Cathy🤍

Hi! Welcome to my blog! +18. I post fic recs 22

[sunlightkent]

Hi! I used to be rogersbarber! I'm tagging the beautiful blogs that have me on their taglist of the fics so they know it's me! @irishhappiness @rogerswifesblog @rogersideup @buck-star @kryptidfiles @caplanreblogsfics @orobaxis @georgiapeach30513 @satellite-evans @pittsick @steviebbboi @lives-in-midgard @holylulusworld @ronearoundblindly

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[anon-188]

under pressure — c.k.

pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)

summary: clark can’t leave you alone—even when he really, really should. the pressure builds… and something has to give.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called “baby”

a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. that’s it. that’s the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and can’t wait to read everyone else’s!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin — thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still can’t get over how talented you are!! 🤍🤍

Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.

Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door. 

His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and he’d be gone.

It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.

You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.

Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasn’t sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.

Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.

Clark’s eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that he’d forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.

He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.

Focus.

Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him from—

His gaze slipped again.

Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldn’t even pretend it was accidental.

The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldn’t stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever you’d poured into the tub.

You weren’t even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldn’t seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.

That didn’t stop him from trying, though.

And God, did he try. 

Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.

“Alright, baby,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I have to go.”

He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.

Clark’s hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that should’ve ended there but didn’t. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.

He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.

His gaze dropped to your mouth again—and stayed there.

Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where he’d tried to bury it. 

He kissed you again. 

Longer this time. 

And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.

He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.

The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.

Still, he didn’t pull away.

His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didn’t stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.

You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. “You’re gonna get all wet,” you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.

His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.

A faint sound gave under his palm.

Small. Thin. Barely there.

A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldn’t have.

It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasn’t getting back.

He didn’t notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely. 

The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasn’t really a line left to cross.

His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.

It didn’t matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.

You.

His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.

It wasn’t neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.

You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didn’t ease up, didn’t even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didn’t register. Not with you on him.

His hands moved like he couldn’t pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.

Higher.

His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.

His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.

Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.

It registered for half a second—

That was all it got.

Clark’s hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.

His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.

Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again, but he didn’t pause, didn’t dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.

He didn’t give you the usual slow slide, didn’t ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once. 

The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.

“Shi—”

The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.

There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.

Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.

It didn’t take long before you caught it, matched it—

Then took it.

Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.

A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.

You felt too good.

Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.

He was already gone. 

Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.

He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.

Clark’s jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it back by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone. 

It worked.

Mostly.

Until you leaned forward.

Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.

“Baby—” he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldn’t survive the next second.

You didn’t slow down, didn’t give him the space to finish it, and he didn’t fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didn’t want you to stop at all. 

Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.

And then your hips sank lower. 

One deep, filthy grind.

It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.

Clark’s entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct. 

His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.

At the same time, his eyes flashed.

Just for a split second.

A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.

“Shit—”

His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.

Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.

The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.

He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything he’d already let go too far.

“I’m sorry—” he gritted out, the words catching as his hips snapped again. “I’ll fix it—I promise—just—” His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you. 

That was the only thing left in his head.

Need.

His pace changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.

Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.

The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.

But that didn’t stop him. 

“Keep—” his voice faltered, breath catching, “keep going—don’t—”

You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadn’t eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sure—but he caught it.

Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.

“Don’t—fuck—don’t stop,” he groaned.

His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.

The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.

His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strained—

“Please.”

© anon-188 - est. 2025 | please do not repost, copy, translate, or recreate my work in any form.

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[icybarness]

Oooh

Pairings: Clark Kent x reader | Wc: 430

Notes: It's been a while... Enjoy! Inspired by the song Oooh by Kehlani <3 Check out my masterlist!

Summary: Clark's birthday, where you let him do whatever he wants with you...

Warnings: Smut, creampies, Soft!Dom Clark, reader frisky and wanting him too, squirting, kinda smug Clark!

You felt it the moment you woke up.

An empty bed, the cold, empty bed. An early start to Clark's day, you knew, but the feeling of wanting and needing him grew a pit in your stomach. Not in a panicked way, not sadly or chaotically. Off to work, and while you wait for him to come back, where he’s all yours.

Wanting him to take you down. Craving the touch of his skin, lips, a little taste of him, and his…

Yet you couldn't wait.

His early birthday before his actual birthday tomorrow. Why not end his work day with something you’ve both been craving for so long?

Time went by, ever so slowly, ever so straining.

The red mini pj set that hugs every curve, the dainty red shorts that snug at your hips. It’s his turn to act like he wants it. Where he could do anything to you on his special say

Yet here you were at the end of the day. The decadent small vanilla cake that was left in the fridge for later, untouched.

“C-Clark, mmph!” moaning into his shoulders, the squelch in between your thighs and his pelvis every time he pulls in and out in a sharp, punishing pace.

“I know I know you're doing so good sweetheart– so good for me, hmm?” as he groans, the pretty sounds that leave your lips, the greatest sounds to his ears, making his cock throb from every push. From the moment he walked through the front doors, where you stood in the red dainty set, he knew cake could be saved for later—cause you were the cake after all.

The sounds that gradually grow louder, the neighbors who can hear. “C–Clark the window is cracked open, I don’t think—” as he pulled another squeal from you, his swollen tip hitting the spot he always knew how to hit.

“Let the neighbors hear us, let me hear you,” he rasped, bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles to bring you closer to a faster release.

The flash of white as you arched your back, the wanton moan that left your lips. The gush that squirted everywhere to the base of his cock to the white sheets. Where sooner or later his release slowly followed, the white sticky load that covers every inch of your walls.

Who knew how much he could give, how much he filled your walls where you felt an O ring from his base on how much was in you.

And one thing is for sure, he definitely did act on it.

Taglist: @clarknsun @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @anon-188

Inspired song below!!

[vulcansalute]

DAVID CORENSWET as ALLAN DURST in LADY IN THE LAKE (2024)

[orobaxis]

This mother’s day

Summary: Mother’s days are always amazing, and Clark only keeps making them better year after year. Breakfast in bed and impromptu beach trips.

Dad Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

more kent family adventures here!

even more kent family adventures here! (pt 2 of the masterlist)

WE ARE SO BACK!!

You woke up to the absence of a heavy arm around you, and the smell of something warm and buttery drifting under the bedroom door. You hummed sleepily before rolling over and burying your face deeper into the pillow.

You knew what day it was. You had known since last night, when you caught Jon attempting to whisper something to Clark in the hallway and failing spectacularly at it, his voice carrying clear down the whole upstairs corridor. "Daddy, Daddy, is it Mommy’s day yet?"

So you stayed in bed and kept your eyes closed.

Downstairs, Clark stood at the stove with one eye on the eggs and one eye on Jon, who was sitting on the counter, pressing both fists into a lump of playdough that was supposed to be, apparently, a flower. There was flour on his cheek. There was also flour on the ceiling, and Clark had decided not to investigate how it got there.

"Is it good?" Jon asked, holding up what appeared to be a flat, vaguely circular blob.

"It's perfect, buddy."

At the kitchen table, Leia was bent so close over her piece of paper that her nose was nearly touching it. Two cards were already finished and lined up in a row. The first had a drawing of four of you standing in front of the house, stick figures with wild crayon hair. The second had a poem she had copied and then decorated with many hand-drawn hearts and stars. Now she was making a third.

"Leia," Clark said gently. "More cards?"

"Yes, daddy," she said, without looking up. “But this one is different."

"How is it different?"

"The other two are from you, me, and Jon. This one is just from me."

Clark shrugged and turned back to the eggs.

Jon slid off the counter, landing with a thud, and padded over to look at his sister's work. "Pretty," he announced, patting her hair with a floury hand, leaving a small white print. Leia looked at him carefully, and decided to let it go.

"Okay," Clark said, sliding the eggs onto the plate and turning off the stove. "We’re ready to go.”

"I carry the tray, Daddy!" Jon was already running toward the counter, arms up, reaching.

"Jon…"

"I carry it. I'm big."

Clark crouched down to his level. Jon's face was serious, the same look he got when he was trying to put his own shoes on.

"Okay," Clark said. "You carry it. But I'm going to put my hands right here, just in case."

Jon nodded. "Okay. But I'm really carrying it."

"You're really carrying it."

"You're just helping a little bit."

"Just a little bit."

-

You heard them coming up the stairs.

You heard Jon's voice, hushed with great effort and not quite succeeding, saying "shhh, shhh, shhh" the whole way up. You heard Leia whisper "I know, I'm being quiet." You heard the low, warm sound of Clark murmuring something to Jon about the tray, steady and careful.

You closed your eyes and kept your breathing slow.

The door creaked open.

"She's sleeping," Jon whispered, at full volume.

"Jon," Leia whispered back.

"Mommy’s sleeping, we have to be quiet."

"I know, you have to be quiet."

"I am being quiet."

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"Okay," Clark said softly, "nice and easy, let's put it right here."

There was a careful shuffling, the soft thump of the tray settling on the nightstand, and then a long pause. You could feel all three of them looking at you.

And then Jon, unable to contain himself for even one more second, climbed up onto the bed, crawled across the mattress on all fours, and put both hands on your face.

"Mommy. Mommy, wake up. Mommy."

You opened your eyes.

His face was inches from yours, wide-eyed and beaming, flour still on his cheek. "HAPPY MOMMY’S DAY!" he shouted, and then immediately looked at Leia, silently telling her that it was her cue.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy," Leia said, and she was trying to sound calm and grown-up about it but her smile was giving her away completely. She climbed up on the other side and laid the stack of cards in your lap. "We made you cards. We couldn't pick the best one, so you get all of them. There are three."

"Three of them?” You asked.

"The third one is just from me."

You looked at Clark, who was standing in the doorway with a quiet expression he got on mornings like this, leaning against the frame, watching. He smiled at you.

"Come here," you said.

He came and sat on the edge of the bed, and you looked at the tray: eggs, toast, a small glass of orange juice, and a slightly crushed flower that might have come from the backyard, sitting in a cup of water. Jon immediately pointed at the flower.

"I picked it," he said.

"It's beautiful, Jonny bear."

"I know." He crawled into your lap and settled there, tucking his head under your chin.

You looked through the cards one by one while Leia watched your face carefully, tracking your reaction to each one. The drawing of the family. The poem with the hearts and stars. And then the last one, the one just from her. It was simpler than the others. On the front she had drawn what looked to be a portrait of you, and inside she had written “My mommy is the prettiest mom in the world. She gives great kisses and hugs”.

You held it for a moment.

"Did you like it?" Leia asked.

"I love it," you said. "Come here."

She leaned in and you kissed the top of her head, and Jon, not wanting to be left out, tilted his face up toward you too, so you kissed his forehead as well, and he made a satisfied sound and burrowed closer.

You ate your breakfast in bed with Jon in your lap, Leia leaning against your shoulder flipping back through her own cards to point out details you might have missed, and Clark beside you, his arm easy and familiar around your back. The sun came through the curtains slow and golden. Jon fell almost back asleep against your chest. Leia eventually settled too, curled into your side with her eyes drooping, still holding the crayon drawing of the four of you in front of the house.

Clark pressed a kiss to your temple.

You stayed like that for a long time.

Later, after the slow untangling of limbs and the transferring of a drowsy Jon to the couch with a blanket, after Leia had gone to find her book, you and Clark stood at the kitchen sink together doing the breakfast dishes.

You were handing him the pan when he set it aside, turned toward you, and kissed you, warm and unhurried.

When he pulled back, he stayed close. His forehead almost touching yours. And then he turned his head slightly, lips near your ear, and whispered, "I don't know what I did to deserve this. Any of it. I want you to know that I know that. I'm so happy. I'm so grateful for you."

You closed your eyes.

You had heard him say it before. Last Mother's Day, standing almost exactly here, the sun coming through this same window. And the Mother's Day before that, when Jon was still a baby and Leia had carried the card downstairs herself, enormously proud. And the first one, years ago, when it was just the three of you and everything felt new and a little terrifying and he had looked at you like you had given him everything.

Every year. The same words, more or less. Like a thing he needed to say and you needed to hear, a ritual that belonged to both of you now.

You leaned into him. His arms came around you.

Outside, you could hear Leia's voice drifting in from the other room, narrating something to herself, and the occasional soft sound of Jon on the couch, not quite asleep.

Clark would say it again next year. And the year after that. For all the years to come, as many as you had, he would find you somewhere ordinary and say it like he meant it, because he did, because that was who he was.

You thought about the cards on the nightstand upstairs. The flower that Jon picked.

You tilted your head up and kissed him again, soft and slow.

"I know," you said quietly. "Me too."

-

“So,” Clark started, leaning against the counter and folding his arms. "The kids have never seen the Atlantic."

You looked at him.

"It's a nice day on the coast," he said. "I checked."

"You checked."

"Cape Hatteras is seventy-three degrees right now."

"Of course you know that."

"Light wind. Almost no cloud cover." He tilted his head slightly. "Two hours by car. Approximately four minutes the other way."

From the living room, as if on cue, Jon's voice drifted in. "Daddy, are we doing something fun?"

Clark raised his eyebrows at you. You dried your hands on the dish towel.

"If I get sand in places I don't want sand," you said, "that's on you."

Clark smiled. "I'll take full responsibility."

"You always say that."

"And I always mean it."

When you told the kids, Jon fell off the couch. He rolled onto the floor and immediately jumped up with his arms in the air like it didn't happen. "BEACH!"

Leia gasped, grabbed your arm with both hands, and shook it. "Are we actually going or is this a maybe?"

"We're actually going."

She let go of your arm and turned to Jon. "We're actually going."

Jon, who had been spinning in a circle, stopped spinning. "BEACH," he said again, with renewed emphasis.

Clark was already carrying a bag from somewhere with everything already in it, and you squinted at it with suspicion.

"Did you pack this already?"

"I had a feeling."

"Clark."

"You were always going to say yes."

You had absolutely been always going to say yes.

-

Jon, it turned out, had opinions about altitude that he had not previously had the opportunity to express. Specifically, he wanted to see. He kept craning around in Clark's arm trying to look down, saying "whoa" in a very small voice, over and over. "Whoa. Whoa, Daddy. Whoa."

"I see it, buddy."

"That's tiny."

"That's a farm."

"It's tiny."

"We're very high up."

Jon considered this for a moment, looking down at the tiny farm. "Cool," he decided, and relaxed against Clark's shoulder.

Leia, tucked against your side with her hair absolutely everywhere despite the ponytail she'd started with, pointed at a river below them and said "what's that" and then before you could answer pointed at something else and said "what's that." You gave up trying to answer in sequence and just held her and let Clark handle the navigation.

Four minutes. He had said four minutes and he had not been lying, which was somehow the most Clark Kent thing about the whole situation. The landscape shifted, and the light changed, and then there was a long blue line on the horizon that got wider as you dropped lower, and the air tasted different all at once, salt and openness, and Jon lifted his head off Clark's shoulder and said, very quietly, "Water."

"That's the ocean," Clark told him.

Jon stared at it. "It's big," he said.

"It's very big."

"Is it the biggest?"

"It's one of the biggest." You told him.

Jon stared at it for another long moment. "Okay," he said, in the tone of someone filing this information away carefully.

-

Clark set you all down in a quieter stretch of beach, easy and gentle, the sand pale and wide and the waves rolling in slow. It was a gorgeous day. Seventy-three degrees, just like he'd said, and you hated a little bit how right he always was about things like that.

"I need to change," you said, taking the bag from him. You had grabbed a change of clothes in the rush before leaving. "You've got them?"

Clark looked at the children. Jon was already sitting down in the dry sand, pressing both hands into it with an expression of deep interest. Leia had taken her shoes off and was walking toward the waterline.

"I've got them," Clark said.

You headed up toward the public changing areas, which were not far. The walk took maybe five minutes. The changing took another five.

When you came back, following the path back down toward the beach, you heard Leia before you saw them.

"Again!" she was saying. "Do it again!"

You came around the low dune and stopped.

Clark was standing in the sand with his shirt and shoes off, and as you watched, he planted his hands and went into a cartwheel. Clean, easy, unhurried, a full rotation with his legs straight in the air before he landed back on his feet.

Leia and Jon were watching him with identical expressions of absolute wonder.

You stood very still. You did not want to interrupt this.

"AGAIN," Jon said.

Clark did it again.

"Okay," Leia said, with the gravity of someone accepting a challenge. "I'm going to do that."

"Alright, sweetie." Clark nodded, hands on his hips, "Do you want me to show you how to–"

"I know how."

Leia did not know how. Both hands went down, she got one leg up, and then the whole thing just sort of listed sideways and she went into the sand shoulder-first, rolling to a stop and ending up on her back looking at the sky.

There was a pause.

"I meant to do that," she said.

"Absolutely," Clark agreed.

Jon, who had been watching Leia, decided he had learned enough. He stepped forward, bent down, put his hands in the sand, and then simply fell directly onto his face.

Not a cartwheel. Not even an attempt at a cartwheel. Just a small determined boy tipping forward and going down.

The sound he made on impact was mostly just surprised.

The laugh came out of you before you could do anything about it. You were laughing properly now, and Clark turned toward the sound of you and saw you standing there, and the smile that crossed his face was wide and completely unguarded.

Jon pushed himself up from the sand. He had it on his nose, his chin, both cheeks. He looked at his hands. He looked at Leia. He looked at Clark.

"I did it," he said.

"You really did," Clark said.

Leia sat up with sand in her hair and pointed at you. "Mommy was watching!"

"I know," Clark said. "I heard her laughing from over there."

"I wasn't laughing," you said, walking toward them and absolutely still laughing.

"You were," Leia said. "It's okay. I'm going to do it for real next time." She stood up and brushed sand off her arms. "I was just warming up."

Jon was still sitting where he'd fallen. He looked up at you as you reached them and held both arms up, the universal signal.

You crouched down and picked him up, sand and all.

"Did you do a cartwheel?" you asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"It was very good."

"I know."

He put his sandy head on your shoulder, already losing interest in cartwheels now that the ocean was right there, and pointed toward the water. "Can we go?"

"Yeah, baby. We can go."

-

Hours later, Clark brought his family home. He carried Jon upstairs and got him into dry clothes, somehow without waking him. Jon stirred once, muttered something that might have been "ocean," and went back under.

Leia was tired but fighting it, operating on the seven-year-old principle that sleep was something that happened to other people. She sat on the bed wrapped in a towel and accepted the cup of warm apple juice Clark brought her and watched you with the expression she sometimes got, the thinking one, where you could almost see something turning over behind her eyes.

"Mommy," she said.

"Yeah, little star?"

She looked at Clark. Something passed between them.

Clark set his own cup down. "Actually," he said, "I think now is a good time."

"Now is a good time for what?" you asked.

Leia was already off the bed.

She came back from the hallway closet carrying something with both hands, carefully.

It was a book. A real one, or close to it, hardcovered, wrapped in brown paper that had been decorated with flowers and stars and hearts and what appeared to be a dog that was probably meant to be Krypto. Across the front, in Leia's careful handwriting and Jon's rather more enthusiastic scribbling, it said FOR MOMMY.

She held it out to you.

You took it. It was heavier than you expected.

"We made it," Leia said. "Me and Daddy. And Jon helped."

"Jon picked some of the pictures," Clark said. "He was very decisive about it."

"He kept pointing at the ones with food in them," Leia added.

"That's fair," you said. Your voice came out a little unsteady and you didn't try to fix it.

You pulled off the paper carefully. Leia watched you.

The cover underneath was a deep blue, and in the center was a photo you recognized immediately: the two of you on your wedding day, not the posed portrait, not the formal one, but the candid someone had caught of the moment just after, when you were both still laughing about something and Clark had his forehead tipped toward yours and neither of you were looking at the camera. You had always loved that photo. You had not known he had printed it.

You opened it.

The first pages were the wedding.

Not just the ceremony, but all of it. The chaos of getting ready. The moment before you walked out, caught by someone from the side. Clark at the end of the aisle and the particular look on his face that you had seen in the photos before but that still hit you the same way every time, like he couldn't quite believe it, like he was trying to memorize you.

Your first dance. The cake. The late part of the night when shoes had been abandoned and someone had put on something ridiculous and everyone was dancing badly and happily and you were laughing into Clark's shoulder.

You turned the page.

The hospital. Leia, hours old, bundled tight, eyes scrunched shut against the light. Clark holding her with an expression you did not have words for, had never had words for. And one of you, just after, looking down at her with your whole heart on your face.

You pressed your fingers to your mouth.

"Keep going," Leia said softly, sitting close beside you now.

There were years in that book.

Leia's first birthday, cake everywhere. A vacation you'd taken when she was barely one, some small town, and a photo of Clark carrying her on his shoulders while she grabbed fistfuls of his hair. Ordinary Sundays. A Christmas morning with wrapping paper knee-deep. Leia's first day of school, backpack nearly as big as she was, chin lifted.

Then Jon. The hospital again, that same late-night quality of light, and Jon so small, so new, and Leia holding him for the first time, leaning over very carefully to look at his face with serious expression before announcing that he was okay.

You laughed at the memory.

More years. Jon learning to walk, caught mid-tumble, laughing anyway. The four of you at the park, at the table, in the backyard. Small moments, ordinary ones, the kind you lived inside of without always knowing you were building something.

And then, near the back, a page that was more recent. This past year. Jon asleep on Clark's chest on the couch. Leia reading with her legs over the arm of the chair the way you always told her not to sit. The four of you at the kitchen table, Sunday breakfast, everyone slightly disheveled, no one performing anything for anyone.

Home.

The last page was a letter.

Handwritten on paper that had been glued in carefully, a little crooked, which somehow made it better. Leia's handwriting, her best, each letter formed with effort. And at the bottom, in Jon's wide wandering scrawl, his name. He had also drawn a star next to it, and what might have been a cat, and a number four for reasons known only to him.

It was not a long letter. Leia was seven, and she had written it herself, and it said what it needed to say.

She wrote that you were the best mother in the world, and she had thought about this carefully and was sure.

She wrote that you were the best mom because you always knew when something was wrong even when she didn't say anything, and she didn't know how you did that but she was glad.

You were the best mom because you made her and Jonny feel safe.

And then, near the end, in the same careful handwriting, she had written, "If me and Jon got born again, we would choose you to be our mommy again. Forever and ever and ever."

You didn't try to hold it together.

You weren't sure you could have even if you'd wanted to, and you didn't want to, not here, not with the three of them right there watching you with so much love it was almost too much to be inside of.

Leia climbed into your lap and put her arms around your neck. "Don't be sad, Mommy," she said, against your cheek.

"I'm not sad," you told her. "I promise I'm not sad. This is the other kind."

She pulled back to look at your face, checking, the way you had always checked hers. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her, because she settled back against you and let out a long breath.

Jon appeared at your elbow.

He had woken up somewhere in the middle of the letter, soft-eyed and rumpled, drawn by the sound of your voice. He looked at you, at Leia, at the book in your hands. He reached up and patted your face with one small hand, very gently.

"Okay, Mommy?" he asked.

"More than okay, baby," you said.

He nodded, satisfied, and climbed up too, wedging himself into the remaining space, and you made room for him. Clark moved to sit beside you now, his arm coming around all three of you, solid and warm and steady.

You leaned into him.

He pressed his lips to the side of your head and kept them there for a moment.

"Leia stayed up very late three nights this week working on that letter," he said quietly, just for you. "She kept starting over because she said it wasn't right yet."

You looked at your daughter. She was pretending not to have heard this. She had her face turned away with nonchalance.

"Well, she got it right."

She turned back. Her eyes were a little bright. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug that did not fool you at all. "I just wanted to say it correctly."

"You did, baby girl."

The sunset came the way May sunsets do, spreading color across the whole sky.

The four of you sat on the back porch. Blankets had materialized. Jon was back asleep, curled against your side with his shell still in his hand, carried all the way from Cape Hatteras. Leia was leaning on the porch railing watching the sky go pink and orange.

Clark had his arm around you. He hadn't stopped touching you all day in small ways, a hand at your back, fingers through yours, the easy and unthinking language of someone who has loved someone for a long time and doesn't see any reason to stop.

"Good day?" he asked.

You looked at Jon's sleeping face. At Leia pointing out a color in the sky to herself, quietly, just noting it. At the scrapbook sitting on the table behind you.

At the sky, going gold, going rose, going the deep and luminous blue of something ending well.

"Best one yet," you said.

Clark pressed a kiss to your temple. "I'll take that," he said. "And I'll do better next year."

"You cannot do better than this year."

"Watch me."

You laughed, soft, so as not to wake Jon. Leia turned around at the sound of it and smiled at you for no particular reason. You smiled back.

The sky kept going. You had the warmth of your family around you, the day settling into evening, and the unrepeatable gold of this one hour in this one May.

-

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[sunlightkent]

sobbing

[dearwalker]

Enchanted to meet you

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 3.8k

Description: When Johnny is sent to investigate suspicious steam coming out of a sewer, he doesn’t expect a woman from another dimension to climb out of it. You look at him like he’s your knight in shining armor, and he realizes very soon you possess the ability to completely derail his life.

Inspired on the movie Enchanted ✨

Tags/Warnings: whimsy!reader, fluff, humor, cheeky references to other characters and universes, yearner!johnny being down bad for women out of this world.

Notes: I’ve been feeling whimsy lately and it’s all thanks to my dear @vividxpages, so this one is dedicated to her 🤍 I’ve also missed writing our dramatic prince Johnny, and ended up giggling a lot while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist

Johnny had just walked out of the shower when his Fantastic Watch™ beeped. Wrapped in only a towel from the waist down, he steamed the remaining water off his body as he reached for it. 

‘Steam rising from a sewer system detected in Midtown, please go check it out – Reed.’ 

He chuckled. The situation seemed a little bit dramatic to call a whole superhero, but Johnny Storm never missed a public appearance if the opportunity arose. He quickly got dressed in his blue suit, making sure his hair was fully dry before smiling to his reflection, and stepping out into the living room. 

Ben, who was reading a book on one of the large couches, watched Johnny stroll to the kitchen island to snatch a fresh Maisie’s cookie from the batch H.E.R.B.I.E was putting on a tray, giving him a little pet in the process. 

“Hey, J,” Ben called, just as Johnny reached the balcony and burst into flames. “If you find anything weird down there, try not to flirt with it,” he teased without looking up, and a robotic giggle was heard from the kitchen.  

Traitor, Johnny thought, narrowing his eyes at Herbert. 

Ben thought he was so smug ever since the whole Herald fiasco. But Johnny, ever the sweet summer boy, just gave him a pearly white condescending smile before finally taking off into the night. 

A few minutes later, Johnny lands in the middle of a street in Times Square, where traffic has stopped and a crowd has gathered around a rattling sewer lid. There’s indeed thick white clouds coming out of it, and Johnny can feel the high temperature as he lands next to them.

People gasp when they see him, then cheer and whistle because salvation has arrived. 

‘Human torch!’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘I told the mayor he needed to check on the system ages ago!’

“Alright everyone, back up,” he puts on a smile, shooing people away with his arms. “I got it covered–”

A loud metal sound makes him turn around, and the manhole cover blasts upward landing on top of a car nearby with a loud crash. People scream and scatter away, and Johnny flames on instantly, absorbing all the heat that pours out of it.

The white steam subsides, replaced by some lilac, glittering particles that make Johnny cough a few times, swatting at it with his gloved hands. Once Johnny can see clearly again–or maybe not–he notices there’s something peeking out. 

Is that…a hand? 

A hand comes out to grab the edge of the sewer, but he sees no claws or scales or weirdly colored skin, no…it’s a woman’s hand wrapped in delicate lace gloves. Then the other hand comes out, clearly trying to prop themselves up. 

Johnny’s fire dies when he sees no imminent danger, and he frowns at the small coughs coming from inside, stepping closer to see when something finally emerges from the sewer. 

You emerge. 

“Oof,” you say, using all your strength to climb out of…whatever you were in. 

The puffy white gown you’re wearing spreads around you as your heels finally touch the ground, layers upon layers of sparkling fabric drag through the glittery pavement when you straighten yourself up. You brush away dust from your giant skirt, too lost in your own world to notice that the crowd around you has gone dead silent, and Johnny looks flat out bewildered. 

That is, until a car blasts its horn, making you jump so hard you almost fall back into the sewer.  

Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist, catching you immediately. You yelp, clinging to your savior, and that’s when your eyes finally meet. Your breath hitches, but all you needed was one look to that perfect blonde hair and those bright blue eyes to exhale in relief. 

“Oh, thank goodness!” you say giddily, “Is this the Barbie Kingdom?”

Johnny doesn’t answer because quite frankly, what the fuck? 

You don’t seem to mind, your melodic voice keeps spilling out excitedly. “My bad, Ken. I know it’s not a kingdom anymore! That democracy thing you have going on is spectacular, I really admire–” your enthusiasm dies out a little when your eyes dart around, realizing there’s zero pink in this place, only strangers,  a bunch of weird colored lights, and the guy you’re holding onto for dear life is looking at you like you’re insane. “But this…doesn’t look like Barbieland,” you add with a nervous laugh. “Are you…a prince?” 

Barbieland. A prince? 

(I mean, he’ll take the compliment, but ????) 

Johnny’s confused gaze darts all over your face, then down to your dress. A wedding dress. There are actual sparkles woven into it, and he’s sure your skirt alone weighs more than him. The white fabric is pristine and you smell like flowers, not like you just crawled out of a sewer. 

And you just called him Ken. Thank God Ben is not here. 

“Umm, kind sir?” You snap him out of his trance, still gripping his forearms. “Can you please tell me what kingdom is this?” 

He looks at you, then at the crowd that’s just as confused as him, before replying hesitantly. 

“...Manhattan?” He says, and it does very little to calm you down. He clears his throat, finally releasing you from his grip so you feel more comfortable. “You can call me Johnny, by the way,” he says, giving you his best trademark smile. 

You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Well, Johnny of Manhattan,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to avoid making eye contact with the people whispering around you, and the noise of those weird metal boxes with wheels. “Do you know Andalasia?” 

Even with all the extensive space knowledge Johnny possesses, he can’t really point out a place in the universe named like that. 

“Is that your planet?” He asks, making you chuckle softly. Johnny delights in the sound, he feels like any moment now birds will wake up to surround you and start chirping. 

“It’s my world,” you say, your voice turning more nostalgic now. “I was meant to marry The Bat Prince Edward today, my Eddie, and now I’ve fallen into this terrible place...” 

“…Right.”

Johnny tries to consider all options.

Maybe you hit your head? Or you were some junkie? A very dedicated theater kid? Method actor? Or maybe, crazy idea, you were telling the truth. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because your laced gloved hand suddenly reaches for his.

“Please, can you help me go back?” You ask desperately. 

Johnny looks where your hands meet, and decides to ignore the creeping blush on his face and the intrusive thoughts. She’s engaged. She’s probably crazy. But she’s so beautiful–no! Stop it, Johnny. 

The last time he had a crush on a woman that showed up unannounced on his planet, things had not ended well. 

“I know someone who might,” is all he says, avoiding your eyes. Since when does Johnny Storm get shy? 

You squeal immediately, practically leaping into his chest to give him a hug he certainly wasn’t expecting. Johnny laughs surprised, trying not to get lost in your sweet perfume. A white flash suddenly blinds you, and your eyes widen in panic at the crowd closing in. 

‘Johnny, who is she?’ ‘Another Herald?’ ‘Is this for a movie?” 

Without thinking you cling tighter to Johnny, who you’ve decided is the only person you can trust in this weird place, and that does something alarming to his stupid little heart. Red flag, red flag–whatever, he decides to step up to the role, shielding you from the photographers. 

“Alright, show’s over everybody!” He announces with a smile, never losing that golden boy persona, before turning back to you. “Okay, princess, you’re coming with me,” he says, pointing upward.

“...How?” You ask, staring up at the sky with a frown. 

“You just hold on, and try not to scream,” he winks at you, and before you can react he’s picking you up bridal style, bunching the skirt of your dress so it’s not on the way. “I’ll try not to scorch it, but no promises.”

“Scorch it? What do you mea–oh my god…” 

The night sky glows with fire coming out of this man’s body, as he flies you across the Manhattan realm. Truth to be told, coming from a world of magic and curses, this may not be the craziest thing that has ever happened to you. 

You land on the balcony of a tower that looks absolutely nowhere near the ones made of stone back home. And thank the universe you’re too busy gawking at the view, because Johnny is able to sneakily pat the ends of your dress that caught on a few flames without you noticing. 

“Oh wow…” you whisper, placing your gloved hands on the railing, overwhelmed by all the movement and lights and floating things. “Your world is strange, Johnny of Manhattan,” you laugh softly. 

Johnny chuckles, and wow, this is not what he thought his night would be like. But then you gasp, pointing at the sky.

“We have the same moon!” You exclaim, placing your elbow on the railing and your cheek on your palm as you stare longingly at the sky. “Don’t you like it, Johnny? Knowing she’s always there?”

Johnny smiles, but he’s not sure it’s because of the celestial body he’s admired since he was a little boy, or the way you seem completely mesmerized by it.

“I’ve always loved her,” Johnny says fondly, stepping next to you with both hands on the railing, but he doesn’t look up. His eyes stay on you. He watches you sigh dreamily, and it makes him smirk. “Is this the part where we start singing about our heart’s wishes?” 

“What? Noo,” you chuckle, without taking your eyes off the moon. “It just means home must be close if we can see the same stars…” 

Right, home. Johnny forces himself to take his eyes off you, and as he peeks inside the empty living room, he notices Ben is no longer there. Perfect. 

“Come on, let’s go inside, princess,” he says, and you turn to him with a smile. 

He bows to let you go first, and you do a little bow in return. Your enormous skirt barely manages to cross the threshold with a few tugs. The black fabric at the ends, courtesy of the human torch, drags across the carpeted floors as you slowly take in every detail. He guides you into a big metal box, and presses a panel. You extend your arms for balance as the thing begins going up all of a sudden. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper.

Johnny watches you with a smile and pride blooming in his chest. The Baxter Building is a marvel even for normal people, to you? It must be mind blowing. The innocent awe in your face makes Johnny feel that familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Bad Johnny. 

“Okay, number one rule,” he clears his throat, compensating by the thing he does best: joking. “We’re going into the ogre’s swamp, so you’re better off not touching anything.”

He feels proud of it, at least until you look at him horrified and recoil in fear. 

“An ogre? Oh no no no no…” you shake your head, reaching for the panel and pressing it frantically until the thing stops moving. “I don’t like those, absolutely not.”

“No, wait, sorry,” Johnny apologizes. “It was just a joke. We’re going to my brother in law’s lab, and he’s a bit…particular,” he explains, and only presses the button to keep going up when you nod. “Just uh…follow my lead, and you’ll be fine,” he says, when the elevator comes to a stop.

He stretches his neck, bouncing slightly on his feet and giving himself a small pep talk you can’t really understand. Then the doors open to another colorful, open place that makes your eyes go wide. Johnny strolls in first, and you follow behind like an anxious lost puppy. 

“Reed!” he calls out dramatically, to a figure leaning over a counter. “I bring gifts from my mission!”

The man–not ogre, thank the stars–Reed, doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. His intention to ignore Johnny doesn't last long though, because he hears a pair of heels clicking on the floor that definitely don’t belong to his brother in law. He lifts his gaze, and his eyes immediately land on you.

“Why is there a bride in my lab?” He deadpans, looking at you up and down. “For the love of God, Jonathan, don’t tell me you–”

“Uh-uh,” Johnny cuts him off, holding a finger in the air before spreading his arms in a flourish to gesture at you. “I present to you: the steaming sewer.”

“Hiii!” You smile politely, waving at Reed. “Are you the ruler of this realm?”

Reed now looks at Johnny, exasperation written all over his face. “Explain yourself.”

“She came out of the sewer,” Johnny shrugs, looking too smug for his own good. “Dress and all.”

“I did,” you nod enthusiastically, not really helping at all.

Reed sighs, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers, but by the time he opens them again, you’ve already wandered to one of his old models with a curiosity that reminds him of his own son. 

“Oooh, what’s this?” You ask, reaching for a red lever.

“No, don’t touch–“

You gasp in delight as the lights flicker when you pull on it, but Johnny catches your hand just in time before you pull the whole thing and cut the power of the entire building. He gently guides you away from the counters, smiling apologetically at Reed’s resting bitch face. 

Ogre, indeed. 

The doors of the metal box you arrived in open again, and a woman storms in carrying a child in her arms. He doesn’t even look a year old. 

“Not only are you working late, but you’re messing with the power while I’m trying to put Franklin to bed and I–” The woman stops in his tracks when she sees you standing in the middle of the lab. Her eyes go to Johnny, and she only has to raise her eyebrows for him to look like a scolded child.

“Sue, I can explain. Don’t panic, she’s just a–”

“Pwincess!” The baby in her arm babbles, clapping his little hands together.

You coo at the baby, but stay put where you are, not wanting to crowd the woman narrowing her eyes at you. You gather the fabric of your dress and give them a little curtsy.

“Thank you, little bean. But I’m not a princess yet,” you say, pressing one hand to your chest. 

Sue notices the way you clutch the fabric of your dress nervously, and curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Did you escape from your wedding?” She asks, but there’s no real malice behind it. 

“I didn’t escape,” you shake your head, looking down to the floor. “I believe someone may have tried to kill me and I ended up here instead.”

“Oh honey,” her expression softens, not entirely sure why she believes you’re harmless to her family. At least at this moment. 

Johnny does, and he sighs, because now you’ve activated Sue’s mom instincts. How is he supposed to not get attached?

At least she won’t be telling him to kill you.

“Where exactly did Johnny find you, sweetheart?” She asks, bouncing little Franklin on her hip.

“Johnny says it’s called a sewer!” 

Sue just nods, looking between Reed and Johnny but the latter just smiles with a shrug. A sudden blue light washes over you, but before you can panic Johnny shows you it’s coming from a little device Reed is hunching over. 

“He’s just scanning you to see how we can help,” Johnny explains reassuringly, and you nod as the light keeps going all over you. 

“Fascinating,” Reed says after a few minutes, walking away from the thingy to circle you. “No traces of chemical intoxication. Her body has adapted to survive in our environment, but her clothing fibers are unlike anything I’ve seen on this planet.” 

“Oh! My dress was hand sewn with the help of my friends. Mouses and rabbits are very talented when it comes to special fabrics,” you say matter of factly. 

“Mouses and rabbits.” Reed repeats and you nod happily. Jesus Christ. 

“H.E.R.B.I.E told me you were all here. What’s going on?” A new voice echoes across the lab as the doors open again. ”Uhh, is Johnny getting married and didn’t tell us?” 

You turn around to see a tall man made out of orange rocks and your shoulders sag in relief. Finally, someone normal around here. But before you can ask him if he knows how to get to your kingdom, Reed is already gesturing for him.

“Perfect timing, Ben. Team gathering. Now.” 

Ben obeys, following him without taking his eyes off you. Sue walks past you, and Franklin giggles when he tries to grab one of your puffy sleeves and fails. Reed motions them deeper into the lab, and Johnny walks backwards to look at you. 

“Don’t touch anything,” he mouths, and your eyes drift immediately towards another lever device on the counter. “Especially that!” He whisper-shouts, and you nod innocently, clasping your hands behind your back.  

He flashes you a grin before jogging to meet the others, who are already explaining the situation to Ben. You can hear the whispering, but you can’t really make out what they’re saying, so you distract yourself with your own dress. 

On the far corner of the lab…

“She came out of a sewer, and you believe she’s a princess?” Ben asks, biting back a smile as he watches Johnny roll his eyes.

“She could be delusional. Experimenting a psychological episode perhaps.” Reed says.

“Then why didn’t your scans show anything?” Johnny crosses his arms. 

Reed hesitates, because the machine may not show physical abnormalities, but your mental state is a different thing. 

“My love?” Reed asks the person he trusts the most in the room.

“She looks harmless,” Sue shrugs, shifting Franklin who’s starting to fall asleep on her shoulder. 

“She is harmless,” Johnny says immediately.

“You've known her for like twenty minutes,” Ben teases. 

“Yeah, and in those twenty minutes she’s been overwhelmed, yet polite enough to ask for our help. After all we’ve seen lately, I think we’re safe–just…look at her.”

They all glance back. 

You’re standing exactly where Johnny left you, carefully lifting the edge of your gown and gasping in visible distress when you notice it has turned black.

“Oh no…my dress…”

Johnny mentally slaps himself when you look at the singed fabric with a sad face. Okay, maybe flying in flames while carrying a hundred pounds of magical tulle had been a bad idea.

“So who’s the lucky fella?” Ben whispers, nudging his arm to get his attention.

Johnny takes a second too long to take his eyes away from you, before turning back to the group with the answer. 

“She said she was marrying some prince named Eddie,” Johnny explains, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t trust him, what if he’s the one who sent her away?”

“Or…maybe you just want to steal his bride,” Ben says without hesitation, making Sue snort. Even Reed’s mouth twitches. 

Johnny groans, stepping back to point between them defensively. 

“No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong! Absolutely wrong,” he defends himself, but his family has the audacity to laugh in his face. 

“Johnny–”

“No! This isn’t another Shalla-bal situation,” he insists, crossing his arms. “That was months ago. Besides, can you really blame me? She was gorgeous.”

“And do you think the princess is gorgeous?” Sue asks with a knowing smile. 

He glances at you once again, and it’s a bad idea, because Herbert has rolled into the room too and now you are bending slightly so you can pet his weird head. You were actually petting him. The droid is complimenting your dress, and you thank him giddily because you somehow understand what he’s saying. 

“I fear the gown may be ruined, though,” you add with a small laugh.

“It still looks pretty on you,” Johnny blurts out loudly from his spot. 

You straighten up to look at him, and your flustered face makes it difficult for him to not smile like a lovesick puppy. What the hell is happening to him? 

When he turns back around, everyone is staring at him. Johnny closes his eyes with a grimace, sighing. 

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“I say you’re toast already,” Ben says, amused, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Good thing you can handle some heat–“

“I’m not handling any heat–“

“Alright!” Reed shuts them up. “Until we understand what happened, we can’t exactly send her anywhere,” Reed says, exhaling in defeat.

That makes Johnny perk up immediately with a smile that’s nothing but trouble.

“So we’re keeping her?” He says. 

“We are letting her stay temporarily because she clearly needs help,” Sue corrects, giving him a warning look. “And you are going to behave.”

“Yes, absolutely!” Johnny nods, way too fast and completely unconvincing. Sue narrows her eyes at him. “Your mistrust wounds me, sister. I’m always on my best behavior.”

She glares at him one last time, before gesturing with her head at the group to walk back to you. She notices H.E.R.B.I.E has stuck to your side, and seems to be charmed by you as much as Johnny is. Which is another positive point in your favor.

“You can stay with us until we figure things out,” Sue says with a reassuring smile. “We’ll do our best to find your home.”

Your eyes go wide, the relief washing your face makes you look even brighter. Johnny has to keep himself from clutching his chest dramatically. 

“Oh, I’m eternally grateful to all of you,” you say, lifting the fabric once again to do a full curtsy. “But especially to you, Johnny of Manhattan, because you were the one to trust me enough to bring me to your castle,” you add with a smile, straightening up and walking toward him to pressing a soft kiss on his warm cheek. 

Johnny stills on his spot as your lips delicately graze his skin, before you pull apart a walk alway like nothing happened. His hand lifts instinctively to touch the spot you kissed, and this time his family’s snickers are inevitable.

Maybe Ben was right. Maybe he’s toast. Burned toast. 

As he watches you obliviously hum a little tune for Franklin, who’s drooling away on Sue’s shoulder, acceptance hits him like a train. 

He was absolutely doomed the second you climbed out of that sewer. 

Thank you for reading this small fairytale! Feedback is always appreciated 💗🦇

Gorgeous dividers by: @chachachannah

[padaleckigallery]

Supernatural - 5.14 My Bloody Valentine

[rogers-carter]

AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018) dir. The Russo Brothers AVENGERS: ENDGAME (2019) dir. The Russo Brothers

[kotalloh]

CHRIS EVANS as STEVE ROGERS AVENGERS: ENDGAME (2019)

[notbuckybarnes]

carlossainz55: 📸 Last ones from Miami

[thceseus]

Can't Squirt? Come to Clark Kent for Help! ¹⁸⁺

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering (f receiving), nipple sucking, squirting, clark kent is a loser (i love him), friends to lovers. wc: 927.

Daily Freaks masterlist | masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been venting to him.

It was a late weekend. Both of you cocooning inside your apartment under the sounds of Metropolis’ heavy rain, talking about anything and everything like you usually do.

He was there beside you. Thighs spread wide, arms casually hanging on the back of the couch where your head lies, it was like he won’t—cannot—be apart from you.

And you can’t be away from him either. He was like a magnet, with those crooked glasses, tall and broad build that emanates warmth during cold days like this, as if he was the sun. Your thighs pressed on his, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

The TV is playing in the background, but all he could focus on was you and the words—something about a bad hookup you’ve had over the week.

“He was weirdly obsessed with making me squirt!” you huffed. Clark felt his breath hitch the moment he could see the frustrated scowl painting your face.

“But the thing is, the guy’s a total fumbler– all wrong spots,” you sighed, looking up at him. “He couldn’t even find my clit, Clark!”

“Oh, so he’s the selfish type?” as his fingers brushed your hair gently—too softly for two “best friends”.

“Totally. Dude came after like three pumps,” rolling your eyes, instinctively shifting closer towards him as he wrapped your shoulder with his arm, tucking you in closer. “Left me high and dry, and all…”

You felt the tension easing as he began absentmindedly brushing his fingers along your arm, and you let out a soft breath. “It’s about your build up, it’s about listening to every gasp that you let out…” he whispered.

You closed your eyes and let him take over your senses. His voice, his smell, the feeling of his beefy arm around you. “‘S not your fault that he’s incapable of making you come, sweetheart.”

You nodded, tilting your head to look at him again. Now, there was nothing but an inch of space between your faces. “Have you done it before then?”

His eyes widened. “Done what before?”

“Make a girl squirt.”

Clark felt something stirred then. Whether it’s his heart, his cock, he didn’t know. Most likely both, though.

He nodded, too quickly. “Yeah– yeah of course.”

Well… he hasn’t. But researching “how to make girls squirt”, “vagina anatomy”, and watching videos after videos of tutorials couldn’t be too different, right? He can’t lie, he did learn it so he could impress a girl one day, and who’s better to impress than you, his best friend.

Clark won’t admit it, but he does have a crush on you—how can he not when you’re literally an angel to his eyes? Always so kind, so caring towards others and him the most.

Even if it hurts listening to one of your tales about the guys you’ve been having sex with, he just couldn’t stop listening to whatever you’re saying.

“Show it to me,” your words broke his train of thought, and he tensed immediately.

“You want me… to make you squirt?”

You nodded, and twenty minutes later, there you were.

Overstimulated by the amount of attention he is giving. From his soft kisses that turned heated quickly, to the short amount of time it took him to carry you onto your bed, stripping you bare so beautifully before him.

And now the sheets were damp underneath you. From the sweat you’ve been letting out even during the cold night, more from your cunt dripping so lewdly underneath you, even without him touching you there at all.

“Please– stop teasing!” you whined. Clark looked up towards your fucked and flushed face as his lips were still wrapped around your pebbled nipple, practically swollen now.

He nodded, before letting his fingers brush down your stomach, till they reach your clit. He circled it once, and your back arched instantly.

He teased your hole, spreading your wetness all over. “Already soaked for me… You ready?”

You nodded fervently, and holding his arm as he sat up straighter and cradled you onto his chest. “I need it, Clark…” you whimpered

He kissed your temple, spreading your legs open so gently, before finally pushing his thick, calloused fingers inside you, making you cry out his name so pleasingly.

You felt full, you felt completed. And the tension climbed up fast the moment he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingerpads perfectly into the spongy spot inside you that made you see stars.

Your hold on him tightened, though he didn’t stop there. His palm grinded on your clit simultaneously, the arm around you reached out to twist and pull on your nipple, and his lips left so many wet and hot kisses along your neck.

“Clark–!” you whined, hole fluttering around his fingers with the assault of satisfying pleasure.

“Relax for me,” he whispered.

You feel it then. “Wait– Gonna pee!”

And that was it. Clark began hitting your spot deeper and deeper, before the tension snapped brutally.

Flood after flood erupts then, drenching his hand up to his forearm, soaking the sheets around you even more. Your thighs quake, locking like a vice around his arm, and your scream was raw as your body reached its full ecstasy.

“That’s it, sweetheart…” kissing your temple as you began to ease out from the orgasm.

You whimpered weakly, before smiling softly at him. Eyes widening as you felt his hardness straining under his pants behind you.

“So… round two?”

༘⋆ 🏷 daily freaks' : @theworstwolvie @clarkscolumn @unificsation @luvekent @tooloudarts @clarknsun @pinksplace @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @sparklingsin @anon-188 @avgdestitute @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @maiamore @feathers-from-cupid @23s0fia @eatingyourboyfriend @billyjoelsbabygrand @margaret811 @sttaejoon-blog @garfieldsladybird @velvetnightmoonsandbows @sugarpplum

© thceseus, 2026 ༝ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. thank you for reading! ᢉ𐭩

[azertyrobaz]

So I have a new roommate now.

[bimboladybug]

Read fanfics and say fuck character Ai

[cleolicious]

ೀ 𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝛰𝑝

Summary︱Robby is infamous for his 7 week itch. Though, after being with you past 7 weeks, something changed in him. While he tried going back to his normal routine post hookup breakup, he couldn't.

Pairings︱Michael Robinavitch x Fem!Reader

W.C︱6.0k (Sorry, got carried away)

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, age gap obvi, mentions of Park the Shark (my ortho daddy), jealousy, cussing, kissing, no mention of y/n, fingering, unprotected sex (use a condom!!), usage of the word daddy, slight breeding kink, cream pie, let me know if I missed anything!

Author's note︱Happy mother's day to my lovely readers who are mothers! I kind of rushed to publish it today so it would make sense haha. There are like three different versions of this fic and maybe I'll release them. Maybe not. Enjoy!!!

Robby got around in the hospital. That was a very well known fact. He had the inability to settle down with someone and had a 7 week itch. After the 7th week of hooking up, he would normally ghost and find another victim. 

7 weeks is abnormally short to be causally hooking up with someone. 

But that's how Robby was. 

He had set his eyes on you the minute you started working in the hospital. However, his pursuit had ended before it had began. Park had locked his jaws on your and hadn't set you free since. 

18 weeks ago, rumors started to fly around that Park was dating the new OR nurse. Robby assumed that meant that Park left you unsupervised. And behind the shark's back, he took his bait. 

At first, you hadn't noticed Robby swarming in on you. You had even thought you were delusional that he was suspiciously friendly for an ulterior motive. He must have known you were itching to have sex. Once you picked up on the fact that he was flirting with you, you took the leap of faith and had sex with him. 

It was some of the best sex you ever had. 

Surprisingly, your interesting relationship lasted 16 weeks. It didn't end on bad terms necessarily. You just didn't need him that desperately anymore. You began to care less if he came over to fuck you or not. Robby's ego took a hit and he took the hint. 

What you had liked about your position in the hospital was that you didn't run into Robby. No awkward encounters. No awkward greetings. You were rarely paged down to the ED. 

Now it seemed like you were paged down to the ED a little too much. 

It was your third time being in the ED within two days when you were paged at 11:05 AM. 

"You know, it's a little concerning how much the equipment keeps getting damaged," you commented to Robby. "How bad is your patient satisfaction?" 

Robby chuckled as he playfully nudged the back of your knee with his foot, causing you to fold slightly forward. "Didn't realize you were here to be a mini Gloria." 

"Hey!" You yelped at his action. "You're going to make me fall." 

"Not my fault you're wearing heels," he said as he nodded down to your heels. "They're nice by the way. Did a cute boyfriend buy you those?"

You playfully rolled your eyes as soon as he mentioned the word boyfriend. Robby had bought you a pair of heels once management had told you that heels were a part of the new dress code. They had been a pair of heels you had been eyeing but never bought due to how expensive they were. 

"Ironically, I did have a very special man friend buy me a pair of heels that looked identical to these," you began to say as you went back to doing your job. "Then they mysteriously landed in my friends closet and I bought myself a new pair." 

Robby's face fell for a brief second as you called him a special man friend but he quickly recovered to avoid being discovered. Though, he found it much harder to hide the disappointment when he hard you had given away the heels he had gifted you. 

"You didn't," he said. "Those were a gift." 

"A very expensive "fuck me later," gift indeed," you retorted without missing a beat. 

"It came from my heart." 

You snorted at his words. Of course he would say something like that. "Yeah, the heart of your dick."

"Still from my heart nonetheless." 

You stopped working on the monitor an angry patient had destroyed during his temporary state of madness and turned to look at Robby. "Don't you have an emergency to go tend to?" 

"Always do," he said as he shrugged his shoulders. "As chief attending of this ED, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly." 

"Yeah with your residents and other attendings—not this." 

"These machines are a part of the ED which I need to make sure—"

"That they're running smoothly," you finished off for him. "Yup, got that memo loud and clear." 

Robby was good with women, everyone knew that he could charm the socks off of any woman. It was his special talent he had. He had a way of being so insufferably annoying that it was cute.

You didn't continue the conversation, solely focused on fixing the monitor as fast as you could. Not because you needed to be away from Robby. But because you knew the department needed the room, they didn't need anymore delays. 

Robby hated this kind of silence. He loathed it with you. He liked hearing your voice. He liked the playful banter that naturally sprouted between the two of you. He always thought the two of you had great chemistry. 

Your phone began to loudly buzz among the loud silence. The screwdriver in your hand was quickly dropped onto the bed as you picked up the phone. 

"Morning, Dr. Park," you greeted with a smile despite the fact that he couldn't see you. 

Robby stilled for 2 whole seconds as he heard you cheerfully greet Dr.Park. Robby, the ever so nonchalant man, had been keeping a close eye on you over the past few weeks. He had noticed two things. The first thing he noticed was how much time you were up in ortho due to you setting up new equipment for the department. 

The second thing he noticed was how close you were getting with Park once again. 

Park was a very fit man for his age. He had that stern demeanor that he knew you liked. Park was a rare man, most of the surgeons in ortho were blissfully married. He was the only man on the floor who was still single and he used it to his advantage. Robby wouldn't be completely surprised if Park already started nudging you his way towards his bed again. 

He certainly did when you used to work in the ED. The dirty bastard used to pull his strings to get you to float to the OR to spend more time with you. He loathed the days where he'd be down a favorite nurse. 

"You do know Park has a girlfriend, right?" Robby questioned as soon as you hung up the phone. 

"He does not," you immediately countered, placing your phone back in your back pocket. "You're such a liar." 

Robby internally groaned when you didn't buy into his lie. "Okay, maybe he doesn't actually have a girlfriend but he is seeing someone else. Park is a notorious whore. He uses pretty little things like you and then dumps them when he's had his fill." 

The smirk crawled its way onto your lips. The remark slipped out of your lips as smooth as butter. "Sounds very familiar, I'm sure I can handle it again." 

"That's not funny," Robby said as he voice instantly grew serious. His hand went to pinch your side, unable to contain his irritation. "Watch your mouth." 

You jumped at his pinch. A scowl overtook your face as you swatted his hands off of your body. "I wasn't trying to be funny," you countered. "I was just stating the facts. Just how the facts say you're not entirely…..alone." 

Robby's eyebrows furrowed inwards in confusion from your words. Alone? What the hell was that supposed to mean? "What the hell are you talking about?" 

You knew you were poking a bear that you shouldn't have been poking. You loved getting under his skin to test his patience. "Noelle's demeanor seemed too cheerful this morning. Said it was her post sex glow." 

That was all you needed to say. 

Ever since you left the ED, you finally got a proper lunch break. A lunch break you share with Noelle Hastings, aka Robby's new fling. She didn't spend lunch with anyone besides you. Despite the age gap the two of you share, she found comfort in spilling her juiciest secrets to a girlfriend. 

You didn't mention to Robby that your heart dropped once she revealed she was seeing Robby. Or how your stomach churned when you realized how the day prior, she had mentioned her secret fling that had bent her over her counter and pounded her into oblivion. 

When you pieced the puzzle together that it had been Robby, you had felt strangely bothered by it. You had spent that entire shift full of intrusive thoughts of Noelle and Robby having sex in different positions. The worst thoughts were the ones where he kisses her in his bed, telling her that she was his girl. 

"Look, good for you for finding someone born in the same century as you," you began to say as you placed on the last few screws on. "It was about time you put an end to your late midlife crisis." 

Ouch. 

"I certainly don't care who you have sex with since it is none of my business," you commented as you finally finished. "Just like how it is none of your business who I have sex with. If it happens to be with Park now, it doesn't matter." 

Oh, he didn't like the sound of that. His body jumped off from the counter and he stood right in front of you. His towering height made his neck crane down while yours craned upwards. 

"So you're letting him fuck you?" Robby spat. "You're letting that asshole touch you? Again?" 

"Park and I are friends," you declared, placing your hand on his chest. "That's it. 

"Friends can fuck." 

You rolled your eyes in frustration at his words. You took a step towards the right, grabbing your bag to haul it over your shoulder. "So?" 

"We were friends when you were riding my face and begging me to cum inside you." 

You turned to look at him at the mention of the intimacy the two of you had. You were never one to talk about intimacy outside of your bedroom. Sexual endeavors with flings were to be talked about among friends during brunch—not to other flings. 

"So I'm going to ask you one more time," Robby said with calculated anger. "Is he fucking you?" 

He didn't dare ask if you were the one fucking him. He asked if Park was the one pinning your hips down as he angled his cock at your entrance. Because he knew Park wasn't the kind of man to let the woman have control of a situation involving him. Because he especially knew that Park would coax you back into his arms, you wouldn't have gone back willingly with him. 

"I have to go back to Ortho," you said to him as you tired to push past him. 

Robby grabbed your bicep, stopping you from moving any further. "Answer me," he growled in frustration. 

You continued to ignore him, not wanting to indulge in his jealous behavior in the middle of your shift. You took your arms from out his grasp, heading straight for the door and into the busy ED. Your heels clicked against the ground with every step you took. 

"I'm not done talking to you!" Robby exclaimed as he followed shortly behind you. 

"Nice seeing you!" You announced as you kept your back to him.

Robby went to open his mouth, ready to force the answer out of you. Just then a panicked intern went up to him, begging him for help. He couldn't ignore a case for some woman, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

And you knew you would be seeing him again. 

Robby was a very persistent man. He wasn't above making himself look pathetic to get a woman's attention. If he had to go on his knees and beg, he would gladly do so. 

He had been waiting for you after his shift ended. For once, he didn't stay until 8 PM. The minute he had been finished with hand offs, he made a beeline for your car. The ED be damned, he needed to talk to you. 

He kept his eyes at the entrance, waiting and waiting. His jaw involuntarily clenched when he finally saw your figure right next to Park's. He nearly broke his own molars when he saw Park lean down to whisper something in your ear as his hand squeezed your elbow. He was sure he heard one crack when you loudly giggled at him when he pulled you closer to him. 

That dirty bastard. 

Robby couldn't believe Park had the nerve to still be chasing you. The man no longer had the right to pick you off from the floor as he chose another toy. Park left you alone and Robby rightfully captured your attention. 

You didn't notice Robby leaning against your car as you left the hospital. It was typical of you to be completely unaware of your surroundings, something he had reprimanded you time after time. You had only noticed him when you finally looked up from your purse. 

"May I help you?" You deadpanned as your hands fished for your keys. 

"Yes, you can actually," Robby responded with a smile. 

"I was being sarcastic," you dryly responded, finally finding your keys. "Shouldn't you be at the nursing home? You know they have a curfew of 9 PM."

"I'm exactly where I need to be."

"And that is?" You questioned, tightening your grip on your purse. 

"With you," Robby responded. 

Ah, his stupid charm that swept all the ladies off their feet. He was often so quick and smooth with it, It made you wonder if he secretly practiced in the mirror. 

"Please move so I can get into my car." You didn't have time to be indulging him. If this had been 7:45 AM then it would be a different story. 

"What's the rush?" Robby said as his hands flew to your shoulders. He mockingly winced at you as he noticed how tense you were. "Oh, poor baby, you're so tense. Let me make it better." 

The argument died in your throat once his warm, large hands began to massage your shoulders. The moan bubbled in your throat at the touch. Robby knew your body like the back of his hand. Not only was he a quick learner but once Robby learned a person, he knew exactly how to handle them. Especially when it came to you. He knew how your shoulders filled with tension after a grueling shift. 

"Robby, move. I want to go home," you declared despite your eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "I'm serious this time."

"Oh but you're still so sore," Robby shushed as his hands slowly started to make their way downwards. "Just let me get all the knots out your shoulders." 

"Robby." 

He shushed you once again. One hand was still massaging your shoulder while the other slowly strayed underneath your shirt. You barely registered the fact that his left hand was snaking its way up to your breast. 

"Robby," you called out again with a warning tone. 

His grip tightened in annoyance from your persistence of getting home."Shut up." 

Your eyes shot open as soon as his fingers danced slightly underneath your bra, his bare fingers skimming the underside of your breast. "Robby!" 

"Jesus Christ," he muttered in annoyance, making no move to remove his hand. "Why do you always have to put up a fight?" 

You scoffed at his tone. You shoved his hand away from under your shirt. You had made an attempt to push him away from you but his right hand was firmly planted on your neck, forcing you to stay put. "Why do you always have to push my boundaries?" 

"I just want to help you relax," Robby explained. "I know you're stressed and tired." 

You laughed from amusement at his pathetic excuse. "Yeah? Well, I'm not very relaxed when your hand is on my tit." 

He shrugged his shoulders, clearly having his fun in riling you up. "It slipped." 

"Michael!" 

Robby seemed to let up once he realized you called him by his first name. A rarity unless he was in deep shit. 

He took his hands away from your body and instead found their way home to your cheeks. He brought you slightly forward as his lips planted a kiss on your forehead. "Oh come on, just let loose a little bit. I just want to play with you. Is that so bad?" 

You peered at him through your eyelashes, too lazy to tilt your neck up to see him. You feel him guide your face at a higher angle, allowing him to look you in the eyes. "With a game of hello titty in a public parking lot?" 

"I wanted to expand on our voyeurism kink," he declared with no hesitation. 

You opened your mouth to protest, ready to fight him once again. Instead, his thumb pushed on your bottom lip, effectively shushing you. "I'm just kidding—again. You make it too easy to push your buttons." 

He could feel the words bubbling up in your throat to fight him. It always had to be your way or the highway. He thought it was cute some days. Just how you thought it was cute how some times he kept fighting you back. 

The black pumps were really starting to became unbearable to wear. You kept shifting around, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. Robby noticed right away and grappled onto your hips, lifting you to set you down on the hood of your car. 

A yelp of shock had left your body at the sudden move of being manhandled. Your eyebrows furrowed inwards in frustration but your voice was laced with amusement. "Jesus! Give a girl a warning next time!" 

"I have always loved the way you say thank you," he quipped. 

You shot him a sneer in retaliation but it did feel nice not having to be on your feet anymore. The pulse in your feet quickly died and you could feel the relief of not feeling the blood pool anymore. 

"Better?" Robby asked as he took a step closer. 

You nodded your head at him. "You know it feels better."

"Of course I do. I'll always know what you need," Robby said arrogantly. "It's my specialty."

A smile twitched on the edge of your lips as a result of his words. "Oh yeah? Then what else do I need?" You challenged. 

Robby swallowed the last step between the two of you. His legs were threatening to stand in between yours."Want me to tell you? Or do you want me to just do it?" 

You mockingly cooed at him, placing your hands on the hood of the car to bear your weight. "Oh wow, an illusion of a choice. How sweet of you Dr. Robinavitch." 

His eyes flickered down to your lips for one indulging second before he peeled his eyes away. He nodded his head like a complete idiot, his head gaining distance between yours "Yeah, I'm a total sweetheart."

You hummed in acknowledgment, leaning back with every inch he leaned forward. While Robby should have taken that as a sign that you didn't want his lips on yours, he ignored the silent rejection. 

Once you realized you couldn't lean backwards anymore without losing your balance, he took the unwanted bait. His head surged forward and his lips encased yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. 

You resisted. For about 3 seconds. 

Your sexual instincts kicked in and you willingly kissed him back. You sudden protest of not wanting to be groped in the middle of a public parking lot was thrown out the window when your felt his tongue caress yours. 

It was easy to get carried away and ignore your survival skills whenever you kissed Robby. The sudden need of air became a chore when the priority was to hear his low moan grumble in his chest whenever you nipped at his bottom lip. 

Though, the both of you were forced to pull away when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. You looked down to see who was calling him. Besides, you had every right to lurk. 

Guilt quickly flooded your veins when you saw Noelle's name pop up on his screen with a text asking him if he was still coming over. Here he was kissing you while he had plans with another woman. Your body tensed as you quickly pulled away from him. A hand was placed on his chest, preventing him from getting closer to you. 

"I can't do this, I'm sorry," you said. 

But you weren't really sorry. 

"I can't do this to Noelle," you added as you shimmied your way down. "She deserves a man who will give her his undivided attention even if it's just sex." 

That was true. 

Noelle had years on you and the two of you weren't friends outside of work. But you did know her. That was enough to draw the line for Robby. There would always be another man chasing behind you, trapping you against your car while you made it. To you, there was nothing worth more than maintain your friendships with your girlfriends. Even if it was just at work. 

The sudden wall instilled a sense of urgency within Robby to knock it down. Being denied of having you was something he had came accustomed to. It didn't mean that he liked it. 

"Noelle is a big girl," Robby stated as he watched you open your car door. "She knew what she was getting into with me." 

You turned to look at Robby, shrugging your shoulders with indifference. "You made plans with her already. Go be with her." 

"I don't want to go with her anymore," he quickly responded. 

You quirked your eyebrow at Robby, trying to fight back the laugh that was climbing up your throat. A toddler didn't whine this much. 

"Then tell her." 

Robby shook his head as he waved his hand dismissively. "I'll tell her later." 

It was clear he wasn't taking no for an answer. As you opened your car door and threw your purse inside, your hand remained on the door panel. "Robby, go play with your friends. I'm going to go play with mine." 

A mix of a scoff and a dejected sigh left his lips at your words. You took your hand off the door panel and swung your legs into the driver's seat. A silent but friendly goodbye was whispered into the air right before you shut the door and drove off. 

There was an inconsistent pattern that was beginning to reflect on Robby's commitment. At first, it had been stable. Every time a new relationship began, the 7 week week time bomb began to tick. 

That pattern became disrupted when you came into the picture. It kept climbing higher and higher. But with every peak, there must be a come down. Much to Noelle's dismay, the relationship had only lasted 27 days. Not even the full 4 weeks. 

The blame was pinned on a false accusation of work leaving him too tired to function. At 54 years old, working at a poorly funded trauma hospital and emotional baggage chained to his feet, it was certainly believable. 

In the medical field, it demanded a laser like focus to recognize any alarms the body was triggering. The eyes were meant to catch subtle shifts in the body. Perhaps an abnormal lump by the chest. Maybe even an angry red mark, screaming that there is something wrong. 

He had noticed the shifts in you. 

Underneath your shirt, he noticed a new shape that was hidden behind your clothes. Surely it had to be a new necklace. The last one had been oval shaped that used to peek out if you bent down. Now, he could barely make out the shape of a flower. Or was it a heart? He couldn't tell. 

Robby had never been good at resisting his carnal desires. It simply wasn't in his nature. Patience wasn't his virtue. 

Which is how he ended up at your doorstep at 8:09 PM, still in his scrubs. A black box was being held in his large hands. With every millisecond that passed, his impatience grew. 

After a whopping 15 seconds, you finally opened the door. A gray silk night dress adorned your body, showing off his favorite parts of you to him. You leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on your face. 

"Can't say that I'm surprised to see you," you started off, certainly entertained in this moment. "My mother sends her warm regards and a thank you for the flowers." 

Robby's face broke out into a smile as he saw the grin on your face. He turned into a mirror every time you smiled, he didn't even realize it. "It was my pleasure." 

"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off. "Why did you send her flowers? Trying to win her over next?"

Delight was dancing in his eyes as you spoke. This was something he could work with. Now you were playing with him. "Jealous?" 

A playful scoff pushed past your lips as you shook your head. "Yeah, real jealous my mother got flowers." 

"Don't worry, I brought you a gift too," he assured you. 

"An orgasm?" You asked with hope. 

Robby nodded but you could tell this wasn't part of the banter you were setting up. He was serious. His eyes kept a hold on yours for a little bit too long to be considered casual. "And a gift too." 

A pause was set in your playful mood. You pushed yourself off your door frame, straightening your spine. The realization that he was serious set in faster than you had wanted it to. "A gift? For what?" 

He ignored your question and a small box was pushed into your hands. A velvet kissed your palms and you could faintly hear something slithering inside. 

"Happy Mother's day," he said with a warm voice. 

The boisterous laugh fled from chest, unable to stay restrained by your mouth. "You have to be kidding me! I'm not even a mom!" 

Not yet. 

Robby didn't mind your laugh one bit. In fact, he was happy to get a joyous reaction from you. "I still got you a gift." He nodded his head to the box as it still was left unopened. "Open it." 

You gently shook your head at him. "Later. I need to do something else first."

You didn't give him time to argue as you grabbed his forearm and dragged him into your apartment. This wasn't a foreign home to him. In fact, he could walk around the entire apartment with his eye closed and come out unscathed. 

So when his vision was being introduced to the hallway leading to your bed, a Freudian response began. A hot flash of need shot directly down to his pelvis and his heart was already starting to pick up. 

A relief washed over his body as the routine from 5 weeks ago began to take place. Naturally, his body was being called to your bed. His hands were already flying to his scrubs, peeling them off as you took off your nightgown that you solely wore to tempt him. 

Of course you had nothing underneath your nightgown because you hated wasting time. His moments became rushed, suddenly finding his scrubs to be a little too tight. They flew across your room without a care in the world. 

Your hips were soon being cradled by his hands. Robby drew you until your bare chests collided. A soft moan bloomed when you felt your nipples graze the soft hair on his chest. The warmth of your body and you heightened sensitivity only meant one thing. 

"Are you ovulating?" Robby suddenly asked. 

You nodded your head at his question, bringing him down to kiss him. Now wasn't the time to talk and Robby knew that. He knew how sensitive women got during this time. How much warmer your body got. How your nipples seemed to poke out, begging for his attention. 

But his favorite part? 

The damn waterfall that came from your aching pussy. 

His arm went to wrap around your waist with a firm grip. With a calculated precision, his middle finger went to gather the wetness that had been pooling in between your legs all day and circled your clit. 

Just as expected, your knees buckled at the sinful action. His arm around your waist kept your body firmly against his. Your poor pussy was achingly wet and pulsing underneath his touch. Your breath started to get heavier as it was harder to keep kissing him from the pleasure. 

You released one hand from his bicep, grabbing his fingers to guide it at your entrance. The quiet hint didn't go unnoticed by him and he slipped his middle and ring finger right inside. They slipped right in with no resistance. 

A sharp gasp flooded the room at the stretch of his thick fingers. His pace started off slow, wanting to drag every wanton moan from you as much as he could. He wanted to savor this precious moment. 

You eventually had to stop kissing him as your body folded from the pleasure. What had you nearly folding in half was when his fingers slightly curled into the soft spongy spot inside you. 

Your hand shot out to grasp his wrist, holding him in place. "Don't stop," you demanded. "Just like that. Just like that." 

Robby shook his head at you. He was too focused to say anything back and too focused on your pleasure. He had been too busy watching your reactions. As a temporary punishment, he wasn't going to let you come undone on his fingers. Or his tongue. 

No. 

The only orgasm you deserved was the one on his cock. 

His fingers never stopped, in fact they curled even deeper inside you. What he needed was to bring you to the edge so he could deny you. A ruined orgasm made it nearly impossible for you reach an actual orgasm. It took longer. It cost more effort than what you were used to. 

As he felt you clench around his fingers with more frequency, he kept his pace up. He even let you grind against his palm, the friction of your clit grazing the hard edge brought you even closer to your release. 

"I'm close—I'm so close," you whimpered as your nails began to leave its imprints. 

The edge of his palm pushed into your clit and you were sure you were going to gush all over his hand. The fantasy had been cut short when he pulled his hand away right as you were about to finish. You felt yourself clenching around nothing but air. 

"Michael!" You whined as you chased his hand. "No, no, no." 

A cruel laugh was heard coming from him as he watched you chase his hand. His fingers encased your wrist, roughly shoving you on the bed. You landed on the bed on your back and your legs had immediately spread open for him, silently and yet loudly inviting him back home. 

Drool nearly dribbled down his chin as your pussy glistened in front of him. Your slick was dripping down your inner thighs, begging to be licked up. As much as he wanted to lick you like his favorite lollipop, he was simply too impatient to do so. 

"Fuck me," you meekly whispered, your legs wrapping around his hips to drag him closer to you. "Please. Stop standing there and fuck me." 

That was new. Robby wasn't used to hearing you beg so quickly. Usually he had to torture your poor cunt throughout the day to get you like this. 

"I've been so desperate for you since last week," you added as your hands went to his thick cock, missing the weight of it in your hand. "I touched myself but it didn't feel the same." 

The revelation had Robby's body moving on his own. He took a step closer to the edge of his bed and he took your hand off his dick. With the same hand, he grabbed onto both of your wrists and held them above your head. 

"Are you still on the pill?" Robby asked as he dragged his leaking tip up and down your slit. 

Your eyes fluttered shut with every swipe on your clit. A deep flush started to expand to your face. If he didn't move in the next 10 seconds, you were sure you would explode.

"No." 

In that moment, Robby pushed himself inside you with a deep groan. Your tight heat easily welcomed him in and clenched down, ensuring he would never leave. He stilled, not to let your body adjust, but to feel you clench around him desperately and selfishly. 

A snap of his hips caused your eyes to squeeze shut as you bunched your white sheets underneath your hands. Robby's pace was brutal from the beginning, deep and hard. Just how you loved it. 

"Finally," you whispered like a prayer being answered. 

A soft plap, plap, plap echoed in the otherwise quiet room. Robby looked down at where the two of you were connected, a white ring forming on the base of his cock already. He wasn't a stranger to the sight but it wasn't often that you were this creamy. 

"Holy shit—you really are ovulating," Robby gasped. 

You nodded at him as your body jerked from his rough thrusts. "Mhm," you hummed. "God, you feel so good. Your cock is meant to be inside me, daddy." 

Your words couldn't have been further from the truth. Ever since the first time the two of you had sex, you never struggled taking him. His thick cock always split you opened but he fit. He could always fill himself all the way and you greedily took him. 

Every single time. 

Robby's fingers found its way to your clit once again. Your mouth fell open and a pornographic moan came out. You were already dangerously close to the edge which was only making you babble straight nonsense. 

"I can't understand you, baby," Robby chuckled despite the fact that he was out of breath. "What do you want? Hm? You want to come?" 

A frantic nod was all he got as a response. It wasn't enough. He needed you to say it. A sharp punch to your thigh knocked you out of your drunken haze. 

"Use your words. Daddy wants you to use your words." 

"I want to come," you quickly said as your adjusted your hips to let him get even deeper. "I want to come and I want to feel you come inside me. Please come inside me."

Perhaps it had been the fact that Robby hadn't had a proper orgasm in awhile. At least since you. Perhaps it had been he was so focused on your pleasure that he missed his own telltale signs of his own orgasm approaching. But once he heard your sweet little plea, the knot in his stomach came undone. 

Thick white topes of cum shot inside your body as he kept thrusting. His bottom lip was tugged with his own teeth as each wave of pleasure got stronger and stronger. He didn't even register you placing your hands on his pelvis, trying to get him to stop. 

Your voice was faint in his ears as you squealed from the overstimulation. "I finished! I finished!" 

As Robby was barely able to register your words. But when he finally came to, he finally stopped. The orgasm had him so spent that he collapsed on your chest without a care in the world. Just like how he didn't have a care in the world that his seed was deep in your pussy. 

Maybe you would end up pregnant. 

Hopefully. 

It didn't sound too bad. It'd mean that he would finally have the privilege of having you all to himself. It would mean that he finally was able to get you out of Park's grasp. 

It would mean that you would be his in every single way possible. 

[djoswiftie]

[theimaginariemuse]

Mhm

[expressions-of-nature]

Switzerland by Erwin Jenni