Ah, fuck me, I needed to write this. Honestly just a fic for me to share some lines about my fave animals, sharks. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx
Summary: Robby quickly picks up on the tension between his daughter, an ortho resident, and her attending Dr Brendon Park. But even though he tries to warn her about the man, the shark had already singled out his prey and was ready to snap.
Pairing: Brendon the shark Park x fem!reader (3k words)
The ER always felt different when she stepped into it, like the air itself tightened. Upstairs in ortho, everything had structure, clean lines on X-rays, bones that either aligned or didn’t, problems that could be reduced, fixed, stabilized. Down here, things bled into each other, boise, urgency, bodies moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time.
She adjusted her gloves as she walked to the ED beside Dr. Brendon Park, trying to match her pace to his. It was a losing battle. Park didn’t walk like other doctors here, he cut through space, direct, efficient, never wasting a step. Residents joked about the nickname behind his back, Park the Shark, but standing next to him, she understood why it stuck. Sharks didn’t hesitate, they didn’t second guess, they moved because stopping meant death. And Brendon Park never stopped.
“Compound fracture?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Distal tibia, possible involvement of the fibula,” she replied. Her voice came out steadier than she felt, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. “They said neurovascular status is questionable.”
“Good. You saw the scans?” For the first time since leaving his office he looked at her, sharp eyes holding contact.
“Prelim only.”
“Then we’ll look again.” Sharks had ampullae of Lorenzini, she remembered from some half-forgotten documentary. Electroreceptors, they could sense the faintest signals in the water, the twitch of muscle, the hidden movement beneath sand. Sometimes she thought Park had something similar.
He always knew when she wasn’t sure, and for some reason, he never called her out on it. Not like he did with everyone else.
They pushed through the doors, the sound hitting her immediately. Monitors beeping, a trauma team calling out vitals, a nurse swearing under her breath. Controlled chaos, at least that’s what they always told her.
The patient was in bay three. Blood soaked through the makeshift dressing, the leg angled wrong in a way that made her stomach tighten, though her face stayed neutral.
Park stepped in first. His entire posture shifted, it was still sharp, still precise, but quieter now, somewhat focused in a different way. Sharks didn’t thras, they circled, observed. Waited for the exact right moment to strike.
“Talk me through it,” he said, but it wasn’t to the room. It was to her, so (y/n) blinked once, then stepped forward.
“Male, mid-thirties, fall from height, open fracture of the distal tibia, possible fibular involvement. Bleeding controlled temporarily. Pulse’s weak but present.” She read the notes, eyes trying not to give away the excitement flushing through her as he nodded at her, greedy for his praise.
“Show me.” Her hands moved before (y/n) could overthink it. She could feel him watching and it made her more aware of everything, the pressure of her fingers, the way her heart beat just a little faster than it should.
“Good,” he said quietly. One word, but it landed heavier than it had any right to. From anyone else, it would be routine, expected even, from him, it felt earned. Behind them, a familiar voice finally cut through the moment.
“Well, what a sight.” Slowly, she turned. Dr. Robby stood at the edge of the bay, arms crossed, eyes flicking between her and Park with an expression that was far too knowing.
Her father had always been good at reading people, it was part of what made him so good at emergency medicine. Patterns, instincts, the ability to pick up on things others missed. Right now though, she wished he was a little worse at it.
“Ortho got here fast,” Robby continued, stepping closer, eyes still flickering between the two. “Must be a special case.”
Park didn’t flinch, if anything, he stilled further. Like something beneath the surface had gone completely still, waiting.
“Open fracture,” Park said. “Time matters after all, doesn’t it, Doctor Robby.”
“Mhm,” her father replied lowly as his gaze shifted to her, then back to Brendon, then back to her again.
Sharks could detect a drop of blood in a vast ocean, a single part per million. Robby didn’t need that kind of biology, he just needed one look, while the space between his daughter and Park didn’t feel as invisible as it had before. (Y/n) cleared her throat, forcing them to focus back on the patient.
Eventually Brendon stripped off his gloves, already half turned toward the exit. “Get the post-reduction films,” he said, eyes flicking briefly to (y/n). “I’ll be upstairs.”
Then he was gone, just like that. Sharks didn’t linger after the strike.
(Y/n) exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax before turning back to the chart. If she moved quickly enough, if she stayed focused, maybe she could slip out without her father stopping her. But luck was rarely on her side around these four walls.
“Hey.” Her father’s voice wasn’t loud, but it had that tone, the one that cut through everything else. She closed her eyes for half a second, then turned. He stood a few feet away, hands on his hips now, posture casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all.
“I need you for a second,” he said
“Dad, I have to get-”
“You’ve got two minutes,” Robby interrupted, already walking toward a quieter corner of the ED. “Come on.”
She followed, because she simply always did when it came to him. He didn’t speak until they were out of the main flow, tucked near a supply alcove where the noise dulled just enough to make this feel contained. Which was worse, somehow.
Robby turned to face his daughter fully. Up close, his expression shifted, less teasing now, perhaps even more intent.
“How long?”
She blinked. “What?”
“How long has that been going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The answer came too fast.
Robby’s eyebrow lifted slightly. He didn’t argue, didn’t push right away, but he watched (y/n) in that same assessing way he used on patients, like he was waiting for the truth to surface on its own.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Then let me rephrase. How long have you been crushing on your boss?”
Heat crept up her neck. “I don’t-”
“And how long has he been looking at you like that?”
That stopped her. She could deny her own behavior, but his was harder to explain away. Robby let the silence sit for a beat, then exhaled through his nose.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Thought so.”
She crossed her arms, defensive now. “You’re reading too much into it. And I’m an adult, whatever I do isn’t any of your concern.”
“I’m really not.” He ignored the second half of her rambling, tone calm, but there was something underneath it, something tethering along the line of concern and fear.
“Park,” Robby continued, tilting his head slightly toward the doors, “doesn’t look at people, at least not like that. I’ve worked with him long enough to know the difference.”
“He’s my boss,” she said. “He’s supposed to look at me.”
“No. He’s supposed to tolerate you, respect you if you’re good.” His gaze sharpened. “He’s not supposed to single you out.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. There was no use in fighting her father on this, Brendon was different with her after all, something she had noticed within the first month of working with him.
“Listen to me,” Robby murmured, voice lowering. “I don’t care how good he is in the OR, I don’t care how much you like him, but HR will care. Power dynamics, supervision, all of it. This isn’t just messy, it’s career-ending messy if it goes the wrong way, sweetheart.”
“I’m not doing anything,” she insisted, quieter now.
“Not yet.” That landed harder than anything before had. “I know you don’t do reckless. You think things through, overthink them, always have. But this?” He shook his head. “This is the kind of thing that sneaks up on you.”
Her heart skipped at her father’s words, unsure how to fight against his warnings, the words that made heat linger deep inside of her.
“He was watching your hands,” Robby continued. “Not the injury, not the patient, you.”
Sharks track movement, they focus on it, stay locked in until everything else faded out. She had felt it, of course she had, but hearing it out loud made it real in a way she couldn’t ignore.
“I’m not saying he’s a bad guy,” her father added, more measured now. “But he’s intense, he’s sharp. And guys like that don’t do anything halfway, trust me.”
Neither did sharks, they didn’t test the water, they only committed.
“Just be careful,” he finished. “For your sake, and mine.”
“Okay.” Robby studied her for another second, like he was trying to decide if that answer meant anything. Then he sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
“Alright, sweetheart, go,” he said, jerking his head toward the exit. “Before your attending decides you’ve disappeared and thinks he needs to punish me for it.”
She turned, relief and something heavier mixing in her chest. But as (y/n) pushed back into the flow of the ED, one thought lingered. Park hadn’t looked at the patient after all, he had looked at her.
The walk back up to ortho felt longer than it should have. The films were clutched a little too tightly in her hand, edges pressing into her palm as if that could anchor her. The ED noise faded with each floor, replaced by the quieter, more controlled rhythm she was used to.
(Y/n) pushed through the ortho doors, forcing herself into routine, films to the lightbox, chart open.
“Did you get them?” His voice came from behind her, he was leaning against the door frame of his office, big arms crossed in front of his muscular chest.
“Yes,” (y/n) turned slightly, holding up the films. “Post-reduction looks good. Alignment’s-”
“Bring them here.”
She crossed the room, handing them over to her boss who took them without brushing her fingers, but it was close enough that she felt them anyway. That near-contact, like static in the air before a storm.
“Good,” he mumbled as his eyes wandered over them. “You caught the rotation early.”
She nodded, following him into his office before closing the door behind herself, just like he always asked her to. “It was subtle.”
“It usually is.” He set the films down on his desk, but instead of stepping away, he stayed there, one hand resting against the edge, eyes still on the images like he was thinking through something else entirely. Then, without looking up he spoke again.
“What did he say?” Her breath caught.
“Who?” Park’s gaze lifted slowly, filled by that same sharp, unblinking focus.
“Your father.” There it was again, that feeling of being tracked. Sharks didn’t rely on sight alone, they followed currents, disturbances, the faintest shifts in the water. Once they locked onto something, they didn’t lose it. Park hadn’t been in that conversation, but somehow, he’d still found it.
“It was nothing,” she started, then stopped herself. Lying outright felt pointless under that stare. “He just said to be careful.”
“About what? Me?” He pushed off the desk and then he moved. Slow this time, deliberate almost. It wasn’t the quick, cutting motion she was used to. This was different as each step was placed with intention while he came toward her.
Her pulse picked up, maybe it was instinct, prey recognized proximity after all. Sharks didn’t rush unless they had to, they circled, and closed distance gradually. Let tension build until there was nowhere left to go.
“He’s not wrong.” The admission hit harder than she expected.
“But?” The word slipped out before she could stop it. Park’s eyes flicked down to her mouth for a fraction of a second.
“But,” he echoed quietly, “he didn’t say anything about what I want, did he?”
Her breath hitched, this was a bad idea. Every logical part of her brain was screaming that. HR. Power dynamics. Her father’s voice, steady and warning.
This is the kind of thing that sneaks up on you.
Park took another half-step forward, chest about to meet hers. Sharks tested boundaries with nudges before the bite. Small, almost imperceptible contacts that escalated before you realized what was happening.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. The question was quiet, but there was something underneath it, something taut, like a line pulled too tight. She should have said yes.
“No.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough. Something in him snapped into place, like a predator committing. His hand came up, not rough, but firm as it settled at her jaw, thumb brushing just beneath her lip, tilting her face up.
Sharks didn’t second guess once they struck.
The kiss hit like that, sudden but certain. All that contained precision turned into something sharper, hotter. He didn’t rush it, but there was no question in it either. Brendon had been waiting for this, undoubtedly for the right moment, just like a part of her had been too. Her hands found the front of his scrubs without thinking, gripping the blue fabric as if it could steady the way everything else tilted.
He tasted like coffee and something colder, cleaner. The same control he carried everywhere else, now stripped down to something more dangerous. His other hand turned her around, bracing her against the desk behind them, caging her in without touching more than he had to. The kiss was anything but soft; it was sharp, guided by a longing neither of them had addressed for months.
When he pulled back, it wasn’t far, just enough to look at her, but close enough that she could still feel his breath.
“This,” he chuckled, voice lower now, rougher at the edges, “is exactly what he was warning you about.”
“Are you going to stop?” she asked. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, something awfully predatory.
“No.” Somewhere, distantly, she knew this would complicate everything. But as his gaze dropped to her mouth again, as that tension coiled tighter instead of easing, complicated didn’t feel like a reason to stop.
(Y/n) kissed him, her tongue swiping along his lower lip to ask for entrance as a groan broke from him. Both his hands found her waist, pushing her onto his desk, ignoring the carefully organized papers that scattered to the floor. He was solely focused on her, on their kiss, on the soft noises leaving her.
Sharks in a feeding frenzy don’t think, don’t pause, just instinct and blood pulling them forward. And in that moment, she knew there was no use fighting, no use in pulling away. (Y/n)’s legs tightened around him, and she felt him against her, the sensation making her tremble with anticipation.
“What is it that you want?” She struggled to reply, lips tingling, tongue pressed against her teeth while Brendon stared down at her. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just fuck you on this desk.”
“Please.” (Y/n) felt pathetic for begging, for needing to feel his hands on her some more, to have him take her right here. Some sharks choose a single mate for a season, circling, testing, returning again and again until the choice is made. He looked at her like that decision had already been made, like everything else was just instinct finally catching up.
“We’ll have to keep you quiet. Can’t have anybody hear what’s mine alone.” He tugged at the band of her scrubs, loosening them as she helped push them down her legs, her panties following a second later. It took her brain a moment to catch up, to ask what he was doing, a thought she quickly abandoned as he pushed her soaked panties into her mouth to keep her quiet.
Brendon’s mouth found her heat, his tongue pressing against her as a groan left him at her taste. (Y/n)’s fingers found his neck, holding him close while he moved against her, his touch expectedly controlled as his soft fingers circled her most sensitive spot.
“Atta girl, fuck, look at you, spread out for me to feast from.” Neither of them had the patience to drag it out, both too greedy, needing to feel each other as closely as possible. He pulled her panties from her mouth for a moment. “Condom?”
“I’m on the pill and clean.”
Brendon freed himself, and she fought the urge to reach for him, silently promising she would later, needing to feel him rest heavily on her tongue. Their eyes stayed locked as he aligned himself with her, and even as he pushed into her, neither of them looked away, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
“Should’ve known you’d fucking ruin me.” His words made her moan, the sound muffled again as her panties were pushed back into her mouth. He moved hard, giving her little time to adjust. They were both too desperate, too aware of the limited time before they’d be called away again.
Their bodies met with every sharp thrust, the desk groaning beneath her. She felt him deep inside her, hitting exactly where it made her vision blur, stars sparking behind her eyes. (Y/n)’s nails dragged down the back of his neck, surely leaving marks, marks others would notice, but neither of them cared about.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. Bet you’re already close, huh? Desperate to come on your boss’s cock, aren’t you?” Tears welled in her eyes, desperation, need, overwhelming her. One slipped down her cheek, but his thumb caught it, bringing it to his mouth, tasting the salt as he drove her closer to the edge.
With his hand finding her clit, Brendon pushed her over, keeping her there as she came apart beneath him. The sensation rushed through her, overwhelming, addictive, impossible to ignore. He followed seconds later, deep inside her, staying close, a low groan leaving him as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, holding onto each other, until he finally pulled back and reached for a tissue to clean her up.
“I’ll take you back to mine after our shift. Do this properly.” (Y/n)’s mind was still hazy, slow to catch up, so she simply nodded, taking his hand as she stepped down from the desk.
“Oh, and the next time your father tries to warn you,” he added, voice quieter now but no less firm, “tell him to drop it. I don’t play around with my women.”
fem reader x clark kent
thank you @phantomamour for proofing!! <3 <3
large text version here!
A week ago, you were practically pulling your hair out trying to nail down last-minute wedding details. Now, your brow was scrunched as you deliberated over bikinis spread out over your bed.
The wedding had been a happy, surreal blur. You remembered saying 'I do', and Clark's face when he saw you in your dress for the first time. At the reception, he'd danced with you, holding you to his chest and looking like the happiest man in the world. He was yours, and he had been long before you wore his ring.
You'd spent your wedding night at the airport, curled up under his arm at your gate. Your stomach had been growling like a menace, and he insisted you stay sitting while he went to find you something to eat. Clark had never been more attractive than when he'd appeared in your eyeline like a vision holding a sandwich, a sweet smile on his face.
Now you were in paradise, a rented house by a private beach, just the two of you. He'd hardly let go of you since the plane took off, and now that you were alone, touching had escalated into carrying. Clark was lifting you off your feet every chance he got, planting kisses wherever he could reach.
Just as you'd decided on a pink bikini, Clark wandered in wearing the swim trunks you'd purchased him, with little S's all over them. The website suggested the letter one chose stand for an initial, and you'd thought it was funny when you chose Superman instead of Clark.
He wound his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a loud smack of a kiss to your cheek. "What d'you want for lunch?" While you'd intended to get to the beach early, waking up with his bare chest pressed to your back had changed your plans. It wasn't your fault he was so pretty in the mornings.
"Maybe we can do sandwiches? And some of those plums we got at the market yesterday?"
"'F course." Clark kissed your shoulder, hands lingering even as he walked away. "D'you still have enough of your book left, or should I run out and get you another one?"
"I think I'm alright," you promised. Looking back, you smiled. "I'll be ready in just a moment." He blew a kiss as he exited the room, staring at you until he bumped into a corner when he tried to turn it.
You didn't bother shutting the door while you changed. When you walked into the kitchen, beach bag packed, bikini on, Clark was cutting plums, deliberately slicing them thin. He knew you preferred small pieces. When you set your bag down with a soft thunk, he looked up and dropped the knife back on the cutting board.
After wiping his juice-stained fingers on a nearby towel, Clark reached you in an instant. He wasted no time bending to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting you to eye level. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands sinking into his soft curls. Perfect hair and skin were perks of being Kryptonian, and you envied him to no end. On the bright side, he was very nice to look at.
If his kisses left stars on your skin, you'd be a universe. Clark was nearly breathing you in, nose buried in your neck as he dragged his lips down. "So pretty. Baby, you know you're so pretty?" He pulled back, looking dazed.
Giggling, you touched your lips to his nose. "You like my bikini?"
"Yeah." The word was a whisper, touched with awe. He tilted his head back to study your chest. "Would have married you a long time ago if I knew it meant we got to go to the beach and I get to see you like this all day."
"Your reward for loving me," you giggled as he pressed a kiss to the top of each breast.
"Uh uh. Loving you's the reward." Clark set you on the counter, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. "This is a bonus. Guess I was good."
Laughing, you pulled him back in, resting your head on his shoulder and letting your hair fall over his back. "You're my husband."
"And you're my wife." The word sounded so natural coming out of his mouth. Like, yes, this is something he was meant to say with that loving cadence, or in a protective tone. You were lucky to be the one who unlocked it. "My wife."
Squinting, you pulled back to look at him. "Doesn't that technically mean you own me?"
"Uh uh," he corrected gently, smoothing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Means I get to take care 'f you. Means I'm lucky to have you."
Squealing, you pressed your face back into his chest. "You're not real."
He sounded confused. "It'd sure be sad if I made all this up."
"No-" You framed his face with your hands, smoothing his curls at his ears over and over. He melted into it like a puppy, his eyelids heavy. "You're just so good and sweet and perfect that it feels like a dream."
His eyes were soft. "We'll never wake up." Clark's hands slid to the edges of your bikini bottoms, thumbs rubbing your lower back.
"So we're dead?"
He laughed deep, sending a shot of something up your spine. "I guess."
"Sweetheart?" Clark patted his thigh. "C'mere. Gonna put some sunscreen on you."
You sat on his legs under the umbrella, entertained by his brow scrunch as he carefully applied sunscreen lotion to every inch of you. Even the undersides of your feet got sunscreen. When he was finished, you patted his chest. "Can I do you?"
He didn't need it, and you both knew that. Still, he patted your bottom. "Could you do my face?"
Your fingers were light as you dotted sunscreen on his nose and cheeks, kissing each spot beforehand. He smiled, swaying you back and forth when you were done. "Thank you, baby."
"I wanna go in the ocean," you whispered.
"Yeah?" Clark pressed a flurry of kisses to your chest, not seeming to mind the stickiness of your sunscreen. "Let's get you into the ocean."
When you were ankle deep in the water, you squeezed his hand, squealing. "Cold!"
"Yeah!" He waded in alongside you, stopping whenever you did.
When you were waist deep, you finally shivered, clamping onto him like a starfish. He patiently went deeper, feet still touching the ground when the water lapped at his chest. "You okay, baby?"
"You should t-throw me in," you giggled.
"Huh?" He frowned. "But it's cold."
"Please?"
Clark sighed, reaching down to scoop you up under your knees. "'M not gonna throw you too hard."
"Okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh huh!" You let go of his neck, folding your arms over your stomach. "I trust you, baby."
Clark reached down to kiss your tummy before fully lifting you out of the water. When he tossed you a little ways away, you screamed in delight, throwing your hands in the air as you crashed into the water.
When you resurfaced, Clark began to wade over, concern dripping off him along with ocean water. "Sweetie, you okay?"
"Yeah-oh!" You crossed your arms over your chest, furiously treading water in the seconds he wasn't near you.
"Are you hurt? Baby?" Clark began to inspect you, rubbing over your skin, searching for bruises.
"N-no," you shivered. "It's just…my bikini top came off."
Clark's eyebrows shot up, and he averted his eyes, wasting no time snatching the top when he spotted it floating nearby.
"Honey, you can look," you laughed. "We're married, remember?"
"Right." He was blushing a little when he dragged his eyes back over. They flickered at your chest, and then shot back up to your eyes. "Here. I can re-tie it."
"I should have called you in when I got dressed," you said as he secured an arm around your waist, guiding you back to shallow waters. You turned around, holding the top in place while he pushed your hair over one shoulder and got to tying. When he stepped back, you asked, "Did you do bows?"
There was a quiet "shoot" behind you, and then his fingers were at your back again, fumbling with the ties.
You held his hand, pulling him back under the umbrella. He insisted on being your backrest, spreading his legs wide so you could settle on his chest. Clark fed you plum slices, kissing your wet hair. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you sighed, hanging onto his big arm slung over your chest. "We should stay forever."
"I'll fly you here whenever you want," he said confidently, and you giggled. Turning onto your side, you rested your cheek on his chest, pulling your legs up. Clark adjusted his arms, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Okay still?"
"Mhm." You poked one of his pecs. "Sun just makes me sleepy. You make me sleepy."
"Why?" He sounded so worried that you looked up, patting his chest.
"Just means I feel safe," you assured. "I don't have to be on alert. You make me feel like I can relax."
Now he looked proud, adjusting his arms around you. "Yeah?"
"Uh huh." You tugged at one of his arms until you could reach his hand, bringing it around to hold. He let you hold it, stroking his thumb over your knuckles.
"Rest all you need," he murmured. "I've got you." You reached for the bag of plums, and he brought another slice to your lips without missing a beat. "You're not lifting a finger, m'kay? I'm gonna take care of my wife."
Tipsy was such a lovely word. Tipsy, tipsy, tipsy. You repeated it over and over in your head as you swung your legs where you were sitting on the chair. Clark appeared in your eyeline, kneeling and putting a glass of water in your hand. "You okay?"
"My baby," you pouted, pinching his cheeks. "I wanna hold you."
"I think I wanna take you home," he said, lifting you by the waist to stand up. The bar was packed, the music loud, but you could still hear him like he was the only person speaking in the room.
Dinner and drinks had been absolutely lovely, and he'd not let go of your hand the entire time. Clark had found this place online, and you'd picked both your outfits. He looked so handsome in his blue striped vacation button down, glasses a little crooked. You clung to his arm, stumbling a little in your tall wedges, an attempt to be able to stand cheek to cheek with him.
"Here, honey-" Clark swept an arm under your legs, lifting you into his chest. He put your purse over his arm, walking steadily. "Let's not have you falling."
Happy and buzzing, you swung your feet as he walked back with you. "You're such a cutie."
"I am nooot," you whined, flopping backward in his arms. "I'm sexy."
"Sure." Clark elbowed the door open, shutting it behind him with his foot. He used the side of his arm to flip the lock before carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on the mattress.
You sniffled, lower lip trembling as he looked down at you. Clark's face fell. "What's the matter baby? What do you need?" He knelt by the bed, big hand over your head. "Sweetie, what can I do?"
"I wanna be sexy," you cried, and he kissed your forehead.
"Oh, my poor baby," he murmured, sitting you up to lean against him. "It's okay. You're very sexy, I promise."
"Promise?" you asked muffled against his shoulder.
"Promise." He pulled back, looking at you in a way that made your insides melt. Your stomach growled, and he frowned. "You hungry?"
"Nooooo." You flopped back into your pillow.
"Stay right here. My girl's not sleeping on an empty stomach." Clark disappeared for a moment, and you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, singing to yourself.
"Lalalalalala, Superman's my husband and he kisses me all the way down to my-"
"Are we being appropriate in here?" Clark had a white bowl of plums when he returned, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. He'd removed his glasses, and you were nearly drooling at his messy hair.
"No!" you said happily, making grabby hands at him.
Setting the plums down, he sat down with you, kissing your nose. "There's my pretty wife."
You stuck your bottom lip out. "I want to do stuff."
"Yeah?" Clark fed you a plum. "Maybe after we finish these plums. And after we cuddle and close our eyes for five minutes."
"Okay." You bounced your feet on the mattress. "Just five minutes?"
"Mhm." He smoothed your hair from your forehead and lifted a glass of water to your lips.
"We should probably be naked then," you decided.
"I was thinking we would get into our pajamas, just for fun." He rubbed your arm. "You look so pretty in your pajamas."
His words melted you enough to let him dress you in your cute pink set and get you under the covers while he changed. When he got into bed, he settled you on his bare chest and said, "How about we combine steps two and three? Close your eyes while we cuddle."
"Mkay." You were too sleepy to say anything more, letting your eyes flutter shut. He kissed your head, rubbing your back under your top. "Loyou."
"Love you too," he said, shifting you to a more comfortable position. "You comfy? Need anything? Need to go anywhere?"
"Cuddles." You nuzzled into his chest. "I don't wanna sleep on you. I might drool."
"'S okay." Clark pressed lightly on your lower back. "Just close your eyes, sweetie."
"Wanna go home 'n see Fish," you mumbled.
"He'll be very happy to see you in a few days," Clark promised. "Honey, just close your eyes."
"M'kay," you muttered, relaxing into his arms. "Love you."
clark kent sounds delectable rn im thinking about him waking up after your first sleepover as a couple to you singing to music while cooking breakfast in the kitchen
౨ৎ꣑ৎclark after your first sleepover౨ৎ꣑ৎ
fem reader x clark kent
large text version here!
Clark is swallowed in you, in your perfume lingering in the sheets, and your blanket you brought from home. "It's so soft. And weighted. I can't sleep without it," you explained as he laid it out over the bed. You were right, but more importantly, he was delighted that you let a piece of you into his apartment. Mere mortals weren't often so lucky.
He reaches, frowning when he finds that you are not there. A sleepover means waking up with you in his arms, or so he's been told. The covers are wrinkled on your side, the pillow he fluffed under your head last night dented. Clark held you long after you slipped into sleep, watching you breathe comfortably. Still, he had been looking forward to seeing the morning sun on your cheeks, your eyes before you rubbed the sleep out of them.
This was planned. He suggested it casually, not wanting to go too overboard. His testing-the-waters offer was met with a shock of enthusiasm that could have powered a lightbulb. You threw your arms around his big shoulders the best you could and gave him a sticky lip gloss kiss.
It was angelic, seeing you fit so well here under the umbrella of staying. You are the missing piece that makes this apartment a home. He doesn't want to be where you aren't anymore.
Clark wonders if you are in the bathroom, or if you got a phone call. He sits up, trying and not trying to listen. There is a sizzling sound, then scraping. Sitting up, he debates getting dressed and ultimately settles on a pair of sweatpants. He is unsure what constitutes as modesty after sleepovers with girlfriends. The shirt will stay off; surely you won't mind since you spent the night with your cheek pressed to his pec.
He straightens the covers before padding out, stopping short in the doorway when he sees you.
Humming to yourself, little pajamas slim over your hips and waist, you poke at something in his frying pan. He can't bear another second without touching you.
Taking his time, he wraps his arms around your middle, saying your name softly beforehand as not to scare you. He would never forgive himself if you startled and burned yourself. "Good morning, angel."
You lean and he suppresses a content sigh. A perfect fit into the concave of him. "I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed."
"You're my guest. I should be makin' you breakfast." Clark inhales, nose at your neck. The eggs look perfect, the bacon delightfully crispy. He notices you've squeezed orange juice, and it makes his heart flutter.
"You let me stay," you counter, and he frowns.
"Let?" Clark nudges your shoulder with a kiss. "I practically begged you, hon." He sways you back and forth. "Stay whenever you want. Stay tonight. Stay forever."
"Clark," you groan playfully, turning around. He is delighted to see your face, taking the opportunity to kiss you proper.
"Beautiful," he declares, reaching around you to twist the burner off. Now that the food isn't in danger of burning, he can lean down and grab handfuls of your sides, lifting you up. He gives you a seat on the counter, flattening his palms on either side of you. "I'll eat every bite you put in front of me, but next time I'm making you breakfast."
"What will you make?" You lean back and bump your head on the cabinet.
"Ouch. You okay, sweetie?" He rubs the crown of your head. You nod and he refocuses on your question. "Well, how about waffles? Chocolate chip waffles. Only the best for my girl."
"With strawberries?"
"I'll fly somewhere and pick 'em myself."
"Oh!" You tip your head forward into his shoulder.
He grins and holds you happily. "Would you let me do anything for you?"
"What's that mean?" You tilt your head. Adorable.
"Dunno. Let me get you one of those cute pajama sets you like so much."
"Oh, that's what this is about? You buying me things?" You drag your hand over his head, trying and failing to smooth his curls. "You don't need to buy my love."
"I love you, so I want to get you things. Is that so bad?" He smooths his hands up your thighs.
"I suppose not." You lean back, carefully this time.
"I want to make this place yours too, hon." He rolls his thumbs over your thighs. "How'd you sleep last night?"
"Good." You lean back, thinking. "It was different than I thought."
"Oh?" Clark meets your eyes, a little spike of worry forming in his chest. "It wasn't okay?"
"It was! Definitely more than okay." You are sweet, quick to assure him of something he already knew. The way you slept curled into him last night was proof to him. Still, if he could make it better, he would.
"What do you usually do for bed?" he asks, and you hum in thought.
Averting your eyes, you say, "I have my teddy."
"Yeah? Why didn't you bring it with your blanket?" Clark is already imagining a spot where your teddy can rest during the day, perhaps on a nightstand. He needs to get one for your side anyways.
You shrug bashfully. "Felt silly. I mean, I've got you. What should I need my bear for?"
"If it makes you more comfortable, baby, I want you to have it." He feels like encasing you right now, pulling you closer and hiding you in the special shelf in his heart. He is big, with thick skin. He will keep you safe.
"Well, I like holding you too," you say, running your fingers up his arm. "You're just as good as my teddy."
"You can have us both," he says, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Will you bring him the next time you're over?"
"Yes." You swing your feet; darling.
"Good. I feel like I should meet him." He helps you off the counter when you start to slide. "I'm excited for breakfast."
"It's not much," you say, reaching for plates and spooning eggs. He divies up the bacon.
"It's perfect, baby. You're perfect. Sweet as can be."
clark kent sounds delectable rn im thinking about him waking up after your first sleepover as a couple to you singing to music while cooking breakfast in the kitchen
౨ৎ꣑ৎclark after your first sleepover౨ৎ꣑ৎ
fem reader x clark kent
large text version here!
Clark is swallowed in you, in your perfume lingering in the sheets, and your blanket you brought from home. "It's so soft. And weighted. I can't sleep without it," you explained as he laid it out over the bed. You were right, but more importantly, he was delighted that you let a piece of you into his apartment. Mere mortals weren't often so lucky.
He reaches, frowning when he finds that you are not there. A sleepover means waking up with you in his arms, or so he's been told. The covers are wrinkled on your side, the pillow he fluffed under your head last night dented. Clark held you long after you slipped into sleep, watching you breathe comfortably. Still, he had been looking forward to seeing the morning sun on your cheeks, your eyes before you rubbed the sleep out of them.
This was planned. He suggested it casually, not wanting to go too overboard. His testing-the-waters offer was met with a shock of enthusiasm that could have powered a lightbulb. You threw your arms around his big shoulders the best you could and gave him a sticky lip gloss kiss.
It was angelic, seeing you fit so well here under the umbrella of staying. You are the missing piece that makes this apartment a home. He doesn't want to be where you aren't anymore.
Clark wonders if you are in the bathroom, or if you got a phone call. He sits up, trying and not trying to listen. There is a sizzling sound, then scraping. Sitting up, he debates getting dressed and ultimately settles on a pair of sweatpants. He is unsure what constitutes as modesty after sleepovers with girlfriends. The shirt will stay off; surely you won't mind since you spent the night with your cheek pressed to his pec.
He straightens the covers before padding out, stopping short in the doorway when he sees you.
Humming to yourself, little pajamas slim over your hips and waist, you poke at something in his frying pan. He can't bear another second without touching you.
Taking his time, he wraps his arms around your middle, saying your name softly beforehand as not to scare you. He would never forgive himself if you startled and burned yourself. "Good morning, angel."
You lean and he suppresses a content sigh. A perfect fit into the concave of him. "I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed."
"You're my guest. I should be makin' you breakfast." Clark inhales, nose at your neck. The eggs look perfect, the bacon delightfully crispy. He notices you've squeezed orange juice, and it makes his heart flutter.
"You let me stay," you counter, and he frowns.
"Let?" Clark nudges your shoulder with a kiss. "I practically begged you, hon." He sways you back and forth. "Stay whenever you want. Stay tonight. Stay forever."
"Clark," you groan playfully, turning around. He is delighted to see your face, taking the opportunity to kiss you proper.
"Beautiful," he declares, reaching around you to twist the burner off. Now that the food isn't in danger of burning, he can lean down and grab handfuls of your sides, lifting you up. He gives you a seat on the counter, flattening his palms on either side of you. "I'll eat every bite you put in front of me, but next time I'm making you breakfast."
"What will you make?" You lean back and bump your head on the cabinet.
"Ouch. You okay, sweetie?" He rubs the crown of your head. You nod and he refocuses on your question. "Well, how about waffles? Chocolate chip waffles. Only the best for my girl."
"With strawberries?"
"I'll fly somewhere and pick 'em myself."
"Oh!" You tip your head forward into his shoulder.
He grins and holds you happily. "Would you let me do anything for you?"
"What's that mean?" You tilt your head. Adorable.
"Dunno. Let me get you one of those cute pajama sets you like so much."
"Oh, that's what this is about? You buying me things?" You drag your hand over his head, trying and failing to smooth his curls. "You don't need to buy my love."
"I love you, so I want to get you things. Is that so bad?" He smooths his hands up your thighs.
"I suppose not." You lean back, carefully this time.
"I want to make this place yours too, hon." He rolls his thumbs over your thighs. "How'd you sleep last night?"
"Good." You lean back, thinking. "It was different than I thought."
"Oh?" Clark meets your eyes, a little spike of worry forming in his chest. "It wasn't okay?"
"It was! Definitely more than okay." You are sweet, quick to assure him of something he already knew. The way you slept curled into him last night was proof to him. Still, if he could make it better, he would.
"What do you usually do for bed?" he asks, and you hum in thought.
Averting your eyes, you say, "I have my teddy."
"Yeah? Why didn't you bring it with your blanket?" Clark is already imagining a spot where your teddy can rest during the day, perhaps on a nightstand. He needs to get one for your side anyways.
You shrug bashfully. "Felt silly. I mean, I've got you. What should I need my bear for?"
"If it makes you more comfortable, baby, I want you to have it." He feels like encasing you right now, pulling you closer and hiding you in the special shelf in his heart. He is big, with thick skin. He will keep you safe.
"Well, I like holding you too," you say, running your fingers up his arm. "You're just as good as my teddy."
"You can have us both," he says, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Will you bring him the next time you're over?"
"Yes." You swing your feet; darling.
"Good. I feel like I should meet him." He helps you off the counter when you start to slide. "I'm excited for breakfast."
"It's not much," you say, reaching for plates and spooning eggs. He divies up the bacon.
"It's perfect, baby. You're perfect. Sweet as can be."
Summary: Reader finds herself mortified about a certain dream she had
Pairing: Jack Abbott x Fem Reader x Michael “Robby” Robinavitch
Content: Big age gaps (20s/40s/late 40s) , 18+ Smut (MDNI), threesome (FMM), Robby and Jack have done this before 1000%, fingering, oral (reader receiving and jack receiving), double penetration, soft dom Dr. Robby, sub reader, kinda switch Jack??, Robby is very bossy ofc, no protection, some degradation with calling her a slut/dirty etc, some drinking (glass of wine/bourbon)
Notes: I am a big ole hand holding virgin i don’t know how sex or dicks work yall
Wildest Drams
Your fiancé has the uncanny ability to read you. Maybe it’s wisdom, maybe it’s years of working in a busy ED where there isn’t much room for hiding anything.
Regardless of what it is, his ability to read you has its own blessings and curses.
“I can practically feel you stewing over there,” Michael says, rubbing his hand over your knee and thigh. He lays down next to you on your shared bed, scooting you closer to him, “Something wrong?”
You look at him, eyes full of worry and a little trepidation, “Just off today. Nothing big, baby.”
“You know I don’t believe that for a second.”
You sigh, rubbing your hands against your face as you feel your skin prickle with heat. “It’s a little embarrassing…and I don’t know how you’ll take it.”
Michael laughs, his head hitting the headboard. “Well today, we had a patient try to bite Dana, Whitaker got peed on again, and we had a minor school bus crash with kindergarteners on a field trip. So whatever you’ve got, sweetheart, I think I can handle it.”
“I had a sex dream.” You refuse to meet Michael’s eyes. You pick at your fingers, chipping at the nail polish.
Michael’s hand wraps around your side, his strong warmth simultaneously making you feel comfort and guilt.
“A sex dream?” Michael eyes are teasing behind his reading glasses. “Share with the class, sweetheart.”
You groan. “Don’t…take this the wrong way. I love you so much. So much. And I’m thrilled to marry you, but….”
Michael’s eyebrows shoot up at your trepidation. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not satisfied in bed?”
“No! God. You’re good. We’re good. We’re really good, baby. It’s just…Jack was there too?” Your voice trails up in a shyer, quieter, unsure tone.
“Jack…you mean?”
You nod, hands cold and clammy as you think of the millions of different responses Michael might have.
Cocky laughter? That was certainly not on your radar.
“Michael! Don’t laugh at me. I felt so bad.” You explain. But worry on your face is kissed away as Michael leans in and presses his mouth to the side of your head in quick successions. “Not mad?”
“Mad? Ooohhoo! I’m not mad, sweetheart. Intrigued. I’m very intrigued. Tell me about the dream.” His eyes are sparkling in a playful sort of tease.
You lick your lips, looking at Michael as you explain the dream. “Well, I mean…I don’t really remember details but….well you told Jack how to touch me. How I like it.”
Michael nods, his eyes, still sparkling and kind although the thoughts in his mind were anything but. He squeezes your thigh, as if to encourage you. “Right. And how to you like being touched, baby?”
“The way you do it,” You say, a little breathless as Michael’s fingers fiddle with the drawstring of your pajama pants.
“What else?” Michael asks, he’s clipped and clinical as his hands dip lower and his teases you over your pajama pants. “Like this, sweetheart? Hmm? Little touches to your clit so you get nice and wet for me? Nice and wet for my fat cock?”
Breathless, you shudder at his words and ministrations. “Baby….please”
“No” Michael says, his voice slices through you, “Continue.”
You huff, which earns you a soft smack against your clothed pussy. “Shit! Well, uh, Jack’s hands are on me and you two are talking….about who gets my mouth and pussy.”
Michael chuckles, his hands grazing your inner thigh as he teases you through your pants. “At the same time? Huh. What a naughty girl you are? Dreaming about being fucked in your pussy and mouth at the same time?”
You cover your face with your hands again, still working through your embarrassment at this conversation. Your guilt, however, is certainly assuaged by the feeling of Michael’s erection against your hip.
“Seems like I’m not the only intrigued by a threesome, Mike.”
Michael laughs, his chest rumbling against your side. “You know Jack and I’ve known each other for a while, right. Let’s just say that dream of yours wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve found ourselves in that scenario.”
“Michael Robinavitch! Huh, you continue to surprise me for an old man,” you tease before looking at him, “so are threesomes actually fun? Or is it just a cacophony of limbs?”
Michael shakes his head back and forth as if he’s internally debating what he’s going to say. “With the right people, it’s fun. I mean…it’s fun”
“Yeah? When was the last time you did that with Jack?” You ask, curious to your boyfriend’s romantic past.
“It was just once. Jack was dating her and we just…got too a little tipsy one night and one thing led to another. I was much younger and you know…your 20s are for wild things…” Michael explains, remember the night years ago.
You sigh into Michael’s chest, “Don’t take this as a knock against you, but…I feel like I didn’t get any wild 20s. I mean…it’s not anything to do with you. I was boring before you. I just….I went from high school, to college, to working, to you…I kinda just…and now I feel like 30 is knocking on the corner and our wedding and babies. And I want all that. I do. I really really do, Mike.”
“You’ve played it safe.” Michael finishes. He kisses your temple. “I get it. Between the age difference and our schedules…it’s easy for us to just…be in bed by 9:30 every night and not go crazy.”
“Thank you for understanding.” You whisper to him. “I guess my subconscious got the better of me and projected some stuff.” You explain. “Maybe there’s some other wild 20s stuff we can cross off?”
“Like what, sweetheart?”
“Hmm…what about bar hopping? What did you do in your 20s that was wild?”
Michael thinks, remembering the different things he did during his 20s. He laughs, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. “Well…lots of drinking I mean, there’s not much to do while you’re in med school and a resident. But, there’s skinny dipping. Or there’s…your idea?” Michael offers.
“Bar hopping,” you ask. “That could be fun. I’d pick some places that you can get beer since you hate liquor.”
“Not what I was thinking, sweetheart. I was thinking of your other idea.”
You cock your head to the side as you fully understand what Michael was alluding to. His large hand rests on your bent knee and his thumb rubs warm circles that you can feel through your pajama pants.
“You don’t mean….” you start, “you mean that? You’d…be okay with it? More than a dirty fantasy?”
Michael nods, surprisingly calm for a man that just suggested he’d let his best friend and coworker join him and his fiancé in the bedroom.
“Would be a lot of fun. I mean, Jack’ll be down for it. I can just run it past him.”
“You think?” You ask, a little startled at your arousal at the idea of your sex dream becoming a reality. “You think he’d be down with it?”
Michael chuckles, his eye wrinkles crinkling as he drags his thumb up the column of your neck to your chin, tilting it so you’ll look him in the eye.
“Probably. I mean, he’s been pining after Samira like a lost puppy, but Jack…is Jack”
************************************************
You paced in your bedroom, practically stewing inside with a potent mix of trepidation and nerves. You nursed the glass of red wine you insisted on having, despite Michael’s detailed ramble on informed consent.
“It’s you, Mike. It’s not like I’m picking up some random guys in the bar. I trust you. More than anything.”
He sighs, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he looks at you. “Just want to make sure you want this…without the liquid encouragement.”
You stand on your toes, placing a chaste kiss against the corner of Michael’s mouth.
“You are a good man.” You profess, his cheeks turning pink at your words. “It’s not that I need the wine. I just…I need to let myself not be a bundle of anxiety and nerves. I can just feel…loose and a little warm.”
You kiss him more firmly on his mouth, lips slotting together like they always do. You feel his beard rough against your sensitive skin. His teeth nip against your bottom lip, sharp enough to prompt a sly whine from your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours, turning the previous tender kiss into something heated and ready to rupture.
“See you’re getting started without me,” Dr. Jack Abbott quips as he leans against the doorjam. “Still had the keys from when I’d crash here.” He explains, tossing the spare onto the dish on dresser.
Michael places as kiss against your forehead, before clapping Jack on the back in a touchy, but brotherly manner. “How you doing, man?” Michael asks, giving his night shift counterpart a once over. “Anything crazy happen last night?”
As Jack begins to answer, you interject. “Sorry but no shop talk tonight. If there’s one thing that will not make me relaxed it’s listening to those horror stories. Anyway, uh, hi, Jack. And thanks?”
Michael chuckles at your obvious nerves as he shares a pointed look with Jack. “Y/N’s just a little nervous, man. So we’ll need to get her nice and relaxed, huh?” He asks Jack, his voice laced with condescension that you really do not hate.
As the two men look at you, you can feel heat in your belly at the anticipation of what was to come.
“More than happy to not talk about the Pitt.” Michael says, “but before we get started…I have, uh, one boundary.”
Both you and Jack turn your attention to Michael. “And what’s that, Robby?” Jack asks.
Michael’s large hand comes to up to grip your shoulder as he speaks. “You can get her mouth only.”
You feel that familiar heated arousal as Jack and Michael discuss you and your body as if you weren’t there.
It shouldn’t turn you on. But the idea of two men, over twenty years your senior, talking about which one of them gets your mouth and which one gets your pussy, sends a heated shiver to your core. The way Michael’s eyes narrowed as he made it clear he’d was the one that would claim your pussy shouldn’t have turned you.
Yet it did.
Michael turns to you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he spoke. “Why don’t you show Jack that sweet little set you’re wearing, baby?”
You shed the short, silky robe that’s been covering the cotton pointelle matching set. It’s not overtly sexy, more cozy and comfortable than anything. But the two men’s eyes roam your figure as they see the soft blue color against your skin.
Michael’s fingers graze across the lace trim of the straps, his fingerprints leaving goosebumps in its wake. You watch as Jack moves closer, his eyes narrowing as he watches his friend touch you. Michael kisses your cheek, then your neck, and then along your collarbone. You bring your hand to his head, burying your fingers into his hair as he leaves marks against your skin.
“Try it, Abbott. She’s as sweet as she looks.” Michael says, his voice gravely with arousal as he looks from you to Jack and back at the marks that have pebbled against your skin.
Jack takes your arm, placing traveling kisses against your skin, his eyes never leaving your face. Michael watches, steadfast in his silence. You moan as Jack’s trail of kisses reach your shoulder. He moves the tiny strap to the side as he tenderly bites your shoulder.
Jack’s clean shaven face is smooth. It contrasts the scratch you feel as Michael’s beard drags against your skin. The feeling of their strong, solid bodies against yours is overwhelming and safe at the same time. Your head lolls to the right, pleasure and arousal evident as your smile at the two men.
“That’s good,” you murmur, kissing Michael.
Michael hums, his voice tender as he speaks. “Lay on the bed, sweetheart.”
“And tell us about this dirty little dream of yours.” Jack adds. Their warm bodies, safe and hard against you are like a cozy cocoon you never want to part from. But you comply, the anticipation of pleasure too much to ignore.
“Michael tells you how to touch me.” You start, unable to look either Jack or Michael in the eyes. You fiddle with the beadspread as you speak, heat rising to your chest. “And you touch me.”
“How do I touch you, sweet girl?” Jack asks, he leans forward from his spot on the bed. He looks at Michael, who’s silently watching this unfold. “Does she like it soft and sweet, Robby? Or is she a dirty minx and likes to be teased and edged till she’s squirming?”
“Answer him, darling.” Michael says, he licks his lips, clearly enjoying the exchange.
“I like…to be teased.” You confess, your hands coming to touch your breasts. “And touched here. A lot. I like when Mike plays with my nipples. And leaves marks that only we can see.”
“Very good.” Jack says. He looks at Michael, a shared glance of arousal passing between the pair of them.
“Scoot forward, baby. So you can lay in between Jack’s legs. He’ll keep them parted so you’re all nice and spread open for us.”
You scoot forward so Jack can lay against the headboard. Then, you lay against Jack’s solid, warm body.
“Take those tiny shorts off, Abbott. She thinks she’s cute parading in those things.” Michael quips. “Let’s see how wet she already is. What do you think, Jack? I’m sure she’s fucking soaked.”
Jack helps you shimmy out of the tiny shorts, revealing your lack of panties. He tosses the shorts to Michael. Jack hooks his legs over your legs keeping you spread open for him and Michael.
“Touch her, Jack. Tell me how wet my girl is,” Michael asks, “she’s a naughty little thing. Bet she’s fucking dripping feeling your hard cock against her ass.”
Jack chuckles darkly as he drags his fingers across your belly till he reaches your waiting cunt. He presses a finger against your pussy, feeling your arousal. “Soaked.”
“Hmm, of course she is. What a dirty girl? Getting wet at my best friend touching her dripping cunt. Touch her tits with one hand and play with her clit with the other.” Michael instructs, “She likes her nipples pinched and her clit toyed with till she’s squirming.”
Jack’s fingers are shorter than Michael’s but rougher against the tips. You groan as you feel his bare hand slip under your cotton tank top. He pinches a nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, chuckling as arch your back against him in pleasure.
“She does like her nipples pinched.” Jack comments. With his other hand, he toys with your clit. He moans against your head, his growing erection pressing against your ass. “Can I slip a finger in there, man?”
Michael nods, he takes her hard cock out from his pants. “Yes. She needs at least one orgasm before I can fuck her. She’s still so tight against my cock. Still haven’t gotten used to it, haven’t you, sweetie?”
Michael’s mocking tone makes you close your eyes as Jack’s finger slips inside your hot pussy. He teases your clit with the heel of his hand. Your chest heaved up and down as you gaze at your fiancé. He strokes his cock, precum leaking from his cut tip.
“Kiss her against her pulse”
“Here?” Jack against, his teeth nipping at your bare neck. “She likes that doesn’t she, hmm?”
“It always makes her squirm like that.” Michael comments. “It’s cute, watching her think she’s gonna be able to handle two cocks. Give her another finger, Jack. Watch how my little slut will squirm then,”
Jack complies, his eager, warm mouth kissing your earlobe and biting slight. His rough thumb circles your achy clit before he adds a second finger into your cunt. “Fuck, she’s gripping me so damn hard, man”
“She’s gotta vice like cunt, that one. Fucking made for taking my cock. You should see her ride me, bud. Fucking wild.”
Jack laughs, the patronizing tone the man share making your more turned on than you’d care to admit. “Her? Huh, I had you all wrong, sweet girl. Thought you were a good girl. You’re nothing but a dirty little slut for us, aren’t you sweet thing?”
Michael strokes his angry red cock, holding back his moans as his best friend degrades you. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you. So fucking sexy getting fingered by Jack. Don’t you worry, angel, he’ll get you all nice and stretched out for my big cock.” He continues to stroke himself as he watches Jack tease you.
“Gonna fill her cunt and her mouth with cum, Robby.” Jack says, slipping a third finger into your pussy. He makes a come hither motion and causes your back to arch off the bed. His legs, one metal and the other flesh, keeps you pinned against the bed. “She likes that, man. I feel her clenching.”
“You like that, honey? Hmm, you like me filling that cunt of yours to the brim? Nice and full, mouth and cunt. You’ll look so damn sexy.”
You nod, words caught in your throat at the erotic sight of Michael jerking off as he watches you and Jack. “Can I give her a little tap on the pussy?” Jack asks.
Michael nods, licking his lips as he watches Jack’s hand come in contact with your dripping cunt. You yelp as you reach the brink of your orgasm.
“We gonna let her cum?” Jack asks, giving your cunt another spank. “Or we gonna keep her edged and needy for us?”
Michael moves forward. He rests against the bed in between your legs, his face close to your cunt. He kisses your inner thighs as his nose nudges against your needy pussy. “She’s close….let’s go easy on her, hmm.”
Jack’s thumb and pointer finger rubs quick, steady circles around your swollen clit. “Just like that, Jack. Good. Play with that needy clit while I taste my girl.”
You feel the tip of Michael’s nose against your needy cunt as he laps up your arousal. The feeling of Jack’s fingers rubbing your clit and Michael’s unyielding tongue is almost too much to bear. You dig your heels into the bed, your thighs pinching against Michael’s head. You rut against his face, your orgasm turning your limbs to jelly.
“She’s so fucking ready, man. I can feel her pulse in her clit” Jack says, his steady, torturing pace making your grind against his hard cock that presses against your ass.
“Atta’ girl,” Michael says, a sly grin on his face. Your dampness covering his beard. And you pull him up by the collar for a kiss. You taste your heady, musky arousal against his tongue.
“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “That was…wow. I am ready for the next part…but first…I wanna kiss.”
Michael, ever the doting fiancé complies, but he’s met with your hand squeezing his cheeks. “Not me,” you say, “him. I mean….you’re not the only one can give orders, Dr. Robinavitch.”
Michael’s eyes move from you to Jack as a shy smile crops against his face. “Come on,” you retort, “I know it’s happened before. And don’t you want to taste me, Jack?”
You feel Jack’s deep, rumbling laughter against you back. Michael leans forward past you to reach Jack. He kisses his friend fervently. Your hand sneaks down to your still wet cunt and your touch yourself as you feel Jack behind you and Michael leaning against your front.
“Doesn’t she taste good?” Michael asks, parting from Jack.
Jack nods, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks. “So fucking good. Can’t wait to feel that warm mouth against my cock. Gonna fill you up with cum from both sides, Angel.”
Michael nods, his big hands coming to your waist to lift off your tank top. “Show Jack these pretty tits,” Michael instructs, his kisses your breasts, nipping at your pebbled nipples. “So fucking pretty. On your hands and knees, pretty girl,” he tells you.
You take the position. The bed is low enough that your mouth lines up with Jack’s crotch. Michael’s large, warm hand rests against your bare ass. “She’s pretty like this, isn’t she?”
“Gorgeous,” Jack says, standing in front of you, stroking your face.
“Why don’t you unzip Jack’s pants, baby” Michael suggests, giving your ass an encouraging tap. “There you go, darling. You’ll take him in that warm mouth of yours. All the way,”
Your hand shakes a little as you undo the zipper of Jack’s pants. He lets him fall to his ankles, carefully stepping out of them to regain a balanced footing. His hard cock tents against his boxers. Eagerly you reach in his pants, gripping his erection. His cock curves slightly, shorter than Michael’s but thick and veiny. You lick your lips at the sight of it.
“Let what you see, baby?” Michael asks. Jack grips his cock at the base, lining it up to your lips. “Take him in your mouth, sweetie. Just the tip. Let him feel how warm and wet your mouth is.”
“That’s it. Good girl,” Jack groans, the tip of his cock in your mouth. He cups your jaw gently, practically groveling when you swipe your tongue to taste his precum.
“Just like your dream, babygirl?” Michael tuts, watching as you eagerly take Jack’s cock.
“Fuck. Her mouth is good. So warm. Just like that. A little deeper now, baby. Fill her up too, Robby. Stuff that needy little cunt of hers.” Jack’s crass words make you moan, opening your mouth for more of his thick cock. Your wanton moans turn into vibrations that make Jack close his eyes in pleasure.
Michael’s cock teases you as he drags his thick head against your needy, achy cunt. “So wet. So wet for us, aren’t you. One fat cock isn’t enough for you, isn’t it? She’s so greedy, Jack. Look at her,”
“She’s a fucking star, Robby.” Jack coos, stroking your face as he inches his cock into your mouth inch by inch. “Taking two cocks like a champ,”
“You ready for my cock, baby. Hmm? Jack got you nice and wet for me, playing with your cunt and pinching those nipples.”
“I think she’s ready, Robby,” Jack interjects, “besides, I don’t think I’m gonna much longer.”
You nod, mouth full of Jack’s cock. Drool leaks from your mouth and Jack wipes it away with a cock grin. “You like your mouth all stuffed with cock, don’t you?” He teases, he releases his cock from your mouth. “Tell Robby how much you want him to stuff your pussy with his fat cock,”
Moaning you nod. You turn your head to look at your fiancé. “Please, baby. I need your cock too. I need you to fill me up. Breed my cunt with your cum,” you plead, desperation darkening your eyes.
Michael nods, the thick head of his cock slipping deeper into your pussy. You moan, mouth open and free. Jack takes advantage of your needy moans, stuff his cock back into your warm, wet mouth.
“That’s it, huh? Just like you dreamed, sweet thing,” Michael asks, his hips snapped up to fuck you deeply. He grips your hips, fingers digging deep into your flesh. “Look at Jack in the eyes. Let’s let him see how fucking pretty you are when you come, my sweet girl.”
Jack’s head cocks, watching you struggle to take all of his cock down your throat. His hand, warm and steady, rests tenderly against your throat. He chuckles, ignoring your pleading moans for release.
“Robby, feel her throat,” Jack says, his hand never leaves your throat. “I can feel my cock in there. You feel it, man? Feel her throat take my cock,” Jack and Michael’s hands meet against your throat. Neither of them put any pressure against it, but their warm, steady and big hands practically engulf your entire neck.
“Fuck, baby. He’s in ya so fucking deep,” Michael says, “You gonna come yet, man?” He asks Jack, whose strained face gives his answer away.
“Do we let her come first? Hmm, would you like that? Or do you want us to cum in your sweet mouth and tight cunt first? So you’ll come with our cum leaking from your cunt and dripping from your mouth”
“Let her cum, Robby. Look at her. She can hardly take it.” Jack says, pitying you as you moan around his cock.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. You tell us what you want, babygirl.” Michael coos, his large hands bracing your hips. “Shit, you’re so damn good for me.”
You moan tightly around Jack’s cock, the vibrations making his cock finally give in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is she a swallower,” he asks, again ignoring you in fair of asking your fiancé your preferences.
“Oohoohoo, she’s a swallower for sure, Abbott. Have her show you her pretty tongue when she’s done.” Michael gives your ass another smack and your soft flesh ripples at the touch.
Jack comes with quick juts of his hips into your mouth, you hold eye contact, looking up at him with heavy, laden eyes. “Fuck,” he says, emptying his cum into your eager mouth. He slips his still half-hard cock from your mouth, his residual cum slipping from your lips and dribbling down your chin.
“Shit, man. She’s got a mouth on her,” Jack murmurs, sitting on the armchair.
Michael takes you by the throat, his cock is buried deep in your pussy. He holds you flat against him, kneeling against the bed, propping you up so you’re sitting on his cock. “Do you want Jack to see you ride me, baby? Or fuck you from behind?”
“Take me from behind, please, baby.” You plead, limbs weak from your impending orgasm. “Fuck, I don’t think I can hold myself up.” You whine.
Michael tuts, clicking his tongue against the top of his teeth. “Hmmm, that’s right. I forget how cockdrunk you get, sweetie. And now you got two cocks. Poor thing. Can hardly move? It’s okay, I got you, Angel.”
He kneels against the bed, looking at you bent at the waist, ass up and face planted on the bed. Michael’s warm, large hand spreads against your bare back. He resumes his unrelenting pace, fucking you dumb.
You whine, feeling your impending climax grow more and more needier. “Fuck, honey. I need to come.” You beg, your voice raw and hoarse.
“Ask him.” Michael says, his head nodding towards Jack, who sits stroking his now fully hard cock between a tight fist. “Ask Jack if you can come yet, babygirl”
You summon enough energy to lift your head to see Jack. “Please! Fuck, Jack. Please let me come! Shit, you feel so big this way, honey.”
“Well isn’t that cute,” Michael mocks, his voice playful and teasing. He rubs your clit, only adding fuel to your fire. “She has been good hasn’t she,” Michael confesses, “Maybe Jack will let you come again if he can come all over those pretty tits. Would ya like that, buddy?” He asks Jack, whose stiff cock leaks precum onto his thigh.
“Fuck yeah, man” Jack says, standing up onto his legs. He adjusts his prosthetic, a slight groan probably from standing on it all day.
Michael tells you to lay on your back and you are eager to comply. His long, thick fingers graze down your sides, making you giggle. “You’re cute” he says, a look for adoration and love, despite the incredibly erotic scene occur. “You good, sweetie,” he asks, tenderly.
“Grand,” you say, looking up as Jack continues to pump his hard cock. “Although he might also need some Ibuprofen too, Mike.” You quip teasing your fiancé, “since you know, you’re probably throwing your back out showing for your friend.”
Jack laughs, the dark chuckle making Michael blush. “You think you’re funny, sweetheart,” Michael asks, stroking your jaw.
“Well when you fuck an old man, you kinda figure he needs some medicine after for all his aches and pains,”
“Ah! Brave for a slutty little girl who was just stuffed with two cocks begging to come.” Michael teases, his voice laced with faux sympathy.
“And brave for someone that’s about to be leaking cum from her pussy and tits,” Jack adds, still pumping his hard cock. “You might need to teach this one some respect, Robby.”
Michael laughs, lining his cock up to your pussy again. “Gonna fill you up to the brim, sweetheart. Gotta get some good practice for when I breed nice and full when we’re married.”
Michael reaches out for your hand, holding it tightly as his pelvis snaps against your pussy. You feel the familiar heat build in your core, your breathless moans encouraged by Michael’s fingers against your clit and his cock in your pussy. “That’s it, baby. Come for me, let Jack see how pretty you are when you come, Angel.”
Your orgasm is warm and welcoming as a feeling a bliss washes over you. Your toes clench, twisting against the bed as Michael continues to fuck you, his pace unrelenting.
“Just like that, pretty girl. Isn’t she just the prettiest thing? I’m so close, baby.”
“Gorgeous,” Jack says, his hand stroking his cock as shoots streaks his cum on your waiting, eager tits. “Fuck, that’s good, so good,”
Michael pants, his pace growing slower, “Gonna fill you up. Gonna be leaking my cum.” His eyes are greedy, taking in the sight of you, spent and covered in his friend’s leaking seed.
“So needy,” Jack says, sitting down on the armchair, “covered in my cum and begging for me.”
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum, fill you up with my spunk,” Michael cums with a deep grunt, his warm cum filling your raw, spent cunt. He fills you deep with his seed, reveling in fucking you bare. You fall into a deep, warm, safe space as both Jack and Michael praise you.
He slips out of your cunt, his soft cock bobs against his pelvis. “You good sweetheart. Was it good for you, baby? Hmm?” He asks, reaching out to kiss your hand.
You give a feeble smile as you offer a weak thumbs up. Michael laughs. You hang your hand over your head, palm spread out to offer Jack a high-five that he reciprocates. “Good,” you say, “kinda boneless and…uh…sticky? I need a shower.”
You lay there as Michael goes into the en-suite bathroom probably to grab towels to clean you off. “Thank you,” you say to Jack, your body and brain too exhausted to care about any residual awkwardness of still being naked in front of your fiancé’s coworker/best friend. “That was…very good. Wild,” you mumble weakly.
“No worries. Besides Robby and I needed a little bit of your wild fantasy” Jack says. He puts his pants back on, before clapping Robby on the shoulder. “See you two lovebirds later.”
Michael claps Jack on the back, mentioning something about how Jack is better for fiancé satisfaction scores that patient ones.
He sits by you, the bed dips with his weight. The towel is damn and warm. He cleans up the sticky cum from your breasts and belly, gently and as reverent as a prayer. “There you go, baby. Nice and clean.”
“Thank you, Mike,” you whisper, hands coming to clasp together around his head, pulling him close so you can kiss him, “That was…really fun.”
He continues to wipe the stickiness of your skin, tutting against his teeth when he sees the marks against your skin. “You need a warm bath,” he says, “And I mean…my back is killing me. Bad angle.” He grimaced.
You laugh, sitting up to kiss him again, “you need ibuprofen?” You tease, a smile that Michael loves to kiss and nip at cropping on your lips.
“Oh shut up,” Michael says, no actual contempt in his voice as he tries to silence your teasing, “water, warm bath, something to eat, and then I’ll let you pick what we watch on TV,”
You take his hand as he leads you the bathroom, the large tub filling up with warm water. “Only because you’ll fall asleep in five minutes on that hideous chair.”
Michael gives you an offended look as he passes your water bottle. “Electrolytes.” He says as clinically as he would’ve to a patient he cares for. “And don’t shit on the La-Z-Boy, babe. It’s got the best lumbar support.”
“Oh my god, just stop,” you laugh, “maybe now is the time to tell you about another dream I had on that stupid chair.”
I fell in love. A love that made all my wild rebellion grow quiet and still. I did not need it anymore. I was just happy. / That is what I feel for Sophie.
LUKE THOMPSON as BENEDICT BRIDGERTON
BRIDGERTON | S3E8, S4E5
*Edit*- Sorry for any repeated notifications, authors! Just reorganising the lists on here!
Key: A - Angst | F - Fluff | S - Smut | C - Comfort | HC - Hurt/Comfort
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
One Shots:
> Heaven's Touch by @kryptidfiles
Tags: 18+, MDNI, One Shot F + S
Word Count: 4.7k
Description: After a day spent teasing Clark across the bullpen, one last stop in the archives room proves to be a very bad idea. Or a very good one. An inevitable one.
> Favourite Type of Talk by @satellite-evans
Tags: One Shot, F
Word Count: 3k+
Description: After your first time, you and Clark stay wrapped up together and talk :)
> Part-Time Detective by @devisedplan
Tags: One Shot, F
Word Count: 777
Description: You introduced Clark to a game and he ends up becoming more invested in the lore than you do.
> One Night, Six Months by @pentrologram
Tags: One Shot, HC
Word Count: 2.3k
Description: You're falling apart, but Clark sees you.
> Home by @honeyy-darling
Tags: 18+, MDNI, One Shot, F + A + HC +S
Word Count: 8.7k
Description: What was supposed to be a gentle evening exposes Clark’s deepest fear: that someone else could give you the life he can’t
romaincrisis
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
annaxmalina
