursing into a much sweeter smile than before.
You nudge his leg with yours, giggling at his scoffs of protest, the light kicks his tired bones allow. You flop down on your back, curling into the long, rigid frame next to you.
You catch him at the tail end of a big stretch, the hem of his white t-shirt riding up to reveal the patch of hair decorating his lower belly. A shiver unravels his body as your fingers skim over the sensitive skin, fiddling with the waistline of his boxers.
He reaches up to grab your face, bringing you down to kiss him. Your lips slot over his, moving in a tandem that releases butterflies into your belly. You rest your hands delicately on his chest, a low groan reverberating under your fingertips.
"Want you," you whisper sweetly against his lips, swinging your legs over his hips and sinking your weight down.
He breathes out a whine, pressing his eyes shut, pronouncing the lines that decorate the area. You lean in and place a light kiss on each set of wrinkles, before darting your lips around all points of his face- his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead.
You roll your hips against his, your arms crossing over your stomach to lift your (Robby's) shirt over your h-
Bloop.
You both freeze, the cruel reminder of your laptop's presence resting beside you, the lifelong nickname you gave your brother aglow in bright red. All while you're about to get naked for his best friend.
You lean sideways, twisting on his lap, a shiver running down your spine as he grips your waist a bit tighter at your movements. The laptop falls shut, and you turn back, the sight of him stopping you short.
A sliver of morning creeps through the window, illuminating the hair peppering down his chest, teeth sinking in to your lip at the sight. You prop your hands on his chest, leaning your weight ever so slightly.
His arms reach up to graze your forearm, goosebumps unlocking with each touch. A sigh falls past your lips as you find his eyes, your heart palpitating at the softness swirling through the honey brown.
"Michael," you whisper, your eyes falling shut as you start to move your hips. It's slow, teasing and tantalizing. His own eyes fall shut, a groan rumbling past his lips.
"I love it when you call me that," he gruffs. You press your hips in deeper.
His hands start to creep up the loose, tattered fabric falling over your frame. It's a ratty Creed shirt that nearly pre-dates you, and he can't resist you in it. His large fingers grip your waist, kneading your plush skin, the chub of your hips, the fat of your ass.
Your head falls to the side, body going limp at the warmth spreading through your belly. It allows Robby to take over, skilled and swift fingers lifting it over your head. He sits up then, placing a hand on the arch of your back, pulling you to him.
You fall on to him, lips moving in tandem, tongues deftly tasting each other. Your nails reach his scalp, scratching lightly between kisses, reveling in the light whimpers falling out of his mouth, the deep furrow of his brows.
"So sensitive," you tease, your lips kissing and biting and sucking his neck.
His hips jerk involuntarily, the heavy weight of him pressing beneath you. More whimpers, eyes falling shut and head falling back.
"Please," he whispers, "pl-"
The click of the front door robs him of his plea, a loud call of your name sinking the both of you in ice cold water.
"Ffffuuuuuccckkkk," you panic under your breath, scurrying off of Robby as you scramble for a shirt- yours, not his.
Robby throws the sheets off of him, throwing on his sweatpants in record speed.
"Just a sec, JJ!" You call out, trying to control your labored breath. "Just got out of the shower!" You lie, ensuring he won't come in. You've never been more thankful for an en suite bathroom.
He doesn't typically burst in your room, but you are staying at his house for free, and he is your big brother. Sometimes he likes to tackle you awake when you've slept too long for his liking. Not today, Satan.
You push Robby's solid shoulders out the door to your terrace, your eyes peeled on the way his big, broad frame climbs down. You can't help but giggle, the cracking of his knees paired with the juvenility of his actions providing a sweet contrast to the panic coursing through you.
He disappears from sight, and it snaps you back to reality, to the steps of your brother coming up the stairs. You pull on a pair of your own pants, and slide your way out the door. Pressing your back against the closed door, you give your brother an innocent smile. All the while, your ears are peeled for the telltale creaks and whines of Robby slinking down the front of your house.
"Hi JJ!" You chirp, giving him a quick hug in greeting.
"Hey hun," he says, patting you on the head. You smile, rocking back and forth on your feet, eager to tell him to finally take a night off.
"What's this about?" He asks, deadpan in disdain, hand gesturing to your giddy expression. "Why are you looking at me like a crazy person?"
"Well…" you start, walking around him to the steps, "someone has a birthday coming up," you muse. "I just wanted to suggest taking the night off, you deserve the rest!" You say, trotting off down the steps and ignoring his incredulous laugh.
You know it'll take more convincing to get him to actually do it, but you successfully coerced him to let you move into his huge house for free. You're not super concerned about persuading him.
The next couple days are jam-packed with party planning. It's difficult when he's home all day, to pick up flower orders, balloon fixtures, the cake, for goodness' sake. You feel like Magnum P.I., (a movie Robby showed you) skirting around your brother like this.
Of course, it's not the only way you're doing that to him.
Robby's in your bed every night, without fail. Shame burns in your stomach as you wait for him, perched on the bed, the door to your terrace cracked. The soft glow of your lamp wraps around you as you see him climb up, bustling through the railing. By the time he's through the door, he's already peeling his sweatshirt off.
Soft smiles are exchanged as he paws off his shoes, his eyes never leaving you- clad in a small pink cotton tank top, matching shorts stretched under the plush of your thigh. He licks his lips at the sight of them, stretched taut over your thick skin.
His head shakes as he stops, clad only in his boxers and underscrubs that pinch his waist deliciously. You bite your lip at the sight of him, hair mussed, eyes tired, lips turned up in a delicate smile.
"What?" You whisper, tantalizing. "I need you," you pout, elbows meeting in front of you to push your tits up.
"Jesus fuck," he grumbles, scruffing his hand over his beard. "You're just beautiful," he shakes his head, crawling onto your bed. "Can't believe I get to come back from a shift to this."
He rests on his side, turning you toward him, still on your knees. He just takes you in, tired body sinking into your plush bed, eyes not leaving your pebbled tits. The cool night air drifts in from the terrace, and you shiver a bit, chest shaking with the motion.
The thick of his cock plumps up at the sight, his own shiver unleashing down his spine. He reaches a hand up, cupping your cheek and kissing you. He grabs you, pulls you over him so you can press your center into his.
The weight of his hardness beneath you never fails to make you dizzy, your eyes falling closed as you absentmindedly grind into him. His hands are everywhere, pawing at your ass, squeezing and kneading, moving up to your love handles, pinching playfully before finally landing at your tits.
He squeezes them through the thin fabric of your pajamas, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You whine, throwing your head back, pushing your breasts into him further.
"Michaelllll," you draw out, a whiny pitch to your words. "It's already so good. How is this so good?" You wonder out loud, the sole feeling of humping against him rendering you nearly useless.
He wraps his large arms around you, pulling you close to him and planting a hungry kiss on your lips. His mouth is greedy, all consuming as it slots over yours. It takes some serious restraint on his part not to swallow you whole, and the thought of that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins.
"I know, honey," he mumbles against your lips. His own move from your lips, to your cheek, to your ear, nibbling playfully on the lobe. You giggle, and he pinches your ass.
"Your body feels so fucking good on top of me, made for me, hm?" He asks, the point of his nose nudging yours.
You nod desperately, eyes wide and glassy, lips pouty. He kisses it off, and you whine again.
"Made for you," you confirm, picking up the speed of your hips.
You feel him shake under you, his hands coming to your waist to slow your movements. A bratty pout sprouts on your lips once more, your hips disobeying with all their might, desperate for more friction.
"Slow down, you brat," he teases, swatting your ass before you give up, slumpig against his large frame.
He runs his hands up and down your back as you both catch your breath, your chests rising and falling against each other's.
"I was gonna cum. Didn't wanna do that when I wasn't inside you." he admits against your neck, and you squeal in delight.
"Really?" You ask, eyes aglow at the information. "Big Dr. Robby was gonna come in his pants because of me? Really?" You ask again, a teasing lilt to your voice that has him beet red.
"God, fuck don't fucking call me doctor right now," he pulls his head out of your neck, your words rendering him boneless. He flops back onto the bed, hands coming up to cover his eyes.
"Sorry, Doctor," you pout, slinking your knees between Robby's, hitching your hands under his knees and spreading them apart.
You giggle at the crack of his hip, a groan of discomfort falling from his mouth. You stand tall on your knees, resting his calves on your shoulders. You turn to plant a kiss to his ankle, and he whimpers.
Your manicured nails reach under the waistband of his boxer shorts, running one finger along the hem. He shivers at the touch, his nipples hardening under the nylon fabric still donning his chest.
You change that, nails raking up his stomach, ribs, and chest, taking his under scrubs with them. He lifts up his arms submissively, his cheek falling onto the pillow as you pull it off of him.
You take a minute to appreciate him in this position- legs hiked up, soft belly all scrunched, chest heaving up and down. You have no choice but to absolutely devour him.
You set his legs down gently, keeping them apart as you lower yourself to his groin. His bulge is prominent through his boxers. You cup it with vigor, biting your lip at the feeling, the smell, the noises coming from his mouth.
"Want me to put it in my mouth, Doctor?" You ask, peeling the fabric over his hard length. It springs free, and you waste no time wrapping your hand around it.
Your mouth finds his balls, tugging them into your mouth and sucking gently, your fist working his cock. His head falls back on the pillows, a loud cry emenating from his mouth.
"Fuck, that's so good," he whimpers as you press delicate kisses up his shaft to his tip, tongue darting out to clean up his leaky slit. His hands find your hair, petting and rubbing and tugging on it. You take in more of him, hallowing your cheeks and sucking. Hard.
His hips jerk up, forcing you to take even more of him. He hits the back of your throat, and you gurgle around him, eyes watering as he hits your gag reflex, over and over.
The feeling of him in your mouth is a delicious discomfort, stretching your throat and mouth for his pleasure. The thought of this, of treating big mean Dr. Robby so good, has you weak in the knees, butterflies swarming your belly. You tell him so, actually.
"Feels so good," you splutter, spit reverberating off his cock as you speak. You work your hand up and down his length, keeping him right in your palm as you talk. "Love making you feel good, baby. You work so hard, hm?" You ask, voice high pitched. needy, and whiny. It's his favorite, and you can tell by the pre-cum that continues to leak out of him. You lean down and lick some up.
"Yeah," you sympathize, eyes big and watery. "Y'just need someone pretty to hold all of that, just for a little bit. Right?" You asks, and he nods a pathetic answer. "Big, mean Dr. Robby just needs his pretty girl to work his cock out."
"Fuck!" He throws his head back at that, cum sputtering out of him. It covers your hands, his stomach, his chest, your chest. You continue to squeeze it out of him, tightening your hand to get the rest out.
His chest heaves as he comes down from his high, the soft look in his eye unleashing an endless flutter in your tummy. You work your hand until he can't take it any longer, pawing you off of him.
You lean down to lick him clean, and he groans as his thick release coats your tongue. You don't swallow, lifting your head to his to plant a salty, tangy kiss to his lips.
His own tongue starts moving on its own accord, licking and sucking and panting, his large hand covering the expanse of your cheek. You let up just a little, and he's not having it. He plants one, two, three more little kisses before finally releasing you.
"You like tasting yourself?" You whisper against his lips.
He whines, gripping your waist tighter at the question. He buries his face in your neck, face warm, lips planting kisses along your skin.
You chuckle in victory, placing a sweet kiss on the top of his head.
You flop onto your own back, getting yourself comfortable for him to return the favor. He claps a palm to your raised knee, resting on his elbow as he turns towards you.
He slinks himself between your legs, lifting your ankles to his shoulders, just like you did with him moments before. Raw vulnerability is a fire poker to your stomach, laid out before him like this.
He kisses your ankle, your calf, your inner thigh. He lowers himself onto the bed the higher he goes. Your breath hitches the closer he gets to your core, the sharp tip of his nose nuzzling your clit before pressing a kiss there.
"Oh, Michael," you whimper, your brows pinching.
You scoop your legs up with your hands, and he spreads you further with his big hands before going in.
He's ruthless with his assault, licking you from your opening all the way up to your clit, puncturing it with a harsh suck. Your head falls back, whines and whimpers an endless stream pouring from your lips.
"'S good?" He asks against your skin, and the vibrations have you shaking under his touch.
Your stomach twists as he licks, kisses, and sucks. He darts his tongue in and out, next, his thumb rubbing taut circles on your most sensitive spot.
A white hot burn brews in your belly, bubbling like stew.
"Michael, it's so good, your mouth is always perfect, fuck," you moan out, jaw slack at the pleasure coursing through you.
"Always perfect, hmm?" He hums between kisses, his thumb rubbing continuous circles as he looks up at you. "Better than any asshole your age yeah? Needed an old man to treat this pussy right?"
Your face burns at his filthy words, closing your eyes yet nodding yes. Your cheek finds your pillow, and you nuzzle in, while sinking your fingers in his hair, pushing you back to your center.
"I'm close, please keep going," you plead, which he answers eagerly.
"Got you," he mumbles against you, wrapping his arms around your legs and pulling you closer, nearly smashing his face in your center. "Gonna make you feel so good, go ahead, come for me."
His permission unravels you, white hot pleasure hitting you like a tsunami, waves ebbing and flowing as you shake in his arms.
Your chest heaves as you come down, eyes desperate to see him as he crawls up your body. You rake your nails down his chest, reveling in his shiver, greedy fingertips finding his once-again hard length. He freezes, though, and you stop your movements.
"Sweet girl…" he starts and your stomach sinks.
"Robinavitch…" you trail off, propping yourself up on your own elbows, brow raising in suspicion. "Don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me."
"I can't stay," he breaks the news, and rage runs through you like a river.
"What the fuck do you mean you can't stay?" You sit up on your knees, assuming your sultriest pose, desperate to keep him right where you want him.
"We almost got caught last time," he starts, running his palm over his mouth. "I don't think I can afford to do that again."
"Oh, but you could afford to come and get your dick sucked?" You wave your hands in exasperation. He flinches at your wild tone, and your heart sinks. You want to shove him.
"Listen, I'm sneaking in and out through your terrace! I don't think I've done that since the 80s," he holds his hands up in surrender, and it makes you want to smack him.
His words hit you hard, though, like little pinpricks to your heart. The backs of your eyes burn, and you avert your gaze. God forbid he sees you cry.
"You seem to like the benefits of that trek, though, Robinavitch," you quip, ignoring the burning desire to take him in your arms, to wake up and fall asleep with him there.
He has nothing to say to that, and you swear you can feel your heart break, just a little.
"Get out of here," you wave him off before he can see his affect on you.
"I-" he starts, but you whip his clothing at him, effectively cutting him off.
"I don't wanna fucking hear it," you snap, heart racing and adrenaline pumping. "You really thought you could just come over, get your rocks off, and then go? That's all I am here? Just a fun little quest while you're trying to figure your shit out?" Your voice climbs higher with each syllable, and he cringes with each accusation thrown his way.
"Honey, I'm sorry. Of course that's not it, I just-" He starts, but you have no more patience.
"Get out," you point toward the door leading to your terrace. It's a force of habit, since he's never left so early, he technically doesn't have to take that route tonight. You honestly kind of want him to fall, break a few bones on the concrete below. That'll teach him. "Out. Now!" You demand, pushing his half-clad body out the door.
He resists, pushing against you in the direction of the actual bedroom door.
"If that's alright with you," he starts, annoyance pricking his own tone now. "I'm going to use the front door. Like a fucking adult," that last part is pointed, and each word is an arrow to your heart.
"Really, Robinavitch? You wanna go there with me?" You ask, fire spewing from your lips.
You're following him out of the room, trailing behind him down the grand spiral staircase lining your brother's house.
"Where? Where am I going?" He asks, tempting your limits. "I thought I was just going home."
"God, you're such a fucking bitch!" You spew from halfway down the stairs, stomping your foot against the wood like a child. You ignore the pain that shoots through your ankle and up your leg, like you ignore the throb in your heart, the tremble in your lips.
"Least I'm not a child," he calls back, deadpan. "See you tomorrow, pretty girl."
With that, the door slams behind him. You bury your face in your hands, plant yourself on the steps, and cry.
The grief of the night before sits heavy in your chest, a dark cloud rolling over what should be a happy day. Jack is still sleeping, thankfully his shift the night before was taxing enough to knock him out solidly.
You've pattered around the house all day, letting in vendors, grabbing the decorations you've shoved in closets for weeks. Nerves pump through your veins all day, anticipating your brother's reaction to your elaborate surprise.
Around noon, it's finally starting to come along. The sun shines through the bright pinks, yellows, and blues that decorate the backyard. It hangs high in the sky, the peak of the day waiting for you.
You take a moment to soak it up, breathing in the chlorine-scented air to try and ease your nerves.
You're snapped out of your reprieve by the slide of the back door, and you whip around to see your brother, brows furrowed in surprise.
"Woahhhh, what's this, kiddo?" He asks, bringing his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Happy birthday, JJ!" You squeal, hugging him back.
"This is all for me?" He asks, head whipping around, taking in the transformation of his backyard.
"Surprise!" You throw your hands up, your pride burying the heartbreak from the night before, just slightly.
"Friends are coming in about a half hour," you tell him, circling the patio table, setting up various snacks and drinks. "We're just about finished out here, and I'm gonna go get changed! Cheers, birthday boy!" You toss him a can of Coors Light before darting to the glass door he just came out of moments before.
"It's noon!" He calls back, and you roll your eyes.
"It ain't called day drinking unless you start drinking in the day!" You call back, retreating to the quiet of the inside.
You take a moment to appreciate your hard work- it's spotless, the decorations in your living room nearly mirroring the festivities outside.
You slink up to your room, your heart sinking as the memory of last night creeps up your spine like a spider- sharp and biting. You press your fingers to your waterline, desperate to protect your eye makeup from running. You won't ruin hundreds of dollars of makeup for Michael Robinavitch.
You open your closet, grabbing the pink swimsuit you bought just for this occasion. It's a burning, bright pink, straps as thin as can be, paired with a matching sarong. You pull it on, adjusting your chest in the cups of the suit before pulling on your sandals.
The doorbell rings as you jog down the stairs, heart racing in anticipation.
You're greeted by Ellis and Shen, and you throw your arms up in celebration. You pull them both in for a group hug, relishing in the feeling of their constricting muscles under your hands.
"You guys look great! What are they doin' to ya over in the night shift?" You ask, looking back at them while leading them inside.
"Too much, I'll tell you that," Ellis responds, heading straight for the drinks table.
She grabs two, and cracks one of her own. Shen trades his Dunkin' for a can she's holding out to him, and you swipe the latte from the kitchen island. You take a sip, a buttery vanilla coating your tongue.
"Hmm, that's pretty good," you shrug, putting it in the fridge for when he'll inevitably go back to it before his shift later.
"You're gross," he teases, and you stick your tongue out.
People continue to filter in as the afternoon crawls on, the day shift slowly taking over for the night shift as the sun goes down. It's a perfect golden hour when you see him again, and the sight still knocks you off your center, even after all these weeks.
He's greeted with smiles and celebration throughout the backyard, jealousy sliding down your spine like sticky slime. The idea of others seeing him, knowing him, is almost too much for you to bear witness to right now.
You turn away from him, the shiny, sheer fabric of your skirt illuminated by the evening glow of the sun. You perch your hands on the table in front of you, under the guise of leaning closer to see something on Javadi's phone.
You arch your back with the movement, your plush skin moving with your giggles in a way you know will make Robby crazy. You continue to talk to the Pittlings, who have become some of your closest friends since moving back in with your brother.
"You've got someone staring a hole through your back right now, by the way," Victoria says, lifting her drink in Robby's direction.
"More like her ass," Santos adds, slapping you there as she approaches the group, plopping down on the chaise lounge next to Victoria.
"Oh God," you groan, hands covering your burning cheeks.
"How's that treating you, by the way?" Whitaker asks, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Messing around behind your brother's back?"
"Pshh," you huff, rolling your eyes. "Just about as good as you'd expect. He has the emotional depth of an acorn."
"That's being generous," Samira adds, cheering your can with hers in response.
"That bad, huh?" Whitaker asks, and your heart picks up in your chest.
"It's just-" you start, taking a large sip of your drink before you start. "He wants me one second, and then doesn't the next. It's so confusing. I don't know what else I expected when we got together, but this wasn't it."
"I mean, it's honestly enough of a feat in itself that you got him to open up at all," Trinity says, taking her own sip.
This quells your worries only slightly, and you shake your head to ponder her point.
"I guess, but last night he just took off. Didn't spend the night," you mutter that last part quietly, and are met with disapproving groans and wolf whistles from your friends.
"Oh, shit," Samira says, sitting up. "You like him!"
"What? No I don't!" You insist, the words sputtering from your lips.
"Uh, yeah, ya do," Trinity adds, rolling her eyes at the incessant shakes of your head. "If you don't like him, then why are you constantly texting me about how sexy he is?" She asks, pointedly holding up her phone.
"Gross," Samira says, under her breath.
Your cheeks burn.
"You wanna prove you don't like him?" Trinity challenges, and a pit forms in your stomach.
You nod desperately, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
"See that guy over there?" She asks, head nodding towards a certain party-goer.
He's massive, a buff guy with slicked hair that you vaguely recognize from your brothers' stories. He doesn't work directly in the ER, that much you know. Maybe a surgeon?
"Park? Really?" Whitaker asks, disgust tingeing his voice.
"Really," Trinity stands firm on her decision. "If you don't like Robby-" she fakes a gag at that, "then go flirt with Park the Shark."
She wiggles her eyebrows in intrigue as you find his eyes again. He's looking at you this time, a sinister grin on his lips. Something wrong pounds in your heart, but your stubborn resolve wins over.
You stand up straight, flipping your hair over your shoulders, popping your hip before sauntering over. You turn back to your friends, giving a cheeky wink and a wave.
"Watch me," you whisper, slinking your way over.
You spot Robby in your peripheral, his inquisitive eye tracking your every move. He goes rigid when he sees where you're going, and you can't help but buck up a little, pushing your chest out as you descend on your prey.
"Hi!" You chirp, placing a delicate hand on his thick bicep. "I need your workout routine! How is this even possible?" You gush, though each word feels like poison on your lips.
He puffs up, says something stupid about his gym membership, and you continue to ooh and awe, batting him your sweetest lashes.
You feel Robby's eyes on you the entire time, and you don't hesitate to play the part. You shake your hair from side to side, letting the sunlight hit different points of your face. His eyes burn into your face, and your stomach burns, but not with the butterflies you're used to. It's dark, shameful and pitying.
You throw your head in the other direction, under the guise of getting the sun out of your eyes. Really, though, you want to see the sun hitting another man, standing on the other side of the backyard.
The honey brown of his eyes light up with the late afternoon glow, jealousy ferociously coursing through them. You perk up, remembering why you're there. You arch your back, lean into him slightly. Your laughter is a little too loud, bending over a little too far at his jokes.
You spare one more glance. He's setting his drink down, he's running his hands over his mouth. You turn back to the man on your arm.
"I can't believe you can make all that work with such a busy schedule!" You gush, petting his arm up and down.
"Yeah, well-"
"Hey," a gruff voice interrupts him from behind.
You freeze at the familiar sound, your heart falling into your stomach. Your cheeks burn, your eyes frantic as they scan the faces of your friends, an even mix of shock and intrigue.
You turn your body slowly, reluctantly meeting his gaze. It takes the breath out of you when you finally see him, his brown eyes a mix of regret and adoration.
"Hi," you respond, your breath hitched in your throat.
"Can we talk, uh, alone?" His hand reaches to scruff the back of his hand, and your heart nearly melts at the self soothing motion.
"Uhm…" you start, eyebrows raising. "I'm actually talking to someone. Recognize him?"
You know it's bitchy, but you can't help the rage that courses through you at his question. Now he wants to talk? The second you start flirting with someone else?
He clears his throat, the apples of his cheeks tinting red as he now takes in his audience- a colleague so ruthless he's compared to an apex predator.
"You know him, pretty girl?" Park asks.
The familiar name sends a twinge of disgusts from your heart to your belly. Your mouth twists downward, and suddenly, this isn't much fun anymore.
"Yeah," Robby interjects, gripping your forearm. "She does."
He manhandles you away from him, fire burning in his gaze. As mad as you are right now, you're damn thankful he got you out of this.
"What the hell, Robby?" You whisper yell, throwing your hand out in exasperation.
"Meet me inside," he demands, turning to walk inside.
You stand there, frozen, your heart galloping in your chest. You find your friends again, throwing a scared, yet excited glance their way as you start to follow him. They're confused at first, then look towards the door, sending a mix of 'good luck's and 'don't fuck it up's your way.
You pick your speed up as you turn around, a prissy little half jog to catch up to his long strides. He stops before you can catch yourself, causing you to run straight into his broad, strong back.
You collapse with the thin, linen fabric of his shirt, and you can't help but sink your fingers in it to help stop yourself. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.
"Oomph!" You squeal into the fabric, cheeks burning even hotter under his dubious gaze.
You shove him lightly, once, twice, three times before he's finally crossing the threshold.
Thankfully, the living room is empty as you slide the glass door closed behind you. You nick the lock into place, just in case.
The air between the two of you is thick, warm like the humidity radiating outside. You run nervous fingers through your hair, your stomach bubbling with nauseating anxiety.
"What, Robby?" You ask, your heart beating a mile a minute. It pounds in your ears, and you can barely hear his response. "What do you want?"
"I just-" he starts, plowing five fingers through his hair. "I just wanted to see you again. I couldn't keep looking at you with that fucking asshole-"
"Really?" You cut him off. "The only reason you're fucking speaking to me is because you felt threatened? Do you realize how big of an ass this makes you sound?"
"Fuck," he mutters, running his hands down his face in exasperation. "You're gonna fucking kill me, kid."
"What, am I wrong?" You question, voice raising ever so slightly. "Am I wrong?"
"Quiet down!" He hisses, frantically looking around him.
"Oh. My God, Michael," you snap, turning away from him and towards the steps.
You hear him padding behind you, frustrated stomps echoing the plop of your sandals.
"You are so infuriating, you know that?" You ask, starting up the stairs. He follows, and you can feel his gaze nearly burning a hole through your ass.
"You don't even know the half of it," he bites back, reaching up to swat at your backside.
You pause on the landing, turning your body to face him. Your face rages with anger, while your stomach swirls with a sultry warmth.
"What do you think this is?" You demand, tone even bitchier than before, if possible. "Do you think this is just a pump and dump? That you can just do that to me and not spend the night?"
The air grows cold at your last question, the root of this argument finally escaping your lips. Your heart drops, the heat rushing from your face, abandoning you in the bitter cold of being known.
Robby sinks his weight on his back leg, rearing his head back in incredulous frustration. A disbelieving smile spreads across his lips as he props his hands on his hips.
"Is that what this is about?" He asks, tonguing the inside of his cheek to keep a laugh from bubbling over. "You're mad because I didn't spend the night?"
Your mouth twists up in an angry pout, stomping your foot petulantly before turning to finish your ascent up the staircase.
"Are you serious?" He asks, anger lacing his tone as he follows you, eventually into your room.
He shuts the door behind him, a broad stance between you and the outside world.
"You're being a brat because I didn't spend the night?" He asks, sauntering closer to you.
Each step has your heart beating louder in your ears, blood rushing through your veins. You maintain your resolve as best you can, the heady buzz of his proximity weakening your knees.
"I'm not a fucking brat," you spit through your teeth as he nears closer, dropping your head back to stare him dead in his eye.
"Really?" He asks, his hand grazing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "To me, a brat flirts with my colleague to try and get a rise out of me."
His fingers find their way under your jaw, gripping enough to gain control, ensuring your eyes never leave his.
"I wasn't trying to get a rise out of you," you lie through your teeth, a sinister smirk curling your lips.
The energy between you is electric, buzzing through every part of your bodies. Heat burns deep in your belly, spreading to the apex of your thighs.
"Really?" He asks, disbelief lacing his tone.
"Really," You insist, nuzzling into the firm grip of his palm, a dreamy look widening your eyes. "He's super hot, thought he might be good in bed-"
You don't get through much else before he's smashing his lips to yours, bending his knees to scoop you up by the backs of your thighs. You waste no time wrapping yourself around him, your arms around his neck, mirroring the grip your legs have on his waist.
He tosses you onto the bed with little regard, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes darkening as he rips off his shirt with one hand. He crawls on the bed, kneeling tall as he creeps in between your legs.
"You really think I'm gonna give in this easy?" You ask, your eyes sparkling.
"Yes," he says, reaching down to untie the sarong constricting your waist. It falls at your sides, revealing your plush skin and the tiny strings of your bikini.
"Christ," he runs a hand down his face. "How is this even legal to wear? So fuckin' tiny."
He flips you over, taking advantage of your cheeky bottoms to land a few teasing spanks on your exposed ass. You whine, your body jerking at the impact. You rest your cheek on your folded hands, arching your back and wiggling slightly, desperate for more attention from his hands.
"Now, see, that…" he starts, landing another harsh smack on your supple skin. "That is something a brat would do," he grits through his teeth, landing one, two, three more spanks.
"Michael," you moan out, wiggling your hips in desperate search of any friction. "Don't tease me," you whine, pouting your lips.
"Ohohoho," he chuckles, incredulously, landing five consecutive, merciless smacks. "Now you wanna be my sweet pretty girl again? Not gonna work that way, sorry baby."
His hand comes up to untie the strap of your bikini top, flipping you over on your back once more. He whips the thin fabric over your head, hands mercilessly palming your sensitive chest. His fingers close in around them, and you arch into his firm grip.
His palms brush against your nipples with each roll of his hands, your eyes falling closed and legs falling open.
You rock your hips into his, relishing in the moan he releases when you move your core up and down his thickening length.
"Take it off, Michael," you plead as his fingers hook under the waistline of your bathing suit.
He smiles wickedly, before pulling the fabric taut against your center, a delicious stretch of polyester pressing into your clit.
"Y'think I'm gonna just give in? Just like that?" He asks sardonically. "Do you even know me, baby?"
"Yes," you quip, echoing his answer from earlier.
At that, he snaps the teeny strap of your bottoms against the supple skin of your hip, and you cry out. Your legs spread on their own accord, knees falling to the bed. He blows out a whistle at the action, shaking his head in revelry.
Your cheeks burn at your neediness, your desperation for the large man above you. You kick your legs slightly, a petulant action that has him pinning you down with his large hands. He swats your inner thigh, and shows no remorse when you whine.
"You wanna be needy now, hm? This pussy's so fucking wet," he slides your bathing suit to the side, skimming his fingers up your slick center. "You need me so bad, huh? Should've thought of that before you decided to fucking flirt with Park."
He spits the name out, disgust coating the syllable. Your tummy turns with regret at your earlier actions. Your cheeks heat, eyes going wide. He clocks it immediately, face immediately softening. He purses his lips, a pathetic coo escaping them.
"Oh, sweet girl," he drags the pet name out, and you kick your legs under him again, desperate for something, anything.
He finally drags the rest of your swimsuit off, pulling himself out and entering you with a swift, merciless thrust.
It knocks the wind out of you, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. It always takes a moment to adjust to him, especially now, unprepared, but you can't seem to care. The stretch is too tantalizing, too good. You tell him so, in breathless whimpers and moans.
He smiles sardonically, wasting no time moving in and out of you. Each thrust is like a punch to your gut, a desperate little 'uh' falling from your lips with each one. A burning hot sensation builds in your stomach, right where he hits you, over and over again.
"Michaeelll," you whine, scraping your nails down his sturdy chest. You revel in the way his round body meets your hips, your center welcoming his soft belly with each thrust. "Feels so good, you're so beautiful."
Your eyes sparkle while you compliment him, a smile spreading your mouth as he goes red, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact. He thrusts harder, though, reaching a hand down to rub your neglected clit. His rough fingers slide over the wet nub with a delicious friction, a tsunamic wave of pleasure threatening to take over.
"That's a crazy thing to say," he remarks, trying mightily to keep his resolve. His desperation only makes you wetter, warmer, tighter.
"Fuck-" he groans out, "fucking crazy, honey. You're the prettiest one here, yeah? Had every single eye on you in that suit," he punctuates each word with a ruthless thrust.
"Made me so fucking crazy, could only keep it together knowing I was gonna be the one to take it off you. So show me, baby. Show me why you've been letting me get you naked in your brother's house for the past six weeks."
Stars burst behind your eyes at this, insatiable moans ripping from your chest. You grab at him, pulling him close to you as you ride out your high, which has since triggered his. You pulse around him as he twitches inside of you, pumping each drop into you.
You whimper and moan as the sensitivity dawns on you, pushing him off slightly, a silent plea to stop.
"Okay, baby, okay," he whispers, brushing a hand through your hair. It's soothing as he pulls out, and you can't help but grip his wrist, pressing a kiss to the small tattoo there.
"It's okay, I got you," he says, now laying on his side with his arms around your back.
You're snapped out of your peaceful daze by a sharp knock on the door. You both freeze in each other's arms, so silent you could hear a pin drop.
"Hey hun," you hear your brother on the other side of the door, and panic crawls up your throat like a scream you can't hold back. "You okay in there? I know it's hot out, so I just wanted to check on you."
You squeeze your eyes shut, taking one, two, three deep breaths before willing your shaky voice to respond.
"I'm all good, JJ! Just had a bit too much to drink, I think. I'll be back soon!" You manage to sound as normal as possible, whacking Michael when he gives you two sarcastic thumbs up.
"No worries, hun. You take your time, okay?" He responds, and you let a strangled breath go, thinking you're off the hook.
"You haven't seen Robby anywhere, have ya?" He adds, and your heart sinks once again.
Michael stifles a chuckle, one that's too loud, in your opinion. You sit up, whacking him with your pillow. You'd smother him with it too, if you could get away with it.
"No!" You sputter out. "Nope, no-uh- why do you ask?" You cringe in on yourself, pressing two fingers to your temples.
"Just wondering. Haven't seen him in a minute either," he remarks, and you can't tell if there's an accusation in there.
"Weird," is all you can say, after a moment of awkward silence.
"Yeah, really weird," he responds before walking away.
Once he retreats down the steps, a cackle echoes next to you. You grab the pillow again, whacking him once, twice, three times until you're laughing so hard, your belly hurts.
You collapse onto his own stomach, resting your cheek on the peak of his belly. You press a kiss into the skin there, murmuring a 'shut up' into his skin.
"I wouldn't even if you wanted me to," he says, and you roll your eyes.
Your heart skips a beat, galloping at lightning speed in your chest. You are in big trouble.
The og request for more BratxBratxTamer with RobbyxDennisxJack
I just need Robby tied up forced to watch as Dennis gets a spanking for being a shit and then fucked hard and Robbys got clamps and a ring on because he needs to be patient and good if he wants a spanking and an orgasm. And he was mean to Dana all week for no reason other than being stressed out/overworked/dealers choice. So Jack has to put him in a time out and Dennis was mouthy beyond all reason all shift so he needs it good too.
Maybe Jack was at a conference or something so Brat 1 and 2 were left unsupervised and need some help remembering how to behave?
bratxbratxbrat tamer holds a special place in my heart, we all know this
yeah something something Jack's away and there are specific rules when he's away this long. Rules about taking care of themselves and food and behaving and about touching themselves.
Usually Robby can take care of Dennis just fine. He makes sure his sweet boy is fed and well rested and indulges him on as many orgasms as he wants.
But this time it's just different. Work is more hectic so Robby doesn't have the energy to slip into that dynamic headspace as much which means Dennis feels neglected. Instead of talking through it, Dennis chooses to brat which in turn makes Robby slip back into old habits and gives it back to him twice as nasty. Now they're fighting, which means the entire ED is off kilter, and everyone has to deal with their moods.
Jack is getting pleas for backup "could you at least call them because i swear robby might kill the next person who tells him we have a trauma" Ellis texts him "I can't prove it but I know this is your fault"
A bickering Robby and Dennis coming home to Jack who is back early just waiting patiently for them both.
Jack telling Robby with the most disapproving tone "How can you expect your boy to behave if his daddy is being a brat too?"
Robby doesn't mind being in the cuck chair when he gets to watch Dennis being taken apart because he knows he gets to be the one who puts him back together. This? Watching Dennis get lectured about being incapable of using his words and starting to feel a little bad that he's set that example? Dennis turning into a sobbing, whimpering mess because Jack warmed him up with his hand before using the belt?
Well now it's actually a punishment.
But Dennis takes it so well and once he's sweet and soft again Jack finally finally finally touches him. Still makes him work for it though, he makes Dennis ride him even when his thighs are shaking and his movements get sloppy.
mmmm Dennis crying for daddy to come help, it's too much, he's already so tired, and Robby has to slip back into daddy headspace telling him "Come on baby, don't disappoint Sir again. You can do it, we all know you can"
And then poor overstimulated Dennis having to get wrecked by his daddy who isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for not setting a good example or for fucking Dennis so harshly into the bed because Jack told him to.
Robby and Dennis sleep very well that night and are on their best behavior the next day. Jack makes sure of it.
