꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Male! Sub! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms for reader, no mention of reader's anatomy, prostate milking (Sydney receiving), fingering and use of sex toy (Sydney receiving), lmk if I missed out anything !
꩜ A/N: def tried making this smut fic a lot more lovely-dovey than my usual ones as per the donator's req! hopefully it doesn't come across as too cringy/cheesy >< !! and thank you to the donator for being so niceys and understanding <33 once again, "800-1500 words" qi says. harharhar (2.5k words orz...) ANYWAYS hope you like the fic and thank you so much for donating !!!!!!!
꩜ This was written as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the linked event post above ^^
Sydney supposes that there are stranger things than working in a sex toy shop (that's owned by your parent) with your partner. However, these things aren't really coming to mind when there's a patron who's definitely oversharing about their Friday night plans while he's trying to check out their items at the cash register.
“I've read rave reviews about this model online from people who've bought it before. I can't wait to try it out and y'know, see how many it can wring outta me,” they continue to ramble on cheerily as Sydney tries to key in another product code manually for the umpteenth time today. (Curse you broken barcode scanner.)
“Maybe I'd even beat my personal best of-” The grating sound of the receipt printer working cuts the patron off.
“Oh oops, my bad, feel free to forget everything I said!” The patron quips with a hearty laugh. “I really do overshare too much sometimes. Thanks for not cutting me off, huh. And for ringing me up.”
Whistling as they leave, the patron finally heads out of the shop, leaving a poor Sydney to stew in silence alone with everything he's heard for the past few minutes.
Unfortunately for him, Sydney does more than stew in silence for the rest of his shift. He finds himself staring off into space while daydreaming about certain activities more often than not, causing the diligent blond you know to make some rather uncharacteristic fumbles. Namely, bumping into your back whenever he follows behind you into the inventory room to restock merchandise. Or accidentally mistyping product codes repeatedly at the cash register.
Concerned about your lover's distracted state today, you pull him into the privacy of the inventory room when the both of you go for a quick break.
“You alright out there? You seem pretty out of it today Syd,” you start off, voice tinged with worry.
“Huh?” Sydney tilts his head before his brain catches up and he processes your question.
“If you're tired, I could cover for you today while you rest up,” you offer.
You really are too sweet, he thinks. Worried that he might be tired when, in actual fact, he's been too busy thinking about you wringing out orgasm after orgasm from him until he's milked within an inch of his life.
Heat rushes to his face when he realises that he should probably confess the truth to you in order to reassure you that nothing's wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, he starts rattling off the whole story a mile a minute, eyes trained anywhere except on you.
“...So that's why I've been so distracted and it's because all I can think about is you. Or your hands on me. Or your fingers in me! Whichever works! Ah I've said too much!”
The silence that drags on after his near incoherent rambling is unbearable. When he finally hazards a glance back up at you to gauge your reaction, he certainly didn't expect you to look this interested.
“Let's ask if Sirris will let me stay over in your room tonight.”
The remainder of the shift passes by in a blur with the prospect of what's about to happen later on. When the both of you clamber into the back seat of Sirris' car after closing up shop, you politely broach the topic of a sleepover with Sydney. And when they agree, you feel Sydney reach over and give your hand a light squeeze, a shy grin on his face.
“Why don't you shower first and get ready while I prepare?” Shooting him a reassuring look, he kisses you on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom.
After getting everything ready and establishing a safeword, you instruct your lover to lie on the bed.
“Let me know if anything gets uncomfortable, yeah?” Reaching over to his bedside table, he hears you open a container of lube. Sydney waits with bated breath as you spread the thick substance around on your fingers, simultaneously warming it up. Once you've made sure that the lube isn't too cold, you also apply a generous amount to his entrance.
“Relax for me Syd.” He nods, inhaling before exhaling slowly. Your other clean hand goes to hold his as you massage the surrounding area for a bit. Eyes trained on his expression to monitor for any discomfort, you gingerly breach past his rim with a singular finger. Carefully, you slip more of your finger in, occasionally wiggling it and prodding around to loosen him up more. Each little movement causes Sydney to suck in a short breath, his gaze peering down at where you’ve entered him. Before long, you’re knuckle deep in him.
“Feels kind of strange,” he murmurs to you after you paused to let him adjust to the sensation, “but you can keep going.”
Your second finger enters without too much trouble and once more, you take it slow. After it's fully in, you start with some scissoring motions with both your fingers. This time, you get a bigger reaction out of him. You’re rewarded with the cutest breathy gasps and pants, and when you look back up at him, Sydney’s pupils are dilated whilst he sports a lovely light blush on the apples of his cheek. It’s a good look on him, one you’re keen to see unravel even more as the night progresses.
Belatedly, a thought occurs to him as it rises through the growing pleasing buzz in his brain, He dazedly realises that you’re probing around for something, the pads of your fingers dragging and tracing along his walls. It’s at that second, it hits him, in every sense of the phrase. Something akin to electricity shoots straight through him when your fingers find his prostate. Sydney gasps and jolts beneath you, eyes flying open at the foreign feeling, and that's when he notes how your eyes light up with a devious glint.
Wasting no time, you get to work, honing in on that spot. Immediately, you have your lover’s back arching off the bed as you rub and bully his prostate. Pitchy keening and moaning fills the room as you watch him begin to fall apart on your fingers.
“Feeling good?”
“U-Uh huh…!” He nods dumbly, words suddenly starting to become too hard to string together.
The filthy squelching noises have him flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. When he squeezes down on your fingers, it's like everything feels too full, too good, too sinful. In the far back end of Sydney's brain, where he hasn't yet lost himself to the throes of pleasure, he realises that he's been grinding down on your fingers, chasing his own high mindlessly. For him to already be reduced to such a state this early on, he wonders how fast it'd take for you to completely ruin him tonight.
He feels the heat building up in him at the thought of placing himself wholly in your hands. Yours to wreck, yours to love. Only you could see this side of him. Sydney's pulse thunders in his ears, with every strategic movement of your fingers threatening to make him spill over at any moment now.
You know your lover well enough to spot the telltale signs that he's going to cum soon. The jagged, raspy groans, eyes rolling back before shutting tight, soft pants of please, please, please. Picking up the pace, you alternate between hitting his prostate dead on and rubbing circles into it. And when Sydney's whole body goes taut, his cock bobbing as white splatters onto his belly, a long, drawn-out moan ripped from his throat, you know you're done with your first round.
You’re gracious enough to let him recover for a bit, pulling your fingers out briefly to reapply another glob of lube onto them. During this downtime, Sydney manages to sluggishly peel open his eyes to peer up at you. Sweat causes his hair to stick to his forehead, but it doesn’t stop you from shifting over and leaning down to press a chaste kiss onto his flushed skin.
“You still with me?” Your clean hand goes to pet the crown of his head. He swears that if he could purr right now, he would.
“Yeah,” he says between languid lazy blinks, “I’m good. Thank you.”
With this confirmation, your two fingers return inside, drawing a breathy gasp from him at the sensation of being filled again. Additionally, you gradually try to fit one more finger in him to stretch him out even more, bringing the number up to three. Once you’ve made sure that he’s adjusted to the extra digit, you instantly resume the brutal pace you had earlier. Still sensitive from before, your dear blond blubbers and pleads for mercy, his head thrown back as he’s plunged back into pure ecstasy again without warning.
“C'mon, you can give me another one Syd,” you coo out sweetly. The smile on your face is gentle. However, your ministrations are anything but.
“Ungh! Ah, ah-!” You give him no respite from the growing pressure in him, working him just the way he likes. Always so attentive, eyes constantly watching all of him, learning what things makes him lose his mind. His thighs tense and he clenches tight around your fingers, losing himself to the euphoria clouding his mind.
He's shaking as another orgasm racks through him, eyes rolling into the back of his skull at the onslaught of pleasure. You're ruthless, he thinks, and that's exactly what he wanted.
Heavy panting fills the room as your dear Sydney tries to catch his breath but you don't give him a chance to. You pull your fingers out of him, eliciting a pitchy whine at the sudden loss, before it's quickly replaced by something else prodding at his rim.
Blearily, he looks down and sees that it's the toy that the patron had bought earlier, the exact brand and model they were rambling about. Turns out you swiped it from the inventory room while the both of you were closing up the shop. (“I'll just say we were testing out the shop's products. See if it was good enough to be stocked on the shelves,” you explain to Sydney the next morning.)
Slowly, you ease the toy into his hole after you applied a good amount of lube to it. It's just slightly thicker than the three fingers you had in him earlier, but the stretch doesn't hurt judging by how he's already subconsciously trying to fuck himself on it.
My, such an impatient lover you have here on your hands. But you suppose that this simply makes it easier to give him just what he wants.
You continue pushing the toy in and angle it directly at the spot that he's trying to hit. His fingers grasp at the sheets underneath him as it ventures deeper within him. Sydney feels it all, the slow drag of the ribbed shaft against his walls, your thumb rubbing circles where you hold him at his waist.
When the tip of it bumps up against his prostate and starts vibrating? Sydney swears he sees heaven.
The effect that the toy has on him is immediate. As soon as you switched on the vibration function, all the breath was punched out of his chest. And the best thing was: It wasn't even on the highest setting yet.
“Ack! Too muh- hnn -much! No more!” Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he begs pitifully.
“You know the word to say to get me to stop Syd,” you say cupping his cheek gingerly. All he does is lean into your touch, nuzzling into your hand as if all he wants to do is to melt into you. He cracks his eyes open, gazing at you with nothing but trust and adoration.
“Want me to keep going?” Your voice is impossibly tender and Sydney's heart pounds at the intimacy and affection of it all.
“Keep goin’, hah! Please!” He hears you laugh at his pleas and he doesn’t think he’s heard anything else more beautiful.
With his heightened sensitivity from all the previous rounds, it's not long before he's squirming, his mind melting into goo as the familiar heat within him is growing yet again. Instinctively, one of his hands shoots out and goes to find your unoccupied one, lacing your fingers together.
“Kiss me, p-please, please, ah! Needddd you!” Sydney's unintelligible babbling mixed with the whirring noises of the toy in him. Unshed tears glitter on his lower lashline, beautiful strawberry blond hair splayed out around him like some sort of divine angelic halo. How could you not want him, not need him?
Diving in for a kiss, he meets you halfway, his arms going to wrap around you tight as your lips crash together. He can’t believe he’s so lucky to be able to be yours. After holding back for so long, you’ve managed to coax out this side of him, introducing him to things he’s never even dared to want for. Perhaps, you truly were some sort of angel. One that, by chance, crash-landed into his life. One that’s loving enough to promise themselves to him, one that he can’t help but promise himself to.
“Hng! Love you! Looove y-you!” He all but slurs as he quickly approaches his peak. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, a string of unrestrained moans and muffled “Thank you! Love you!”s escape from your lover, punctuated by sharp hitches of airy gasps. It doesn’t take too long before his body is drawn taut as a bowstring, tongue lolling out from his mouth as he tips over the edge. As he rides out his high, Sydney grasps onto you like a lifeline, like he needs you to breathe.
Turning the toy off, you let Sydney lay back down onto the bed before removing it from him and setting it aside. You give him a once over before smothering his face in kisses.
“You did really well, Syd,” a quick kiss pressed to his lips, “You with me? How’re you feeling?”
The hazy fog in his brain clears a bit and allows him to answer, “Mmm… Tired.” Lazily, he sits up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. You nudge a bottle of water into his hands, one which he very gratefully takes.
He downs half of the water, then bumps against your shoulder lightly, “You drink some too. Are you also feeling alright?” Sydney’s hand laces with yours.
“I’ll be better after a shower,” chuckling, you point at the terribly messy state of him, “and I think you could use one too.” Pulling him off the bed, you lead him to the bathroom for the both of you to wash up. (You definitely did not laugh when you saw how wobbly Sydney was on his legs after all that.)
Once dried off and the both of you are tucked into his bed, cuddling without leaving any space between you two, you see Sydney’s eyes threatening to close.
“Go to sleep, Syd, g’night.”
“Good night beloved,” a yawn, “Do you think we could beat our personal best we set today?”
“What?” Sydney’s question snaps you out of your drowsiness and you open your mouth to ask him how many rounds exactly he wants to try going for next time but it’s too late. He’s already snoring lightly against your shoulder.
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18+ only | possessed!sydney x ivory wraith x f!pc (mmf)
summary: the monstrosity from the lake has worn away at the temple's defenses, intent on finding you. alternatively, the ivory wraith teaches sydney how to fuck you.
tags: possession, pronoun switching, dubious consent, possessiveness, smut, fingering, multiple orgasms, jealousy, past life memories, general mindfuckery
a/n: this is the first threesome (?) i've written and it was so much fun! please let me know what you think. if you want to see more dol fics, check out my masterlist.
sydney kissed you differently. there was something about the way he held you, as if he wanted to swallow you whole. usually, he would be gentle, his hands shaking at the thought of touching you. even after months of being together, you figured that he was still trying to get used to wanting you like this.
but in this moment, sydney was something else. he kissed you deeply, his tongue tasting yours as soft moans slipped from his lips. you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you to him as if he wanted nothing else but to consume you.
you felt like you were being engulfed, swallowed by a wave of desire threatening to take you whole.
"someone's excited," you breathed, surprised by his vigor. "i know it's been a while, hasn't it?"
"what delicious warmth," sydney whispered in a voice that echoed throughout your mind in a way that made your bones hum with recognition. "it's been far too long."
it was a voice that was not his. a voice that you have known throughout lifetimes. a voice that did not belong within the walls of the temple, but one tucked away within ruin and waves.
"sydney," you started, but he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes widening to reveal crystalline blue.
"h-how," you stuttered, your body freezing in place. the monster twisted sydney's gentle face into an amused smile, registering your realization.
"the wards have weakened, droplet," it said in a voice that resonated with the ethereal airiness of the wraith woven with sydney's sweet tone. "it seems that the acolytes have grown complacent in their duties."
"wait—" you started, but it pulled you closer, wanting more of you.
"it is of no matter," it said, licking into the hollow of your neck, eliciting a low moan from you — one of their favorite parts to devour just for that reason. "their incompetence is to our benefit."
"does he know?" you huffed, placing a palm against sydney's chest.
you struggled to keep your mind straight as the incense threatened to further take away your faculties. sydney still felt the same, warm and solid. yet, there was a change in the air, in the way that this body carried itself — languid and confident in all the ways sydney wasn't. "that you are inside of him?"
"we are aware," they mused, peeling your loosened bra from your chest to trace the fullness of your breast as they dragged their lips across your collarbone. a whimper slipped from your mouth at the contact, light yet intimate. desire warmed your core, your faculties gradually becoming supple and molten. "although this may seem like a dream."
"why?" you asked, taking into account the being whose lap you were in. sydney's hair cascaded in loose, golden strands over his body — the sun to the wraith's moon. and while the specter wore his face, the anxious visage of the temple boy you cherished had smoothed over into one of amused serenity.
if there was any indication that sydney was in control, you could not find one. it was as if he had been enveloped in some kind of eclipse.
"is it not obvious, droplet?" the wraith asked, rubbing a thumb across your nipple. "this vessel yearns for you," it hummed. "but what we share in enthusiasm, this one lacks in execution."
a chill settled into your skin. how did the wraith know? in the past, there had been times in which you and sydney would fumble in the shadows, his back pressed against the stone walls as you rubbed him through his robe. he would return the favor excitedly, pawing at your chest with fervent yet clumsy eagerness. in those moments, even in the near solitude of the temple's halls, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.
"what do you mean...hah...by execution?" you gasped, the heavy haze of the incense settling into your lungs and loosening whatever grip you had left on reality.
the wraith answered by slipping its hand into your underwear and drawing circles around your slick clit.
"you are already so wet for us," they said, sliding fingers along your seam. "can we taste you?"
"wait, you haven't—" before you could protest, before you could even fully grasp the wraith inhabiting sydney's body, the abomination took your breast into their mouth and licked.
"will you deny us this sacrament, droplet?" the monstrosity said, their lips tender from mouthing at you.
you couldn't help but squirm in their embrace, their fingers at your clit and their lips on your chest. the body was sydney's, but there was a solidness that felt akin to the wraith's sturdiness. although what was pressed against you was sydney's face, it was the wraith's eyes that looked back at you, bright and hungry.
the wraith knew how you liked to be touched, which was why it was so easy for you to fall apart, to clench around its fingers, and to shake in its embrace.
"how sweet," the possession purred, licking its fingers clean as it gazed at you through lidded eyes. you swore that every other time it blinked, you could catch flashes of sydney's golden pupils. was he aware? was he watching this? "but we must have more."
you reclined onto the plush cushion, your chest heaving from the first orgasm. you were drawn to sydney. you were bound to the wraith. and here they were, holding you as you trembled from their touch.
"more?" you rasped, inhaling even more of the incense that made your skin crave for contact. the wraith slid the robes from sydney's body, revealing the temple boy's toned muscle. were they teasing you, prodding you to beg? how cruel. "p-please."
the abomination peeled your ruined underwear away with ease, spreading your legs before it pressed its lips to the softness of your inner thigh. this movement was methodical. familiar.
"you are worth worshipping," sydney had told you in the shadows, his face buried beneath the layers of your robe.
now, bright blue eyes met yours in the dim light. in this moment, you could feel the wraith's desire. you could recognize sydney's touch. you could not help but squirm, yearning for both.
"as you wish," they said, dipping their face between your legs.
the pressure of sydney's warm tongue joined with the wraith's prowess was more than enough to make you tremble. after all, were there not sacraments that ended in consumption? in that case, perhaps this unholy union served both of their interests: to venerate and to devour.
the atrocity continued to relish you even as your legs shook, the tremors serving to make the taste of you even sweeter.
"one must learn through practice," the possession said, as if it was speaking to someone else. instructing. they licked their lips, which glistened with your nectar. "savor the sweetness. remember it."
they straightened, smoothing their fingers over their mouth.
"still, they hunger," they lamented, bright eyes cutting through the haze to rest on your still shaking body. "what a shame it would be to deprive them."
the abomination crawled onto you, slicking your neck with kisses and slipping inside you with ease. you gasped at the sudden fullness and friction, your moans swallowed by sydney's mouth.
"delectable," they said, smiling against your lips as their hips rocked into yours.
whenever you would meet in the prayer room, sydney, under the influence of the haze, would ravage your body over and over with an eagerness bordering on heretical. in this moment, with the wraith's coercion, his body moved with a confident rhythm as strong and assured as the waves that churned within the lake.
it was a strange feeling to see sydney moving just like the wraith would, to be pleasured by the specter while crying out because of his body.
with each languid thrust, the temple boy's cross grazed your chest. how did he feel, you wondered, to see you writhing in arms that were not under his control? could he hear you whimper? could he feel you shaking?
did he finally understand what you truly were—a tainted thing, beloved by catastrophe?
when you looked at his face, all you could see were the wraith's crystalline eyes staring back at you, its gaze soft now that it was inhabiting a living vessel.
"we've missed you, you know," they said, voice thrumming with adoration, rocking into you deeper.
"h-have you?" you said, your voice cracking. "what have you missed?"
the monstrosity nodded, its eyes scanning your body as if to commit to memory.
"flesh against flesh," they replied, bringing their hand to your face to trace your jaw. "our hearts beating as one."
in that moment, a memory surfaced: silver hair cascading over you as hands smoothed over your body. you remembered laughing against their lips, running your fingers through their voluminous locks, and murmuring their name over and over into the hollow of their neck. forever, you promised. as one.
"how did you find me?" you asked, thinking of the many wards etched into the temple walls, the whispers amongst the pews about the monstrosity sunken into the lake, the many precautions, warnings, and sermons delivered just to prevent the cursed entity before you from ever setting foot into this place.
"i will always find you," the wraith said, any traces of sydney replaced with its sonorous hum. "in all lifetimes—" it licked at your lips, rocking sydney's hips so that they ground into you in just the way it knew you liked. "—and beyond."
all you could do was mumble a name as you fell into calamity. only you knew the sound of it—a name that had not been spoken in centuries. a name that was only ever yours to speak.
"succumb to me, droplet," it cooed as sydney's hips shook, spilling warmth into you that throbbed within your core. "there is only this. only us."
as your bodies twitched and gasped at the waves of pleasure that rolled over you, the possession closed their eyes and fell limp.
"hey," you said, drawing your hands across sydney's back. "are you still with me?"
after a few moments, the body murmured. stirred.
"beloved?" sydney said, lifting his head from the crook of your neck, his voice empty of the wraith's resonance.
"sydney?" you said, gazing into warm, golden eyes. "are you okay?"
"i'm fine," he smiled. "sorry, i think i zoned out a little—hah—and—"
"sydney?"
the temple boy bit his lip, his eyes glazing over in the way they always did whenever you would slip into the prayer room.
"you're still twitching, love," he purred, grinding his hips into you. "and i still want more."
the swell of his length within you made you moan. the incense's haze was potent—especially so for sydney.
"it feels good, doesn't it?" he said, dragging his mouth down to your chest. "i wanted to try something new for you."
you whimpered under the weight of him, a realization dawning on you as your core tightened once again: sydney was rocking into you not in the way he usually would, but in a way that was all too familiar.
"syd—hah—sydney" you panted, raising your hips to meet the delicious heat.
"i knew you would like this," he murmured in between his licks. "just us. only this."
your legs trembled as the orgasm crashed over you, your core going molten in the way it always would amongst the soft reeds of the temple ruins in the embrace of the pale abomination under the light of the blood red moon.
in the shelter of the prayer room, carved with sacred protections, you came to the ministrations of a monster as you looked into the golden eyes of the boy you adored— the moon of your fate eclipsing the sun of your life forever suspended in the horizon of your desire.
you called for his name and brought him to your lips, those golden eyes half-lidded to watch you as you fell apart. in that moment, you swore you would never tell him about the being that slipped into his body. the being that made both of your bodies twitch with hunger that only friction could satiate.
"we belong together, beloved," he smiled against your mouth, voice sweet as he shuddered within you. he held you gently, as he always did. "forever."
Read on Ao3 - Spiritual successor to No Contest
Pairing/Characters: M!Sydney x F!Reader x M!Whitney (she/her pronouns, good girl, reader wears a skirt) (throuple/poly established relationship)
Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI
Warnings/Content: unexpectedly rough oral sex M! receiving, dirty talk, soft reader degradation (slut, whore), unprotected sex with dubious pullout game, Syd/Whit sexual tension and generally trying to get a rise out of each other…
Word count: 2.7k
Summary: You quite enjoy helping Sydney in the library – especially when it means you’re on your knees under the counter. When Whitney makes an unscheduled appearance and tries to spoil the fun, you find yourself caught in the middle… and it’s a pretty great place to be.
A/N: In this universe, Sydney and Whitney are friends, really. I promise. They just like winding each other up – that’s what friends do, right? They should just fuck and get it out of their system… *cough* but that’s for a future fic…
There are countless routines to ensure the library runs smoothly - but a casual observer probably wouldn’t notice all the hard work that goes on behind the scenes. Maybe that’s because the library assistant is so good at his job. But he can’t do it all alone.
There’s a lot to accomplish - between accepting and organizing returns, checking current stock, keeping shelves orderly - and still, schoolwork to be done. As always, you’re happy to lend a hand - but your efficiency is probably not the reason Sydney values your help so much.
Today he’s completing a stock report – a particularly boring task designed to limit missing commodities and Leighton’s resulting wrath. Since its implementation, missing books had reduced by 17%.
Helping Sydney with this particular task had become a little ritual you both enjoyed. It was fun to test his multitasking skills; to see just how much Sydney could get through before you completely distracted him from your spot under the desk – until you had his thighs trembling, breath shaky and head tilted back in sheer bliss. You were pretty good at it, probably because you insisted on getting so much practice.
One hand still loosely grips his pen, tapping absently while his other hand rests gently in your hair. You’re not sure how long you’ve been at it, but you’re half-expecting the school bell’s harsh ring to startle you any second. Sydney was often granted permission to miss lessons due to his library responsibilities, and today, you’d skipped swimming class to keep him company – his suggestion, and a hard one to refuse when he’s being so naughty.
But it’s not the bell’s jarring rattle that causes your body to tense in surprise - the doors of the library swing open with a wooden clatter. You hunker down, and feel Sydney adjust position in his seat. Everyone ought to be in class at this point. Was Leighton coming to check his progress? That could be interesting.
Just from the way the silence shatters and your nerves begin to fizz, you know exactly who’s come to join you. You’d developed a sixth sense that was so heightened to Whitney’s presence, your adrenaline anticipates his arrival long before he confirms it.
Whitney must have liberated himself from History class, and decided a detour was much more interesting than a trip to the office. Perhaps he’d noticed Sydney’s absence in Winter’s classroom, and was now seeking the fun of winding-up his favourite library assistant. Still, he might be surprised to find his favourite slut at the foot of the desk, too… or maybe not – he’d come to know the pair of you pretty well.
If he couldn’t already, Whitney must be close enough to see you now – you jolt as his hands slam down on the tabletop, barely stifling a twitch in your jaw and causing teeth to scrape so slightly against Syd’s sensitive length. The groan tugged from his throat tells you he doesn’t mind. It’s feels… impolite to stop? So, you don’t. Whitney would expect the same courtesy, after all.
“C-can I help you?” the voice above you drawls with impressive firmness, considering the languid lick you tactically swirl over his sensitive tip.
The battered desks shifts as, presumably, Whitney perches on the edge of it – you can just glimpse the faded white of his school shirt in your peripheral. Tension tickles up your spine as you anticipate his response – your body can’t help it.
“Nah,” he counters. “I’ll wait.”
Whitney had to work harder to push Sydney’s buttons nowadays and had taken to using more unusual tactics to try and do so. As always, it’s impossible to tell exactly what he’s thinking, but his sly tone makes it worryingly clear the cogs of his mind are turning.
“Ju-just gonna… sit?” Syd asks, maintaining an impressive level of composure. “Sss’f-fine by me… Ju-just mightt take a bit l-longer…”
You hope your chuckle is well disguised by the dick in your mouth.
A pause. Then, another creak as Whitney dismounts the desk. He’s crouching close now, and you feel fingers rake up your neck, through your hair, before securing and tugging right at your scalp. You cover your teeth in anticipation of being unceremoniously wrenched off Syd’s cock. Maybe your laugh wasn’t so stifled after all.
But first, Whitney’s hand drives you deep enough to gag, forcing a choked groan through your nose. It’s not what you expected – and it’s even less expected when he drags your mouth back up Syd’s length, too. In fact, he quicky sets an imposing rhythm that leaves your eyes watering.
“This helping?” he sneers.
Sydney’s breath is shallow now, one thigh juddering a frantic rhythm under your bracing hand. Of course, he usually favors a more leisurely pace when it comes to oral sex – at least that’s what you’d discovered, and it’d been a lot of fun reaching that conclusion. The way he’d stroke your hair, praise your sinful little mouth, and hump needily against the back of your throat at that final point of desperation makes a sweet contrast to the way Whitney prefers to assault your mouth.
That’s probably why you were happy to toy with Sydney for so long, until your tongue hangs limp and the achy fizz of cramp tingles your jawline. He’s such a grateful, good boy, it’s a pleasure to edge him with your mouth for hours - only to gladly tease his achy cock with your hands when your mouth needs a break.
No secret - that sort of blowjob barely exists to Whitney. Call it dominance, impatience, or plain selfishness – if he can’t smear his thumb through salty tears on your cheek and watch them slide down to join spit dribbling off your chin… it doesn’t count. Now, Whitney’s fingers lace fiercely in your hair, igniting sparks. It's hard to keep your gag reflex in check – you hadn’t expected it to be tested quite so roughly. If Whitney notices, as usual, it’s not important. He’s much more focused on freeing up his slut for whatever he’s got planned.
He bounces you deep on Syd’s shaft, and drool hangs loosely from your lips to sticky his thighs. Syd’s hands are no longer in your hair – there’s not much free to grip. Instead, they hang limp at his sides, fingers splayed and gripping the seat intermittently. His legs begin quiver more intensely; breath quickening to shallow little gasps.
“Aw, too much, Syd?” he teases, clicking his tongue. Whitney doesn’t care to hide his amusement, but it’s not clear what it’s stemming from. If he’s trying to put Syd off, it’s not exactly working. “Should I stop?”
Syd’s cock twitches in your mouth in the brief moment between each thrust forced upon it, and his thighs flex rhythmically under your fingers. You can tell he’s close.
“Jus k-keep t-talkingg…” Syd grunts with a light, impish tone.
Whitney’s hand hesitates, leaving you to dutifully keep the pace as Sydney teeters on the brink. From your position it’s impossible to know that the instant he tentatively peeps his amber eyes open and meets Whitney’s bemused expression is the same instant he unloads into your throat.
Sydney cums with a breathy, satisfied groan, flexing his hips upwards to appreciate every pulse of climax. You can only imagine Whitney’s face and the thoughts running through his mind. He removes his hold on your hair, and you notice him stand rather quickly after that.
It’s a welcome chance to catch your breath, and you take your time gulping Syd’s load down your tender throat – but not before nursing his tip to just past the point of overstimulation, drawing out a delicious shiver. Glazed eyes meet his as you finally swallow, and he smiles down at you mischievously. Clearly, he’s enjoyed himself – a little more than usual, you think. You had, too.
“Thanks for the help,” Syd pants, with a catty tone that feels rather brave. Wiping your chin with the back of your hand you turn to Whitney for the first time and offer him a small, rather weak smile – all you can manage thanks to the battering your mouth has taken, and he doesn’t seem to notice it.
Whitney’s upper lip curls. He’s pulling your shirt now, and hoisting you to your feet – you’re grateful it’s not your hair this time. A tingle in your legs causes you sway just a little before perching against the edge of the desk out of necessity, not realising quite how numb they’d become. Whitney fixes you with dark eyes. Plainly, he hadn’t expected Sydney to enjoy himself that much, and it’s both rare and adorable how flustered he is as he paws your hips.
“Look, he… he might be your boyfriend, but you’re my slut. Yeah?”
Whitney presses your lips in crushing kiss, tongue habitually gliding against yours. There’s a flicker of hesitation, but the unexpected taste doesn’t delay him much. He’s in a rush to get his dick wet and have you fully reclaimed, and no time is wasted removing your skirt - it’s simply crumpled around your waist as he displays you proudly on the edge of the library counter.
“You wanna… uh, go somewhere?” you ask, fingers kneading tight shoulders through his shirt.
“No,” he grunts, and already unbelting his trousers and roughly shoving them down, letting his erect cock spring free and nudge your thighs. “You’re getting fucked right here, and he’s gonna watch.”
Syd smiles. It’s fine by him, of course - he’s always happy to see you enjoy yourself. It’s not the display of power Whitney probably thinks it is, but you’re thankful he bites his tongue.
A light touch is all that’s needed to spread your legs, and Whitney pauses to admire the view - swiping a finger up through your pouting folds to reach your puffy clit. Not even a pretty whine can tempt his blue eyes to meet yours - he’s already charging another sly comment.
“Worked up and ready, just for me,” he growls softly, running his broad tip through your slit, gathering wetness before letting his hips sink against you.
Flushed and pink, you part to accommodate every rigid inch, and the snug grip of your walls invite a short hiss from his lips. Winding fingers into the hem of his shirt, you pull him deeper; a low and satisfied groan rumbling in your throat as he begins a smooth, satisfying pace.
Syd stands, replacing a few long, silky tresses behind one ear before leaning in close whisper against yours – all under Whitney’s cautious gaze.
“Look at you…” he purrs. “Taking that cock so well…”
Your eyes widen, meeting the playfulness shining behind Sydney’s lenses. He holds your gaze as a hand ghosts down over your stomach, delicately skimming soft skin.
"That pretty pussy all stretched out, love?”
His head tilts, ponytail cascading over one shoulder. The quirk of his eyebrow tells you he expects an answer, so you wobble a hasty nod.
Whitney pulls your attention back with a harsh, possessive thrust, forcing a squeak from your throat. The motion quickly gives way to savage pounding; fingers kneading the soft flesh under your thighs as hips snap vigorously into you. One particularly hard fuck forms his name on your tongue, and it helplessly spills from your lips.
“Good girl,” he smiles, voice low and approving. “You love gettin’ fucked by me.”
It’s all the encouragement you need to fill the silent library with tangled moans. The grounding softness of Sydney’s fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin is a delightful contrast to the way Whitney ruts and grinds into the warm, inviting cling of your cunt. He’s in his element, any reserve wholly melted away.
“Tell ’er what a slut she is…” Whitney demands, a rare scrape of need to his voice amid possessive actions. You’re not sure if Syd notices, but he requires no further invitation.
"Oh, she a desperate little whore, isn’t she?” he hums, tilting your chin to face meet his soft eyes. “Just insatiable… What’ll we do with you?”
Gently, he gathers your hands in his palms, bringing them to rest on the desk above your head. Whitney slows a little – apparently, he intends to show off the full range of finesse. Each deep plunge coaxes you head to loll back, and Sydney’s there to press a kiss to your waiting lips and feel your moans quiver into his mouth.
“Didn’t say stop,” Whitney warns, punctuating each word with another deep fuck. You barely notice how the desk rattles troublingly under the jolt of each thrust, almost like it’s not designed to withstand such a hammering. Thankfully, your needy cunt delights in such treatment.
“You want me to keep going?” Syd purrs, eyes shining impishly. Whitney doesn’t elaborate.
Gladly, Sydney begins a lewd assessment of your body, honeyed voice dripping with suggestive intent. How you’re clearly just aching for it; desperate to cum hard on Whitney’s big, thick cock. Each dirty word ignites you in ways sweet talk never could, and you’re not the only one enjoying Syd’s efforts judging from the intensity etched on Whitney’s face.
There’s no doubt in your mind how much Whitney’s turned on by sounds. Whimpers, moans, strangled little gasps or grunts; he gets off knowing just how raw and deep he’s pounding you ‘til you’re a total wreck beneath him. He’s a simple creature, and his desires aren’t lost on Syd – it’s exactly the sort of thing he pays attention to. So, he’s sure to describe what a good job Whitney’s doing, too – dominating your pretty little pussy so well.
As Sydney speaks, his fingers skim downwards, lingering a few inches below your bellybutton. You study him, and he quirks a smile in return, observing tenderly as you tense under the pressure of each rough thrust.
When Whitney hooks a palm under your thigh to lift and drive even deeper, you’re startled by the sudden bark that leaps from your throat. Each filthy grunt spurs Whitney on, and you realise how unusually silent he’s become – content to allow Sydney’s velvet tongue to take care of the commentary.
“Aw,” Syd coos. “That cock pounding you just right, love?" His tone ignites a burn of delight across your cheeks. It’s clear from the way Whitney’s eyes screw shut that Sydney’s words are having an effect. It’s not surprising – if fact, it’s by design. Tongue peeking playfully, Syd gently presses, nudging your sensitive walls closer to Whitney's shaft. Your body tenses sharply, muscles coiled in anticipation.
You focus on each delicious sensation storming your body… good dick pistoning your needy cunt, nudging your sensitive walls with each stroke thanks to the lush pressure of Sydney’s palm, blended with the sweet, commanding voice expressing how you’re taking it so well. He knows how obscenely close you are and is determined to get you there, leaning down to whisper huskily against your ear.
“Cum for us, little slut… Let Whitney feel that pretty pussy quivering.”
The force of climax causes your whole body to crush, tensing hard as sparks burst under Sydney’s pressing hand. Orgasm rolls through your body, and you groan in tune with each pulse; pulling Whitney’s hips deeper to milk every inch of satisfaction from his length. It proves too much to take.
“F-fuck-”
Whitney gasps, barely able to pull out in time, palming his jerking cock to aim hot ropes of cum squarely over your stomach. Sydney’s disgusted cry is instant – he leaps back, repulsed and flailing his hands.
“A- Are you fucking serious?”
Whitney’s laughter thunders though the empty library, and he creases over as Sydney flaps wildly - spattering cum… just about everywhere.
You reach out to Syd, pressing soothing kisses on his arm to hide your curling lips. His expression is sullenly fixed on the floor as you take his hand, running your tongue between fingers and over each knuckle. A few suspicious blobs cloud the lenses of his glasses, and below them, his nostrils flare.
“You’re disgusting,” Syd grimaces, pouting as he produces a clean handkerchief from his pocket.
“Your mouth’s disgusting,” Whitney retorts with a grin. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, anyway? Been taking notes?”
It’s so typical for Whitney to pat himself on the back for Sydney’s verbal creativity, but you know it’s totally unwarranted. But the oddly competitive edge they each bring sure keeps things spicy, and you’re not sure you’d have it any other way.
In any case, you think Whitney’s enjoyed visiting his favourite library assistant, and Sydney might later admit how much he enjoyed himself, too.
warnings: reader is described with a pussy but no gender/actual sex is given, dubcon, heavy pregnancy talk obvi, lactation mention, pseudo-incest??? its not really a focus but there is incest like vibes in here so be warned, no contact between sirris n syd tho
if ur reading this ill see you in hell
It was Sirris’ idea to invite you to dinner. You’re Sydney’s puppy-love partner. You two are so sickeningly close: attending mass regularly, walking to school together, chattering in hushed voices over the library counter. Sirris has been mulling over inviting you home for a while, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to make sure you were perfect for his little Sydney. Sirris just wants the best for him.
For all intents and purposes, you are very much a chaste and sweet person. Angelic some have said, convinced you bear a divine light of some sort. He thinks you’re very cute next to Sydney, two peas in a pod. Both of you, sweet and kind and, above all, obedient. Sirris has tried to urge his son to take it easy, that it’s okay to come out of his shell, but in some aspects it’s better that Sydney is such an obedient son. Certainly it’s easier to convince his little Syd to get between your spread thighs, even when the flush of his cheeks makes him look like he’s about to pass out from exertion.
Sirris lets you rest your head on his thighs, even as Sydney fucks into your cunt with barely restrained enthusiasm that borders on manic. He may be getting a bit too much pleasure out of this, enjoying the way you squeal and mewl under his little Syd, thighs trembling where they sit cupping Sydney’s hips. Every now and then you toss your head and brush his hard on with your cheek or forehead, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheekbones. Above you, his little Syd is the picture of beauty, strands slipping loose of his hair tie, reflecting gold in the lamp light. He was so reluctant and shy to start, but he’s seemingly having trouble controlling himself now that he has his beloved spread before him. Sirris can remember being that age, so hesitant but so eager, sure that he would die if he couldn’t be with his love. He just wants that for Sydney; true love. Sirris had gently worked the idea in, assuring Sydney that it was okay to get you pregnant. You’re promised to each other; marriage is more of a formality than a necessity. And Sirris wouldn’t lie to him. If his father said it was okay to, goodness, get you pregnant, then it must be.
He would take care of everything for the both of you.
It will be an absolute delight to have you around the house when his little Syd’s seed has taken. He can finally move you out of that dreary orphanage; after all, wouldn’t it just be more hassle for your caretaker to have to take care of his ward’s baby? Sirris can already see you puttering around the house, sweet and respectful and growing rounder by the day. He knows Sydney will be a loving, devoted parent, overachieving in everything he attempts, but you’ll want for so much while pregnant. So much food, so much care, so much attention.
When you’ve grown beautifully round and heavy with his child, tits aching and leaking milk, you’ll want for nothing more than rest and a warm body pressed against you. He has to admit, you’re adorable every other day of the year, warm grin and bright eyes and soft skin, but you’ll be irresistible when you’ve the glow of pregnancy upon your face. You’re hard to look away from most days, shining like a stained glass angel in the setting sun, and Sirris has caught himself staring at you from across the staff parking lot. Chest tight with anxiety and stomach flipping at the undeniable heat you inspire in his loins. Too many mornings he’s awoken to a pitifully lonely bed, his own spunk cooling on his pajama pants and the phantom taste of your breast milk in his mouth. Too many nights have his memories of her been overlapped with images of you, his recollections becoming fuzzy around the edges when all he can think about is you and Sydney.
He knows he shouldn’t think it, he doesn’t want to wedge himself in your relationship, but there’s a part of him that waits patiently, giddily, at the thought you will be desperate for any sort of touch, and his Sydney, his poor, overworked, ever-busy Sydney, won’t be around much to relieve you. But Sirris is family, he will help you in any way you need. Any day now, you’ll be more than his child’s partner. You’ll be the piece that fills his family with joy and healing, ensuring that even if she’s gone a part of her will live on.
Sydney’s hips stutter at the end of his struggle, his face at once pinched in frustration but near relieved at the rising pleasure. Before he can think to pull away and finish on the valley of your pelvis, Sirris clasps a large, warm hand around his son’s hip and pulls him flush to your cunt. His smile is tender, fatherly, and incredibly self-satisfied. Sydney pulls away almost begrudgingly to look upon the mess he’s made, a flicker of regret passing across his face. Your own face is a conflicted mish-mash of guilt, embarrassment, and exhaustion. Sirris coos over you both, pressing a chaste kiss to Sydney’s sweaty forehead as he slips a very familiar plug into your dripping pussy. He can’t let this encounter go to waste, not when he finally has what he wants.
He’s all at once back to everyone’s favorite teacher, the responsible guardian, as he ushers you both to the bathroom to at least rinse the sweat off; brushing out Sydney’s hair even when he bristles with mortification at being babied. He just wants the best for Sydney, and the best is you. It may take some time, a bit more calculated coaxing, but Sirris is already thinking up ways to fit daily encounters into Sydney’s too-packed schedule. Adding it to his lesson plan sounds like the most efficient way, mulling the idea back and forth as he blowdries your hair, at least until you’re actually pregnant. It’s so rare that he’s able to get a live demonstration of such an important process.
If you feel apprehensive about his fatherly behavior or the way he talked his son into fucking you raw, you don’t say anything. You’re still a little out of it, unable to meet his eyes when he talks to you, but Sirris knows you’ll get used to it. He tucks the two of you into Sydney’s bed, his poor boy already drifting to sleep after a long day, but you watch Sirris leave with an expression that’s hard to place. Sirris just gives you a warm smile before he turns out the lights.
BEGGING FOR THE SEX FILES ⟢ phainon! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 you don’t know what’s up with twitter, neither does phainon. but everyone else in the gc is concerned after a leak of you two together from months ago is released. it really is just leak after leak, isn’t it?
You immediately regret asking that question when you heard Phainon’s voice, shutting your eyes and placing your face into your hands, “Phainon, let’s be realistic here.” You muttered, keeping a perfect distance away from you just in case you retract your words and jump onto him.
“You’re breaking up with me?” He questions, his heart in his stomach as he feels his hands shake, “Who was it? Please, tell me. I-I’ll deal with them, just don’t go—“ Your body was pulled into his, Phainon burying his face into your neck while clenching onto your shirt tightly.
“No, Phai—“ You sighed and hugged him back, sitting up on your knees on the couch to hold him better, “I’m not breaking up with you, let’s just… take a break from eachother.” You felt Phainon’s nails dig into your skin through the fabric after those words left your mouth.
“Just tell me who it was, please.” You blinked away the glossiness in your eyes, hearing Phainon’s voice quiet and crack in between as the both of you tried hard to not cry.
“Phainon.” You pulled him away from your neck, face softening when you saw the look on his face. It was teary, pouty—just sadness on his face while he tried to hold you still on the couch so you wouldn’t leave.
“Please don’t cry.”
“Please don’t leave me.” He sniffled, stray tears leaving his eyes and letting you wipe them away, “Don’t go, please. I love you.” He added on, feeling you place a soft and lingering kiss onto his cheek before moving onto his lips.
Phainon hummed into the kiss, more tears streaming down his cheeks. Your thumb kept brushing them away, Phainon diving head first into your neck while you brushed your fingers through his hair, “Phainon, let go.” You felt him shake his head, the want to needing to leave slowly disappearing the more you heard him choke back on his tears.
“—And then, that’s what happened!” You groaned loudly, Cipher’s blanket wrapped around you as you flopped onto your side, Cipher blinking with a wince on her face.
You appeared at her front door looking like you were about to start crying if you didn’t have anything to drink, and so that’s what’s happening between you two on this night. Drinking with you crying about missing him and how you shouldn’t have done any of that.
“This is really sad to watch.” She breathed out, lifting her drink up to her lips. You huffed and sat back up straight, “Can you, like, comfort me?” Your hands were scratching at your scalp, irritating the skin and making Cipher reach out to pull them away with a sigh.
“Babe, I don’t know what to say. This is literally the first time this has ever happened, so excuse me that I’m unprepared and unprofessional.” She responded with a tired tone, but you can tell she’s worried by the way she’s holding your hand tightly and how her eyes were filled with concern.
Your shoulders slumped, the blanket falling off your head while you laid it down onto the back of the couch, “Why’d I do that?” You raised your drink up before Cipher took it away, “Because people are crazy and that shouldn’t affect your relationship with the ‘Deliverer.’” She air quotes, mocking Phainon’s nickname.
She smiles when she hears you snorts, “You have any advice?” Cipher shook her head immediately, “Better to call Princess Homebody if you want actual good advice.” Your lips quirked up into a smile before it disappeared, pulling your knees up to your chest and tucking it underneath your chin.
“What should I do?”
Cipher exhaled a heavy breath, genuinely giving your question thought, “Maybe the break is good. Take some time apart, find yourselves, and then talk it out.” You hummed, taking the words into consideration.
She looked at you through the corners of your eyes, “Or we could go clubbing—“
“I didn’t break up with Phainon, Cipher. It’s a break. I’m not going clubbing.” You cut her off immediately, hearing her whistle at your quick response, “Okay, lover.” The flick of her lighter caught your attention, turning your head to see her offering one of her cigarettes to you.
“Talk to me more than.” Smiling, you took it.
Cyrene rubs Phainon’s back, Mydei standing near his bedroom door with crossed arms, “Soo, what happened?” Cyrene starts off, crossing her legs on the bed while Phainon jumps and the both of them immediately grimace when they see the tear streaks on his face.
“They broke up with me!” The two of them look at eachother.
“They—They said we should take a break from eachother!” Mydei sighed, sitting himself down onto the edge of the bed, “That’s not a break-up.” Phainon snaps his head towards him with furrowed eyebrows.
“It’s a break-up to me!” Cyrene chuckled nervously with a sweatdrop. She has never seen Phainon cry like this since you left Aedes Elysiae to visit a family member, and she thinks this situation tops that one considering how bad Phainon looks at his grown age.
“Phainon…” She trailed off, her hands up to persuade him to lay on his back, “Just relax. We’ll be back.” Phainon sniffled on his tears and did what she said, pulling the blanket up to cover his mouth aswell as the pout on his shaky lips.
Once the door was shut, Mydei’s shoulders slumped, “He’s worse than I thought.” Cyrene frowned and slapped his forearm, Mydei looking down at her with a raised eyebrow, “Of course it’s bad! That’s his childhood bestfriend and future fiancé!” Mydei’s mouth slightly opened at the last words, Cyrene slapping her mouth.
“He’s thinking of proposing?”
Cyrene shook her head, “No, I’m just hoping though. But I don’t think marriage will fix this.” She placed a hand under her chin, going into deep thought about how to fix her brother and her bestfriends relationship.
“Maybe the break is a good decision.” Mydei spoke up, a small shrug to his words while Cyrene looked at him in shock, “I’m not saying it’s the best, but it’s not the worse either.” Cyrene sighed at his words, placing a hand up to her forehead.
“I guess, but the situation is really bad.”
“Do we really have any solutions?” Cyrene stayed quiet at the question, the silence already an answer for Mydei as his lips pulled itself into a tight line, “So we’re walking on eggshells now?” Cyrene made a so-and-so gesture, they weren’t entirely screwed but they were definitely going to be walking on eggshells for a while.
“I can hear you guys!” Phainon’s voice shouted through the door, Mydei and Cyrene quickly moving far away from the door with quiet shuffles.
⋆𐙚 ̊. Second Best | A Dan Heng x Reader SMAU
𖥻 ACT 3, 26.5 : courtesy of me !
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⋆𐙚 ̊. extras : okok so if u've noticed, updates r getting slower and that's bc i've gotten employed recently 😭😭 but yeah whatever happens i promise this series WILL get an ending
"fuuuck baby, thaat's it... that's my pretty girl."
leon's sure this his therapy session after all the shit he saw in his latest mission, returning to the one city that haunted his mind and dreams ever since he was a rookie. but he made it this time—saved grace, found a cure for himself and sherry, earning himself a nice vacation.
now, he was fixing his fucked up mentality and relieving stress by using your sweet little pussy, watching how perfectly you bended for him on your shared bed, ringed hand clawing the sheets. he watched where you two joined, his cum from previous rounds leaking out of you as he kept thrusting and thrusting, the sounds of small burps and squelches making him feel like he's right where he belongs—in his sweet wife's cunt.
"swallowin' me so good, shit, could kill for this sight. killed for this sight, you have no idea." he felt better and energetic, more than he did in ages—thanks to the cure—and now all he wanted to do with this was, of course, fuck his wife properly.
"leonn.. fuck—gaah.. hmgh.. hnn.." you drooled and slurred his name, unable to say anything else as he pounded inside you from behind, his big and rough palms kneading, spanking and spreading your ass almost desperately. leon was desperate right now, the need to feel you and make sure he really did make it was almost tasteable with the way he fucked.
"so good sweetheart, so good, always so good," he rambled through his breathy voice, hugging your waist tight enough to pull you back into his chest. he headlocked you to keep his balance—his other hand on your stomach, feeling the way it bulged with his cock. he groaned, nuzzling your hair and scent, basically drowning himself in you.
he was so happy for once. and all he wanted to do was to share it with you. just you.
"love you so much," he grunted, breathing heavily into your temple, small and barely audible whimpers coming out from his deep voice. you're so messy and dizzy to hear it properly, but when you do, you clench. hard. enough to pull another one from him. "so much baby—haahnh... my beautiful wife—"
you bit his forearm to keep yourself from screaming, eyes crossed softly. your moans grew needier against his skin, and from the way you clenched, he knew you were right there.
"gonna cum? yeaah you gonna cum, gonna cum right on my cock." he panted, squeezing your tummy as his cold ring created a contrast on your sweaty and heated skin. you whined, and held his bicep tight enough to leave marks. though all he cared was how good that ring looked on your finger as you did.
"come on baby, i earned it didn' i?" he breathed into your ear, his plea making your eyes roll back. he reached down from your tummy, rough thumb messily circling your clit. "earned your pussy, earned to feel you cum. gonna fill you up again, yeah? i came back to you, all cured—fuck," he whimpered again, so low and deep you almost mistake it as a groan. "—'n healed. gimme my fuckin' reward."
you came from his words and delicious thrusts, trembling in his arms. his own orgasm crashed right after yours, and the force of it made him slump with you on the bed, flat on your back with stuttering hips. "shit," he breathed, kissing all over your spine, giving gentle licks and nips.
"i.. i love you too.." you mumbled, completely spent and just now regaining your ability to speak. he let out a tired and rough chuckle, turning until he was spooning you properly.
Leon comes home feeling better than he has in ages, and he knows just how he wants to show you.
ao3 ✦ wc: 5.9k
tags: Leon Kennedy/cisfem!reader, marathon sex, multiple creampies, p in v, porn w/o plot, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, cockdrunkeness, rough sex, praise & degradation, aftercare, wife!reader, can imagine with or w/o age gap, re9 requiem spoilers
a/n: I meant for this to be love-making but then it turned freak nasty oops
SMS Message: Home tomorrow.
Sender: Leon S.K.
You jumped up from the couch as you read it, the words shaking on the screen you held with trembling hands.
You didn’t think he’d come home so soon. You didn’t think he’d come home at all.
The next 18 hours were a blur, and then you heard it: the purr of a familiar motor in the driveway. It stopped you dead in your tracks, standing as still as a statue in the kitchen. You tensed as you waited for the sound of footsteps outside— held your breath as you heard the key in the lock— watched unblinkingly as the handle turned— when Leon walked through the door, time itself went still.
For a moment, all you could do was stare. You didn’t know what to expect. Every mission changed him, and you didn’t know what new version of him would walk through the door now, or how to react to it. And the stakes had never been higher.
The days before his departure were spent mostly in silence, doing little else except hold each other as his departure neared every second. You both knew the two likely results: he’d either die in the place it all began or come home even closer to death’s door. He’d wait for his disease to slowly consume his soul while he made his own funeral plans, and you’d stay close to your gun to prepare for the moment he went cold.
You’d spent the time between his text and now clinging to hope and preparing yourself for the worst. You’d never felt as fragile as the moment he opened the door.
He looked your way as the lock clicked behind him. It was only a few seconds, but they expanded into eons as you searched him for signs of bad news. A knit in his brow, or a downward tug of his lips. Traces of tears he may have wiped away in the car before you could see them. His steely eyes filling with grief.
But you didn’t see any of that. Instead, he grinned and held his arms out wide.
You flew crashing into them. He was steady, firm, and tight as you clutched your fists into the back of his shirt. His arms wrapped around your head and he kissed the top of it softly, swaying you ever so slightly because he was too overcome to stand still.
For minutes, all you did was stand in the doorway and hold. That was the quiet choreography of all of his homecomings, though it never felt routine. Each time it had a different weight, and this one was the heaviest yet by far.
When you finally were able to pull away, you scanned him again for signs of injury, physical or otherwise. You knew him like you knew yourself, and even the most imperceptible changes never got past you.
Your eyes widened when they dropped to his neck.
You didn’t have to ask; he already knew the question. He answered it, still smiling, his voice gravelly and low, soft and tired, but not weary. All of it built up your hopes until he finally spoke it into reality.
“I’m alright, baby.”
His hands grazed your face, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his bare fingertips purely out of habit. You’d spent months of him preventing you from coming into contact with his infected tissue. But then you realized what you were feeling: real skin sans leather, flesh devoid of flaw. His fingers were roughened from calluses and nothing more, complete with his wedding band returned to its rightful place.
Your eyes watered in disbelief and awe. A trepidatious smile grew on your lips as he cupped your cheek in his palm. You covered his hand with your own and pressed into the warmth while your other hand traced up his torso, until you were grazing over the skin of his neck and nudging down his shirt collar.
It was free of all black-rotted dry patches, no cracks on the surface to be seen. Nothing but a fresh scar you didn’t need to ask about right now. Right now, all that mattered was that he was whole and solid, returned to his natural state, totally healed and hot-blooded under the surface.
Your breath hitched at his body heat. Oh, how you missed his skin.
“You’re really okay..?”
The words were small and barely squeaked out. You didn’t want false hope. You needed to know the healing was more than just skin deep. His reaction assuaged all fears.
“Yeah. I really am.”
The truth took a moment to permeate the air. When it did, he took you in a kiss so firm and certain, it crushed all remaining doubt.
You met it fiercely, pushing yourself against his torso to feel him closer. Your hands threaded into the hair on the nape of his neck as he wrapped his arms around to hold you firmly in place.
Your tongue darted out first, or maybe his did, you couldn’t say. And from there, it happened fast.
His hands moved to the back of your head, then your waist, and then your ass, where they couldn’t help but grope and lift until your legs wrapped around him and he held you in the air. You grabbed his face as your lips parted wider to allow his tongue further inside. He roughly kicked off his boots and then he was walking. He kept kissing you all the way through— he didn’t need to open his eyes, he knew where he was going.
Your back met the cool blankets on your bed and then he was crawling over you, caging you under him in the dark. You wrapped your hands around his biceps and felt the muscles flex as he lowered himself to kiss down your neck, covering each square inch of skin with his sloppy, desperate kisses.
“I feel better than I have in years. Spent the whole trip home waiting to show you.”
'To prove it to you' was in the subtext.
He returned to your mouth hotly and grinded his hips into your center, the friction of his jeans against the soft fabric of your home clothes making you keen into the toe-curling feeling. He pulled his shirt over his head and you took the opportunity to speak.
“Turn the lamp on, need to see you.”
He made quick work of reaching over to it, and then you shuddered as your palms felt the expanse of his abdomen. Tight ab muscles, beefy pectorals, and broad shoulders. The sight you never got sick of that made up his brawny form. All of it healed and renewed.
He kept grinding while you took him in. Your arms went up and around and down again, nearly worshipping the flesh. But when you yanked at his belt, he stopped you with his hands around your wrists, bringing them to each side of your head and caging you in again.
“Spent too much time thinking about what I’m gonna do to you.” He sat back up and you kept your arms where he fixed them as he began to pull at the elastic waistband of your bottoms. He kissed your exposed navel and you shivered as he mumbled into you. “Need’ta show you how I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”
You never felt like his age held him back much in the bedroom— his job relied on stamina and endurance, and though his job was physically demanding and he was not quite in his prime, the toll was mostly seen in the back pain after; it hardly showed in the moment. As his hands and mouth traveled every inch of exposed skin like a starving animal, you wondered if you could even handle him giving you something more. The thought of finding out went straight between your legs.
His mouth went straight there, too.
You nearly yelled as he dove into your cunt with a fervent tongue, lapping and sucking and messily making out with your folds, his thumbs kneading to pull open the soft fatty skin of your vulva. He wasn’t interested in wasting any time on teasing, clearly.
Your thighs clenched around his head and a hand pushed against his head reflexively to fight off the sudden intensity, but it was useless. The pressure of your legs around his head only spurred him on until your cunt was soaked in spit– it certainly wasn’t your own wetness– he devoured every ounce that escaped before it could go anywhere but his mouth.
You bucked and twitched as you cried out his name. “Leon, Leon, s’too much, holy— fuck, Leon—” but he only spread your thighs and kept your there, pointing his tongue to circle sharply around your clit.
“I’m just getting started, baby,” he said, sucking your clit into his mouth and letting go with a flilthy noise, “thought I’d never taste this sweet cunt again, gonna drink my fucking fill.”
Your head fell back as he dove back in, steady and thorough and obscene. You took deep breaths, although they were more like hitched pants and moans until you acclimated to the sensation. He hummed as he felt you melt under him and added a single finger inside, groaning when you arched into it.
He slowed down, his finger rocking and curling in and out and his tongue lapping at you. You looked down to see his darkened eyes gazing at his work between tastes, and you shuddered as he licked his lips before retracting all touch. Your hips flinched upwards to beckon him to return, but he didn’t. He met your eyes and reveled in your wanton expression as he sucked you off his fingers, never breaking eye contact as he rose to kneel between your parted legs.
He finally began to do away with his jeans, and something changed in his tone as he did. You shivered with desire as you watched him move. It was deliberate and slow. He was undressing like a threat.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen…”
His belt fell with a thud against the ground—
“I’m gonna fuck you until you cry…”
The button fell apart with a flick of his wrist—
“Fill you so full of cum you’ll be dripping ‘til next week…”
The zipper seemed to ache as it slowly parted open—
“And you’re gonna fucking take it.”
Unhurriedly and never once looking away from you, he pushed his pants and boxers down until his thick cock sprang free. You whined at the sight of it, eyes fixed where it hung in the air. It was dark pink– definitely darker than usual– his hot blood expanding every vein. He was harder than you’d ever seen him, a full display of the immensity of his desire, so much that it nearly looked painful. When a bead of precum began to appear on his tip, your mouth watered for it.
Your eyes scanned upward as you realized he’d stopped talking and was kneeling there in wait while you stared. You took in his form on the way up; the way his abs tightened with every throb of his cock, the striations of his brawny arms, the few new cuts over old scars. The heavy rise and fall of his chest as he held back for the last time tonight.
And then, you saw his face. His chin was slightly raised as if he was looking down on his next confirmed kill. His lips were still glistening with slick as they were pulled into something not unlike a snarl. His hair was halfway in his eyes, but it did nothing to conceal the intent within them.
“You think you can handle that?”
Your eyes fleeted to his navel, only for a second, assessing him like a loaded gun that was aimed right at you. His hands held his clothes in tight fists and his cock leaked with pre.
You met his eyes again and blinked as you nodded and choked out a needy, “yes,” and your gulp gave away your uncertainty. But that only seemed to spur him on.
He fell forward; suddenly, his face was inches away from your own, one hand on the mattress beside your head to hold himself up, the other yanking his pants off as quickly as he could.
“You know what to say if you can’t,” he grumbled, hunkering down to glide his tip against you until it notched against your entrance, “because telling me to stop won’t be enough.”
He grabbed your wrist at the same time he violently drove in, knowing you’d leap from it and keeping you there anyways. You were nothing but a mess of yelps and moans as he beat his way inside, clawing against his back and shoulders. A single finger wasn’t enough to ready you for this, and the knocks against your cervix were only soothed by the equal force against your g-spot.
Each merciless pounding of his fat cock stretched your walls to their limit, and he truly didn’t give you any other option but to take it. You groaned at the way he used his broad build to keep your legs open to him, every ounce of muscle that you were no match against weighing down to pin you there.
With an arm wrapped under you to hold you by the back of the neck and the other tightening in the hair on the crown of your head, he caged you in to face him. But your dizzy eyes were squeezed shut and could only open to roll back into your skull.
He shook you lightly by the hair. “Look at me,” he growled. You mewled as you attempted it, but your glossy eyes went straight back behind your eyelids. He did it again, harder, pistoning up to fuck you harder, too. “Look at me, you fucking bitch.”
The shock of his words made your eyes shoot open with a gasp and a furrowed brow, far removed from the gentle reverence he held you in at the door. His gaze bore straight into you with a scowl, his adoration replaced with possession.
He was terrifying. Unhinged. A madman on the loose inside of you. A killer who lashed against your walls with uncalculated raw power. Though you could only see his face, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.
While you were still reeling from the disparagement, he gritted angrily into your face, crowding you until your noses nearly touched.
“Who owns you?”
You could only attempt to answer, your voice breaking into a sputtering moan as he bottomed out harshly again and again, not needing any of the great focus it took you to speak.
The pitiful noise you’d made wasn’t good enough for him. He squeezed the sides of your neck and you arched off the bed, but that only sent your body flush against his, which didn’t make you any clearer-headed.
“Tell me who fucking owns you.”
You felt like you were floating as your brain was cut off from blood flow, and out of care for your own wellbeing, you managed to answer him.
“Y-you, Leon—“
He let go of the pressure and smirked as you gasped. “Mouth not so good for talking right now, huh? Only good for one thing?”
He unclasped his fingers from your hair and brought them to your chin, delving into your parted lips to hook around your bottom teeth. You let your jaw fall open and watched in shock as he spat inside.
“Swallow it,” he commanded, fingers digging into your face as he pushed it shut. You shuddered as you did, and his own eyes rolled back now.
His head fell into the crook of your neck with a smoky groan. You felt hot puffs of air against your pulse as his hands became gentler, like he revered you for doing what he demanded.
“Gorgeous fucking girl… needed this cunt so bad, went through hell to get back home to you…”
His hold on you may have lessened, but his words held your heart in his fist and squeezed. He’d captured your thoughts so purely on the present, you nearly forgot the context.
Your arms were limp as they tried to wrap around his back, barely able to hold on as he moved with every pounding of his hips. But still, they searched him, chest filling with every inch they felt unmarred by disease, and your cunt pulsed as he searched you for places to grab. Your ebbing breasts, the small of your waist, the meat of your hips, landing finally on the underside of your knee where he changed the angle to impale himself even deeper.
You were losing it, and he could tell. He thrust upwards to meet where your hips rose to help him land in that perfect spot and he kissed your jugular— first a peck, then an open-mouthed kiss, and then a full-on lick of his tongue.
Your legs trembled under him. “Leon, I’m, fuck, please,” you breathed.
He twisted your nipple and nipped under your ear as if to mock how it made you writhe. “Oh yeah? You sure you wanna cum so soon?”
‘So soon’ ..?
Maybe he wasn’t all talk when this started. Maybe that savage look in his eye wasn't a trick of the light. At this rate, he wasn’t going to fuck you until you cried, he was going to fuck you until you died.
But he wanted it. He lifted himself enough to sear your mouth with a kiss, his thrusts slowing momentarily to wedge his hand against your clit. He gathered the wetness between your bodies to easily rub against the silky nub. Your toes curled and your spine curved to seek the friction of his freshly calloused fingers. He deepened the kiss as you moaned, and it became all tongue so he could swallow the sounds in his throat.
He was debauched. Delirious. A bad man smiling as he plucked petals from a flower. Delightfully drowning himself in sin. All you could do was surrender as he brought you your undoing.
You came with wild cries and jolts of ecstasy, nails digging into his deltoids as he sped up even more. You watched him look down at his cock being covered in your cream, a ragged sound in his throat as you tightened around him with each wave of pleasure.
You panted sharply as you barely began to come down, and he lifted himself up on his haunches, kneeling between your legs as he soaked up the sight.
Once your half-lidded eyes met his, he grabbed your hips to brutally fuck you into him.
You clawed at the sheets as he used you like a toy. You won’t be surprised if your ass is speckled with fingertip-shaped bruises tomorrow. All you could see in front of you was your breasts recoiling from each thrust, and behind them, Leon lost in his own world of feeling. His head was tipped back and you saw the stubble under his chin— his pecs were flexed and flushed pink from the vigor— all of him covered in a light gloss of sweat that shone in the warm lamplight.
He was intoxicating to behold, and it was absolutely unfair, because you already lost the ability to think straight. Now you drank him in with your eyes, and you were totally inebriated.
Your moans turned into some kind of mumble. You didn’t know what words you were hoping to form, but it was something along the lines of a warning that he was approaching the realm of too much. He looked down at your babbling with a lust-filled, lazy smirk, all too pleased with himself already.
“Whatdya want, love? You drunk on my cock already?”
He slapped your clit and laughed lowly as you gasped and jolted, then propped your limp legs around him and barreled in even more. Steady, fast, and loud.
Thank god the apartment days were over or the cops would come any minute. Skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging dents into the drywall, you crying out for him like he was carving out your heart. A noise complaint in the making. But when he signed the property deed, it came with the right to make you scream, neighbors be damned.
And scream you did as he held you even tighter and thumbed your swollen clit, evoking your walls to seize in the way he needed to release. He leaned back with a sharp and airy shout, hips sputtering as you felt him unload deep inside, his remaining jerky movements making it trickle out around him.
You were a touch thankful as he slowed down and his hands rubbed soothingly on your thighs. You could finally catch your breath. But your graciousness was short-lived as he flashed a grin and flipped you onto your stomach. The breath was forced out of you as your chest fell into the mattress, and your eyes went wide as he lined himself back up, slowly pushing inside, his cum allowing his cock to slip easily inside regardless of how sore your folds already were.
You whined and knotted your fists into the fabric under you as he bottomed out and pulled away with slow and liquid motions. You heard the faintest laugh rumble in his chest before he spoke.
“I’m not anywhere near done with you,” he huffed.
You buried your head in the soft sheets below. Filled with his load and the promise of another, you felt totally and completely his. Exactly where you wanted to be. Right where you belonged. You couldn’t help but smile, until he moved and it was wiped off your fucked-out face.
He gripped the meat of your ass as he steadily picked up speed, the silver of his wedding band cold against you in contrast to the heat of your bodies. A wet spot collected underneath you from his cock coaxing out his cum with each thrust. The sounds were softer yet even more crude with your cunt so sopping wet.
“Gripping me so good, look at you,” he spread your cunt apart a little more, “goddamn, you’re perfect.”
You felt mildly embarrassed at the messy sight of you that he was undoubtedly staring at right now, but at the same time, you envied his view. To watch his cock disappear inside of your puffy and well-used folds, then withdraw covered in his cum and a healthy mix of your own. To view his strong hands holding you open, to see yourself laid out in submission.
But all you could do was feel, and that was more than enough to sate you. In fact, you were already well past satisfaction, and you kept having to refind your focus so you could keep taking more. You inhaled deeply as you felt the soreness at your entrance and reminded yourself to relax your body, sighing away the tension in the muscles you didn’t mean to flex: your thighs, your back, your shoulders. But then you’d feel the friction of his tip dragging against the gummy walls of your g-spot, and your mind was clouded by pleasure all over again.
He wasn’t going nearly as fast as before, but it was obviously a choice, and not one made out of tiredness or necessity. It just felt too good for him to change the rhythm. With your knees together as you lay prone, your canal was tightened in a way that made you feel dense and so, so warm around his tender cock. You always felt incredible to him, but if sex always felt like this, he wouldn’t just fuck you all night, he’d stay buried in you so long he’d risk starving to death.
You were each lost in your own minds as the feeling went on and on. The air was heady and thick as you breathed against the blankets, and Leon was humping into you like waves rolling into shore– fluid motions that still crashed onto the shore or your center, followed by another and another, a constant ebb and flow that lulled you deeper into euphoria.
“Feels s’good, Leon, oh my god… d-don’t stop.” Your voice was laced in awe.
“Really fucking does… shit…”
The words were airy and held just as much wonderment as yours had. He traced a hand down the valley of your spine, revering the body that gave him such immeasurable bliss. Knowing that he was feeling the same seventh heaven you were made you feel even more connected to him, and your toes curled at the thought.
It kept going, and going, and going. You couldn’t tell how long it remained exactly like that, neither of you searching for your next orgasm, just totally and completely captured by the present. Time wasn’t something that existed in the room. It was a long time, but it’d never be enough.
He groaned as you felt his hips stutter involuntarily as the next thrust landed even deeper inside. The unexpectedness hit you both and turned it back into something needier. The next thrust snapped against your ass and you arched into the air to meet it. He shifted to hold you firmly as he set on a new wanton speed.
You mewled as you keened into him, legs parting slightly to make room for any spare length he had to give, and gripped the sheets as his balls began to slap against your clit. Each time he crashed against your walls, you felt them begin to bloom with electric want, and you braced against the bed to push yourself back into his thrusts as they became gritty, harsh pounds again.
He felt just the same as you, blood rushing to the parts of his brain that demanded another orgasm, and he felt every flutter of your walls around him that beckoned to milk him dry– exactly what he wanted you to do, to drain him until he had nothing left to give. He wanted to do whatever it took to make sure that fluttering didn’t stop.
He reached under you to rub your clit. You yelped as his fingers made contact, gliding easily against the cum-covered nub. His forearm was pressed against your navel, pinned between you and the mattress, and you could feel the size of his cock protrude against it from within you. Your legs spread even wider as you cried out, struggling to hold onto reality as he worked the thousands of nerve endings he’d already made oversensitive. Now, it bordered on torture.
The way you opened yourself only made it easier for him to find purchase to pound even harder, meeting the way you writhed and keened for more, his eyes rolling back as you bore down as if you were trying to squeeze him out. But all it did was drive him harder into all the right spots inside of you, and you were so overcome with sensitivity, you came before you even knew you were close.
And you came hard. Jolting and seizing as you cried his name, your eyes growing wet from the shock of it. He was loud as he reacted to the way you clenched and pulsed around him, your warm, slick cum covering his cock and making his movements sloppy and wet. And you were even louder as he kept going even harder.
He was surprised that he didn’t cum again right then and there, but it only galvanized him to pull your hips back and use you again. Your body was growing limp, you were shuddering and shaking, and his eyes widened with madness as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He was watching for signs that you’d say your safeword, too, but every moment that passed that you didn’t, he took as permission to fuck you even harsher.
Your head lolled and your lip quivered as you took it like a punishment, not a single coherent thought inside your head. You registered that he was close like white noise, simultaneously in the background and all around you. His hands seared in their grip on you as he hammered in once, twice, and then held himself deeply inside with broken rasps and moans. Your lips fell open as you felt his fresh load mingle with the first, pooling hot against your cervix.
He pulled out with a violent hiss, and you cried out as the fluid stung against your sore opening. Your legs trembled until they collapsed back onto the bed along with the rest of your body.
You were vibrating from the inside out, still reeling from how aggressive both of your orgasms were. You could hear him catching his breath, too. You twitched as you felt him touch the outside of your cunt, bracing yourself for more, relaxing when he only stroked the outside. He drew his fingers up and down the crease of your folds, languid and smooth, leisurely playing in his overflow. He pressed them in once just to watch you jolt, and then cleaned them off with his mouth.
He finally gave you a break and turned his focus to taking care of you. By the way you lay there limp, he knew you needed it. He peppered you with kisses as you floated in the afterglow, sprinkling them softly on your rear, up your spine, and onto your shoulder blades, until he placed one on your cheek.
He brushed your frazzled hair away from your face and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smile at the absolute state of you. But then the lamplight reflected off a tear and he furrowed his brow as he gently wiped it away.
“You with me, sweetheart?”
He chuckled at the small sound you made in acknowledgement, the only thing you had effort to respond with. He placed a kiss onto your head.
“Did so good for me, love. So perfect.”
He grunted as he laid down, pulling your back into his chest to spoon you. You weakly held onto his arm as it wrapped around your torso, shifting back into him to steal his body heat.
You closed your eyes with a sigh as you soaked in the way he took care of you after such a brutal display of lust. His thumbs circling against your sweat-damp skin, nose nuzzling against your hair, gravelly voice soothing you with praise.
“M’so glad to be home, baby. You always made me feel young again, but it’s almost like I am young again. Don’t want to take it for granted. Gonna take some time off, take you on vacation, let you see the world. Might fuck you on every continent.”
You giggled at his ambition, still high on happy chemicals and swimming in the dream he laid out. It’d be a significant change, him enjoying the fruits of his labor with things more permanent than gifts and fast cars. You always encouraged him to, but he said it’d be easier for him to cope with losing a material possession than a vacation being ruined by being called on a mission. You hoped it wasn’t just the endorphins talking.
“Yeah, you like that idea? Good, ‘cause I mean it.” He kissed under your ear and squeezed you in closer. “Wanna spend every day making you happier than ever, make up for how long I was sick. Can’t waste any of ‘em not fucking you the way you need me to.”
You gasped as you felt his half-hard cock twitch against your ass, instinctively arching back into it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pressed it against you in turn, and you realized he still wasn’t done, confirmed by the way his voice darkened against your ear and he started kneading your breast in his hand.
His kisses against your pulse turned open-mouthed and erotic, one hand pinching your hardening nipple as the other reached for his cock, slowly stroking himself with the tip resting against your sopping hole. You were so flush together that with each wave of bloodflow that grew him towards full-hardness, it breached your pulsing entrance without him even trying.
Your toes curled as he leisurely thrust into one centimeter at a time. It was just enough of a tease to eat away your apprehension. You really weren’t sure how much more you could take, but as he shallowly fucked his tip into you, you became increasingly desperate for more, until you were squirming and panting in his arms.
You gasped as he suddenly pushed halfway in, feeling your folds and your entrance smart in their soreness. Just a few minutes left empty and you needed time to accommodate him all over again. He wasn’t quite as big as before after two orgasms, but with his size, being slightly smaller was still pretty fucking huge. And now you needed to adjust to more than his size; you needed to adjust to your own overstimulation, too.
He thrust halfway in and stilled there, holding you tight to prevent you from backing into it, feeling your legs shake around him.
You already couldn’t walk, he was sure of it. But it must be well past midnight now. Did you need to use your legs tonight anyways? He decided that you didn’t. Might as well make them truly useless.
He bottomed out in one smooth, sharp thrust, aided by the lubricant of the two creampies inside. His eyes rolled back as he stayed there for a brief moment, just long enough to feel you throb around his cock, like your body was begging him to make it three.
He’d never cum that many times in a row before, not even in his prime. But now, he felt like he’d entered a new prime, and he wanted nothing more than to see just what his limit was. He wondered if he’d reach yours first. But you were a tough girl, he thought. You took him like you were made for it.
His navel thumped against your ass as he drove in with that goal in mind: find out how much cum he could stuff inside your cunt until one of you tapped out.
He started steadily, knowing it’d take him longer to find his finish a third time, and seeing how you were already a mess of moans, both from pleasure and physical overwhelm. It boosted his ego to know he was pacing himself for you much more than for himself.
You felt like an unraveled spool of thread. You couldn’t believe he had the stamina for another round, his age considered or not. You were shocked you could keep going yourself. But at the same time your swollen cunt ached around him, it sucked him in for more.
He twisted your head back to take you in a kiss, swallowing your moans as he beat fast inside again. You reached back to hold onto any part of him you could until your senses were once again flooded and you melted open to him.
“That’s it, relax for me. Just one more, baby, gonna fill you to the brim. Fucking take it.”
And take it you did, until the night sky turned light blue.
₊˚⊹♡ synopsis: You lied about being a beta. But now you’re in heat, and someone’s about to find out the hard way.
₊˚⊹♡ pairing: Alpha!LADSmen x Omega!reader
₊˚⊹♡ warnings: NSFW! unprotected sex, loads of breeding (pun intended), knotting (caleb cuz why do you think he can help it?), omegaverse, dumbification, inappropriate use of evol, fingering, cunnilingus, mild angst+loss-of-control trauma(zayne), multiple rounds of feral fucking.
₊˚⊹♡ nya's note: passed out from period cramps and resurrected only to type this—in. one. night. so forgive me since it isn't exactly proofread. however i do hope i fed you well, my naniis.
if you wanna be tagged for the sequels, do lmk in the comments.
and finallyyy—reblogs, feedback, unhinged thoughts—all are deeply appreciated.
秦彻 SYLUS QIN
It’s all a blur—the cramps twisting inside you, your head spinning, vision blurring. The gun slips from your shaking hand, but Sylus doesn’t notice that. He notices the way your scent changes, sweet and sharp, his pupils shrinking in horror before widening with something worse.
You barely hear him call your name before glass shatters and his Evol drags you both out of danger.
Fuck. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out you weren’t a beta. You’d been so careful—suppressants doubled, routine perfected—but you hadn’t accounted for a high-risk mission throwing your cycle off balance.
“Pheromones,” you croak, clutching your stomach, curling fetal in the passenger seat.
He doesn’t hesitate. Soon, the car is heavy with his presence. His pheromones wrap around you—warm like a leather jacket left in the sun, like the earth after rain, rich and grounding. Your cramps dull…for a moment. Until they hit again.
“Please. m’sorry,” you murmur, guiding his hand to your cunt, soaking through your pants.
“Kitten.” His jaw is tight—warning—or pleading—it’s impossible to tell apart.
“For fuck’s sake, Sylus. Please.”
That’s all it takes. His hand shoves into your pants, sliding two fingers in while the other stays on the wheel.
“Fucking soaked,” he grunts, his pheromones thickening as your cunt holds him in a hot grip.
He groans once more as you clamp tight. “Heat suppressants. Is that why this is that bad?”
You give him a look. But he just curls his fingers in you, making a whorish moan rip from your throat. “Fuck—fuck me. please.” You cling to his arm like a lifeline.
“Sweetie.” His brows furrow but God he’s so hard at that. “Do you realise what you’re saying?”
“Just shut up—for once and listen to me.” your jaw tightens as you hold back a sob.
It’s how you’re on his bed, pants off, the angry tip of his cock already dragging between your soaked lips. his face is close to your hot one, his arms secured around your arched body.
His cock slips into you. he pushes forward once—his delicious weight crushing your body. And the draaaaag of his stupidly thick dick along your pulsating walls—ohhh—
“Sy—!” a weak moan escapes you as you cum around him.
“Already, kitten? I’ve barely filled you.” he cradles your face as your eyes open. Your hips rock once, pushing his head deeper.
He sighs, and lifts off you. you nearly whimper at the lack of his skin against yours. But soon, his pheromones come alive, drowning you. his hand snakes below you knee, hooking it up and pressing it way back to your chest.
“Now that you’ve come to,” he drawls, pulling his hips back until only his tip remains. “Let us begin.” And with that, he surges forward, filling you in one long stroke.
You mouth hangs open as you fall limp under him, your cheek wet from drool. Your cramps have dulled and there’s only the pressure of his dick filling your womb so perfectly at each brutal snap of his hips to yours.
Your body rocks at each thrust. Strings of whimpers fall from your mouth as he fucks you. You don’t know if you’re imagining it but his pheromones tickle your skin like they have a mind of their own. How long had you been suppressing your heat?
“Stay with me.” Sylus grips your chin, his cock never stopping its heavenly abuse.
“mmpph—please more,” where do you find the audacity, truly?
He chuckles darky until he pulls back and thrusts hard. “ah—hah yes fucking perfect!”
His finger finds your clit, just keeping it there, still, it has your body quivering. He buries himself to the hilt once and spills into you with a deep groan.
And as if your womb has a brain of its own—you cum with him. Just at the taste of his cum.
“Your pheromones are going haywire.” He rasps, eyes closing briefly. You’re so ferally horny that even the syllables he articulates has your pussy fluttering around him. Why wouldn’t you though? Sylus had always been such an alluring alpha. And now that he’s bred you, you wanted more.
…you wanted his knot.
Yeah, you’ve lost your mind.
“Tightening around me,” he groans low in chest, keeping you full of his dick, kissing your womb each time. “If you keep this up, I might knot you.”
“Do it,” you feel him throb inside you. Hard. Like he was swelling—
“don’t—” he bites his tongue, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm the way his blood pumps to his cock. He gives you another thrust regardless—before his energy links slither around your body, flipping you on your stomach.
You whine. But he has to. If he doesn’t—if you keep your slutty mouth running—you’re gonna have a thick knot swelling in you, plugging you and keeping you full of his warm cum.
his hand snakes around your throat, bringing your face back close to his. Your back is arched, ass flush against his hips as his cock drives deeper into your pliant hole. Already overstimulated from finishing so wildly.
“g-god sy—too deep—please!”
“Why did you lie?” his thrusts turn punishing. Sharp.
“I—ngh! Thought you didn’t want a weak partner.” His fingers curls around your neck. Your face feels hotter now. Your thighs press together as you inch closer to cumming hard on his heavy cock again.
“Weak?” he nearly spits those words out. “Kitten. You’re the last person on this planet I’d describe as weak.”
His hand comes down again, to find your clit. His cock screws into you with precision. Making your gummy walls pulsate happily around him.
“fuuuuck. fuck sylus!” you cry out.
“Alpha, beta or omega. It doesn’t fucking matter to me. you’ll always be the strongest woman in my life. And you’re the only one I’d want by my side.”
You’re soaking up the sheets at this point. Your juices spilling and spilling endlessly.
“cum for me.” his lips trace the shell of your ear, before biting your earlobe. And that’s it. You cum around him. Desperately. Pathetically.
Pussy wringing him for his cum. Begging to be bred full. And he gives you. Loads and loads and loads of his cum. It doesn’t stop. And your pussy doesn’t let up on milking him until he’s completely dry.
“You’ll spend your heat cycles with me from now on.”
Who are you to argue.
夏以昼 CALEB XIA
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You thought you could skip your heat suppressants this month. Your doctor had listed all the side effects of the pills. So maybe since you were all alone this weekend, you could let your body be for once. Caleb wasn’t coming over this week. Or so he said.
But here he was, outside your door.
How were you supposed to know he was planning a surprise?
You can’t stop your pheromones. you can’t pretend Caleb’s not knocking on your door and louder now that he can smell your essence flowing through.
“you got an omega in there?” the knocks get insistent. Shit.
“y-yeah. just—just leave for today, okay?” you lie through clenched teeth, one arm over the couch for support. Did you truly think this would repel him?
The door opens. When did he get the key—
The minute his eyes fall on you, he freezes in horror. “no fucking way…” he breathes.
“Caleb I—lets discuss this—” you tremble, falling to the ground. He rushes to crouch beside you. Caleb’s pheromones come alive in response to your wild ones. He has to hold his breath to keep himself in check. And you sense it. His restraint. The only way to escape the interrogation is—
Your lips crash to his, and it doesn’t even take him a second to devour you right back.
“make it stop. Please.” Your hand trails down, low to his hard on. Of course.
That pretty much seals your fate. He lifts you with one hand, and within ten paces he’s putting you on the bed.
He’s on you, nose buried in the crook of your neck, drinking in that sweet scent you keep spilling.
“fuck is this what you needed? An alpha to make it all go away?” his hand traverses down, between your legs where you keep oozing your love juices. You whimper at his words, back arching with need.
“caleb please—”
“you think you’re in the place to make demands pips?” he murmurs darkly. And then you feel it. The way his cock springs free and hits your stomach. Hot and heavy and—you look down—leaking precum that makes your cunt spasm. He taps your clit with the angry red head of his cock.
Before you can let out the whimper stuck in your throat, he pushes in.
“ohh—oh please—” your legs spread wider to accommodate him to no avail. He’s too big. Filling you up too much. Your walls are forced to open for him. “too—hic—big!”
He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s driving into you again, tits bouncing at each hard thrust, allll the way back out and then alllll the way in. your jaw falls slack, eyes glazed with need.
“pretty pussy takin me so well though, baby.” He leans back, watching his dick get smothered in your juices as it keeps disappearing in your little hole.
His finger finds your clit, wetting it with all the mess you dribble out around his cock.
“hngh—! Cale—”
“why’d you hide it from me?” he asks, yanking you closer by your thighs.
“you’d—mmph—treat me like a baby—” your eyes flutter shut as he slams his cock right against your sweet spot buried deep in your gummy walls.
“like what? Do things for you?” he smirks, his thumb teasing your hole as his cock stretches it. “don’t you like it? Me spoiling you?” he groans to himself at it.
You manage to shake your head even as every thought gets fucked out of you.
“no?” he stops abruptly and you whine so pathetically that it reverses each statement of self-respect you’ve made.
You feel weightless as his evol lifts you and places you on him, slamming you back down on his cock. “Well go ahead. Show me how much you hate it when I do the work.”
Your thighs shake as you attempt to move. You try to move. To prove something. But your legs quake, your body burns, and you end up grinding helplessly against him. Not deep enough. Not full enough.
“Fuck, Caleb—”
He cups your face, brings you nose-to-nose.
“Just say it,” he whispers. “Say you need me.” you nod erratically at that.
Wet thwops echoing as he fucks up into you, bullying your hole into swallowing him deeper. “ohmygod—mmfuck!” your head lolls back, eyes shut as he drives into you from below. One sharp thrust and it has you pulsing around him as you cum.
One more thrust and he’s spurting ropes of his cum into you. but then…
“ca—caleb—?!” he grows. His cock gets bigger, and you pussy keeps milking it as his knot swells inside you.
“sorry pips. I need to.” He groans deep as his knot keeps all the thick seed in you—plugged. He lasts only a moment until he’s grinding you on his knot.
“hahh! Istoomuch!” his knot probes your g spot, and the more he grinds, the more it massages that spot making you see fuckin stars even though you’re mad overstimulated, pussy still fluttering in the aftershocks. Tears fall free now.
“Take it. Cum ‘round my knot, baby.” He grunts, pulling you against him, his knot shifting to a delicious angle, pressing so perfectly against that swollen spot—your pussy just dumbly clamping around him, sensitive from all that overuse.
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles.
“gonna cum—hah—again, pips. You’re gonna take it like a good girl, riight?” his eyes fall on the bulge that forms in your lower tummy. “fuck, you ready to be bred?”
Your nod’s barely a tremor, but it’s enough. He grips your hips, thrusting up hard, deep, relentless. Wet, obscene sounds fill the room. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and shattering, and his follows—hot and heavy—until you feel it.
And after hours, your heat finally tames into dull cramps.
Maybe having Caleb find out wasn’t as bad as you had thought.
沈星回 XAVIER SHEN
The Association knew your ABO type. Not your cute coworker-slash-neighbour living upstairs. And really, you hadn’t even lied. When he’d assumed you were a beta, you’d simply… not corrected him. A harmless omission.
Until one day, your heat hits. The consecutive missions had been weighing on your mind. Enough to make you forget to take your heat suppressants for the month.
You’d shut all the windows, even taped the edges halfway before a worse wave of cramps hit and you had to curl in fetal on the couch. And as you’re trying to take controlled breaths, you see a basket being lowered onto your balcony. Curiosity drives you toward it.
it’s from Xavier. Painkillers, lavender essential oil and a note. Fuckin hell he knows.
I had some painkillers at home. and the other stuff. Hope it is helpful.
And so, one thing leads to another and you’re begging him to come downstairs.
He has you close to him—back pressed against yours, hands in your panties and two of his fingers in your cunt.
“Xavier… this isn’t helping.” You croak helplessly, hips grinding back against him. You hear him suck in a sharp breath. His pheromones start feeling thicker now.
“you want my cock?” it’s a sultry whisper in your ear. Far from innocent.
“y-yes…”
Your panties are slid aside as the blunt head of his cock teases your hole, coating his own cock in your warm syrup—before slipping in, making you stretch open around him inch by inch.
You whimper into the pillow when he buries himself to the hilt.
“m’so full.” You mewl, hips chasing it.
“and you still want more?” he raises a brow behind you. “okay.”
And he drives back in. filling you once more. Your thighs tremble, pressing together as he fucks you slow and deep. The angle makes your head spin. He’s nestled against that deep spot so well that you’re already close.
Still, you whimper for more—restless. For that itchy emptiness in your womb to be filled. His palm rests on the side of your waist as he leans close, making the head of his cock shift closer to where you want him.
“what’re you begging for?” his voice is low whisper in your ear.
“wanna-wanna be filled.” You manage. You feel him halt for a moment before he hikes up a thigh. You yelp in surprise but he’s already pounding the blunt head of his cock back into your gummy walls.
“hngh—Xav-Xavier.” You babble incoherently the minute he kisses your cervix. His essence comes alive, encompassing you as he brands you with his cock over and over again.
By the time he slows his pace, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum or how many times he’s filled you full.
Xavier pulls out, only to see your walls push out his creamy spend in a weak pulse. The sound you make is barely human. He exhales something rough, something that sounds like he’s losing the last thread of restraint he ever had.
His thumb presses lightly to your swollen rim, puffy pussy lips tingling with need, circling it once as if testing how sensitive you are. The answer hits him immediately when your whole body jolts.
“…greedy,” he mutters under his breath, voice ragged. “You don’t want to let any of it go, do you?”
“mmh—no—please—”
Your hips twitch, your hand reaching back for him without thought. He catches your wrist, pins it to the small of your back, and watches another bead of slick roll down your thigh.
Then he pushes two fingers back inside you.
You gasp, going taut around them, sucking them in like your pussy recognizes him now and refuses to let him go. His fingers curl, gathering the creamy mess he left inside you and nudging it deeper, deeper to your womb.
“you’re—,” he murmurs, leaning over your spine, his breath hot against your ear. “Still clenching. You’re not done.”
Your breath stutters. “Xavier… please… need—”
“You need me to keep you full,” he finishes for you, like he’s reading straight out of your instincts. He withdraws his fingers, slick and dripping, and you feel the heavy drag of his cock settle between your thighs again. Thicker now. Harder, if that’s even possible.
He guides himself back to your messy pussy lips, tapping lightly against your overstimulated hole before pushing the head in, slow enough to make your eyes cross. The stretch burns in the sweetest way, your walls fluttering as they try to pull him deeper.
“Good,” he whispers when you moan. “Open for me.”
Your legs fall apart on instinct.
He shoves in with a single, unhesitating thrust.
Your mewl against the pillow as his hips mold flush to yours, your body accepting him like it’s starved for it. His chest presses to your back, trapping you under him as his hand slides under your lower belly, holding you in place while he grinds deeper, deeper, deeper—
“Stay like this,” he says against your neck. “I’m not stopping until your heat settles.”
You sob in blisfull agreement.
Xavier starts moving.
Slow at first. Deep enough that your toes curl with every roll of his hips. Then faster, his rhythm tightening into sharp, precise strokes that spear straight into that molten spot inside you. Your breath breaks, your vision shatters, and you’re already trembling before the next orgasm even crests.
Your body clamps around him so hard he groans into your skin, low.
“That’s it,” he hisses. “Keep milking me. You’re going to take all of it this time.”
His hand slides down, thumb working tight circles over your clit while he fucks you deeper, the bed shaking underneath both of you. Pressure coils so brutally that you’re practically ripped open by the pleasure when it hits, your walls spasming around him in relentless waves.
Xavier isn’t far behind. His pace stutters, his grip on your waist bruises, and with a groan that sounds dragged from the bottom of his lungs, he spills inside you again, thick and hot and endless.
Your body shudders, overstimulated and so full it aches.
Xavier breathes hard against your shoulder, but he doesn’t pull out. His fingers hold your hips steady, keeping every drop inside you.
“Not done,” he mumbles, voice a deep, exhausted rasp. “Your heat’s nowhere near finished.”
You whimper, already trembling under him. And he rolls his hips again.
祁煜 RAFAYEL QI
Your fork barely touches the plate before the first cramp hits. You try to school your face, but Rafayel’s eyes are on you instantly, bright and nosy as always.
“You good, cutie?” he drawls, tipping his head, curls falling over his cheek. “You look like you just saw your report card.”
You force a shaky laugh and wave him off. “Just… gas.”
He hums, unconvinced. Meanwhile, your heat is blooming too fast, rising under your skin, threatening to drag you under. Why weren’t the suppressants working well?
Another cramp snarls through your abdomen. You grip the table edge.
His eyes narrow. “Okay. That wasn’t a ‘gas’ thing. What’s going on?”
Your pulse skitters. You need relief. Something to anchor you. You swallow hard and manage, “Your… your pheromones. I just—what do they smell like, again?”
There’s a beat where he just blinks. Then his brows lift, slow, almost elegant.
“My pheromones,” he repeats. He leans in like a cat catching a scent trail. “You’ve been hiding something from me, miss bodyguard.”
The way he says it feels like a fingertip down your spine. You don’t answer. You can’t. Another wave hits and you shudder, breath hitching.
Rafayel’s expression shifts, his dramatic flair flickering into something sharper. Calmer. A tone you’ve never heard from him.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
It doesn’t take him much time to drive you back to his place. He carries you down the hall, pushes into his room, and sets you on the bed with a care that barely matches the tension in his body. The scent of him settles around you, curling warm and sweet, thick enough to make your thighs part on instinct.
Rafayel’s gaze drops between your legs, breath stuttering. “Cutie… your scent is driving me insane.”
Your heat spikes at the sound of his voice. You reach for him, dragging him in by his shirt. He kisses you immediately, deep and dizzying, his mouth soft but insistent as your body arches up against him. His pheromones hit you in a hot wave and you moan into his lips.
“Lie back,” he murmurs.
You do, chest rising and falling too fast, the need clawing through your skin. He slides his hands up your thighs, pushes your panties aside, and the moment the cooler air hits you, you gasp.
“cutiee,” he whispers, eyes darkening as slick gathers between your legs. “You’re already dripping.”
You try to squeeze your thighs together but he stops you, fingers pressing them open again. He leans down, kisses the inside of your knee, then your thigh… then settles right between your legs.
The first slow lick of his tongue makes your hips jump. The second pulls a broken sound from your throat. He sucks gently at your swollen clit, breath warm against you, one hand holding your thigh steady while the other slides under your ass to lift your hips closer to his mouth.
Your heat flares. Hard. Violent. You grab at his hair as your back arches off the bed.
“Rafa—Rafayel, I can’t—”
“Yes you can.” His voice is thick, hungry. “You need this, don’t you?”
Before you can answer, he flattens his tongue against you and pushes two fingers inside you. Your body clamps down instantly, drawing them deeper. The relief is so sharp you whimper, hips rocking helplessly.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against your skin. “Let me take care of you today, miss bodyguard.”
You fall apart on his fingers, pleasure hitting so fast you barely manage a gasp before the orgasm crashes over you. He doesn’t pull back. He keeps licking you through it, his spit mixing with the sweet syrup you ooze out. He keeps fucking you with his fingers until the overstimulation burns into need again.
You’re shaking when he finally lifts his head. His lips and chin are slick with you. His pupils blown wide.
“Round one.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawls up your body, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your throat. “You’re not done, cutie.”
You barely register his clothes being pulled off him, his body settling over yours, his cock heavy and leaking against your soaked entrance. He cups your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone.
Your eyes meet his and his pheromones roll out in a deep, sweet rush that goes straight to your spine.
The second he pushes into you, your breath breaks. The stretch is intense, perfect, your walls gripping him so tight he groans against your ear.
“Warm… so warm…” His hips snap forward, burying him fully inside you. “suuuch a sweet pussy. Clinging so pathetically.”
You cling to him, heat twisting your nerves raw as he starts to thrust. Slow at first, deep enough to make your toes curl. Then faster, his grip tightening on your waist as he pounds into your syrupy cunt, every stroke hitting the spot that makes your vision blur.
Your legs lock around him. “ohhmmhhh ye—rafayel—ah—please—”
He catches your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down until his forehead touches yours. “I know. Just take it. You need it reeal bad.”
His thrusts get sharper. Harder. The bed creaks. Sweat slicks your bodies together. The smell of your heat and his pheromones mixes into something thick, intoxicating. Your climax builds hot and brutal, tearing through you the moment his thumb drops to your clit.
You cry his name. Your poor cunt spasms around him. He groans, hips jerking as he presses as deep as your body will take him.
He fills you. Hot. Thick. Pulse after pulse until you’re trembling under him, stuffed full of his creamy goodness.
But he doesn’t soften.
He kisses your jaw, breath shaky. “That’s two.”
“wha—angh!”
His hips roll again, slow, deliberate, keeping everything inside you.
“You’re not done,” he whispers, licking into your mouth as he starts moving again. “Your heat wants more.”
And he gives it to you. Again. And again. Until the room smells like nothing but the two of you tangled in instinct and sweat and pleasure, until you lose count of rounds and the world narrows to the feeling of his body claiming yours until your heat finally, finally settles.
Rafayel collapses beside you, pulls you against his chest, and presses a kiss to your temple.
“Next time,” he murmurs into your hair, “just ask nicely, baby.”
黎深 ZAYNE LI
"breeding.”
—Is the last word you’d use with Zayne. much less ask for it. Yet here you are after his little pheromone outburst at the hospital. You’d lied about being a beta right from the beginning. Avoided the Akso hospital to get yourself checked, avoided Zayne half your high school after you bloomed late.
All because of one thing—like his evol, Zayne had a hard time containing his pheromones. and being a decently dominant alpha, his pheromones would often push omegas around him into heat.
As it did to you when you thought of visiting him to drop by lunch. The moment you entered his office, your knees weakened. Your stomach twisted in painful knots. and he—he had to rush you back home after learning everything. Even your unhealthy dosage of heat suppressants that you ingested each month because of him.
“I’m not leaving until you’re alright.” He kneels by your bed as you curl up in pain.
“s’not your f-faul-fuckinsonofa—” you breathe once as a cramp hits. “just leave. It’s—” a breath again “…fine.”
“untrue.” His jaw flexes. Adamant idiot. It’s the pain that makes your brain fry enough to forget all boundaries.
“breeding. Tha—aghh—! Is what’ll stop it.”
You don’t give him a chance to process before your lips are crashing with his. He freezes for a moment until he melts into it, slowly rising from the floor and onto the bed when you clutch his collar.
“there is a high chance this might result in unwanted—”
“I know. We’ll get me some pills.” You huff, guiding his hand to your soaked, hot cunt.
His wrist twists, catching yours. “are you certain?” his eyes are softer. Scared.
You nod. And then cup his face despite your womb internally punching you.
“of course.” With that, he pulls you on him, keeping you close, thighs against his knees.
His fingers find the edge of your panties, slipping through easily. Two fingers circle your entrance before pushing in. you grind on his lap. His hips lift for a moment, chasing that friction.
You whimper in pain and that’s what makes Zayne finally pull out his cock. Thick, heavy and so, sooo ready to ruin you.
But the moment you lift your hips to finally sink, your cramp hits.
“I’ve got you.” he murmurs, stroking your hair with one hand and the other guiding his leaky tip to your pussy.
Your hips roll once and you wince again. “stop.” His brows furrow in a silent correction.
“relax.” He murmurs as he eases into you, slowly, filling every inch sooo good that it has you whimpering. Your walls stretch around him inch by inch.
“zay—mmhh so—” your eyes roll back, mouth open.
He lets out a soft sound at the way you clutch around him so perfectly. Fit him like a fuckin glove.
His hips raise once. Testing. And judging by your already fucked out look, he thrusts harder this time. your nails dig into his shoulders as your own hips roll once the pain ebbs away giving way to molten pleasure.
Your walls flutter around him at each kiss of his cock to your overly welcoming womb.
“m’so close…” you whisper, burying your head into his neck, breathing in his scent that singlehandedly calms your pain. His fingers find your clit, rubbing taut circles on your swollen nub, smearing your arousal over it.
Your pussy keeps clamping around him tighter and tighter and tighter—
“c-cumming—ohhhmy—zaynee—” he fills you to the hilt, giving your syrupy, greedy walls something to milk.
And ohhh that you do. Enough to have him explode into you, filling you with hot ribbons of cum, making it cream around your hole—mixing with your honey.
He slowly sets you down are you come down from your high. But his cock is insistent. Still hard, still keeping you full of him.
“s’not enough—” your hand comes down to your stomach. But Zayne captures it, bringing it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist.
“then let me satisfy you.” He pulls back only to fill you up again.
Messy strings of his cum dribbles out of you, spilling onto the sheets. His hips move again, this time—pounding you.
Deep, looong strokes, each reaching the end of you and back out.
“hngh—m’too full—” you babble, moans stuck in your throat.
His hands part your thighs, hiking them up so your body can take him deeper if that were even possible.
Your walls flutter around him hungrily again with every deep thrust, your hips rolling on instinct as he fills you relentlessly. Strings of his cum mix with your arousal, dripping down the curve of your thighs, and the scent—his pheromones, his essence—wraps around you, making you all hot and coaxing you towards your orgasm.
“Zayne—mhh… s-so deep…” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he keeps moving, slow at first, then harder. A cocktail that messes your brain chemistry.
Each stroke hits that perfect spot, and you sob, lost between pleasure and the ache that still lingers from your heat.
His hands move to your waist, holding you firmly, but gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, almost tender, brushing a strand of sweat-damp hair from your temple. “I wish I could control it—”
You shake your head weakly, lips parting in a soft moan. “S’not your fault… Zayne,” you breathe, tilting your head to kiss his jawline, tasting the mixture of him and yourself. “I’ve always wanted you.”
He groans softly at your confession, letting it wash over him before pressing back into you, hips snapping against yours with a fresh, deliberate force.
“cum for me, my sweet.” A kiss is planted to your temple. “please.” He adds softly as he reaches down to rub your clit, pushing you closer to your climax.
But he beats you to it. Breeding you full—once more—giving you everything you’ve begged for tonight. Still, he mumbles apologies, thrusting into you—pushing through his overstimulation. He nearly cries out when you cum around him for the last time tonight.
the lads men discover your secret kink when they stumble upon all the x-rated videos you’ve been hoarding on twitter. busted... but why hide it when your boyfriend’s more than willing to take a seat in your fantasy? — wc. 6.1k
STARRING ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb
WARNINGS ♱ X-RATED VISUALS ARE LINKED. must be logged in to twitter/x to view. fem!reader, ungodly amount of pet names, heavy praise — (sylus) free use, bondage, cum eating/swapping, switch!sy, oral (f. receiving) — (zayne) spanking, meanie!zayne, heavy praise, use of good girl, lowk cervix fking — (rafayel) dubcon-ish (?), somnophilia, degradation (use of slut), mean dom!raf, some yandere themes — (caleb) facesitting/fucking, some use of gravity evol, brief mention of insecurities — (xavier) sub!xavier, begging, edging (m. receiving) — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+
KIT’S NOTE ♱ hehe new year, new medicli layout >:3 i hope you all enjoy my first multi hc of the year! if u see any mistakes, no u didn’t! reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, i’d love to hear y’all’s thoughts on this :)<3
ᯓ 秦彻 ⟢ SYLUS ˖᯽ ݁˖ — big bf lets you have your way with him #freeuse
sylus shouldn’t pry—this much he knows. there are boundaries that should never be crossed and this? this is one of them.
your phone is open to a twitter profile. some blank account with an obscure user and the locked symbol next to your name. it’s a private twitter account following 20 people with 5 followers. but it’s the most recent tweet that catches his attention—a man naked and bound to a chair with a blindfold covering his eyes and a woman using him how she pleases.
he picks up your phone with a dry throat and his cock hardening under his slacks. the retweet reads, ugh wish he’d let me use him like this </3
you walk out of his bathroom to see his back facing you and you perk up immediately. “sy, you’re back!” you say, cheerily, but when he turns around with his jaw clenched and your phone that quietly plays the sound of one of the many videos you were watching on twitter moments prior, your smile drops.
“i didn’t realize you were into amateur adult films, sweetie.” he drawls nonchalantly, like his cock isn’t aching for your touch. but you can sense an edge that isn’t typically there.
you stammer on an excuse, feeling your face burn in mortification at having been caught retweeting porn on your alt account. “i—it’s… well, i-it’s not what it looks like.”
“yeah? because it looks like you want to use me… just like this.” he stalks towards you and waves the phone in your face, a small smile pulling at his lips. “is that true? you want to tie me to a chair, blindfold me and have your way with me?”
you pull your lip between your teeth, gnawing at the flesh anxiously. you avert your eyes, staring at your sock clad feet before you feel his fingers tip your chin up and force you to look him in the eye.
“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ll tell me, won’t you?” he murmurs, thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth.
“yes,” you respond, throat dry and voice wavering in lack of confidence. “i want to have my way with you.”
he gives you a wolfish grin and all he says is, “okay then.”
—
you never thought you’d see sylus like this. in a chair with rope wrapped around his torso and one of his silk ties covering his eyes. there’s a permanent smirk plastered on his face and it makes you buzz with excitement.
“don’t make me wait for so long, kitten.” he drawls, his cock bobbing up and down in dire need of attention.
you grab his neck, tipping his face up and pressing your lips against his for a sloppy kiss. you push your tongue into his mouth, savoring the deep groan that rumbles in his throat. the kiss doesn’t last long—you pull away just as he starts to get needy, watching how he chases your lips with a growl.
your hand trails down his chest, squeezing at his peck before turning around, back facing him, and grabbing his cock. a small gasp of surprise fills the room right before it’s replaced with the sound of your paired moans as you sink onto his cock.
“shit,” he curses, the word coming out breathless. his hands itch to grab you and they could if he really wanted to. he could break free from the lousy restraints, but he knows how much you want this and he wouldn’t dare rob you of this experience.
and you take him like you were made from it, bouncing on his cock, your ass clapping with every thrust. you whine for him, testing his patience. “does it feel good, sy?”
another deep growl fills your ears and shoots straight to your core. “you know it does, sweetheart. what about you, hmm? does, hah fuck, does using my cock like this satisfy you?”
you choke out a sob, sitting on him completely and grinding your hips against him with vigor. “mmhm, you’re such a good boy, baby,” you moan out, feeling his cock throb at the praise. “b-but you know what would make me feel even better?” you ask, voice cracking.
he tries to thrust into you, but you don’t give him a chance. he’s stuck in this chair with you on top of him so all he can do is pant out a strained, “what?”
“if you—mmm, if you came inside of me,” you whimper. “fuck, sy, please? please fill me up with your cum. want you to shoot it so deep inside of me, please please please?”
your pleas are so desperate, almost as if you aren’t already taking everything you want. as if you aren’t already making his cock twitch and his stomach tighten. as if you aren’t already milking him dry while he lets out a drawn out groan.
a happy moan rips from your throat when you feel his cum spray inside you, filling you so deep just how you wanted. you let him empty himself, waiting till every drop of cum is spilled into you before pulling off his cock, grabbing a fistfull of his hair and bringing his face to your messy, filled cunt.
his surprised moan is muffled by your pussy. you figured he’d rip through the rope and push you away, but he happily laps and sucks at your hole, licking up every bit of your mixed arousal that leaks out of you.
you whine, heat flooding your body as you grind your ass against his face. “y-yeah, eat your cum out of me, just like that, sy,”
“dirty girl,” he murmurs against your cunt before devouring you whole, the sounds of smacking and slurping and groaning resuming.
your knees nearly give out, the only thing holding you up is the death grip you have on his silver locks. you jolt and tremble before him and he doesn’t need to see to know you’re close.
all it takes is a raspy, “cum on my face, sweet girl,” for you to completely unravel, legs shaking uncontrollably as you paint his face in syrupy arousal. you’re reduced to whines and whimpers of his name and sylus just wishes he could see you.
and his wish is granted mere seconds later when you’re weakly tugging the blindfold off of him, taking his gleaming face in your hand and pressing your lips to his to taste the two of you on him.
he groans, passing the release into your mouth while pulling on the restraints in a need to grab you.
“you did so well for me, sy.”
“mmm, thank you, sweetie. and,” his voice drops to a whisper. “next time you want to recreate something… just tell me.”
ᯓ 黎深 ⟢ ZAYNE ˖᯽ ݁˖ — meanie!bf makes you ask for permission to cum #spanking
zayne never uses social media. especially not twitter. but you convinced him to download it so you could send him funny tweets and cute cat videos. he shook his head and downloaded the app just to get you to shut up, but he never actually opened it.
one rare and quiet day, with nothing on his schedule and you stuck at work, curiosity finally got the better of him. he made an account on a whim, and that’s when he saw it: suggested accounts. yours, right at the top, labeled as someone he “may know.” a small, fond smile curved his lips as he tapped on your profile, warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your cute icon staring back at him.
but that smile fell just as quick as it came when he scrolled a bit too far and found a quote retweet captioned, “does anyone wish their bf would do this to them too??? :((( being spanked then doted on… sigh.”
he watched the video with a dry throat and widened eyes. the first thought that came to mind was that you posted this on your public profile—but then he noticed you only had 15 followers. still, he’ll have to remind you of your digital footprint.
once the initial shock wore off… he watched the video again. is this what you wanted? to be ruthlessly fucked from the back and spanked… by him?
zayne closes the app, clears his throat and throws his head back against the couch he’s sitting on. he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a shaky exhale.
if that’s what you want… then that’s what you’ll get.
—
he waits patiently for you to trudge past the door, trying to keep himself busy with god knows what till he hears it. the sound of your keychains rattling and the click of the door as you unlock it and walk in.
“hi, zaynie,” you breathe, skipping towards him and pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. one whiff of you and all he can think about is doing all the naughty things you’ve been secretly wanting. his cock aches. his blood thrums. he needs it now.
“are you okay?” you pull back, concerned by his silence and even more deterred when you see his hardened face.
when he speaks, it’s low and stern. a voice you’ve only heard a handful of times. “bedroom. now, please.”
you let out a confused chuckle. “what for?”
when he raises an eyebrow at you, you cower, nodding your head and scurrying to the bedroom like he asked.
it’s nothing like what you expected. you didn’t expect zayne to walk in and strip you bare without a word, didn’t expect him to bend you over the bed and press himself into your tight, waiting warmth. and you definitely didn’t expect his hand to come down hard on your ass—the sharp, thunderous crack filling the room, followed instantly by your startled squeak.
“this is what you wanted, is it not?” he pants, fucking into you with vigor melting at the sound of your sweet, surprised moans. “this is what you were talking about on your twitter, right?”
your voice comes watery, confused. “wh-what?” you ask, hands fisting at the sheets, your body jolting with every sharp, rough thrust.
his hand comes down, your other cheek meeting the same fate and it has another desperate moan crawling out of you. “you wanted to, what was it? get spanked and doted on, huh?”
and then it hits you suddenly—vividly. you remember the video. it was a faceless man taking a faceless girl from behind, ruthless, almost cruel in the way he fucked her. you remember the sharp smack of his hand against her skin, how badly you’d wished it were you and zayne instead. but what turned you on the most—what lodged itself deep inside your core—was the contrast of it all. the way the stranger’s rough, unyielding actions clashed with the softness of his words. the concept of being fucked like a slut while being praised like a good girl. it made you spin.
it only made you think of zayne. zayne and his large, calloused hands. zayne and his sweet voice. zayne and his cock that stretched and fucked you so good that it makes you cry.
and you’d be lying if you said the thought of him realizing this… realizing it’s what you’d wanted all along… didn’t make heat pool low in your stomach all over again.
you clench tightly around him, turning your heated face into the pillow that smelled just like him. this only makes him laugh, humorlessly.
“yeah, you’re remembering now, aren’t you, my darling girl?” his throaty voice only turns you on further. you arch your back and wiggle your ass as an invitation. an invitation for him to give you more. to go hard. “that’s it. good girl.”
you shudder at the praise. “f-fuck,” the curse is whimpered against the silk fabric of his pillow. “fuck, zayne, it’s s-so—god! so deep. feels so good!” you feel him everywhere, but especially in your tightening stomach. you’re already at the precipice of an orgasm and it only makes zayne want to fuck you right to the finish line.
zayne hums, spanking you again just to hear a giggly moan and it makes his heart want to beat out of his chest. “you’re so precious,” he whispers before his hand laces in your hair and pulls your face away from the pillow. “did you want me to find that tweet, sweetheart? so i could spank you and pull at your hair? so i could fuck you stupid on my cock?”
you don’t bother hiding it. you wanted this more than anything. you craved this more than anything. “yes, yes, yes! please!”
“gooood girl,” he murmurs softly. it’s a perfect contradiction to the way his cock drives into you, the tip just barely brushing your cervix. it’s too much. you’re wound tight as hell, a dam on the brink of bursting, and zayne feels it instantly.
“you wanna cum?”
you can barely form the words, desperation breaking your voice as you beg, “can i…? please?”
“yes, baby. cum for me,” he grunts, fist tightening in your hair, pulling you into a deeper arch. “come on. cum all over me.”
you shatter almost instantly. your body trembles as you come apart on his cock, a needy, broken moan slipping free while the tight knot in your stomach unravels and you soak him completely.
he doesn’t stop—he only fucks you through it, steady and relentless, before pressing a gentle kiss to your spine.
“you did so well,” you feel his lips curve into a smile as he murmurs against your slick, overheated skin, “he but we’re not done yet.”
ᯓ 夏以昼 ⟢ CALEB ˖᯽ ݁˖ — bf lets you sit on his pretty face #facesitting
it was no secret that caleb kept tabs on you. he was very open about it—he has all your post notifications on, he knows where you are at all times, and he always knows what you’re up to. it didn’t bother you in the slightest, he’s always been protective of you—watching over you like it was his life’s purpose.
but there’s one secret that you keep from caleb. and it’s nothing major, truly! it’s just… an alt twitter account you use to retweet your soft porn. while there’s no reason to keep this from your boyfriend, you don’t have the heart to show it to him. it’s the home of all your fantasies, more than anything, it’s embarrassing.
even so, the last thing you want is for caleb to know. you’ve done everything in your power to keep this secret. you used an obscure email to create the account, a password with a series of random numbers and letters that he’d never be able to guess and an alias. it was practically impossible for him to trace it back to you.
one day, you were scrolling on said account, thighs pressed together as you came across a video of a girl sitting on a guy's face, tugging at his hair while she glided across his mouth and nose. all you could think about is caleb—how good it would feel to fuck his face like you were in heat.
it was something you thought about often. you’ve had caleb eat you out before, yes, but you’ve never asked to try this in fear that you’d either A. suffocate him or B. he’d be turned off.
so you do what you always do, quote retweeting it with a caption that read: “wanna sit on my bf’s pretty face just like this :,(”
you shut out the app and flop back onto your bed, trying—failing—to chase the thoughts of him away. especially the image of him stretched out against these very pillows and you hovering over him while your arousal drenches his face. you lose yourself in the fantasy, hands sliding down your body in need.
but then your phone starts to blow up—message after message lighting the screen, all from your boyfriend:
caleb ♥︎: baby, are you serious?
caleb ♥︎: is that really what you want?
caleb ♥︎: you wanna sit on my face?
caleb ♥︎: forget it, I’ll be there in an hour. we’ll talk about this when I see you.
your breath hitches and brows knit in confusion—then it clicks. your tweet. maybe you should’ve been more careful before hitting send. maybe the app glitched. either way, when you open the app again, dread crashes over you as you confirm that you’ve posted it from the wrong account—the account where caleb has your notifications on. meaning he saw it immediately.
you delete it in a panic, humiliated, praying none of your other mutuals caught it in time. there’s nothing you can say or do to stop caleb from coming over. so you stand, pace, draw in a shaky breath and wait.
—
caleb lets himself in, shuts the door, and locks it behind him. the talk he mentioned in his text never comes. no greeting. no anger. instead, he strips down to his boxers and climbs into your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you’re frozen where you stand, lip caught between your teeth, thighs pressed tightly together. when he settles against the pillows, he lifts his gaze to you so calm that it almost scares. he looks at you expectantly.
“well?” he starts. “what are you waiting for? i’m here. you wanted to sit on your boyfriend’s pretty face, did you not?”
you exhale a sharp, nervous laugh, “c-caleb, we don’t have to…” you let shyness take over. “i’ll—i’ll suffocate you. it probably won’t feel good for you either…”
he scoffs incredulously. “come sit on my face before i make you. you do remember my evol, don’t you?”
you barely have time to process it before you feel weightless, a surprised yelp slipping out as he drags you toward him with nothing more than a flick of his hand.
you give in instantly, nodding as you stumble, “okay okay!”
he lets go and watches with hungry, unblinking eyes as you push your shorts and panties down, letting them pool at your feet. you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him slowly until you’re hovering just above his throat, suspended in the tension and your own personal fear.
“caleb, are you sure i won’t be too heavy?” you whisper.
“i’m sure, baby.” he says reassuringly, his hands grabbing your hips and lifting you till your cunt is just inches away from his face. “come on, sit. lemme taste you.”
you let out a shaky breath and start to lower yourself before you can talk yourself out of it, but his arms hook beneath your thighs and force you all the way down, drawing a satisfied moan from him and a startled gasp from you. your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the silky strands as you cling to him, grounding yourself before your strength gives out entirely.
you bite your lip, desperate to keep your moans quiet, but the drag of his nose against your clit paired with the warm suction of his mouth has your resolve shattering. it feels even better than you ever imagined. and when his hands come up to palm at your breasts? his fingers tweaking your nipples? you’re a goner.
“fuck,” you whimper, fingers tugging at his roots hard enough to draw a pained groan from him, though it barely registers. all you can focus on is the way he devours you like he’s starving, the vibration of his moans coursing through your body and lighting your nerves on fire, the relentless grind against your swollen, sensitive clit.
“caleb,” you cry, breathlessly, “ah! feels so good.”
“keep fuckin’ my face, pretty girl,” he moans, the words muffling into your cunt. “wanna taste you cummin’ all over me. you can do it.”
he pulls you onto him harder. like he wants to run out of oxygen.
and you obey—even if you wanted to stop, you couldn’t. not when you’re this close—not when caleb wants this just as bad as you do. you hump his face desperately, like a woman depraved, chasing your orgasm. you let your moans out freely, high pitched and needy, letting them join the sounds of slurping and smacking.
your body trembles violently, fingers fisting in caleb’s hair as you shatter, a mix of arousal and slick cum painting his face while you squeal his name like a broken record. “caleb, caleb, caleb—” his name is all that exists—all you can cling to at the moment.
he groans into you, relentless, licking and sucking every last trace, his hips lifting off the bed with desperate urgency. his cock throbs in his boxers, twitching with need for a taste of your cunt.
a sob tears from your chest when he doesn’t slow. “w-wait!” you gasp, legs shaking, body on the verge of giving out. “i’m s-sensitive, ca-caleb!”
“no, baby, please,” he whimpers, raw and earnest. “please let me keep going. you don’t know how bad i’ve wanted this.”
“w-what?” you breathe, dazed.
“for so long, pips,” he admits softly. “just sit there… let me do all the work. please?”
ᯓ 祁煜 ⟢ RAFAYEL ˖᯽ ݁˖ — crazy bf fucks you while you pretend to be asleep #somno
despite his bubbly, sassy exterior, rafayel carried his demons quietly. the kind that kept him watching you—both in real life and through the glow of a screen. the thought of losing you makes something dark twist in his chest. you’re his cutie, his heart, his muse, his entire world wrapped into one person.
he knows it’s wrong to have all your passwords. knows it crosses a line. so he tells himself he’s careful—only checks when he has to, when the ache gets too loud to ignore.
it’s been a while since he last logged into your account, but it’s also been days since he’s seen you. that has to count for something, right? just a quick look. just to scroll through what you’ve seen, what you’ve liked. just enough to feel close to you again.
a smile touches his lips when he sees all the silly tweets you’ve liked.
but then he sees it. a tweet that looks so out of place in the midst of cute cat videos and senseless jokes. a tweet that reads “gf who pretends to be asleep x bf who was gonna fuck her either way,” along with a video of just that. the smile falls immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line while his brows furrow.
his darkened gaze catches on the yellow bookmark, curiosity winning out before he can stop himself. the moment he opens your bookmarks aka the little trove of soft porn, his cock hardens. it’s all amateur and intimate, but worse, there’s a pattern. a theme. every two minute video was a girl getting fucked while she slept. fucked. bred. all while she laid pliant, eyes closed.
rafayel’s eyes drag over the captions again and again, each one making his thoughts spin faster. he loses track of time, an entire hour slipping by as he clicks through every video, cock aching and heart racing, torn between guilt and the thrill curling tight in his chest.
he pictured you like that—lying awake at night, thoughts circling him…his cock… until you finally drifted asleep. he imagined the wetness that pooled in your panties when you drifted off, the way desire followed you even into your dreams. it made something deep in him ache.
how long had you wanted this? with the sheer number of tweets tucked away in your bookmarks, he can’t help but think this fantasy has lived with you for a long time now, growing quietly… patiently.
but why not make your fantasy a reality?
—
rafayel asked you to spend the night, and of course you said yes please. you’d been missing your boyfriend like crazy, and with work constantly getting in the way, time together had become frustratingly scarce.
when you arrived, he’d planned something sweet—movies, cuddling, takeout you both loved. an innocent night in. except you wanted more. every subtle advance you made was met with a gentle deflection. he ignored them all, letting the tension build until you were needy with it. you were wound tight, and he still refused to touch you the way you ached for.
by the end of the night, you felt coiled and restless, yet too perverted to voice what you wanted aloud, especially after being brushed off. so you climbed into his bed with a sulky “goodnight,” a pout tugging at your lips, and tried to will yourself to sleep.
it didn’t come easily. all you could think about was him. your eyes squeezed shut, brows knitting together as the ache lingered, basically impossible to ignore. you were wet beyond belief. and only after you felt slumber slowly pulling at you, you felt your boyfriend press against you.
you felt his hard cock through his pants as he slowly, subtly rocked himself against you with barely steady breaths. your heart raced, holding in the little gasp that’s threatening to spill out of you.
“i saw all the videos you’ve been watching on twitter, princess,” he whispers, rutting against you a little harder, the words hitting just as deep as the motion. “all those videos of girls getting fucked while they sleep… is that what you want?”
both your heart and your thoughts stutter at once. for a split second you think you’re dreaming—but you can feel him, and you can differentiate fantasy and reality. the truth finally settles in as his hand slides beneath your sleep shorts, drifting lower, touching you in a way that leaves no doubt at all. this is real.
he hums when his fingers are immediately met with your slick arousal. “the idea of getting fucked while you’re unconciouis gets you this wet?”
you swallow the whimper trying to break free and let your deepest fantasy unfold. you force yourself to relax, to go pliant in the way you’ve always imagined this—but the moment rafayel circles your clit, your body betrays you, tensing on instinct.
“this slutty pussy wants me to fuck her, doesn’t she, baby? your body’s practically begging for me…” he groans into your ear, grinding deeper into you. “it would be so bad for me to fuck you while you sleep, though. i’d be such a bad boyfriend…”
you want to scream when he slows down. when he starts to retract his hand like it’s some bad idea.
“i shouldn’t touch you while you’re trying to sleep.” he murmurs, a hint of amusement threading through his words.
his hand nearly slips away from your shorts when a frayed plea falls from your lips. “please,” you whimper—and that’s really all the confirmation rafayel needs. he flips you onto your stomach and presses over you like a man starved.
your shorts are barely tugged down and his sweats are pushed just low enough for him to free himself. his hot, thick cock slaps against your bare skin and the contact makes you squeak. he pushes into you, filling you in one deep motion. gasps and moans spill from both of you in tandem, but he doesn’t give either of you time to settle. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging in as your flesh spills through the gaps all while he drives into you relentlessly.
“i knew you were pretending to sleep,” he grunts and it’s barely loud enough to be heard over the sounds of his skin slapping against yours.
you’re breathless when you manage to answer. “h-how?” the question breaks on a whine as his cock drives deeper with every hard thrust.
“i could hear how fast your heart was beating,” he chuckles darkly, never slowing, his pace mean. ruthless. “the way your breathing changed the second you felt me behind you.” his grip tightens as he leans in. “you were just waiting for me to take your clothes off and fuck you, weren’t you?”
you whimper, utterly exposed. “yes…”
“naughty, naughty girl.” he laughs. “should’ve told me you wanted to get fucked while you slept.”
you moan, clamping tightly around him and taking the painful stretch in stride. your back arches for more. like your body needs his cock or you’ll die. the knot in your stomach has been winding tighter all night, waiting for this exact moment, and you’re already embarrassingly close.
“no need to hold back,” he whispers. “soak my fucking cock like the slut you are.”
his sharp words tear a mewl from you, your walls clenching around his cock so tight it steals the breath from his lungs. you break as he drives into you without mercy. you fall apart around him with a beg, “please, please, please—” the word dissolving into a wrecked sob that fills the room.
“good girl,” he breathes. “now go back to sleep and let me have my fun, yeah?”
ᯓ 沈星回 ⟢ XAVIER ˖᯽ ݁˖ — dom!bf lets you edge him and begs you to cum #edging
tara is your best friend in the entire world. the kind of best friend who knows every corner of your life, including the private parts you don’t share with anyone else. especially when it comes to you and xavier.
at first, her curiosity overwhelmed you. her questions were invasive, relentless, sometimes overly embarrassing. but over time, you got used to it. more than that—you started to look forward to it. your weekly dates where you can rant about work at the association and the gory details of your relationship with xavier.
telling tara everything became its own kind of thrill. the late night giggles when she’d come over, the hushed voices so he couldn’t hear anything while he lived in the apartment above you, the way she’d squeal or gasp at every insane detail. it felt good to have someone who wanted to hear it all.
you’d even told her about wanting to try something new with him—something you were pretty sure he’d never agree to. you wanted xavier to be the one begging you for once. he was always so dominant in bed that the idea of flipping the script… of him giving in and taking everything you had to offer, felt almost absurd… which was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
you remember when you saw the video of your ideal fantasy on twitter. a video of a guy being dominated by a girl. she made him beg for permission while she rode him and all you could think about was him. how cute he’d be with his blushy cheeks and the yearning look in his eyes. how pretty he’d sound whimpering out pleas and begs to cum inside of you. it shook you to your core. you saved the video to your bookmarks immediately and came back to it from time to time just to fantasize.
the night after you told tara about said fantasy, you decided to send her a visual, just so she knew exactly what you wanted. it’s not like you wanted to tie him up, you just wanted to watch him break underneath you.
@/starringmc: this is exactly what i want to do to xavier!!!
you hadn’t heard anything from tara for a while. you half expected her to open your dm immediately. she’s basically chronically online whenever she’s not on a mission or training, but there was nothing.
a knock at your door pulls you from your scrolling, brows knitting as you get up to answer it. when you swing the door open, your breath catches. xavier stands there, cheeks flushed, posture oddly sheepish.
“xavier? come in.” you step aside automatically, shutting the door behind him before turning back, confusion etched across your face. “what are you doing here? did we have plans?” worry slips into your voice.
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he lifts his phone and turns the screen toward you—the twitter dm meant for tara, unmistakable.
your throat runs dry. heat rushes through you, mortification blooming in your chest, your face, the tips of your ears.
“i-i can…” you start, words tangling as his gaze pins you in place. “i can explain?”
he cocks his head to the side and asks. “so you don’t want to do this to me?”
“no! i mean—y-yes, but i… i just didn’t mean… i didn’t mean to send that to you.” you splutter. “this is not how i envisioned telling you that i wanted to try something like this. i’m sorry.”
“let’s do it.” he says, tossing his phone on your couch. “let’s recreate it—i want to.”
—
xavier sensed you were nervous. it took you a minute to fully get into it—the headspace, the dominance, but you eventually got there and he believes it’s the sexiest you’ve ever been.
you sat on his cock, slowly grinding against him like you were trying to tease him. your hands gripped at his pecs, palming and squeezing them in a way that made him breathless.
it was a struggle… to let his guard down, to let you dominate him. his hands were on your hips and he urged you to move faster. he wanted you to bounce on his cock till he came, but you said no.
“beg for it.” you whisper. “i won’t move the way you want me to unless you beg.”
he whimpers, the beg slipping past his lips all mumbly and cute—just the way you imagined they would. “please. please, go faster. i want you to go faster.”
you hum, delighted, your walls hugging him nice and tight as his words shoot straight to your core. you kindly oblige, lifting your hips and dropping them to which xavier lets out a blissed out moan. his brows knit in the utmost pleasure and his eyes flutter close.
his hands slide up to your waist, gripping you tight and holding you in place while his cock rams in and out of you. you let out little squeaks with every thrust and it only makes his cock throb intensely, loud whimpers following your sounds in suit.
he tries to hold back. to not get so close, but he can’t help it. you look so pretty riding him with your tits bouncing in his face and your pussy tightening around him like a vice. it makes him twitch frantically.
and you can feel it. the way he jerks and shakes—you know he’s close. you find it oddly endearing…how he’s been reduced to this, but you bite back the smile and school your features into something firm instead. “don’t cum,” you warn quietly. “you can’t cum… not yet.”
his hands still you, keeping you grounded and speared on his length as he begs for permission. “fuck, please—please let me cum.” he pleads, voice broken.
“no, not yet.” and the sound it pulls from him makes your chest ache—the choked, desperate sob torn from his throat at the denial, raw enough to make your heart constrict. “keep fucking me, xavie.”
he shakes his head incessantly, “i c-can’t, baby—fuck, i’ll–i’ll cum!”
“you can hold it.” you say, breathlessly, resuming your wicked motions. “be good ‘n fuck me faster.”
he clenches his teeth, pounding into you just the way you want. his hips snap against you with vigor while his cock helplessly throbs. he wants nothing more than to press deep inside and spill his load into you.
“i wanna cum, please, please, please. baby, please—i’ll do anything.”
you can’t resist him… his pretty face, his sweet voice. you offer a saccharine smile, lean in so your lips ghost over his and whisper. “cum inside of me, xavie.”
a loud, relieved groan slips out of him, his hands grip on you bruising as he pounds into you before he stills. his tip kisses your cervix before he’s pouring his hot, long awaited release into your cunt.
he crashes his mouth against yours, allowing you to swallow his moans as his arms wrap tight around you. he pulls you flush to his chest before he rolls you beneath him, hard cock still pressed inside of you. you squeal into the kiss, breathless and startled as the world tilts.
when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, foreheads pressed against one another. you catch the darkness in his eyes, the heat flushing his cheeks, the way restraint is barely holding.
“can i make you beg now?” he whispers, voice low. then, softer… much more vulnerable, “please?”
When Sylus asked to be free use, you were just a little nervous. The leader of Onychinus, the literal dragon wants you to just use him whenever you see fit!?
It starts off with you kneeling and sucking him as he's sitting at his desk, earning his desperate breathy moans that alone could make you cum. You figure you'll suck him whenever you want, and that's any time you have more than five minutes alone.
Yet Sylus wants more.
"Kitten," he practically purrs those damn words, brushing your hair back. "When I said free use I meant for you to use me."
You flushed, burying your face against his chest and earning his deep chuckle. "Like... fuck you when I want?"
"That," he tilts your chin up as you both lay in his bed, velvet red covers slipping across your skin. His ruby eyes light up just a bit, lips quirking at the corners. "But also I want you to use me, my face too. Even when I'm asleep I assure you I'll cater to anything you need."
"Just randomly ask for... Sylus that's so..." he quirks a brow and then chuckles again.
"You're cute," he taps your nose. "Just try it next time you're wet."
How do you just... sit on his face at random!? Sylus loves to please so its not like you're ever trying for it, but as if to taunt you into his plan he leaves for work for a week. Then comes back too tired, kissing and hugging you instead.
You can't do it can you? He's asked but...
You eye his handsome face in the darkness of the room, his texts even were begging you to use him. You tremble when you slide your panties down, baring you aside from one of Sylus' huge shirts, kneeling and brushing his lips.
You straddle his hips, pressing kisses across his jaw. He moans softly, gripping the sheets underneath him, lips parting as if he's ready to drink you then and there.
'Use me.'
You straddle his face, holding yourself up by that black leather headboard, his breath alone makes your sensitive clit jolt. He practically inhales you in his slumber, making you stop down just a bit. His nose bumps your clit and it twitches in response, his lips against your entrance.
Just drippin' down him, gliding your slick tentatively against his mouth, and that's when his tongue darts out. Languid with a little flick, yawning almost against your pretty pussy. He moans, his huge hands dimpling the flesh on your thighs and dragging you closer then.
"Mnh!" You see his sleepy red eyes open, pulling up and flushing furiously. "Sylus you said to - and I'm so wet but is this-"
"Sit on my face sweetie," his sleepy voice demands, tongue lapping out. "This is what I wanna wake up to."
You're lost, gliding your slick cunt up and down his face, letting him fucking devour you. Messy suction on your puffy lips, his tongue scooping out all the wetness your cunt is just gushing now. Sleepy sighs mix with filthy moans and your sloppy wetness.
"Sylus! Nghhh!" You're so close, core tightening as you chase your release. Sylus' cock is leaking pre, aching to be inside you, dying as you drown his face in all of your honeyed arousal.
He has been begging you to use him and finally you are, he can't help but relish in it. flicking his tongue right on your tiny clit, feeling you squirt lightly all over him. He tries to catch it all but it drips down his chin, his throat, even his chest. Your legs tremble when he yanks off his blanket and slips down his boxers.
"Use my cock now," he orders, swiping some of that slick and grinning as you're trembling. You let him position you, grabbing his thick veiny cock at the base and easing yourself down on him. "Fuck, that's it, slutty kitten couldn't help herself hmm? Had to squirt all over me?"
"Y-yes," Sylus drags you down his cock and stuffs you so full you're about to cum again from the pressure, aftershocks fluttering around his cock. He moans, lifting your shirt to watch how your tummy bulges with him.
"Ride me, use me dont be shy," his words are dominant and submissive, they way he orders you around but wants you to take over. You brace your hands on his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingers, chasing your release. "That's it. Good girl."
Fuck.
You're gliding up and down his cock, his hands slipping under that big shirt, gripping your tits and thumbing those nipples, pushing you over the edge. His husky moans and heavy breaths mingle with your whines and staccato ones, until you're rolling your hips and feeling him pulse.
"Go on," he draws out the words, long lashes lowering as he watches where your greedy cunt is swallowing him. "Milk me dry, you're so needy for all that cum hmm?"
"Take over please," you whisper, so sensitive when you're cummin' again that you're just a mess, slick drowning his cock, heavy balls, even his thighs with your frantic spurts. "Too m-much."
He tugs you against him. "Aw, tapping out already?"
You glare all cute.
Fuck he loves you.
"Hold on for the ride then," you cling to him and he flattens his feet on the mattress, pounding up into your messy hole over and over. You scream out, his lips swallow it, plush underneath yours, until he fills you all the way up, hot white ropes just flooding your walls.
"Oh my g-god..." You're trembling, perspiration making your brow damp as he plants soothing kisses. You're quivering as he moans hoarsely, pumping even more cum deep in you.
Sylus sighs in pleasure as your cunt milks him for all of it, gummy walls clenching like a vise. "You used me then made me do the work?"
"Mmph. I tried!" He laughs, the sound melting you. Brushing your messy hair back with long fingers he eases out of you with a messy wet squelch, eyeing your trembling thighs before flipping you on your back. "Ah, Sylus what are..."
He's shoving your thighs up high, tongue lapping the messy white that's pooling from your cunt, making you jerk. He grins up at you. Ruby eyes dilated until they're so bright they almost hurt to look into.
SYNOPSIS. Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [...PLEASEEE may I request the LADS guys getting so lost in the sauce that they don’t realize that they forgot to put on a condom until it’s too late and then they see the evidence coming out 🫠] ¡! ❞
A/N; MAMA IS BACK! Finallyyyyy got this out now. And yes, did husband!zayne again. I'm a sucker for him sue me. Next up on the list are some more requests I'm working on. Enjoy my sweet darlings mwah <33
TAGS. NSFW /DARK CONTENT! MDNI! unprotected intercourse(duh). implied dubcon/manipulation. püssydrunk guys. size k!nk. breed!ng. dirty talk. nicknames. overstim in xav's. kinda subby/desperate xavier. tipsy!zayne. husband!zayne. Zayne's actually loosing it lmao. mention of kids in Zayne's. tummy buldge. overstim on reader. kinda brattamer!caleb. possesive caleb. praise.
RAFAYEL ★ Pound first, think later. ~ 1.3k
Plap! plap! plap!
There's just a low hum of low, sultry music playing from a speaker in the corner, but even that is drowned out by the slick, obscene sounds of Rafayel's hips slamming into yours.
"Raf—con— nghhh! condom," your gaspy voice catches, half-mangled between the ruthless crush of his mouth on yours, barely getting your words out.
He swallows most of it with a kiss so deep it knocks your breath loose, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slides back in, wet muscle eagely tangling with yours.
And no, he didn't reach for a condom. Didn't even spare a glance toward the bedside drawer.
He's not even thinking. Not with his head, anyway. Not when every inhale he takes is laced with your sweet addicting scent and every exhale of his a hungry growl against your lips.
He's too far gone. Too drunk on your taste, the slight stutter in your voice, your—
He slips out again— cock slick and twitching against your folds, grinding the fat, leaking crown against your clit with such blunt pressure that your spine jerks up off the mattress, a wrecked cry slipping from your throat.
"F-fuck, no, nonono—" he pants, eyes wide in panic and breathless as he grips your hips harder, dragging you back toward him, aligning himself right back at your clenching hole.
Oh, that nasty clench of your feisty pussy almost made him burst his load right into—
Wait. He can't.
"Shhhh, cutie," he slurs, pupils blown wide as he pushes the thick head back to your entrance, spreading your shaking legs even further apart, "don't gotta break that pretty little mind thinkin' about it. Just let me— fuckkkk, cutie—"
Poor, poor Rafayel.
He just wants to feel you a little longer, wants to scrape your cervix for just a minute longer, dwell in the feeling of your warm cunny before he pulls out.
"P-promise I'll pull out, just a little longer, then m' gonna get the—" Right then he halts his breath, hands griping a smacking handful of your thighs, firmly pushing them apart to gawk at your sobbing cunt, desperatly clenching just around his tip, threatening to suck him in deeper, "—condom."
Yeah, right.
The thick, bulking head of his cock pushes back past your folds, spreaaading them like the red sea, so slow and calculated, just enough to stretch you wide at the tip and make your breath seize in your lungs.
"Can't you feel it? P-pleaseee cutie," whispers, grinding his hips in circles to smear himself all over your entrance, teasing your greedy cunny as it twitches and grips around his mushroomy head. "Feels good, yeah? You feel it, right? Riiiight? C-c'mon... Gonna make you cum reallll good."
He doesn't let you answer, let alone let out a sound before his lips are back on yours, lewd sounds of tongues clashing and teeth smacking almost drowning out the loud smack smack smacking of his firm hips against your plush thighs.
Almost.
Shallow, greedy thrusts follow, punching your sweet spot with such precision it makes your eyes roll back and mouth fall agape, granting him further entrance into your mouth.
He's going to eat you alive at this point.
His hunger is almost unbearable at this point and you keen beneath him, back arching clear off the sheets, legs twitching, threatening to tremble as you suck your tummy in.
Actually, they already do.
"Just—just wanna feel you. Need it, baby." His voice is ragged, like he's barely holding himself together. "Can't wait. Can't—fuck, I need you."
And he's mere seconds away from snapping, sanity holding onto a tiny threat so thin, it might aswell already have snapped in two.
Doin' so good, sweetheart." he groans, thick girth diving into your depths, knocking at your g-spot like it's a headshot to a wanted target over and over again, your fluttering cunt screaming out obscene sound after sound. "Taking me so well—s-shiiiiit!— 'm not gonna last. You feel unreal. Fuckin' unreal, baby."
His rhythm stutters for just a second, his body betraying him, and that's when it starts to crack.
That's when he starts to crack.
You feel the shift, feel the snap in him. His thrusts falter, not from weakness but from overload, the pleasure starting to short-circuit his brain.
His breath comes in harsh, quick gasps, chest heaving as his muscles tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady. His cock pulses deep inside you, wide and twitching like he's right on the edge, trying to stave it off, trying to hold on, but he's already gone too far.
"Raf, baby. Don't forget the— nghhhh! C-condom!" you rush out followed by a moan from the depth of your throat, his head already in the crook of your neck, plastering it with kisses and maybe even an accidental bite to your nape.
Right, there was still something.
He lifts his head, eyes wide as realization hits him— but he knows he's not going to pull out any time soon.
Because he physically can't.
And fuck, his pitiful expression alone is enough to make your pussy clench like a vice around him, wrench, wrench, wrenching him like your life depends on it, so close to the edge yourself.
That coral gaze burns straight through you, so blazing and ravenous, dripping with heat and panic searching for something behind your glazed iris.
"T-tight fuckin' thing. So damn tight. Gonna cum, yeah?"
It's lust stripped down to its bare bones— his pupils blown, rimmed with color like sunset bleeding into dusk, and the way he looks at you, like you're his last meal.
He's close. And it's scaring him. Wrecking him.
Voice low and shredded now, soaked with pleasure and darker things, almost broken with how badly he wants to cum—wants to cum in you.
"You don't even know what your fuckin' cunny is doing ta' me, cutie," he rasps, fucking into you harder now, deeper, angling up to punch that sweet spot with every desperate thrust.
But you do. Oh, you do.
Hips snapping against you like he's chasing something he'll never reach, and he plants one hand against the headboard to keep himself upright, shaking all over, barely holding on. The other is locked tight on your thigh, hiking it up towards your shoulder, keeping you locked in place. Like if you so much as tried to move away, rob him from your snug tunnel, he'd lose it.
"Drivin' me fucking insane," he growls, voice cracked open and fucked-out.
Your brain stutters mid-thrust—just enough clarity to gasp out, voice high and shaky, "Wait—hnghhh! Raf', you gotta—"
"Hahhh? Gotta make my pretty baby cum?"
Now he's tasting his release at the tip of his tongue, completely lost and utterly mad from the sound of your clenching pussy alone, balls tightening up, tip ready to burst his load out. "Yeahhhhh, ya got it, baby."
"Mhmm! M' c-cummin', Raf'! Fuh-fuckkkk!"
A cry tears from your throat on cue as your body clamps down, your legs trembling, thighs shacking as a violent orgasm tears through you, every fiber of your being burning hot as your vision goes blank and you forget every scolding thought you had in your mind.
He pauses for half a second before he begins to pound you again, steadier now, dedicated even, both veiny hands firmly folding you into a meanacing mating-press.
"You got it, all of it. Yes, cream 'round me js' like that— Yesyeseyes— fuckkkk baby m' sorry m'—"
He's not.
His balls draw up tight, cock swelling deep inside you with that final, desperate pulse.
Then he bursts. Hot, thick ropes of cum spill straight into your cunt, gushing right up against your cervix.
It's too much—sticky and endless, flooding you full until it's leaking out around him in messy drips, your body milking every last drop like it needs it.
And then his eyes snap up to yours, wide, in a daze.
"Babyyyyy—I didn't— was going to, I meant to—"
But his hips twitch forward again. He can't help it.
He can't help but slip out out and watch the aftermath in awe, watch his cum overflowing your overstimulated cunt as you deserately try to keep it all in, droplets drip drip dripping down the curve of your ass.
"Y-you made a whole big mess, Raf'! I told you to—"
The words die on your tongue the second you catch his face—flushed, lips parted, eyes glowing that deep coral pink and brimming with guilt and hunger. Wrecked. Maybe even a tiny bit sorry.
"C-can I make it up to you by eating it outta ya?"
ZAYNE ⋆ ★ Can't Wait. ~1.2k
Zayne's a lightweight. Always has been.
It shows, too. In the flushed pink blooming across his cheeks, the tips of his ears going all red like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.
Your sweet husband's never been good at hiding how much he wants you. But when there's just the tiniest bit of liquor in his system? A little heat in his blood, a little buzz under his skin?
Then he's shameless. Dangerous, even.
That black button-up from your night out is hanging off his shoulders, halfway undone, unbothered to fix it, wanting you to notice. His wedding band clinks against your waist as his hands roam your hips, fumbling for the strap on your shoulder to greedily expose your perky tits.
Eyes locked on you— the only thing his eyes are trained on.
"You looked so hot all night," he mumbles against your neck, voice syrupy, breath reeking of a faint liquor and sin, "All dolled up, just for your husband, hm?"
Once your back hits the front door from the inside as soon as he closed it, he kisses you with such a feverous hunger, so clumsily sloppy.
Teeth and tongue and all heat, hands pawing at your now exposed tits, then thighs as his mouth sinks to catch your stiff nipple.
"Zayne, what's gotten into y—"
"You."
His thigh shoves between yours, grinding up until you're letting out an embarrassed squeak, one of your legs hitching up around his hip as he urges you to swing the other around to, carrying you to the next best surface— the kitchen counter— in a hurry.
"It's alllll you, darling." His words are muffled against your skin, his hands eagerly riding up your breathtaking dress to snake his fingers into your soaked through panties. "My pretty little wife makes me lose my head, you know. Can barely recognize myself."
"Zayne, baby," you try, breathless, tugging at the back of his collar to catch his attention to your face. "Sure it's not just the alcohol? Maybe we should get to bed, the condoms are also there—"
"S-shhhh", he slurs, glasses nearly slipping down the bridge of his nose as he hovers over you, "Is it a crime to worship my wife for a little while?"
In this case, it should be. Because whatever this is, it's torture.
His fingers fumble with his belt, all cocky and tipsy as he palms himself through his boxers. The fabric's soaked where his cock's been leaking all night, a fat wet spot darkening the white cotton. He's been hard since the moment you stepped out for that restaurant you've been wanting to go for ages now, thick, angry red crown twitching on his hand.
You whine in protest until your panties are torn and tossed onto the floor, his cock already smearing it's pre across your slick folds. "Just a second, Mmm-hmmm, then we'll go to bed and— f-fuckkk."
Yeah, he messed up.
"G-go to bed and I'll get the c-condom. Juuuuust a second, darlin'."
He trails off when his hand yanks your panties to the side, then off entirely, a quick, lazy tear splitting the seam as he tosses the ruined scrap onto the floor behind him.
That second becomes two. Then five.
Then he's already carrying you toward the couch, tripping over a thing or two, lips never leaving yours. One knee hits the cushion, then the next, and you fall with him, laughing into his mouth until it turns into a gasp, because his rigid length is already poking at your clenching hole, bulky cockhead pushhhhing past it.
His lips trail down your throat, mouthing at your pulse, siver wedding ring cold where it squeezes your tit, making you hiss as it catches onto your nipple.
At this point, you don't think he'll be able to—
"Can't wait,"
Ah.
"I won't go all the way but please, I don't think you understand, darling," he's a panting mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, glasses askew. His hips stutter between your thighs, cock heavy and leaking as he rocks through your folds, sometimes pushing the tip into your quivering pussy, "I need to feel you around me right now."
"Oh-okay. But you gotta promise, Zayne."
"Yeah, yeah— Ohhh, what sweet, pretty pussy my darling wife has on her."
Oh, and your husband's also a terrible liar.
Because the second the words leave your mouth, he's already in, squelch squelch squelching sounds echoing as he plumbs your weak hole full of his hefty length.
His hips jerk, sloppy and desperate, punching his cock deeper with every thrust. That thick, angry swell at the base catches on your entrance, making you jolt, back arching off the couch as he bullies past your clenching walls.
He moans into your shoulder, cock twitching as your cunt clamps down like a vice. It's too much. Too tight. Too good and he's wondering if he's actually drunk.
Yeah, he's drunk on your pussy. Gone.
"You're—hahhh— toooo good to me," he whimpers, teeth grit, face buried in your neck, glasses hanging onto a thread. "Too good— sooo good, baby."
You keen, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as thick veins draaaaag along your walls and paint them with every twitch of his slit, eyes rolling, mouth slack, hips grinding into yours, roughly against your clit like he's a goddamn mutt.
"Zayne? Your glasses, darling—hnghhh!—t-they're gonna break on the floor."
"Fuck that shit."
His language is filthy, not caring about his glasses falling off and onto the floor, not caring about anything but your crying pussy gushing around him each time he hits your cervix.
"I don't give a shit, sweetheart," voice coming out as a snarl, pace roughening, cock battering your g-spot with every brutal stroke of his. "Not when your pussy's this—hahhh—fuckin' heavenly."
Your nails scrape down his back as he pounds into you, rougher now, like he's trying to fuck every thought right out of your head.
And honestly? You're not far off.
Panting heavy, he's biting your shoulder, hips snapping into you with eagerness so reckless you can feel his hot slick crown damn near in your womb.
His eyes are glassy, mouth hanging open as he watches the way your greedy pussy takes him so well and with such shameless need, he swears he can hear her cry for more.
"Pussy's so fuckin' good— shiiiit!" he slurs, obviously drunk off more than just booze by now. "Can't think straight, c-can't—fuh-fuckkk!— M' gonna cum, darlin'—"
"Z-Zayne! The fuckin' c-con— nghhh! Don't stop, don't—"
Forceful orgasm cutting your words off as you become a squirting mess, clamping and clawing at his base as he continues his assault on your poor, overstimulated cunny, juices spraying everywhere.
"Justttt like that, darlin', mhmmm. G-gonna fill my pretty wife up, have you all round and glowing, yeah?" he spurts out, slamming into you one final time then freezes, cock buried to the hilt as he floods you with his whispy spurts of cum. Thick, hot ropes paint your insides white, dripping out the second he pulses again.
His whole body trembles, arms giving out as he collapses on top of you, still twitching deep inside.
He tries to pull out—he really does—but the second his eyes land on your stuffed tummy, his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips already rutting back against you again.
"Ohhh my darling wife", he hums, nose buried in the crook of your sweat-slicked neck, drowning in your scent. He inhales deep, moaning like he's high off it, and that's when you realize, truly realize, just how far gone he is.
How drunk. How pussy-drunk. You-drunk.
His cock grinds even deeper, rutting into the deepest, most tender part of you as he whispers filth into your skin.
"Think it's time to consider a baby, hm?"
XAVIER ★ Pull out game... nonexistent? ~1.1k
"D-don't forget to pull out, 'kay?"
Your voice is light, barely a breath as you throw a look over your shoulder, eyes glinting with a warning that's too soft to land.
Xavier's already doomed. You both know it.
And he's already regretting everything.
Not you. Just the lazy-ass promise he made two minutes ago, when his morning wood was grinding slow and warm against your ass, and he was too blissed out on his day off to reach for a condom.
'Just a quick feel', he muttered in his grumpy morning voice, 'Gonna pull out. I promise', he said.
Even he didn't believe himself when he said it.
Now buried in you to the hilt, and the second your cunt sucked him in, wet and hungry and tight as sin, he knew he wasn't going to make it.
And it's his own damn fault.
You clench around him greedily, milking him already, and his breath punches out in a curse. He knows he should pull out. He told you he would. But all he can think about is how good you feel, how wet you are, how your cunt keeps sucking him deeper like you want him to stay.
"S-shitttt," he groans, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, hips twitching helplessly. "I'm—shit— I dunno, angel."
"Then get a condom, Xav'. It's alright if you can't handle it." And you're so cruel, saying it as a purr, clenching hard around his cock right as he's trying to pull back, locking him in place with your feisty cunt, strangling not only his cock, but also his ego.
A frustrated grunt rumbles from his throat because you know damn well he won't.
Get out of this? Out of you? And physically stand up?
Yeah. Over his dead fucking body.
"N-noooo—" he whines, arms trembling beside your body as he sinks back in deeper, grinding slow like he needs it more than oxygen. "I can take it, I swear— promise, angel. J-just don't make me leave."
"Oh-okay, Xav'," you moan, draaaagging it out with a long and mean breath as his swollen head knock knock knocks against the entrance of your womb, "Just keep g-going—ohhh yesss! Right there—!"
Violent shiver running through his body, cock twitching deep. The slit's drooling now, spilling steady heat into your cunt in thick little pulses, leaking.
"Shit, angel, d-don't say it like that," he pants, rutting into you now with slow, needy thrusts, teeth gritted. "You're making it so fucking hard to be good— so fucking hard—"
His teeth grit, breath catching in his throat, a stifled groan dragging up from somewhere deep in his chest as he tries to keep the rhythm steady. But he's failing badly.
Thrusts getting messier now, still slow, but shaky, cock twitching with every stroke because his body knows what's coming, building and building no matter how hard he fights it.
And to be honest, he's not even trying to fight the storm coming.
Not when you clamp down on him, a hicup fleeing past your lips as you feel every ridged vein adoring his pulsating dick.
"P-princessss, need to feel you cumming 'round me," he whines, long and runny tone causing your clit to pulsate, his fingers already finding comfort on the abandoned button, "Gonna be the death of me— gonna k-kill me with this pussy."
And yet his hips keep rocking into you, slam slam slam— sooo deep you can barely think straight. Deeper now. Harder.
Because if he's going down, he's taking you with him.
You're a gasping mess as you cum around him, sobbing on every thrust, thighs shaking, nails clawing back at his scalp as he fucks you through your orgasm, pussy spurting juices all over the base of his cock.
"Nnnngh!—you're so messy, Xav'," you croon, rocking back to take him even deeper, riding out your high, grinding your ass against his hips until his cock reaches that spot inside you, creating a buldge at your lower belly, "J-just give up—"
Right then, you hear it in his voice when he cracks.
"F-fuck no."
He fucking whimpers, cock throbbing violently as he stays buried inside you, his tip drooling more sticky pre that seeps out with every grind.
"Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—quit— squeezin' me like that— I can't—!"
But his words betray his body since his cock slams into your deepest spot with every stroke, the wet slap slap slapping of skin filling the clouded room, making your overstimulated cunt cry out.
"Then pull out," you bite, tilting your head back with the last strength you muster to look at him, eyes daringly sinful.
Wait. Waitwaitwait—
His eyes are glassy. Lips parted. Chest heaving.
"I—I can't, angel," he whines, voice all breath and heat, hips grinding in deeper even as he says it. "You're too mean—fuckkkk—milkin' me dryyyyy— h-hahhhh!—Can't even think—"
You feel the way his rhythm goes ragged, his whole body locking up behind you. He's fighting it, really fighting it, his muscles shaking, jaw clenched, hips jerking in shallow, stuttering thrusts.
"G-gonna take it, right? C'mon, princess, Just this— hnghhhh!— once."
But his cock's twitching like mad. And his balls are mere seconds close to burst out a fresh, sticky load.
With a strangled cry his hips slam forward, cock buried as deep as he can possibly get, grinding in hard as he spills inside you, thick and hot and so much.
You feel his cum flooding your pussy in long, pulsing spurts, painting your walls, dripping out around the base of his cock and onto the tangled sheets as he whines into your skin, thrusting through it.
"Fuhh-ckkkk!" he moans, drawn-out and helpless, hips jerking with every spurt, every twitch. "'M so sorry—fuck, I tried— swearrrr I tried to—"
But he doesn't even bother finishing, not with the way your eyes cut over your shoulder like a blade before your fingers tangle tight in his messy hay-blonde hair and yank him down into a wet, filthy kiss that makes him whimper right into you.
Back arched into him, tongue tangling with his as you both chase the last euphoric waves of pleasure by grinding like wild mutts against each other.
"Mmnn... I know," you shakily whisper, light giggle following suit against his pouty lips, "Tried s-soooo hard, didn't you?"
And he nods like a lost puppy, breath stuttering as his glossy lips tremble once you cage them between your lips.
Your grinding back against his hips in a rhythm that makes his thighs tremble and his cock jolt again, squishing out more of that thick mess he just dumped in you.
Now that he fucked up, might aswell make the most of it, no?
"Mhmmm", he hums in a daze, cock already twitching back to life inside you, eager rutts against your ass causing the sticky mess inside you to flood out between your pressed thighs,
"One more try, yeah? G-gonna pull out this time."
Famous last words.
SYLUS ★ Alllll in. ~1k
"I'm a lucky man."
His mouth brushes your ear, breath hot as he groans, the words vibrating right against your skin. One big hand caresses the side of your throat while the other spreads your thigh wider, pressing you open.
"Mmmm-hmmm," he growls, voice rough, cock sliding between your drenched folds at an almost eratic pace. The heavy head keeps nudging your clit, slick and angry, "Very lucky indeed."
Choking on a moan, your back arches when the thick, leaking crown of his cock drags through your folds again, smearing slick and pre along your thumbing clit.
"Had a rough night. Deal went to shit," he murmurs, though his voice betrays him—strained, desperate, twitching against your hole like his cock has a mind of its own, "But my sweet princess'll help me out, right? Give me a little pep-talk?"
"Yeah, right. Since when are you so- nghhh!- so tame?"
"Since now," he pants, nudging the angry tip right into your squeaking hole, your pussy already locking his tip in a headlock, "Enjoy it while it lasts and let me in, sweetie. I won't move. Promise."
Lie. Big fat lie.
Narrow eyes of yours stare him down just as his lips curl into a cheeky, smirk, slowwwwly forcing his massive size to push your poor walls apart.
You're not even trying to squeeze him, but your cunt is already fluttering around him, soaking wet from how pent-up he is. Gripping your waist with an iron-clad hold, trying so damn hard to stay still, but every twitch of your walls makes him flinch, throb.
It's impossible.
Now he's already bullying his way through your wails and shrieks, halfway in, dragging your pussy open inch by massive fucking inch, because he's trying so hard not to ruin you on the spot and pump you full of—
"Shoooo big, Sy'! Can't—hahhh!— I can't! M' so full!"
Maybe it's just in his head.
You shudder, overwhelmed by heat and stretch and the gush of pre smearing your walls.
Right then your orgasm hits hard, embarrassingly fast, dragging another cry from your lips as your pussy clenches around his cock again, pulling more grunts from his mouth.
You're already fucked-out, hips buck again greedily, stretch dizzying, walls clamping down with gluttonous need, and his breath catches with a hard shudder. Thighs locking tighter around his waist, holding him in, dragging him deeper.
Minutes tick by, or seconds, he can't tell, until his hips start to rock in tiny, traitorous movements.
Your cry cuts off into a gasp as his hips find a brutal rhythm, heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Every ridge, every vein drags inside you, scraping his memoir into your walls.
God, he could die like this.
Eyes rolling, cock buried balls-deep in the warm clutch of your cunt, so moist and snug and just a little too cramped, your selfish cunny milking him for everything he's worth. Drowning in your whimpers, in the slap of slick skin, in the way your hands claw up his back for more.
It's perfect. Too perfect. Too bare.
Wait.
Wait—oh fuck.
He goes still mid-thrust, chest heaving, eyes wide and glossy as it hits him that he never put on the damn condom.
"Shit."
"Hmmm? Something wrong, Sy'?"
He's the Sylus, goddamnit. The ruler of the underground. But not here. Not when you're wrapped around him like this. Not when you're so hot, so loud, so feisty, and dripping down his length every time he pulls back just to thrust in again.
"Fuck's sake," he grits out, face buried in your neck like he's ashamed of himself, voice nearly unrecognizable. "I should—mmmh—I need to pull out."
But he doesn't. Can't. Not when your cunt squeezes him like velvet vice, not when your arms wind tighter around his neck and your hips grind up like you want him to ruin you.
"Hmm? What's that? C-can't focus when youhhh— ohhh!— in sooo deep, baby."
"Mhmmm, couldn't even get a condom because you're such a bratty little thing," he groans, voice going hoarse as he thrusts his fat tip right against your cervix with one forceful rut, barely holding on, "She's pulling me in, sweetie."
The bed rocks under the force of his shots, every sharp roll of his hips knocking the air from your lungs. The obscene, filthy sounds of your bodies say everything needing to be said.
"Whose fault is that, darling?" he grits out through clenched teeth, dragging his hands up your ribs to cup your face.
Fake it till you make it, I guess.
"Mhm! My fault, s' my fault Sy'!," you stammer, eyes glassy, mind running a thousand miles as he knocks your breath out again and again and—
"Now that's right," he huffs, forehead pressed against yours, a whimper catching in his throat as he eyes the heavy buldge at the pit of your tummy, "That's my good girl. Gonna let me cum inside, hm? Fill you up?"
"Mhmmm! Wanna feel it, allll of it Sy! Make me a m-mommy!"
Now you've done it.
Sylus's eyes roll back, face flushed, sweat pearling at his temple. He's trembling, so fucking close.
He's cumming before his mind even catches up, hips stuttering, breath leaving from his lungs as his body clamps against yours. A broken groan rips from his throat as he spurts buckets of pearly white cum into your womb, rutting in deep to make sure you take all of it.
"S-shit, sweetie," he hisses, forehead dropping to yours, ruby eyes blown wide and dazed, "feels good, hmm?"
You can't answer. Clenching, twitching, overwhelmed tears brimming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he hits without even moving, some of his cum escaping down the curve of your ass.
Pressing a weak, sloppy open-mouthed-kiss to his temple, your heart's hammering as the slow pulse of his cum inside you makes you more excited by the second, unconciously humbing up into him.
"A-again. Want you to fill me up again, Sy'."
"Again, huh? Now you're being greedy, sweetheart." He punctuates it with a sharp thrust, one that makes your whole body jolt, makes you yelp, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Whatever my sweet girl wants", he ushers against your puckered lips, dick twitching inside your cramped cunny, "she'll get."
Well, once you have tasted blood, you'll always want more.
CALEB ★ Home sweet home. ~1.2k
"W-what?"
"Condom, Cay'."
"Y-yeah right, condom. Gotta get it. Gotta—"
You're cruel. So very cruel.
Tangled together on the bed, your bodies slick with sweat, breaths rapid. Caleb's fingers dig into your hips as you impatiently grind your slick, exposed cunny over his stiff length, dragging it up right against his tip.
"Mhhh, hurryyyy! Wanna feel you already!"
Right then a fat bead of pre spurts from his slit, kissing your clit with a shining glee and you damn near sob, biting down hard on your bottom lip to stop the filthy little sound clawing up your throat.
"One sec' pips'. Just one second, m' gonna get it— fuck!"
He tries. He tries to lift you off, shaky hands fumbling at your waist.
"Just pull out and stop. t-talking."
But it's you who slid down on his tip, thighs slapping against his as you take him in to the hilt in one greedy push, his hefty girth streeeetching your out instantly, a loud squeak! resounding as his crown thumbs against your cervix.
Or did he drag you down, fists clenched tight around your waist?
Actually, it doesn't even matter anymore.
"Jesus Christ, baby," he groans, voice so thick with lust it's barely human anymore. "L-lemme get it, m' gonna—"
His voice cracks, almost a panic as his hands tighten on your waist, trembling, begging you to just slow down with each twitch of his fingers, cock twitching inside you since he's already right on his fucking limit.
He tries again. Hands push at your hips, trembling, uncoordinated, unable to decide if he wants to get you off him or fuck up into you on repeat.
"Wait—just lemme grab it, baby, j-just for a seco—"
"O-ohhh! I don't care anymore!" Your high-pitched tantrum throws him off, your hips grinding doen hard onto him in a hurry, so needy and shameless that he can't help but buck his hips upwards, stealing a pleased sigh from you.
You drop your hips again, soaked pussy swallowing him whole, strangling his pumping length and that's it. That's fucking it.
"Fuckin' hell," suddenly his grip turns firm, fingers digging into your flesh, forcing you down with a loud slap! of skin to skin. "Really? Ya' don't care anymore? Really want me ta' beat this pussy up?"
SLAP!
His hands slam down onto your ass, big palms grabbing, spreading, slapping, the poor flesh turning red on impact. And you jolt in his hold, clit thumb thumb thumbing like it has it's own heartbeat.
"Shit! Yer' fuckin'—nghhh!— gonna make me lose it," he pants, snapping his hips up into you dwelling in the suffocating hold of your soothing walls. "Ya' like that? Like ridin' me raw? Knocking this greedy pussy up? "
Desperate nod saying more than words could, you bounce up and down, up and down, tight pussy fixed around him, screaming in protest every time you surge up with loud, protesting gush gush gushes.
"Dirty fuckin' girl."
He grabs your ass again, harder this time, fingers sinking in, dragging you down with each thrust, eyes fixated on the delicious buldge of his fat cockhead bump bump bumping in your gut.
"Couldn't even wait, huh? Had ta' sit on my cock like the needy girl ya' are. Didn't even let me grab the fuh-fuckin'— shiiiiit!—"
Smack!
Another harsh slap ripples the fat of your rear, sharp but yet so perfect, the sting making you moan out, embarrasingly so, only further making your walls constrict around his hefty girth.
"Ya' want me to lose it, hah? Wanna make me forget everything but this feisty lil' pussy?"
You nod, nails dragging down his back. "Yessss! Pleaseeeee! Wan' you to fuck me stupid! Wanna c-cum!"
Forehead pressed to yours, he's fucking up into you with vicious intend, "Yeahhhh, yer' gonna get it. Gonna make you cum so gooood, pips' Js' let go f' me, yeah?"
And just like that, you break apart, body feeling like it's been lit on fire as you twitch around him uncontrollably, gushing your squirting sap alllll over his pelvic area.
"A-attaaaaa girl", he's watching you come undone, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as he fucks you through your high, staring down at the mess you made in awe.
You're both drenched in it.
"What a beautiful mess," he pants, still pistoning his cock right against your g-spot, dragging your orgasm out. "Look at that pretty pussy squirtin' allll over me."
He's a pussy-drunk mess by now, cock still hard and throbbing inside your overstimulated cunt as she eagerly milks his cock, desperate for him to fill you up with his hot cum.
"Fuckkkk, I missed this. Missed you, this sweet little cunt, squeezin' 'round me. It's been sooo long."
You're panting now, still in shock from your orgasm, hips rocking against his, "B-but, Cay' we just did it y-yesterday—"
"That's wayyyy to long f' me."
You're whining, squirming in his lap, but he just has a crazed look, hungry, bucking his hips up, teasing the entrance of your womb with smooches.
He leans back slightly one hand gripping your ass, the other spreading you open so he can observe your stuffed cunny struggling to hold him in.
"Look at ya'," he mutters, half in awe, half in madness, "Gonna stuff ya' full till yer' leaking 'round me, till all you can think about is me, me, me—"
So close to his own wit's end, he's doing his best to focus on the delicious squelch of your stuttering pussy, heavy, fast breaths barely calming his racing heart down.
"God, you feel so good," he rasps, breath hitching. "So warm, so wet, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill you up."
You're clawing at his shoulders now, legs buckling as you feel your second high approching slyly. Every thrust sounds wetter than the last, his balls slapping your ass with every rushed snap of his hips.
Your moans are getting higher. His pace is getting sloppy. He's right there.
"No condom, no nothin'," he murmurs, forehead pressing against yours as he slowly, slowly inches the fat head inside, your walls stretching around him like they were made to take him bare. "You’re just gonna fuck me raw like this, huh? Gonna stuff you full till you're leaking around me, till all you can think about is me, me, me—"
He inches the fat head back in again, and your walls stretch, trembling, sucking him in until—
"Yesyesyes— fuckkk!—"
Your cry breaks into a sob as your body locks up around him. Caleb barely gets a breath before he's falling with you, mouth hanging slack as his hips jerk once, twice, and then he spills his thick load of fresh whites into you.
"Ooouhhhh! Cay-caleb!"
You sob, cunt spasming, milking him through it as your second orgasm rips through you, so intense your thighs shake, whole body shuddering in his lap, falling onto his sweaty, heaving chest.
"You're so fuckin' hot."
He's dazed, cock still twitching, slit spurting out the last wispy ropes inside you while his cum leaks out around the base in sticky dribbles, his locked gaze snapping up to your flustered face, sleazy grin twitching up his lips.
"Think m' addicted now."
Pff. As if he wasn't already whipped the second you climbed into his lap.
Locker room lessons | Waterboy & Robert (Dispatch)
Part two of Definitely an HR Violation (Read part one here)
CROSS-POSTED FROM AO3
WC: 10K
SUMMARY: The first time you crossed a line was when you shared that night in the office with Waterboy during the party. The second was when you called him by his first name during a mission. And the third? This one happened in the locker room. But this time, you both crossed it with Robert Robertson the third.
CONTENT: Established relationship, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dom/sub undertones, Praise kink, Voice kink, No sex, Bisexual characters, Consensual sharing, Switching
RATING: EXPLICIT
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!
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A flip had been switched.
A month ago, you would’ve never thought Waterboy would talk to you. Let alone, be in the same room as you were. But something changed after that night during the party. If you could travel back in time and tell your past self from a month ago about your current situation now, she wouldn't believe a word you were saying.
Waterboy used to avoid you like a plague, but now you couldn't be seen without him following you around like a lost puppy.
If you were to be honest, you didn't expect him to get so attached easily. Then again, you weren’t surprised to find out he was one of those types who'd catch feelings quickly after a good fuck. Not that you were complaining. After an entire month of chasing after him, hoping to find answers, you finally had him wrapped around your finger.
To everyone's eyes, you finally became more acquainted with each other after months of running around. To Blonde Blazer, it was about time you two got along well. Robert, who took the opportunity to comment on every single little thing, praised the newly formed friendship through his own sarcastic way.
“Great. Looks like water and shadow are buddies now. How'd you like more missions together?”
What he didn't know was how much you enjoyed getting paired with Waterboy during your dispatches. Not only did you take pleasure watching him defeat your enemies, but seeing him in action really brought a different side out of him—stronger, braver, more confident. You’d be lying if you said seeing him like that didn’t turn you on immediately.
You weren't supposed to like him after that. You weren't supposed to be thinking about holding his hand to comfort him when he's down. You weren't supposed to feel all fluttery whenever he smiled at your direction, waving excitedly from across the room. You weren't supposed to dream about waking up next to him, wrapped in his arms and feel his heartbeat beneath your skin.
But then he just has to go and be so fucking sweet.
It started off with simple things.
Small little love notes taped to a packed lunch in the fridge with your name drawn with hearts. His encouraging cheers from the sidelines while you were busy taking down an enemy together. The amount of attempts he tried to ask you if he could walk you home. And don't even get started on the messages. Every time you got home, you always expected to see him asking how your day had been and if you were doing alright after the missions.
He'd also send cute pictures of his grandmother's cats, different colors yet the same cuteness that might just steal your heart even faster. His random updates about what he's planning to do for the day, what he saw during his walk, or the current show he's recently been obsessed with.
You didn't have the heart to leave him on read, so you replied every once in a while. Still, you didn't let the conversation go on for too long. Afraid of getting attached, and afraid you'll lead him on into something you're not sure to be ready for yet. Even if you wanted to tell him that whatever happened in that office was only a one time thing, something always stopped you from doing it.
You began replying to his messages longer, even reacting to his pictures at times. It got to the point where the conversions stretched into the long hours of the night, until you only have an hour or two left before going to work.
The first time you crossed the line was the night you shared in the office, and the second one when you called him by his name.
You were pinned in a mission after Robert decided to risk the percentages of your actions, which he gravely miscalculated, causing the plan to backfire and put both of your lives at risk. Waterboy was busy ushering nearby civilians out of the building, seconds away from collapsing, while you dealt with the Red Ring agents who planted the bombs.
Night was quickly crawling, and soon the building was shrouded in darkness. The bombs were your only source of light, flickering red against the shadows, as well as the ones glowing in their body.
Your job was to deactivate the bombs before they set off, while Waterboy escorted the civilians out before coming back in to engage with the enemies. You managed to deactivate the bombs through your shadows, slipping through every level until the last one died with static. When he returned, all of the agents attacked him without mercy. One of them managed to hit Waterboy straight in the chest, causing your partner to flung across the room and hit the wall with a sickening thud.
You returned just in time to see one of them holding him by his throat, while he clawed their arm desperately to escape.
Your vision turned red, dark tendrils surrounding your body until there was nothing left but swirls of smoke.
One of them grew too cocky, believing it was an easy win for their taking with Waterboy injured.
Six against one.
What were the percentages of you winning?
The answer?
A hundred.
In just a blink of an eye, all of them were frozen in their spots—completely immobile and entirely at your mercy. With them being in your domain. Oh, they wouldn't have the time to run.
Let alone scream.
Everyone nearby would've heard the gruesome massacre happening inside the building. They would've seen one or two bodies being thrown out of the windows by large tendrils of shadows. You barely remembered what happened during that night, only flashes of the look of terror in their faces and the cut off screams they failed to produce. You didn't stop even when Robert barked orders for you to stand down, reminding you of your primary objective—neutralize the enemies before the bombs all go off.
Oh, you didn't forget.
You simply followed.
When Waterboy finally came to, half of the agents were on the floor while the other half were missing. In the next second, you were kneeling beside his fallen figure. That was the first time your heart raced in a way you've never felt before. The sudden realization, the fear of losing him, overwhelmed you senselessly that caused you to disobey Robert’s orders just to take revenge.
You saw the way his eyes widened, taking in the sight of all agents lying lifelessly on the floor.
His mouth opened to speak, but your arms were around his neck before he could utter a word.
“Thought I lost you, Herm.”
He tensed under your hug, breath hitching, and for a moment he remained still. You were about to pull away and check on his injuries, when his arms slid around your back and he was hugging you closer against him.
“Heh, I'm not– you're not gonna get rid of me easily.”
When you kissed him, it was the moment you finally let your walls down and let him into your heart.
That night, he wasn't Waterboy anymore.
That night, he became Herm.
Being in a relationship was definitely not part of your year's bingo, but here you were.
Keeping it private wasn’t the challenging part. It was the fact you can’t do anything that could reveal your relationship. For weeks, you had to endure all those subtle connections. The discreet glances. The lingering touches. The whispered praises. The stolen kisses before and after missions. Everything fueled that ache in your chest—that inescapable yearning to be closer to him.
You didn't even realize it yet, but you found yourself falling deeper for the Water hero.
Okay, yeah.
You liked the guy.
More than a good office party fuck.
With the whole HR thing going on at the moment, you both agreed to keep things a secret for a while. Not out of embarrassment, but to make sure you wouldn't get in trouble at work. What you did was already enough to get the both of you cut from the program, what more if they find out about your budding relationship with him?
Vis was the first one to know about your new relationship. Of course, she was. Being your roommate, she was obligated to know and warned for any future hangouts in your apartment. At first, she didn't believe you were in a relationship out of nowhere. She figured you were only interested in him just for the sole purpose of getting laid. But then she came home one night, later than usual, and it was the same time you invited Herm over for movie night.
Yeah, the Z-team group chat was flooded with pictures of the both of you fast asleep on the couch.
Cuddling.
With Vis posing and smiling in each one.
And well. . . that was the start of your official relationship as Z-team’s first couple.
Blonde Blazer let your relationship pass.
However, an HR meeting was still made out of transparency. And of course, someone did report on the incident in one of the offices after the party weeks ago. You had to sit for a whole two hours trying not to fall asleep as Blonde Blazer droned on and on about office affairs and yada yada yada.
You caught his eye multiple times that day, fidgeting nervously in his seat. Every time you did, you'd send a wink in his direction, causing him to burn bright red and fidget even more. Thankfully, no one suspected it was the both of you. At least, none of them mentioned it if they knew.
Not that you cared, they can go get some themselves if they had a problem.
Just as long as there weren't any similar meetings in one of the offices again, you should be fine. You may or may not have a feeling she might know it was the two of you, because of the way she glanced at your direction and eyed both of you very discreetly.
Yeah, that's not gonna happen again.
Maybe.
You were still adjusting to the new shift, having a boyfriend meant commitment and you did not want to fuck this up. Vis was right about your interest being purely out of carnal curiosity at first, but the more you spent time with Herm, the more you realized that your interest went beyond that.
Each day before work, you'd always find him at the doorstep of your apartment. Sometimes, he'd have a wet flower in hand. Oftentimes, your favorite drink. And most of the time, a damp note containing a sweet poem, and he's surprisingly talented in those. Even when they were all affected by his power, you kept all of it in your room on your desk.
You always kissed his cheek before the start of your missions, and he'd always flush red much to your enjoyment. He brought you snacks in the office whenever you forgot to bring food, and you two ate together in the break room while talking about anything and everything. His grandmother, her endless amount of cats, why he decided to sign up for SDN, why you decided to sign up, and more. His stutter lessened around you, and his confidence improved each time you praised him for his achievements.
One thing about Herm, which everyone knew, was that he was a sweetheart.
He may not have the most skilled delivery when it comes to his words or actions, but his intentions always meant well. Not to mention, he's a terrible gentleman to everyone. You've grown to love that side of him, having discovered that his grandmother deeply influenced his kind and generous upbringing. His love for animals also grew a soft spot in you, but you already knew that from the way he interacted with beef and fed stray cats whenever he walked you home after work—you actually melted on the spot when you found out he carried cat treats in his pocket.
What can you say? You loved the ones with a golden heart. So easy to ruin. So easy to corrupt.
Which brought you to your second discovery.
Herm was not only a sweetheart, he was a freak. And you should've known it was always the ones you'd least expect. You just didn't expect him to be so touch-starved. Well, you already knew that from the first night in the office, but you never knew it was this bad.
Rephrasing that—
Waterboy was a sweetheart, but Herm was a freak.
Not that you were complaining.
What Vis didn't catch before she got home that night was your little moment with him.
In the middle of the movie, a sex scene started playing—typical for all horror and slasher films—but you quickly noticed him squirming in his seat. The loud gulps. His reddening cheeks. His hands shaking in his lap. The way he kept on gulping as if he was dehydrated despite being the complete opposite. And what gave it away was the hurried action of him swiping a pillow from the side to cover his lap.
But oh, you already knew.
Let's just say the rest of the movie was forgotten immediately the moment you threw the pillow across the room and straddled him down on the couch.
The memory was still fresh in your mind.
His soft whimpers next to your ear. His damp hands on your waist. His soft lips, bitten and swollen, around on your thumb. Whispered praises against his neck. His cock, hard and flushed, in your hand as you pumped him slowly. Teasing him until he was close, only to stop when he was just seconds away from coming. His breathless pleas. His adorable whines. And his repeated thank you once you finally granted him release.
You thought it was gonna stop there.
Oh, no.
Herm wanted to thank you in other ways.
You vaguely remember what happened next, but you did recall the shock from what he suggested to do. Something he wanted to try for a long time, he said. Next thing you knew, his head was between your thighs, while yours was thrown back in pleasure. He was laying down on the couch, lapping up at you from below. His sounds were muffled as you grinded down on his face, moaning shamelessly every time his nose bumped against your clit.
Whenever you praised him, he'd pull you harder against him until you were sure he couldn't breathe. Neither could you from the way he let you use him as you pleased.
That's why Vis found you the both of you fast asleep on the couch—completely spent and fucked out.
After that, Herm grew more expressive when it came to showing his needs.
In public, he didn't bother hiding his lingering stares when you were in the same room, and you pretended not to feel his gaze on you just to rile him up. He became touchier, always finding an excuse to rest his hand in your hip, waist, hand, and lower back. He didn't shy away from your cheek kisses, sometimes initiating it himself.
In private, on the other hand. . .
Oh, it was another story.
You were concerned you were corrupting as much as you were spoiling him, but maybe it was the same in his case.
Sometimes when he spent the night, you woke up the next morning with him pressed up behind you. You’d immediately become aware of the hard pressure against your lower back. You heard his voice, begging for you, face buried in the crook of your neck as his movements became more desperate. The second you heard him say please, you were pushing him back to your mattress and taking him there beneath you.
Much to your great amusement, Herm loved to be degraded as much as he loved to be praised.
You'd never forget that same morning when the words slipped, spilling out of your lips before you could stop yourself.
“Look at you, Herm. Humping me like a fucking dog? So early in the morning? Oh, you're so fucking desperate it's pathetic.”
You immediately stopped, realizing your words. The apology was there at the tip of your tongue when he frantically shook his head, and bucked his hips upwards. Tears streamed down his temples, silver-blue eyes half-lidded and pleading.
“No, please do– Don't stop. Please. I–I need more.”
Let's just say the two of you decided to skip work that day.
At least you two made a pretty decent breakfast.
Well, mostly Herm. He was adamant in just letting you sit there and look pretty while he cooked some eggs and pancakes. Another welcome surprise, even when his cooking process was a little (a lot) clumsy—you tried not to laugh when he slipped on himself more than once—the results were actually presentable and edible. He told you about how he’s always cooking for his grandma, as well as having responsibility for other chores in their house.
You'd eat together in the living room, watching the morning news with him sitting close by your side.
Vis made a comment about him being “your new roomie” and how she was rarely home now that he was constantly over. But you already talked about it beforehand, and she was more than supportive of your relationship. Sometimes, she'll even hang around with the both of you during movie night. Their bond surprisingly formed from their shared love of comics, cat pictures, and of course your cooking. It was oddly endearing in a way it reminded you of a weird sibling dynamic.
During mornings and evenings, you'd hear them in the living room constantly bickering.
“Hey, water hose. She was mine first. She's basically my wife.”
“Yeah, but– but she's my partner now. And she will be my– I mean, she will choose who she wants to, uh, marry.”
“We'll see about that.”
“Yeah, we’ll see!”
His presence in your life gradually became more constant, that it got to the point where he was forcefully included in another sleepover with the Phoenix girls. It didn't take long until he became one of the girls, often surrounded by Prism and Malevola during missions. Coupé, on the other hand, maintained her distance out of respect towards you.
It seemed like everything was going perfectly well. Your relationship was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
Night has already fallen by the time you made your way back to the SDN office. The last slip of sunlight disappeared into the horizon a few hours ago, and along with it your energy. Today was another gruelling dispatch, even busier than usual, and all these back-to-back calls have been draining the blood out of you. Most of the calls weren't even necessary to be made, just random citizens in need of someone to do their extra work when the Torrance Police Department was too lazy to do so.
You were heroes in the making, not some charity service for civilians.
But then again, wasn't that the point of being in this program?
Thankfully, Robert decided to call it a night just before your body could give out. The others cheered in your earpieces, different voices merging together as all of you could finally go home. But before you do, you need to head back to the office first to get your things.
Rolling your shoulders, you glanced at Flambae walking beside you. “Up for some drinks later?”
A grin stretched across his features, the previous exhaustion plastered earlier quickly vanishing.
“Hell yeah,” He puffed out his chest, giving you a wink. “First rounds on you, shadow.”
You rolled your eyes, groaning lightly. “Okay, I'm taking that back. Go drink by yourself.”
“Hey! You suggested it. Means you buy the first round, it's the rules.”
“Who fucking made that up?”
“It's like, the common courtesy. Duh.”
“Right,” You chuckled, shaking your head at his theatrics. “Well, let's go ask the others if they're down.”
“No need to ask them,” Flambae waved his hand around. “As if those guys will turn down a good drink after all that shit. Seriously, a cold glass of beer will remove all these knots in my back. That reminds me. Know any good massage places here?”
You hummed, rummaging your mind for anything familiar. “Oh, yeah. I know this good spot just downtown–”
“Honey!”
Snapping your head up, your eyes met Herm's tall figure running towards you.
The previous thought was erased the moment you saw him, all the painful strains in your muscles melted away at the sight of his beaming smile. Seeing him every time always seemed to ease your nerves, removing every stress and exhaustion in an instant. He just had that kind of effect in the first place, but now it feels so different—like the kind of comfort you get when you come back home.
Oh, you were so far gone.
“Hey, baby.” You cooed, opening your arms to receive his hug.
Instead when he picked you up from the ground and spun you around, breaking you into a fit of laughter.
“That fucking hurts to look at,” Vis commented, coming up behind the two of you. “Everywhere I go, I'm always reminded I'm still single.”
Flambae scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared at the two of you. “Yeah, me too. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you bitches. But please, don't fucking rub it in.”
“Go rub it out yourself.” You flipped him off, still grinning as Herm set you down.
Herm’s hands never left your waist, giving you that charming smile that never failed to make your heart flutter.
“How are you? Had any trouble with– from anyone?”
You stroke his cheek, chucking at the dampness clinging to his skin. “No trouble at all. They didn't have a chance against me. I basically made Flambae my accessory while I fought off those guys.”
“Bitch, I fucking helped–”
“How about you?” You continued, pointedly ignoring him. “Vis gave you any trouble?”
Your roommate rolled her eyes, joining Flambae’s glaring session from the side. “Oh, haha. Just so you know, we fucking nailed that last one. You should've seen him fuck those guys up, one of them even wet himself because of Waterboy. And not the fun kind.”
Herm sputtered at her words, whipping around to blink incredulously at her. “Wha– Hey, don't mention that!”
“You should've seen him do this thing–”
“They don't have– need to know!”
“Why not? It was a killer move.”
“You weren't sa– supposed to see it!”
While the two continued to bicker, you and Flambae shared a look before pulling them both by their arms and walking towards the office. On the way there, the rest of the Z-team caught up on the four of you—equally battered and spent from their respective missions.
Flambae went straight towards Prism, complaining about you and Herm immediately, to which the popstar laughed at him. Vis made a beeline towards Golem, who had gotten her a donut out of the shop she liked. Coupé and Punch Up were the first ones to enter the building, while Malevola dragged a half-beaten Sonar inside. You and Herm hung at the back of the group, your arm looped around his and that adorable little blush present on his cheeks.
Robert was there to greet you all upon seeing him, while Chase and Beef emerged from their cubicle.
The former hero clapped, his monotone voice cutting through the noise. “Okay, everyone. Get your stuff out of here and go home. Good job for today. You deserve the day off tomorrow, but on Monday we get on it again. That's it, get the fuck out of here.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Eager to get rid of us? What if we wanted you to join us for drinks, Mr. Robertson?”
The rest of the team exclaimed their agreement, but Robert only sighed exasperatedly.
“As much as I wanna come with,” He raised his hands, before pointing at the bags underneath his eyes. “I'm gonna drop dead if I don't head home. God knows I need a break from all of you.”
Prism clicked her tongue. “Oh, you poor thang. I know what you need, pretty boy. You need to get laid! So come with us, and we might get your underfucked ass a score.”
Everyone snickered, while you caught Vis shifting on her feet from Prism's words.
You aimed a smirk at her direction, to which she silently mouthed shut the fuck up back at yours.
Chase stepped into the scene, setting Beef on the ground and placing both of his hands on his hips.
“Alright, you nasty fuckers. Y'all heard what the man said. Get your fucking asses out of here before we call Blazer.”
“No need for that man,” Sonar quipped from the side, still leaning against Malevola for support. “But yeah, we're dipping. See you ‘round, twink. Call us if you still want your ass to be fucked.”
While everyone laughed as they dispersed, you looked up at Herm and smirked at him.
“I know someone who's underfucked,” He blushed at your sultry tone, while you only winked at him. “You still have some stuff in the locker room?”
He nodded furiously, immediately picking up on your mood.
“Go get them. We can catch up later.”
“Uh, yeah– Yes, I'm gonna go get them. Get my stuff. And we could– We'll go! Go home and– Yeah, going now!”
Herm darted towards the locker rooms, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
You smiled softly at his disappearing figure. Even after a month in the relationship, you still managed to make him stammer nervously. He's just so fucking cute, it makes you wanna eat him up or tie him down to a chair.
“You really have to do that in front of me?”
Blinking, you turned towards Robert, who wore a deadpanned expression on his face.
“Do what?” You feigned innocence, smiling at him. “We haven't done anything yet. Unless, you want us to. You're welcome to watch, boss.”
You didn't know what possessed you to say that, maybe it was the lingering adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Not that it was anything serious, only an inside joke you sometimes shared with him ever since he started reprimanding you of PDA in the office. Most of the time, Robert wouldn't hesitate to turn it down or dismiss it. However, something seemed different tonight. Because for the first time, he paused—and you didn't miss the way his gaze unfocused for a second.
Almost like he was imagining something right in front of him.
Robert shook his head, reverting back to his stoic look. “If I wanted to watch porn, I would've done it at home. Plus, I’d rather not be on the HR list. I've already been asked by Blazer to keep an eye on both of you if you decide to do anything like that here.”
Oh?
Humming, you crossed your arms and grinned at him. “Keep an eye out, huh? Isn't that the same thing as watching?”
For a moment, he studied you through narrowed eyes.
You weren't an idiot, and you were certainly not oblivious to the tension building up in the air. It was thick, charged with something unspoken, and you were certain he felt it too. You weren't about to try anything, however. Knowing Vis still liked him and you were in a relationship, you can't cross any boundaries you shouldn't. Until his eyes dropped, doing a slow sweep over your frame until he reached your eyes again.
In a lower voice, he spoke.
“I guess it is.”
Oh.
Something definitely felt different tonight, and something told you the night was only just beginning.
Turning around, you tossed him a sly smirk over your shoulder.
“If you're still interested, you know where to find us.”
In the next second, you melted into the shadows and left smoke in your wake.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
You know you said you wouldn't be doing anything like this in the office again.
But at least it wasn't in an office.
Technically.
The men’s locker rooms were empty when you found Herm, and he looked like he was about to finish up grabbing his things. Just when he was about to turn around, but you were already there behind him with your hand pressing on his chest.
You smiled at him, leaning up on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. “Hey, baby. Got your stuff?”
“Oh! He– Hey, honey.” He smiled, melting against your touch. “Yeah, got them here– all here! Are we gonna go home now?”
Trailing your lips up to his jaw, you whispered low low in ear. “No, I have a better idea.”
He blinked, peering down at you in confusion.
“What is it–”
You silenced him with another kiss, pinning him back against his locker.
Home can wait. Right now, you need him.
“Oh,” Herm gasped in realization, dazed and stunned after you parted for air. “I thought we were– At home, but– Now? Here?”
You began unzipping his collar, aiming a long kiss on his throat. “Why not? Unless you prefer somewhere more. . . private? The office? The bathroom? Or that storage room you've been telling me about the other day?”
Herm sighed shakily, momentarily losing focus the more your kisses trailed down. It didn't take long for him to get so affected. His pulse thrummed wildly beneath your lips. His breathing grew heavier and faster. His hands clutched your hips, flexing weakly but never pushing you away. Still, you kept your pace slow, in case he changed his mind and decided to move somewhere else.
When he didn't take any action to stop you, a pleased hum escaped you and you smiled against his skin.
“Good boy.”
The zipper stopped at his chest, your hand slipping inside his wetsuit to feel his heart racing erratically.
“I'm still surprised you're into this,” You kissed him again, tugging on his bottom lip. “I really thought you'd turn down the first time, and especially now. You really want this badly, baby?”
He didn't give you any answer.
Instead, he surprised you again by hooking his hands underneath your thighs and hoisting you up to his waist. With a surprising display of hidden strength, he carried you towards somewhere while his mouth returned to yours. The kiss, like the first one you shared with him a month ago, was clumsy due to him walking across the locker rooms. It was endearing in a way that filled you with brief nostalgia and warmth, kissing him deeper and sighing against his lips.
Finally, Herm sat himself down on a nearby bench far from the entrance. Safely hidden out of sight by the rows of lockers, in case anyone passed by or entered the room.
“Is this– Are you okay?” His voice trembled, but his hands were steady as he adjusted you properly on his lap. “You don't want to go home yet? You really want to– I mean, I don't mind but– What if someone sees?”
You responded with another kiss, cupping his face gently as your hips began to roll. As expected, he produced a low whimper and rolled his hips back. He guided your movements over his strained bulge, moaning softly into each other's mouths. The kiss shifted deeper, harder, hungrier. You slipped his goggles from his head while he kissed his way down your neck.
“Fuck,” You tossed your head back, granting him more access. “That’s it, baby. Keep going.”
Herm whined against your skin, making a frantic move to remove your top.
You helped him by raising your arms up, only left with your bra underneath, before he was back to kissing and marking your skin. After becoming more intimate with him, you soon found out he particularly had a fixation on your chest the most. You should've known he'd be a boob kind of guy, not that you were complaining.
He was about to unclasp your bra, when someone spoke from behind.
“Am I interrupting something?”
You both tensed, especially Herm who quickly wrapped his arms around you to conceal your bare upper body.
Glancing back over your shoulder, you met gazes with none other than Robert Robertson the third.
Herm gulped, straightening up. “S-Sir– I mean, Boss. Uh, Robert! This isn't– It's not what it looks like. Uh, we were just– I was helping her change?”
“Uh huh,” Your dispatcher looked and sounded unconvinced. “Changing on your lap? In the men's locker room? After everyone went home? You really expect me to believe that?”
Raising an eyebrow at him, you fixed him with a teasing smile. “You know when I suggested if you wanted to watch, I didn't expect you to follow through. Thought you went home with the others. Had a change of heart?”
At your words, Herm's chest paused and his arms loosened every so slightly around your body.
“You told him to wait– Watch us? Why?”
“I was joking with him earlier, but it looks like he took it seriously.”
“Oh, that's. . . I didn't expect that.”
“I didn't expect the both of you to be acting like this,” Robert cut in, letting out a long sigh. “So, I take it you're the reasons why Blonde Blazer made that HR meeting after someone reported the incident in one of the offices.”
Shrugging, you gave him a wry smirk. “Guilty as charged.”
Still unimpressed, Robert continued. “This isn't exactly the kind of catching up I'd expect to see, but I'm not exactly surprised. Do you two have any idea–”
“It– It was my fault, sir!” Herm interrupted, hugging you closer to him. “I was the one who– I initiated it. She came here for me. To get me. And I kissed her, and we got here, then we– Then, you found us like this.”
“You didn't,” You hushed him softly, patting his cheek as you turned to look at him. “Robert was well aware I did it. But now that he's here, that makes me more curious. Are you only doing this bit to actually lecture us or are you here for something else?”
You directed the question to the man standing behind you, peering over to his direction again.
No response.
The two of you entered a staring contest, silently challenging the other to either back down or do something. The tension from earlier resurfaced, intangible but even more electric than before.
“Well, boss? You gonna leave or watch?”
“Those are my only options?”
“What other option is there?”
“Report you, for one.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “If you wanted to report us, you would've left immediately after you saw us. But you're still here. Why's that?”
That gave Robert a pause, and you felt a trembling breath against your cheek.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Herm’s voice lowered into a cautious whisper. “We could get into trouble– Major trouble. And I don't want you to get into trouble.”
His tone melted your defenses, and for a moment, you considered backing down before you actually got in trouble. You’ve already dug your grave the moment you suggested this to Robert, and now the choice was yours whether to dig the shovel deeper or climb out of the ditch in defeat. Not to mention that Herm would take the blame even more for your sake. Sweet, lovable, and selfless Herm.
With a resigned sigh, you kissed his cheek before addressing Robert.
“Fine, we’ll get out of your hair–”
“Not so fast.”
“Huh?”
The dispatcher took slow, daunting steps towards you, something flickered through the cracks of his neutral indifference. “Now, you want to leave? You’re not gonna finish what you started?”
Herm glanced between the two of you, his hold tightening protectively as Robert neared his approach. “Uh, we could finish it elsewhere– Someplace else. We’re sorry for the trouble– inconvenience, sir. Robert. It won’t happen again!”
“Sure it won’t,” Robert hummed, still unconvinced. “I’ll make sure this is the last time.”
He stopped just right beside you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
“So, go on. Finish what you started. Make the last time worthwhile.”
You heard the challenge in his tone, saw the daring glint in his eyes, and smirked. He wanted a show? Fine, you'll give him something to remember in his apartment.
You turned your attention back to Herm, kissing the line of his throat, but your gaze remained on Robert.
“You can watch, boss. But no touching.”
He shrugged. “Fine by me.”
Meanwhile, Herm released a shuddering breath as his eyes flicked towards his direction. “You– You're not gonna report us, Rob– Sir?”
“Not if I like what I see.”
“O-Oh, then I'm sure– I hope you will!”
“We'll see about that.”
You felt his arms slip down to your waist again, still holding you close against him. Busying yourself with leaving marks on his neck, kissing every little mole you've grown to love, and licking the skin just above his pulse—causing it to spike and quicken erratically. At the same time, your hips began to move again. Rolling against his hard bulge, moaning into his skin at the sensation of him throbbing underneath you.
Herm gasped, his attention back on you instantly. His hips bucked upwards, biting on his bottom lip to muffle his sounds. You felt his throat bob against your mouth, the way he gasped aloud when you grinded harder on him, and the strangled vibrations from his throat as he groaned lightly.
But that wasn't the only thing you felt.
Robert's gaze bore into you from the side, growing heavy and dark each second that passed.
A rush of heat surged through you, licking its way up your spine like wildfire. You never thought having someone else watch could be this thrilling. The thought of them just looking, never allowing contact, excited you in a way that fueled your body. And you weren't the only one, it seemed. You didn't fail to notice how Herm's eyes occasionally fluttered open to glance at Robert's direction, his cheeks deepening in color whenever they locked gazes.
Oh, you knew your little lover's secret.
You were well-aware of his previous crush on the dispatcher, it's why you were curious how he'd react to your suggestion. It wasn't that subtle how Herm followed Robert around back then, and everyone knew it. You should know. Before you, he tailed the former hero and stuck to his side the most when he was still the janitor. And it's why he constantly avoided you too, using Robert as a means to escape you.
That gave you an idea.
“Isn't Herm so perfect, sir?” You cast a mischievous look at his direction. “You should see how well he takes it. Doesn't even complain about what I do to him. He's such a good boy.”
On cue, Herm lets out a keening whine.
Robert hummed, appraising Herm through a half-lidded stare. “I suppose he is. You always the one in charge?”
Nodding, you unclasped your bra from behind. “I am, and he doesn't mind it.”
The moment your bra was removed and dropped to the floor, Herm didn't waste a second before one of his hands was on your breast and his mouth was on the other. He moaned into you, sucking on your skin and nipple. The sensation pooled warmth in your stomach, sighing wistfully into the air as your fingers threaded across his damp strands.
“Let's change that,” Robert drawled, causing you to look at him in confusion. “Waterboy, stop what you're doing.”
Immediately, Herm froze in his place and retreated away from you. “Sir?”
A pleased hum emitted from the dispatcher, russet hued irises sweeping down your body. “From now on, you both obey me. I'm going to teach you how to make her finish. Learn how to take the reins every once in a while. Is that clear?”
You blinked in surprise, while Herm gulped and nodded frantically.
“Ye–Yes, sir!”
“Good. Night, get up.”
Amused by his domineering energy, you quietly followed his command by slipping out of Herm's lap and standing right in front of him. He didn't know which to focus on, your exposed chest or Robert's steel gaze, shifting his attention back and forth. His hands paused in mid-air, trembling slightly, but he made no move to touch you without Robert's order.
“You know what to do,” The dispatcher nodded at your pants, staring up at you through those long lashes. “All of it. When you're done, go back on his lap. And don't move.”
Fuck.
Filled with excitement, you unbuttoned your pants and made a show of bending over to remove it. You even included your underwear for extra measure, slipping the piece down your legs and holding it up by your finger once it was off.
You flung the article at Robert, who caught the piece in one hand.
Winking at him, you straddled Herm’s lap again. “A little souvenir for later.”
He didn't look anywhere but you as he pocketed it in his pants. “Thanks. I'll be sure to put it to good use.”
Now completely bare, you shivered against the cool air. “So, now what?”
For a moment, silence hangs between the spaces. The kind of silence you can hear somehow. The kind that clung to your skin like honey, thick and heavy, and stuck at the back of your throat. Robert didn't even hide the way he stared at your body, making sure you saw how his eyes lingered on every skin. On every visible mark, on every faded scar, on each unhealed bruises scattered along your chest and thighs—something that definitely did not come from any battles but from bed.
He did a quick work of removing them, dropping the soaked items on the floor, before he looked at Robert. He didn’t have to wait very long, because Robert nodded and proceeded with the next command.
“You know how to please her?” Herm nodded again, to which the dispatcher looked satisfied by. “Good. How do you do it?”
The blush on Herm’s cheeks reached his ears, and you fought off the giggle at the sight. Oh, you know how he does it. Because most of the time, he didn't do anything but please. Lets you use him however you like, praise him enough to build confidence and take more, but never enough to steal the control out of your grasp. You supposed it was just his nature to be the submissive one, but you also didn't mind changing the dynamics.
And Robert planned to exploit that.
The retired hero repeated the question again, causing Herm to flinch. “Uh, we– No, I just let her teach me how. And I'll. . . I'll just follow, sir.”
Robert clicked his tongue, seeming disappointed by that. “Alright, first lesson. How to use your fingers. You have long ones, they're the perfect tools you can use in order to control her pleasure. Start by touching her, anywhere you want, except down there. Understand?”
Herm gulped, nodded once, and you grinned when the first part he touched were your breasts.
“Now, touch her. Slowly. Study which areas she's most sensitive. Remember them.”
Those hands, damp from sweat or water, began caressing your skin gently.
You relaxed into his touch, arching closer for a wordless encouragement. He took it as a sign to continue, his previous nerves melting away as his touch grew from experimental to explorative. Not that he needed that anymore, but every time he touched your body—it was like the first time all over again. Always with a kind of tenderness that made you smile, but with a type of greed that caused you to gasp.
Right now, you simply basked in the lulling sensation from his palms.
“Good,” You forgot Robert's presence there for a second, almost startling in surprise at the sound of his gravelly voice. “One hand on her neck, feel her pulse under her skin. When your hand moves, your mouth follows. Understand?”
Herm nodded, his gaze still fixed on you. “Yes, sir.”
His right hand left your skin, and the other remained on your neck. A swipe of his thumb brushed the spot where your pulse raced. A featherlight kiss pressing on the same area, as soft as the whisper murmured into your skin. You're so beautiful. He didn't stop there, everywhere his hand touched, his lips were there to follow with a kiss. On your throat, along your collarbones, your shoulder, up underneath your ear, tracing a path to your jaw, before finding your lips like home.
Herm stole the shuddering air from your mouth when he covered it with his, molding himself into you. Unlike your previous acts, this version of him didn't surrender. He leads. Through the way he kissed you, pushing deeper in every tilt of his head and breath you exhaled. The way he led the kiss contrasted yours—soft yet firm, like he was guiding you to learn instead of controlling how.
The heat on your skin simmered in gentle embers, never overwhelming but still consuming.
His hand travelled down to your neck again, and his kiss tracked the same path it took. The sigh you released dulled into a low hum of his name, light and airy, and Herm moaned into your skin.
From the side, you heard a similar sound escape from Robert.
Lower. Heavier. Darker.
Opening your eyes, you asked. “Permission to move, sir?”
You wanted to glance over to look at his state, was he affected by your show or did he still have that same impassive look from earlier? The temptation almost won, until Herm bit on the junction between your neck and shoulder, causing your eyes to snap shut and moan quietly.
You heard a shuffle and a sharp curse, but still you didn't dare to look.
“Permission granted.”
Did he sound more strained than usual?
Must be your imagination.
Not thinking much of it, you took that permission and began on your earlier motion. Your bare center dragged across his wetsuit, whether from your own arousal or his power, the friction became relatively easier to move along his hardened length. Both of you gasped in unison, Herm whimpering against your shoulder and you were cursing brokenly into the air.
“She's growing needier,” It was as if Robert's voice was directly next to your ear, carrying another kind of heat that scorched instead of melted. “Take your other hand, and put it on her thigh. Go up until you reach her inner thigh. Don't touch her there yet, she needs to work for it.”
Herm peered down at your open thighs, breathing a little faster now. “Work for it? Sir?”
Oh, this was getting interesting.
Robert hummed, you could feel him staring at you this time. “Yes, she needs to earn the right to come. Don't you think so too, Night?”
“Of course I do–”
“Manners.”
“Yes, I do. . . sir.”
“Good girl.”
Fuck. Your core clenched around nothing, flushing at the praise. Okay, I get it now, Vis. Come get your man before we take him for ourselves.
Without another word, you felt Herm's hand glide across your thigh. Your movements didn't cease, still moving back and forth against him while he went back to laying kisses on your skin.
The moment stretched on for a little longer. Rocking against each other, both of your hands wandering, and moaning into each other's mouths. Following Robert's words, Herm kneaded and caressed your thighs in a slow, tantalizing manner. It drove you crazy how high he'll go—teasing the inside of your thighs, a finger almost grazing the area where you needed him the most—only to pull back and start again.
You were almost tempted to stop moving out of spite just so he could give you what you want. But then you remembered Robert standing there, his words ringing in your ears.
“She needs to earn the right to come.”
Oh.
He wanted you to beg?
Fine, you could do that. For now.
Gasping, you let your eyes flutter open and glance his way.
“Please,” You almost smirked in triumph at his sharp inhale, the way his pupils dilated and darkened. “Please, let him touch me. Please, Robert.”
The dispatcher fixed you a stern glare, trying to display dominance, but you could see the flicker of hesitation there. Good, it means you have a chance of cracking him. Just keep up with the act, make him believe he has the control here. He might believe that illusion, but if you played his cards right, you might be able to play your own right under his nose.
And so, you played the part.
Be helpless and desperate.
You gasped their names, pleading for them, and rocked yourself a little faster on Herm. Every time you felt him throb against you, you’d let out that little high-pitch whine. Every time his hand ventured too close to your folds, you’d sob and cling your arms around his neck. And with each mark your partner left on your skin, you’d repeat that word. That one word that can cause you more trouble or get you want you want.
Please.
Both men struggled to maintain their own composure in check. Ragged breathing, wild dark gazes, and tension so thick you almost suffocated. It was the first time for both men to see and hear you in this way. Herm has never seen you this pliant before, always the one in charge. While Robert never saw you in this light—writhing for pleasure, begging for more, skin bare and flushed underneath pale fluorescent lights. A stark contrast to the coy attitude you give him during missions, now gone in place for a role you weren’t familiar with.
But it seemed to be working in your favour.
Herm was struggling to ignore you now, his hands constantly flexed and paused on your thighs each time you whimpered louder. The way he shifted his gaze towards Robert, pleading for him too silently. To do something, to do anything.
“Please,” Your sob broke out in a quiet plea. “Please, Herm. Robert. I can’t– Please, touch me. I’ll be good.”
It was Herm who cracked first, grasping your hips tighter to stop his hands from slipping lower. “Oh, you are. You’re so– doing so good, honey. Ri–Right, sir?”
Robert exhaled, shakier than normal, his voice as dark as the morning coffee he always drank. “Maybe she is. Or maybe she’s just acting. Do you really want to be touched, sweetheart?”
Nodding furiously, you stared up at him through teary-eyed and half-lidded lashes. “Yes, sir. I want to. Please, sir.”
“You promise to be good?”
“I do. I am.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I promise. Just please, sir.”
Robert watched you for a moment, a muscle in his jaw flexing. He almost tore through the sleeves of his shirt with how hard he’s been clawing his biceps. His eyes lingered on you, on your body, and the slick mess you’ve made on Herm’s lap.
His silence unnerved you, causing your movements to halt and wait for his next one.
Then—
“Touch her.”
“Sir?”
“You can touch her.”
“Ho–How do I–”
“Use your fingers,” Robert raised his own, curving his middle finger. “Slip it between her legs. Feel how soaked she is. That's your second lesson.”
Herm did just that, a little too eagerly. The shuddering gasp he produced drowned yours the moment his long finger slid between your folds, tracing a path from your entrance up to your clit.
Cursing, you ground yourself on his hand. “Fuck, yes. Please. More.”
“You heard her,” Robert murmured, adjusting his pants discreetly. “I trust you know where the clit is?”
Herm made a frazzled noise. “I do– I know where it is. She showed me where–”
“Run your finger around that spot. Gently with your thumb.” His voice dropped an octave—velvet, deep, and alluring—the kind of tune that could elicit the most dangerous crimes known to man just by his words alone.
Robert did have a power.
And that was his fucking voice.
If he asked you to kill someone, you don't think you'd hesitate. With that fucking voice, you'd do anything he'd ask in a heartbeat. And it seemed like that was the same case for Herm. The poor man can barely hold his own sanity. The blush on his cheeks never left, blooming brighter each time words slipped out of Robert's mouth—like silk strips of sin and salvation.
“Now take your middle and ring finger,” The dispatcher sounded closer, like he was peering over your shoulder to watch, or maybe he really was. “And slide it into her.”
Fuck.
The moment his long fingers breached past your entrance, the three of you sighed. It never felt like this before, even by your own hand. Admittedly, this was the first time Herm pleasured you in this way. Now, you were regretting holding off of this for so long. Somehow, with someone else guiding the moment, everything flowed smoothly. As smooth as Herm's fingers entering you deeper, the faint slick sounds could rival an explosion with how loud it was in the locker room.
Tossing your head back, your eyes flew open at the unexpected surface behind you.
You were right.
Robert was closer. Just directly behind you, knelt on one knee, using his shoulder to rest your head, chest pressed to your back.
And you didn't even hear him move.
His breath was just next to your ear, rough and ragged, provoking goosebumps on your skin as he spoke again.
“There you go,” His chest rumbled from his dark chuckle, vibrating against your back. “Do it nice and slow. When you pull out, curl them up. Don't stop your thumb. Keep a steady rhythm.”
“Yes, sir.” Herm physically didn't know where to look.
Your flushed face, his fingers disappearing inside you, or to Robert, who was watching everything with a darkening gaze. Your lover kept his pace steady, now curling his fingers out, before sliding them back just to repeat the action. This was a fucking dream. It honestly felt like one. You honestly can't believe this was happening, this was not how you expected your night to go—but complaining was the last thing on your mind right now.
You writhed on Herm's lap, grinding back into his fingers. “Fuck. Fuck. Don't stop. Please.”
Your plan was quickly deteriorating, and you found yourself surrendering to the both of them. Behind you, Robert's chest vibrated again from another deep hum. No doubt sensing your compliance. In front of you, Herm trembled in anticipation, watching you turn your head and muffle your sounds at the dispatcher’s collar.
His fingers sped up, arching up inside, making sure to scrape his fingertips against the upper walls. The thumb on your clit swirled in a way that made your mind go blank.
Lips, dry and chapped, teased the shell of your ear.
With a hoarse rasp, he spoke.
“Permission to touch you?”
You nodded, squirming even more. “Yes, please.”
In an instant, another set of hands met your waist. Rough, calloused, filled with scars that told stories. Those palms wandered over your stomach, before ascending to your breasts and massaging the flesh gently.
Robert’s voice rang again underneath your ear—strained, barely controlled, and laced with a thinly veiled desperation.
“Permission to kiss you?”
Shit.
“Yes,” Your mouth fell open, gasping at the tantalizing glide of his lips down your neck. “Oh, fuck.”
On one shoulder, Robert busied himself tasting your skin. Licking your neck, murmuring quiet praises, inhaling your scent. And on the other side, Herm copied the same treatment. Compared to Robert's curious mouth, he danced around your skin with familiarity. He knew which area made your breath hitch, how hard he should bite to get you to clench around him, and how hard he should suck to have you coming faster.
The two were polar opposites—rough and soft, coarse and smooth—but somehow they blended perfectly together.
Their lips travelled along your shoulders, then to your throat, until their lips finally met and you smiled victoriously.
Herm whimpered into his lips, and Robert grunted in return.
One of his hands let go your breast to cradle Herm's cheek, to which urged your boyfriend to melt and whine into the kiss. Meanwhile, his pace never faltered inside you. Curling out, sliding back in, repeating the process until the warmth in your lower belly sparked into a hot coil.
“Ah, shit.”
You leaned forward, burying your face into Herm's neck. His pulse was running wild against your cheek, and you kissed the mole below his jaw just to feel it stutter.
The coil tightened. The blood in your veins coursed with molten heat. Every sound they made, every strained curse from Robert and hushed whine from Herm. It only fueled the coil inside you, bringing you closer to the edge of pleasure.
“You're close, aren't you?” You almost missed Robert's question, spoken near your ear again in that low rumble. “Fuck, look at you. Must be so soaked and tight by now.”
“She is,” Herm added softly, gazing down at you in both awe and desire. “She's so tight. Feels tighter now. Don't worry, honey. I–I got you.”
You surged forward, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss. “Herm, fuck. So close. Don't stop.”
A stubbled chin grazed your nape. “You heard her. Don't you fucking stop.”
“Yes, sir.”
Robert began kissing your nape. Hands returning to your breasts. A hot tongue licking its way down between your shoulder blades.
Everything felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. You wanted more, but you feel like you were about to shatter any second now. If you continued this further, someone was bound to discover the three of you. It was a miracle no one has stumbled on the scene this late into the night. Not even by the rest of the janitors. Or maybe one already did and fled the room quickly.
You wouldn't even be surprised if Vis was here, hiding in the shadows.
Herm stopped curling his fingers, removed his thumb, and started fucking you in long, deep strokes.
The sudden change jolted your body, but Robert held you down to force you to take it.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“That's not our names, sweetheart.”
“Hermy– Oh, fuck. Robert.”
“That's it. Just our names. Focus on us.”
While Robert talked you through the heightening climax, Herm covered your mouth with his when your volume started to increase. The pressure kept on building, and you started fucking yourself back to his fingers.
“You're doing so– Oh, so good, honey.”
“Let go, sweetheart.”
When you heard them whisper your name in tandem, the coil snapped and heat exploded behind your closed eyelids. Your body arched between theirs, convulsing in breathless tremors. There was ringing in your ears, deafening everything around you into a white noise. When you finally came to, all you could hear was the sounds of heavy breathing, the slickness from your folds as Herm unsheathed his fingers, and the soft curse from Robert beside your head.
You opened your eyes just in time to see the latter grasping the former’s hand by his wrist, his tongue sliding in between lithe fingers—groaning at the taste of your release and lapping the remaining spend dripping from Herm's knuckles.
The latter parted, sighing wistfully. “Sorry, couldn't help myself. You taste good, though.”
You snickered, while Herm nodded fervently in agreement. “She does! That's why I like– I also enjoy it when she lets me–”
“Don't tell him that,” You pushed his face away, giggling tiredly as the exhaustion crept up your body. “Okay, that was a wild ride boys. Same time next week?”
Robert rolled his eyes, and Herm sputtered in bewilderment.
The former hero patted your hip lightly.
“Go clean up and head home,” He directed a pointed look at Herm, his tone hardening. “I mean it now.”
The water hero saluted, breaking into a cooked grin. “Yes, sir!”
Before Robert left the two of you alone, you heard him advise again.
"Lesson three. What happens in the locker room, stays in the locker room."
Several minutes later, you cleaned up in the shower rooms and dressed yourself in borrowed clothes from Herm’s locker. The loose cashmere sweater felt heavenly on your skin, hanging off of one shoulder and almost dwarfing your upper body if it didn't stop at your thighs.
While waiting for your boyfriend, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone to pass the time.
A notification dropped from the edge of your screen, and you clicked on it as soon as you saw Vis’ contact name.
From Invisi(bitch)baby
– you greedy bitch
You raised an eyebrow at the following middle finger, then grinned in realization. So, your intuition was correct. She was there earlier. Mostly watching the whole show from start to finish. You knew those footsteps you distinctly heard while you came undone weren't your imagination.
To Invisi(bitch)baby
– well hello to you too
– now what's up?
From Invisi(bitch)baby
– Had fun in there?
– You could've at least invited me
– No fair
– >:((
You were about to type in your next reply, when Herm appeared at the end of the hallway.
He ran towards you, wearing that adorable smile, then pressed a kiss on your cheek. “Ready to go, hon?”
Nodding, you slipped your fingers between his and smiled back. “All set. Let's get home. For real this time.”
The two of you exited the building together, as if nothing had happened in the locker room. Robert had gone home himself, carrying Beef and giving the two of you a casual nod before he left. As you two walked together, you sent another message to your roommate before you pocketed your phone.
Summary: You’ve been admiring Robert from afar since you were kids, but always kept your distance because of your powers. Can a pair of intruders change everything?
Words: 4,042
Pairing: Robert Robertson III x afab!reader
Warning(s): Mild harm to the reader, slander against the reader mentioned
You tell yourself you’re not staring at Robert.
You fail spectacularly.
You don’t just stare- you track him like he’s magnetic and you’re made of loose scraps. It’s humiliating, really.
He’s walking a half-step ahead of you through the SDN HQ corridor, his hair doing that soft, ridiculous swoop over his forehead. The one that always looks like he accidentally stepped out of a shampoo commercial.
His gait is casual, almost weightless, but you’ve known him long enough to catch the tiny tells- the way his shoulders tense when he senses you’re deep in thought, the way his brows knit when he thinks you’re worrying again.
Every time he glances back to check if you’re still behind him, you pretend you were looking somewhere totally normal, like the wall, or the ceiling, or the fire suppression panel you have memorized down to the screws. Your stomach swoops like you’re stepping off a ledge.
It’s pathetic.
And you are painfully aware of it.
He slows down.
You force your lungs to move. You don’t want him to notice how tense you are. Not today.
“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Robert says, slowing just enough that your hands almost brush. “Is this a contemplative silence? A dramatic silence? Or a ‘Robert, you’re walking too fast and I don’t want to admit it’ silence?”
You shake your head quickly, too quickly.
“Just thinking.”
He raises one eyebrow, skeptical in the way only Robert can manage, soft, but impossibly perceptive.
“About?”
You refuse to answer. Because the real answer is you- the way your shoulders look like trouble in that shirt, the way your smile has been a permanent fixture in my brain since we were six, and the way I want to accidentally-on-purpose touch your arm but I’m terrified you’ll think I’m using my voice.
“Nothing important,” you say instead.
Robert makes a skeptical noise. “Sure.”
He doesn’t buy it. Of course he doesn’t. He’s known you since you were six and he’d fallen into a creek trying to impress you with his rock-skipping skills. You’d pulled him out by the collar and accidentally told him- commanded him- to stop shivering. He’d stopped instantly. And you had spent years pretending you didn’t remember that.
His shoulder bumps yours, light and warm, and you swallow hard. Your powers do absolutely nothing to help with whatever chemical disaster happens in your bloodstream when he’s this close.
You appreciate that he doesn’t push. You’re grateful. And guilty. Because what’s weighing on you is harder to explain than exhaustion.
It’s the noise.
The constant noise.
Earlier this morning, you’d tried to slip past the crowd of reporters unnoticed, hood up, sunglasses on. You weren’t using your voice. You weren’t even humming. You were doing everything you could to appear boring, normal, decidedly non-hypnotic.
They still swarmed you.
You didn’t tell the others. You never tell the others.
Especially not Robert.
Because the last thing you want is to give him- or any of them- the idea that the tabloids might have planted in their heads: that maybe the camaraderie they feel around you is manufactured, that maybe you’re making them like you, trust you, rely on you.
You aren’t. But they don’t know that.
And the reporters won’t stop suggesting it.
They shout things like:
“Give the public a demonstration, sweetheart! Tell me to bark like a dog!”
“If you’re not controlling them, prove it.”
“Why do you think Robertson’s always near you?”
“Blink twice if she’s got you under her spell!”
You want to scream. Literally. You want to rip open the air with a supersonic blast and watch their microphones shatter like frozen glass.
Instead you swallowed everything down, shoulders tight, and walked away.
But the words lodged under your ribs like shrapnel.
Robert’s brows pull together in concern, the same look he had when you scraped your knees falling off his bike at age ten and he insisted on carrying you home even though you only lived three houses away.
You force a smile, a weak, brittle thing.
He holds the door for you as you enter the break room, and warm light spills over him, catching the bronze flecks scattered in the deep brown of his eyes. You pretend you don’t notice. You always pretend you don’t notice- because you cannot afford to want anything too loudly.
Not with your powers. Not with him.
Not when the tabloids have spent the last three months calling you The SDN Siren like it’s a slur, acting like every polite nod or diplomatic victory is secretly mind-control.
The moment Robert steps in, he is greeted with a chorus of:
“Rooobert!”
“Bobby boy!”
“Tell me you finally beat your pathetic punching bag record!”
Then you walk in behind him- and the tone changes. Several heads turn, like wolves scenting a fresh weakness.
“You missed the reporters again.” Flambae says, mug still raised to his lips.
Your pulse spikes. “What?”
“They were screaming your name an hour ago,” Malevola says from beside the microwave. “Really persistent today. Something about mind-controlling the mayor? And maybe seducing half the SDN?”
You groan into your hands, a nervous habit unintentionally picked up from Robert.
Flambae smirks. “Hey, at least they think you’re powerful. They’re terrified you’ll make us all fall in love with you.”
You shoot him a look so sharp it could peel paint.
Punch Up laughs. “Terrified or jealous- hard to tell with the press.”
Robert steps in front of you so fast it steals your breath- an unconscious, protective movement.
“She’s not manipulating anyone.”
The room goes dead quiet.
He said it so quickly. So firmly. Like it wasn’t even a question.
Robert’s ears turn pink. “I’m stating a fact. She doesn’t use her powers like that.”
Punch Up raises his brows. “Do the tabloids know that?”
Your stomach twists.
You didn’t tell them anything.
You didn’t tell them what the reporters said. Or how harshly they said it.
Or how a cameraman called you a walking hazard with a pretty face.
You glance at Robert.
He gives you that soft, unbearably tender look, the one that makes your heart ache in places you try very, very hard to ignore.
“Hey,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Seriously. If something’s wrong-”
The worst part?
You want to tell him.
You want him to put a hand on your back and promise none of it matters. You want him to stand between you and the reporters and glare them into the pavement. You want the world to stop whispering that you might have stolen his affection with a single, accidental note.
But you can’t tell him.
You can’t risk making him think even for a second that something about your friendship- your almost-something- is built on a lie.
So you lie instead.
“I’m fine.”
Everyone looks unconvinced.
Robert gives you one of his small, skeptical smiles. “Uh-huh.”
Robert steps a half-inch closer to you- so subtle no one else seems to notice, but you feel his warmth like a blanket you didn’t know you needed.
“What happened this morning?” he asks softly.
You swallow. Hard.
Nothing happened, you want to say.
Everything happened, you almost say.
They cornered me - they shouted at me- they asked if you were under my spell- they asked me to prove I wasn’t manipulating you- they said you weren’t safe with me-
Instead, you say: “Nothing.”
Malevola hums thoughtfully, tapping her fingers together. “Well, whatever happened, it’s clearly upset you.” Her eyes slide between you and Robert. “And Robert cares. A lot. Enough to be defensive on your behalf.”
Robert turns crimson.
“I’m just stating facts,” he mutters.
Malevola smirks. “Sweetheart. That’s not facts. That’s devotion.”
Robert nearly combusts.
You nearly do, too.
Flambae gives a lazy little wave of his fingers. “Alright, lovebirds. Go be flustered and repressed somewhere else. Some of us are trying to enjoy our coffee without choking on secondhand yearning.”
Waterboy cackles. Sonar doesn’t even look up, but his eyebrow twitches, which is basically a belly laugh for him.
Robert clears his throat so hard it sounds painful. “We- we weren’t- okay, you know what? We’re leaving.”
You’re already backing toward the door.
He follows you out with a speed that would be comical if your heart weren’t hammering so violently.
The door swings shut behind you, sealing off the teasing, the laughter, the scrutiny, leaving you and Robert alone in the quieter corridor. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead; the hum of distant machinery thrums beneath the floor.
You take a breath.
It barely scratches the panic.
Robert walks beside you, one hand hovering like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure he’s allowed. You’re too aware of him- how warm his body feels even inches away, how he glances over at you every few steps like he’s afraid you might disappear if he looks away too long.
“Hey,” he says softly. “You know… you don’t have to pretend with me.”
The words almost stop your heart.
You keep walking.
Because if you stop, you’ll have to look him in the eyes, and if you look him in the eyes, you’ll want things you’re terrified of wanting. Things you’re afraid to even think too loudly.
You know how fragile your voice can be. How easy it would be to tip from speaking to influencing.
Robert’s steps slow until you’re matching pace again. His shoulder brushes yours, not an accident. Not this time.
“You can talk to me,” he murmurs.
You swallow. “Robert-”
“It’s just… you looked scared earlier.”
Your chest tightens sharply.
You weren’t scared of the reporters, not really.
You were scared of what they implied. Scared he might someday believe it.
Scared of the possibility that the person you’ve loved quietly for years might think he only loves you because your voice nudged him toward it.
“Robert,” you repeat, softer. “I said I’m fine.”
He frowns, slowing to a stop in the hallway. You stop, too, because you always do when he does.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I can’t,” you whisper, almost too quietly for sound.
His brows knit. “Why not?”
Because I don’t want you to doubt anything real between us. Because I don’t want you to think I’m dangerous. Because I don’t want to hurt you. Because you matter too much.
Because I love you.
You open your mouth- and the hallway lights flicker.
Robert’s head snaps up.
“Did you see-?”
You hear it before he does.
A sharp, unnatural clang echoes from deeper in the HQ- metal against metal, not part of any SDN machinery you’ve learned to filter out. The vibration bites at the edge of your senses, sending the faintest itch across your eardrums.
Something is wrong.
Your breath catches. “Robert.”
He hears it now too. His posture changes instantly- shoulders squared, stance ready, eyes alert.
Then-
A heavy, grinding metallic groan tears down the corridor from the direction of the secured lab.
Robert’s hand finds your arm without thinking when the reinforced door at the end of the hallway explodes inward.
Shards of metal and sparks spray across the tiles.
The intruder rounds the corner, clad in dark armor, face obscured, weapon raised. The air crackles with the electric threat of violence, metallic and cold. Your instincts flare before your mind can process- before Robert even has a chance to tell you to stay back.
You step forward, voice instinctively rising. Just a whisper at first, but it spreads, wrapping around the intruder like invisible chains.
“Stop.”
The word isn’t gentle. It resonates in your chest, shivers through your throat, curls in the air. And it works. The intruder jerks mid-step, weapon trembling in his hands. You push harder, tone growing, not singing, just commanding, just letting it out.
“Down!”
The figure collapses forward, knees buckling, dropping the weapon with a loud clang. Sparks scatter as it hits the floor.
The first intruder groans on the floor, struggling to rise, dazed and momentarily helpless. You know better than to give him the time to recover. One step forward, eyes narrowing, you push your voice again, higher, sharper- a note slicing through the air like glass. It’s enough to make him scream, clutch his ears, stumble backward, retreating like a marionette cut loose.
You barely notice Robert reaching for the weapon he dropped. Your focus is fixed, your senses stretching, tracking every micro-movement, every twitch in the enemy’s body.
Then, a new presence.
You spin, and the hairs on your neck stand up. Another figure, taller, more deliberate. Black tactical armor, but this one wears thick ear protection, a helmet with electronic sound-blocking gear. Your voice, your powers, all your carefully honed commands- nothing.
Robert moves instinctively in front of you, shifting into a defensive stance.
“You’re not going to get to him,” you hiss, but you know your voice is useless here.
The second intruder lunges. Robert reacts instantly, parrying with his own body’s training- precise, swift. But this one isn’t just a brute; he’s calculated. He swings a metal baton, aimed to incapacitate.
You step in, your mind racing. You can’t reach him with sound. But you can force air, manipulate vibrations. A supersonic screech tears from your throat, raw and unrefined, aimed not to control but to disorient. The corridor reverberates, lights flicker, and the intruder stumbles, just long enough for Robert to dodge a swing aimed at his ribs.
“Behind you!” you scream, heart hammering.
Robert pivots, catching the baton with a forearm, twisting, and finally striking back. You dive to the side, winded, and feel every pulse of sound you just unleashed as if it ran through your own bones.
The intruder recovers quickly, relentless.
Ear protection doesn’t stop the kinetic vibration of your voice; it just dulls it.
You grab a discarded pipe from the floor- a cold, heavy, perfect lever- and swing.
The metal clangs against the intruder’s armor. He snarls and spins, and your muscles scream in response, matching his movement with precise, careful strikes. Every step you take is calculated to keep him off-balance, every hit aimed at creating an opening, not injuring beyond what’s necessary.
Robert moves with you in perfect synchrony, like you’ve danced this dangerous choreography together a thousand times. You glance at him- sweat streaking his temple, eyes focused but always flicking to yours, checking, silent communication in a glance.
“Robert, now!” you shout, pushing your last audible command toward the first intruder. Even in his stunned state, the word makes him hesitate, creating the millisecond you need.
Robert lunges forward, taking down the second intruder with a trained throw, knocking him against the wall. The baton clatters across the floor.
Both attackers are on the ground now- one groaning, one out of commission. The hallway is thick with the smell of ozone, sweat, and fear. You’re trembling, chest heaving, every nerve raw, every instinct on edge.
You barely have time to catch your breath before a third threat materializes- a glint of metal, a flash from the corner. A gun, aimed at Robert’s chest.
Time slows. Every muscle screams at you to move, to react. Your eyes lock on the barrel. Your brain screams no, no, no- but instincts take over.
You shove Robert to the side, hard. His startled grunt is swallowed by the sharp report of the gun.
The bullet strikes you. Pain explodes along your side, searing, hot and bright. You stumble, air leaving your lungs in a ragged gasp, fingers clawing at the wall for balance.
Robert is on his feet instantly, spinning back around, eyes wide, horror breaking over his face. “No! No, no, no-”
You can’t breathe. Pain riots under your skin. Your vision doubles and blurs.
Robert scrambles to your side, hands on you before you can even think, eyes scanning, frantic. “Stay with me! Stay with me!”
You try to speak, to tell him you’re fine, but your mouth won’t form the words. Your hands tremble uncontrollably as your vision narrows to a tunnel, the edges bleeding into darkness.
“Don’t you dare- stay with me!” Robert shouts, panic sharp and slicing through the haze. You feel him cradle your head, his body pressing close, grounding you, but the warmth is distant, unreachable.
The next thing you know, everything goes black.
When your eyes open, it’s to a softer, steadier light. The hum of machinery is rhythmic and controlled, not the chaotic buzz of the hallway. You’re lying in a medical bed, sheets tucked carefully around you. Your side aches, a deep, unrelenting throb, and every breath sends sparks of fire through your ribs.
Robert is there, sitting close, one hand on yours, the other brushing hair back from your forehead. His eyes are red-rimmed, tired, but relieved. Relief and something else- something warm and hard to name- gleams in his gaze.
“You’re awake,” he says softly, voice hoarse.
You try to smile, but the motion sends a fresh wave of pain through your side. You settle for blinking up at him, throat raw, body heavy and uncooperative.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “Do you know how close that was?”
“I… I’m fine,” you rasp, though the lie tastes bitter even as it leaves your lips.
You try to sit up. He moves instinctively, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t push yourself,” he murmurs.
You exhale shallowly, letting your body sag back against the pillow, every nerve screaming. You don’t look at him. Not yet. Because if you do, you will break.
You feel the silence stretching, heavy, thick, full of all the things he isn’t saying. Finally, he does.
“You jumped in front of me.”
It’s not a question.
You stare at the ceiling tiles instead.
“Why would you do that?” His voice is low, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “Why would you- why would you risk yourself like that?”
Your throat feels raw and dry, your tongue thick, words stuck. You don’t want to answer. You don’t want to let instinct slip and accidentally command anything.
He leans closer. Closer enough that you feel the warmth of him without touching.
“Talk to me.”
You flinch. He sees it. And the corner of his mouth tightens, that little crease of worry forming in the middle of his face, the expression you’ve memorized since childhood.
“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m not asking because I’m angry. I’m asking because I’m scared.”
Your chest tightens.
He shifts onto the edge of the med bay bed, close enough that you feel the warmth of his knee brushing yours. He lowers his voice even further, each word measured, careful.
“I know you’re careful. I know you hold yourself back. I know you try not to use your powers unless you absolutely have to.” His eyes search yours. “But why won’t you talk to me?”
You exhale shakily.
He waits.
And waits.
And that patience- that infuriating, gentle patience- breaks something open in you. The dam you’ve been holding tight for years shudders.
The words slip out before you can stop them.
“I don’t want to control you.”
He freezes.
You keep going, because if you stop, you won’t start again.
“I don’t want to influence you, or make you like me, or want me, or- or anything. I can’t risk that with you. Not you.” Your hands tremble in your lap. “Every time I open my mouth, I’m terrified something will slip and you won’t even realize I changed something in you. The tabloids already think I-”
You bite down hard on the last words, but he hears them anyway.
“...the tabloids,” he repeats quietly, almost to himself.
You nod, shame twisting your stomach into knots.
Robert inhales slowly, a deep, controlled pull of air, like he’s trying not to let anger ignite too fast, like he’s collecting himself to stay steady for you.
“Show me.”
You blink, confused. “What?”
“Show me what they’re saying.”
You hesitate. He doesn’t move. Just holds out his hand.
Reluctantly- painfully- you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your phone. You scroll to the latest article you’d been obsessively avoiding showing him. Every headline a knife, every rumor a weight pressing into your chest. You hand it to him.
He reads it, his expression hardening with each sentence, each lie, each insinuation.
SIREN SEDUCTION: IS ROBERT ROBERTSON HER NEXT CONTROLLED PET?
He reads the article in full, every invented rumor, every claim that your friendship is a web of manipulation. Every accusation that you’re somehow twisting him, shaping him, holding him captive with your powers.
When he finishes, he sets the phone face-down beside you.
Several seconds pass in silence. You hold your breath, bracing for judgment, for disgust, for distance.
Instead, he says, softly “Look at me.”
You do.
And the look in his eyes is nothing like what you feared.
“Do you really think I’d mistake your voice for my feelings?” he asks gently.
Your breath shakes. “I don’t know. I can’t know. That’s the problem.”
He shakes his head, just once, with a firmness you rarely see from him.
“I’ve known you my entire life. I know exactly how you sound when you’re using your power. And I know how you sound when you’re just you.” He reaches for your hand. Slowly. Giving you time to pull away.
You don’t.
His fingers curl around yours, warm and sure.
“And I’ve liked you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “for a very long time. Long before I even understood what your powers were. Long before either of us had any idea what we’d grow into.”
Your heart stutters violently, threatening to escape your chest.
He leans closer.
“You didn’t make me love you,” he murmurs. “You couldn’t. I’m too stubborn.”
The word “love” lands in your chest like a struck bell, resonant and terrifying.
You swallow. “Robert-”
“No.” He shakes his head again, gently but firmly. “You need to hear this. And I need to say it.”
His thumb strokes the back of your hand in slow, grounding circles.
“You didn’t make me feel anything I didn’t already feel. And if you ever used your power by accident, I would know. I promise you that. I know you. I’ve always known you.”
Your eyes sting, not from the pain in your side, but from relief so sharp it might as well have been a blade.
His voice softens even more. “You saved my life today. But you don’t have to save me from loving you. That’s mine. I chose that. I keep choosing it.”
Your breath comes out in broken, uneven gasps.
“I was terrified I’d steal your choice,” you murmur.
He lifts your hand and presses his forehead to it.
“You didn’t,” he murmurs against your skin. “You never have.”
You feel something warm drip onto your knuckles.
It takes you a second to realize it’s one of his tears.
You reach up with your free hand- the one not wrapped in bandages- and cup his cheek. He leans into it like he’s been waiting years for you to touch him this way.
“I want to be with you,” he says simply. “Not because of anything you say. Not because of what you can do. But because I like who I am when I’m around you. And I like who you are.” His gaze catches yours with breathtaking clarity. “And I want you. Exactly the way you already are.”
The dam inside you breaks.
You lean forward. He meets you halfway.
Your foreheads touch first.
Then your nose brushes his.
Then- after a long, trembling pause where you both breathe the same small air- his lips press to yours.
Soft. Steady. Certain.
The kiss is not a command. It’s not an influence. It’s not your power.
It's a choice.
His. Yours. Both.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.
“Let me stay with you tonight,” he whispers.
You close your eyes. You don’t command. You don’t ask. You just whisper back:
“Okay.”
And for the first time in your life, you’re not afraid of your own voice.
SUMMARY: it's been three years since you've seen robert. your break up wasn't going to go down in history as being the most amicable but was else could you expect after spending all those years together? but despite the souring end of your relationship towards the end, and all the years that have passed, there's something still there. lurking under the surface of all the hesitancy and skepticism. is the spark worth tending to? or will you both burn?
PAIRING: robert robertson x hero! afab!reader, slight robert robertson x invisigal
CONTENT: childhood friends to lovers, to exes to..lovers? multipart series, reader has a hero name (Lume, Luminara), reader has a background and some trauma to be uncovered, loss of a parent, slight description of an unnamed illness, reader does not have a relationship with their mother, slow burn, slight canon/timeline divergence eventual smut, mild angst (for now), robert can be a bit of a dick, no use of Y/N, pronouns used: they/them, little to no description of body type, and no description of complexion
WORD COUNT: 10K.
a/n: welcome to the series! super excited to have this out and see how you all enjoy it. this is my first gn/afab reader so if there's anything I missed in here please point it out to me! along with any missed tags as well! I hope you enjoy and lmk what we're thinking so far! all banner creds are in the tags, and more detailed credits at the end of the work!
An infinite amount of thoughts run rampant in your mind at any given moment. It wards sleep away from you half the nights of the week, it distracts you from your daily routine, and slowly takes more and more away from you every passing day. You fear that you may never be able to find a way to silence them. But the one that always manages to push itself through the crowd to make itself known is: whether or not your father would be proud of you.
You were on the edge of eighteen when your father passed. The man you knew, larger than life and full of energy, was taken away from you far before he died. In the end, he was bedridden, thin, and paled, but he still managed to find the energy to show how much he loved you every time you came to visit him. Your logical mind tries to undo all the damage that’s been inflicted upon you by saying, Of course, he would be proud of you. That your hiatus from hero work doesn’t erase all the good you’ve done - the work, the blood, sweat, and the tears you put in this life; that despite it all, you’re still a hero. Logically, you know that he would be. But you still can’t find it in yourself to believe it.
The third anniversary of your hiatus is approaching fast. In three months in six days, it will mark three years since you’ve been active in hero work. The thought always weighs on you heavier whenever it gets closer to the date, but that doesn’t mean you don’t sit with it every day. And with the anniversary on the rise, it also means that the news articles recapping your career, your task force, and questioning whether or not you’ll ever return to hero work will flood your feed and newspaper stands in no time. You think that you’ve learned to hide the fact that you’re on the verge of drowning very well, but everyone in the office has learned how to tell exactly when it finally sinks in for you.
Blonde Blazer brings you coffee and, coincidentally, can’t finish her breakfast pastries. Galen offers to pick up the random dispatcher position that opens up when he can tell you’re really down. His attempts at being nonchalant, the shrug, and his “More work makes it easier for me not to watch the clock. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor, Lume,” are weak at best, but you like to let him believe he got one over on you. And Chase ups the ante on how often he hounds you about hiring another official dispatcher for the Z-Team. You know he means well - you know that they all mean well. But you can’t take on another person to look after right now. Especially when you know just how likely it is that within a week, you’d be in the same position you are right now, taking over as dispatcher instead of assisting Blazer in teaching your rehabilitating new heroes.
The sun reflecting off the glass windows of the SDN building hurts your eyes, but still, you take the moment to let it warm your skin. You’re tired of carrying this weight. You feel it in your bones, in the deepest part of your soul. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to shake it; it clings to you. It’s attached itself to you in ways you didn’t even realize, embedded itself, and taken root so deep you feel as though you’ll feel it forever. You didn’t know just how much being a hero had become such a fundamental part of how you viewed yourself until you weren’t one anymore. Your hero costume feels like just that. A costume. Days like these, you feel like you're masquerading, playing make-believe, and imposing yourself on the people who are the real heroes. But in the end, what did it matter? Your watch still dings as it ticks to your clock in time, you’re still expected at work, and maybe despite it all, in the technicality, you are still-
“Luminara!” The young girl who mans the front counter sends you a bright smile and a big wave, “Good morning!”
She’s a sweet young girl, a sophomore in college who only works about three days a week. You still remember the first day you met her. Her eyes lit up, and her mouth parted as you walked in the door. She introduced herself with shaky hands and an even shakier voice. She told you that she was a big fan, that she had even met you once when she was about seven years old. That she still has the picture on her nightstand. She’ll never know just how much that moment meant to you. Or how, after that encounter, you locked yourself in your office and cried for almost an hour. Her eyes are still just as bright the first time you met her as she looks at you now. Maybe even brighter. She looks at you like you’re still a hero. It twists your gut into a knot. And you still can’t place whether it ignites something in you or drags you deeper into the abyss.
Nevertheless, you greet her the same way, passing her the Red bull and the granola bar you packed yourself for lunch. She tries to refuse it, but you’re already at the elevators, waving her off with a smile.
You sigh as the doors slide shut, thankful that you’re the only one inside. It gives you the time to mentally prepare yourself for the day. The management of the villains turned heroes, especially the Z-Team, the hovering. You don’t have the luxury of being able to feel bad about yourself. Not here and not today. It’s not fair. To your colleagues, to the members of the Phoenix Program - they deserve you at your best. So that’s what you’ll do. No matter how hard it is to distinguish the fire in your mind, you will be the best you can be for them. A few short moments later, the elevator dings, and you open your eyes. The doors slide open, and Chase stands at the ready just outside, hands locked behind his back.
“Well, well,” he says, “real gracious of you to finally show your face.”
“Chase, it’s 8:06,” you reply.
All Chase does is huff through his nose and begin his regular track of following after you.
“Still late. Another minute and I woulda called in for a wellness check.”
You’ve known Chase since you were a child, still notching your height on the doorframes in the house you were born in. Your father was a busy man before his illness stole his life from him. He was California’s top hero and a part of the Brave Brigade, so the majority of his time was spoken for. And your mother had other places she would have rather been than be at home raising you. So in came Chase. The youngest member of the Brigade and the unwilling babysitter of both you and Robert. Half of your childhood was spent with the two of them, bouncing back and forth between your and Robert’s houses, driving Chase up the wall with your antics. Chase likes to tell you that this is your karma. Payback for all the years you spent on his heels, driving him crazy with the thousands of questions you badgered him with. And he tells you that he has a lot to pay back.
“Har, Har. Another year and I’m buying you a Life Alert, old man.”
“Fuck you,” he says, “Always were a little punk.”
You smirk and swallow down a chuckle. He’s always been so easy to piss off.
“And yet, who’s following who?”
Chase grumbles in his acquired old man fashion, but still follows you down the hallway. You would find it odd that he didn’t have a quick quip up his sleeve to throw at you. Had you not known him as well as you did. Chase likes to have the last word. Unless he has something else he wants to bring up. You know that it’s coming. Because at this point, it’s routine, teetering on the edge of being a comedic bit. He asks you whether or not you’re ready to give in. You tell him no. He rants and he raves about how you’re too fuckin’ stubborn for your own good. How you’re gonna run yourself into the ground. You think that’s what your father would’ve wanted? For you to work yourself to death inside of a sad, gray fuckin’ cubicle? All good points, in his defense. But you still tell him no, that you don’t do sidekicks and wander off to find some work to occupy you. Which is never hard at SDN.
“Don’t even start.”
He lets out a grumbled sigh, and you hear the pitter-patter of his feet pick up pace as you near the cubicles.
“You know it’s time, kid. You can’t keep going like this. And I ain’t gonna be around forever to take care of your sniveling little ass. Shit! I’ve spent too long doing it already! So why don’t you stop being a pain in my ass and give this old man a break, huh?”
You force yourself to chuckle. Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.
“Chase, really, I’m perfectly fine! I got it all managed!” Your head cranes over your shoulder to look at him as you round the corner. “And like I always say, I don’t do sidekicks-”
The sight makes you rebound into a full stop, Chase nearly crashing into your back at the sudden cease in movement. The cubicle you mentally prepared to sit at for the entirety of your day is filled. A man sits in the chair you bought out of pocket, clad in an SDN distributed button-up that looks to be about a size too big, hunched over the desk, pressing randomly at the buttons of the dispatcher monitor. But it’s not the fact that there seems to be a new Z-Team Dispatcher that stumps you. It’s the familiar stature, the body language, the fluff of auburn hair. For a moment, you sit in denial. A lot of people have hair that color. A lot of people are lean, a lot of people slouch, and a lot of people poke and prod at things they’re unfamiliar with. And even though you try to convince yourself that you’ve just seen someone who happened to look like him, you feel it in your gut. It’s not a wonder, it’s a fact.
You don’t need him to turn around; you don’t need the confirmation. You just know. Because you’ve learned everything there is to know about him. You learned the arch of his neck, the part of his hair, the curve of his shoulders. The tips of your fingers tingle at the phantom memory of how he felt against your skin. You remember everything about him. Every freckle, every burn, and scar. Every bump and ridge, and missing piece. You retained every lesson given about his body, his silent language, his soul. No matter the size of the room or the number of people who filled it, you could always find Robert. It was strange, really. The gravitational pull that tethered the two of you to each other. The one that is clearly still alive because, unprompted, Robert turns in the swivel chair, takes the headset off, and turns to you.
And for a moment, it feels as though the world stops spinning. Everyone else in the room seems to blur out of frame, and it’s just you and Robert left. You, Robert, and the halo the traitorous sun casts upon him.
It’s been three years since you’ve seen Robert. Three years since you’ve seen him stand to his full height, see his lips part and his eyelashes flutter. Three years since you’ve heard his voice, and when you finally do, it hits you straight in the gut.
“Lume.”
And it’s utterly world-shattering. Hearing him call you by the name the public refers to you by and not your name. You see it form on his mouth before he takes the moment to correct himself. It sounds awkward and clumsy. Hesitant, almost. And above anything else, it sounds wrong. You can’t recall if there was ever a time he’s ever called you by your hero name outside of the public eye.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
It’s been years since you last spoke, more than the sad excuse for a text that you were angry to receive, and the pathetic drunken voicemails that you hoped he never listened to. How could he have known? There’s no way that he could have. You doubt Chase told him-
Chase.
At least the motherfucker has the decency to look a little sheepish as you turn to him, eyes flickering from you to literally anywhere else in the room. You and Robert differed in many ways, but one noticeable way was that while Robert lost touch with Chase after his father died, you grew closer to him. You talked on the phone frequently, texted regularly, and sent birthday and holiday cards every year in the mail. It was Chase who convinced you to get back out there, ten months deep into your hiatus, the one who told you about the mentorship role opening up at SDN. He’s done so much for you, you don’t believe you’ll ever be able to repay him. But all you want to do right now is send the old pruny bastard flying out the fucking window.
You force a deep, hearty breath out of your nose and point your first two fingers in his direction.
“We’re talking about this later.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.” Chase doesn’t spare a second as he scurries off to his neighboring cubicle and squeezes himself close to his desk, “This body can be fast when it wants to be.”
“You’re lucky I waited this long!” Chase adds. “I ain’t got the time to sit around and wait for you to come to your fuckin senses. So take the fuckin’ help, kid.”
Your body feels like it’s vibrating with the amount of emotions that swirl through you. Your skin heats up, and your heart bangs itself around in its cage inside your ribs. In the years passed since you’ve seen him, you’ve come to believe that if the time ever came that you did cross paths again, you wouldn’t feel this way. You imagined that you’d see him and just feel a sense of nostalgia. That by the time you saw him again, Robert would simply be a boy you grew up with. A man you shared similarities with. A part of your childhood you’d always hold dearly. Not the ex you spent almost a year mourning the life you built with him in your head, not the man who left you in such a state after the breakup that you spiraled downwards hard. So hard that you scared people. That you’d see him and your stomach wouldn’t squeeze, and your skin wouldn’t tingle. And it makes you so angry. That your own body revolts against you just at the sight of him. Even after all this time. Even after all the destruction.
Those eight years come rushing back at full force as you take him in. The nights on the couch. Wearing his old, tattered sweat pants and sharing a beer you couldn’t stand the taste of. Robert asleep on your chest, his fingers indenting in your shirt as they flexed on your waist like he was scared to lose you in his sleep. The nights where you fought in your kitchen, on opposite ends of the island, when both of you were at the ends of your ropes, and they were no longer adult conversations or you and Robert versus the problem. When they turned into you versus Robert, screaming matches and insults that ended with you crying yourself to sleep in your bedroom and Robert lying awake on the couch, unable to sleep due to the sound of your sobs reverberating off the walls.
Robert rubs at the back of his neck in an anxious habit. There’s a look on his face that’s a mixture of hope and hesitance, and the question you’d been dreading tumbles out of his mouth.
“It’s been a while…how have you been?”
You don’t know how to answer that.
Should you be honest? Tell him that you’re tired? That you’re stuck in what feels like a constant state of fight or flight, that you spend half of your time reckoning with the fact that you don’t know if you’ll ever have what it takes to be a hero again after what happened to you, that going the trauma you did and your breakup right after the other changed you on a fundamental level? That seeing him now for the first time in three years, now working at the same place you do, makes you feel things you don’t know how to explain yet. Or do you smile at him, be polite, and tell him you’re doing fine?
And despite the mask you have on, he can tell.
“Loaded question, I know. Probably isn’t the best thing I could’ve said. Sorry.”
He lets out an awkward chuckle, but your heart still squeezes at the sound.
“It’s fine, Robert. Have you met the Z-Team?” You ask.
His eyebrows pop to his hairline, then he blinks and sputters,
“I, uh- No, not yet,” he scrambles to take his seat and put his headset back on. “You’ve worked with them before?”
He looks up at you for your answer. Flashing those soft brown eyes at you, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks. It makes you want to run your fingers through his hair, feel him lean into your touch, and have him kiss your palm. It’s instinctual. An instinct you thought you’d shaken years ago. And you decide at that moment that it’s better not to look directly at him.
“You can say that. They’re definitely an acquired taste.”
“They’re a gaggle fuck group of jackasses if that’s what you mean by an acquired taste,” Chase calls over the wall.
You can’t help but chuckle at Chase’s commentary. As much as you want to be professional, Chase’s words held some truth. Robert will definitely have his hands full with this lot. But in the plethora of dispatcher shifts you had with them and the few lessons you had with a few of the members, you’ve managed to form an odd sort of bond with them. Which Chase thinks is troublesome, seeing how many times they’ve been such a pain in the ass that their dispatchers quit before the week was up. He believes it to be a ploy so that Blazer will get so fed up that she’ll have no choice but to put you as their dispatcher full-time. And Chase “will be damned if you spend any more time in this fuck ass cubicle with these no-good-shitty-ass-hero-wannabes.”
“Well, you know me,” Robert says, “I’ve always been one for a challenge.”
Robert’s eyes flick up to you again, a sly smirk pulling on his lips. You’ve always been so infatuated with Robert’s eyes. They truly were the window to his soul, ever expressive. They shine and crinkle in the corners when he’s happy, fade and blacken when he’s angry. And they shine just like they are now when he- Yeah. You definitely shouldn’t look directly at him.
For a second, you find your exterior softening. Your shoulders dip in towards your chest from the curved position of leaning on the desk, and you can feel your lips try to tick up in the corners at his implication. But then it hits you all over again. How things ended, how it took him seven-and-a-half weeks to reach out after the breakup- as if you hadn’t begun to build a life together. As if that life wasn’t ripped away from you, as if it wasn’t his choice.
You stand to your full height once more and step back. And then that displaced look on his face returns.
“Good luck on your first day, Robert. Don’t let them push you around. They respect that.”
The wheels on the swivel seat drag against the floor as he pushes himself out from the desk, straining to follow you until you’re out of his line of sight.
“Lume, wait a sec-”
You make the conscious decision to keep moving. And start to believe that is how you’ll navigate this new area with him. Not lingering, and always moving. Maybe in the long run, this will be best. You’ve hurt each other enough over the course of your lives, and until you’re sure being around Robert won’t hurt you more, you’ll keep moving.
JULY 16th, 2022. THREE YEARS PRIOR.
“And so, effective immediately, I will be going on an indefinite hiatus from Hero Work.”
Prior to this announcement, the room had been pin quiet. The occasional click of a camera or pop of a water bottle sounded, but not one person in that room had made a noise until now. The gasps are loud, they fill the air, and strike you straight through the heart. A woman in the front row covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers, a man in the far right corner bows his head and takes his wide-rimmed glasses off to rub at his eyes. The disappointment is evident. There’s shock, and fear, and grief written all over their faces. Reporters look around the room for answers that only lie with you and murmur amongst themselves.
They react to your announcement like death. They’re grieving the kid of the Brave Brigade member who followed in their father's footsteps, the one who grew into the shoes they laid out to fill and earned their place amongst the new top heroes of California. Your father made a legacy for you, made space for you in the legend that became a household name, and you’re hanging it up. Because if you’re not around to soar through their skies and keep the streets safe as you have been for the past decade, Luminara is as good as dead.
“I could never thank you all enough for the endless amount of support and opportunities you’ve given me. And I hope, despite my decision, you can still look back on my efforts to keep the citizens of Los Angeles safe with pride.”
You can feel the tears begin to burn behind your eyes, and a strangled cry tries to crawl its way out of your throat. The tears you must furiously blink away irritate your head injury, a deep, hidden pain underneath the gauze the doctors carefully bandaged around your forehead. You clear your throat and push yourself to finish.
“Thank you all for being here. I will not be accepting questions at this time.”
Then the crowd erupts. The cameras flash until the room is white, and reporters shout your name. Your team scurries to usher you away, your publicist taking your place behind the podium to take over where you left off. Your manager, the same one you’ve had since you were seventeen, takes you under his arm and tells you that you did good. But it doesn’t feel that way. You feel your failure every time you move, the stabbing pain in your back, the sting of your head injury, the scrape of your bones. You’ve only just announced that you will no longer be taking part in being a hero, and you already feel as though you’ve lost a piece of yourself. It makes you want to pull away, push your publicist out of the way, and take it all back. Shove the words back down your throat and rip your bandages off to prove you’re okay. But you know this is the decision that must be made. And that hurts the worst.
For the past ten years, you could always say that you knew what tomorrow had planned for you. You’d wake up early, just as the sun begins to peak over the mountains, and prepare yourself to be Luminara. Sore through the Californian skies and protect the city you’ve called yours since you were young. But now…you don’t know what tomorrow holds for you. All you know that is waiting for you is an empty house and a fridge full of booze you can’t drink.
Your team escorts you into a nearby break room, depositing you in a hard plastic chair and pushing bottled waters and muffins in your direction. They talk amongst themselves, attempt to talk to you, but it all sounds so distant. You want to respond, you want to answer whatever questions it seems like they’re asking you, but all you can manage to do is stare wordlessly at the crack in the wall and try to fight off the breakdown you feel building under the surface.
“Excuse me, Luminara?”
A hand comes down on your shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. The meek young intern who has seemingly been calling your name much longer than necessary quickly removes her hand as she feels you flinch under her touch.
“You got a text,” she says.
“Oh,” you murmur, taking your from her outstretched hand, “thank you, Amber.”
The brightness stings your eyes, but it only takes a blink for you to adjust and read the notification.
Robert
You doing okay?
Robert
I just saw your press conference.
Robert
I’m proud of you.
The first emotion you feel after days of embarrassment and grief is anger. Your blood rushes, and your chest tightens. He’s proud of you? After everything that happened, he has the nerve to tell you he’s proud of you?
-
“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
The clock is close to ticking to your second hour of this fight. A fight you’ve had a countless amount of times by now. Dinner is abandoned on the table, Robert’s chair is still pulled halfway out from where he stood in attempts to flee the return of this conversation. You don’t blame him for wanting to run from having this argument again because you don’t want to have it either. But the difference here is that you’re willing to have difficult conversations to save Robert from himself. You refuse to grow accustomed to the bruises and gashes on his skin. You refuse to allow him to continue to ignore the fact that his unorganized plans to find Shroud will end with him getting killed. It isn’t a matter of if anymore. It is a matter of when. You’ve woken up from too many nightmares of burying him, alone in a bed that’s still made up on his side. Too many nightmares of having to speak at his funeral, once as Luminara and once again as who he truly knows you as. Of having to throw dirt on his casket and only having pictures on a mantle and distant memories to remember him by.
“How am I a hypocrite? Please, tell me! Because all I’m trying to do is make sure you don’t push yourself somewhere you can’t walk away from.”
He stands on the opposite side of your kitchen island, lit by fluorescent light. His molars grind against each other as his chest continues to stutter with angered breaths.
“You sit there and get on to me about losing myself?” He gasps out an angry chuckle and stretches his pointer finger at you. “You’re in the same boat as me, sweetheart. How many nights have you spent at headquarters?-”
“That’s different, and you know it!” you interject.
“How many nights did I have to make sure you’ve eaten? How many times do I have to tell you to give it up and get rest, just for you to tell me you don’t have the time to rest? But I do it, and it’s a problem?”
You let your head fall into the comfort of your palms, fingers rubbing and pulling at your temples. Your ears are ringing, and a migraine starts to build at the base of your skull. It’s been months since things between you and Robert followed the normal way of life. Quiet nights spent tucked into one another on the couch, falling asleep still sticky with sweat but too exhausted to shower, waking up to a kiss on the forehead and a cup of coffee on the nightstand had all been replaced with this. Leaving for work before the other has come home, if they have at all. Notes left on counters about Beef running low on food with no loving sign off, arguments in the kitchen you danced in, laughing into his neck as he spins you.
It’s been so long that you can no longer pinpoint exactly when this all started. You don’t know if it was the first time you found Robert on the brink of exhaustion, eyes ringed with dark circles, and fighting sleep to the death just to follow one more lead. Or the first time you found Robert sewing up a new gash in your guest bathroom at 3:52 in the morning. But you’re tired. All you need is for this task mission to be over and for Robert to at least try to understand where you’re coming from. That’s all. Just one clean break, where you two can start fresh and put in the effort to getting back to being okay again.
“These are two entirely different circumstances, Robert. They can’t be compared,” you sigh.
“They’re not, though! You’re fighting against the goddamn Syndicate,” He huffs out your name in a tempered growl, “You’ve got no clue what you’re up against. You think just because you have a few extra hands than I do that you can take down one of the most powerful villain organizations like it’s easy? You’re going in just as fucking blind as I am.”
His voice doesn’t raise in volume but grows weighty.
“The only difference between you and me is that I dedicate my time working to successfully complete my mission. You do it because if you stop running, you’ll actually have to sit with all your loss, and all your mistakes. And you can’t fucking stand it the idea that maybe you’re not as perfect as the billboards have made you out to be.”
The anger and frustration falters. It’s true that in the months you’ve spent going in circles, running round 2’s and 3’s of the same argument, that you’ve grown accustomed to the way things unfolded. You’d bring it up, Robert would huff and bare his teeth like a cornered animal. You’d try to clarify your reasoning, hands outstretched in offering that was up to him whether he wanted to take or bite. Despite believing you had your walls built high enough now in preparation for what would inevitably take place, Robert is able to pierce through them. He always had. Just never like this before. Never has Robert pierced your soul like this before. Never has he been armed and chosen to wield it against you. The soft brown eyes you’ve spent half your life gazing into, watching irises gleam, and pupils expand, have hardened- the beautiful highlight of gentle expression extinguished and replaced with a look of anger you’ve never seen directed at you before.
“You like to forget that I know you.” He says. “And I know you’re a fucking hypocrite.”
-
You feel the material of your phone creak under the clench of your hand, the pathetic thread of messages taunting you through the screen. For a moment, you consider letting the message sit forever unanswered in your phone. Because eventually, his name will shift downwards in your messages, sit at the bottom forever out of sight. Eventually, the memories won’t haunt you, you won’t replay every fight, every smile, every late-night postcoitus come down where all you did was lie wordlessly in each other’s presence, tracing shapes onto the other person’s skin. You consider taking a deep breath, shutting the damned thing off, and handing it back to Amber. But something else takes over you, and before you know it, your fingers are frantically typing at the screen.
I have a skull fracture, two broken vertebrae, and just told the country I might never keep them safe again, so I’m doing fan-fucking-tastic, Robert. Thanks so much for deciding to reach out.
You get no reply. And you can’t decide whether or not that makes you content or sends you deeper into anguish.
APRIL 2025. PRESENT.
A lot of things have transpired in the last few months that Robert had not been expecting.
He wasn’t expecting to get blown up, fall hundreds of feet out of the sky, and spend four months in a medically induced coma. He wasn’t expecting to get jumped or rescued by Blonde Blazer, of all people, and spend the night with her at a hero bar. He wasn’t expecting to walk away at the end of the night with a new job and a chance to be Mecha Man again, and he absolutely was not expecting to now be your colleague. Or employee? Underling? He wasn’t exactly sure about your position or the hierarchy at SDN just yet, but he’s now sure he will be seeing you for eight hours a day, five days out of the week.
He still remembers the last time he saw you. Unexpecting, and angered by the lack of resolution in your relationship, and drained from your undersupply of rest due to your task mission. He remembers seeing your smiling face on half the billboards in the city, hearing your voice on the ads that played in every app he opened, or on the TVs of restaurants and electronic stores he passed by. There were times he found himself standing in place, letting it play in its entirety, simply gazing. He remembers seeing your press conference on the news. He remembers reaching out to you afterwards, and he remembers instantly regretting it. But time passes, as it always does, and that memory gets lost in the log of the million other regrets that he has. In the end, your name had been added to that list more than he’d care to admit.
The day goes by slowly, the clock seems to lose its pace, and Robert can’t stop looking at it. And he can’t stop looking for you. He tries to keep his mind preoccupied, to keep his focus on dispatching and not on you, but the task proves more difficult than he remembers warding off the thought of you being. You’re in the same building as him. For the first time in three years and that fact keeps biting away at the back of his mind. He just needs a glimpse, he thinks. Then he could center himself and try to get the team through their first shift of the day with the least amount of casualties that he could manage. He could get by with just a glimpse.
He breathes in deeply through his nose, his leg bouncing as he rubs harshly at his face. Chase was right. These guys are a gaggle fuck group of jackasses. They mock him, they don’t listen and refuse to take their job as heroes even remotely serious. Now, he understands why it’s been so hard to fill this position. The team laughs over the comms, cackling about yet another shitty joke about his name and about how Invisigal saw him in his underwear. So he takes the second. He puts his microphone on mute and dials down their volume. And like an angel, you appear just as he glances up.
You round the corner, your face relaxed, teetering on the edge of looking tense to the average person. Someone must call your name because your face pulls into the well-practiced, softened look you wear to make sure you seem approachable. But your expression melts and your eyes warm, a smile pulling on your lips once you recognize the caller. The sun hits you at just the perfect angle that makes your skin glow. And as creepy as it may sound, as you speak to the person whose name he’s yet to learn, he takes the perfect moment to admire you. Not on a magazine or through the pixelated screen of his phone, but through the lens of his own eyes. The curves of your face, the shine of your eyes. The way your suit hugs your figure. The dip of your waist and the apex of your thigh that shows through the gap in the latex. A sight Robert no longer has the right to admire so blatantly as he is now. Not after how he left things. But he could never pull his eyes off you.
“Listen, I get admiring from time to time, but this is starting to get fuckin’ weird.”
Robert jumps.
Chase is leaning over the divider, arms half folded and chin jutted down in silent jest. Robert doesn’t know how much Chase knows about your breakup. But if the interactions they’ve shared since he’s been is any hint, it doesn’t seem like he’s holding any grudges. Or, with some god-like strength, you chose not to tell him exactly what happened. He knows that you were close enough to Chase that you would. He can remember all the times he’d come home from work to follow the trail of your joyous voice into the bedroom to find you on a call.
He’d kiss your forehead in greeting, then leave to shower before joining you in bed. You’d still be on the phone by the time he came out, laughing and recounting stories to whoever obtained your attention through the line. Leaving Robert to mouth at your neck and rub at the skin of your stomach to try and steal it back, just to find out the person you’d spent three hours on the phone with was none other than Chase. Even through all the hardship you faced towards the end, inside and outside of your relationship, that was one thing that never changed for you.
“I wasn’t staring,” Robert says, adjusting the headset right again, “I was thinking.”
“Yeah?” Chase goads, “Thinkin’ bout what?”
“I…am not required to answer that.”
Robert attempts to fake his focus on his dispatching, enjoying the seemingly rare moment of silence over the line when Chase’s voice travels through the air again.
“Still single, y’know.”
“What?”
Chase says your name softly, and it sounds like a song, as he nods in your direction,
“Still single. If you were wondering.”
The sentence lands heavy. Stupidly enough, that hadn’t even been a thought that crossed his mind. Even now, with the question he originally didn’t have now answered, it sparks something in him. You were a vision, a miracle on two legs. You were kind and generous to a point that if you weren’t stopped, you’d give until you had no more. Anyone would be lucky to have you. And at one point, he was that lucky person. But now he was…well. He didn’t know what he was to you anymore. Was he simply an ex? The guy who broke your heart after eight years spent together? Was he written off as simply a childhood friend you lost touch with because that was easier to explain than the mess of what your relationship turned into? Or was he something else? Something new, unconfirmed whether it was something good or bad.
“Listen, I don’t know how much you two talked about…what happened, but I don’t think that’s ever gonna be a possibility,” Robert says. “Like ever.”
“Didn’t need to.” Chase replies, “I was there to witness the worst of it.”
Robert’s heart sputters. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it. He did. Often. And even if he was stupid enough to believe that you were doing fine, he got the evidence to prove that you weren’t. Six 8-minute-long voice memos you sent to him, drunk, over the course of your first two weeks apart. The six voice memos that added up to roughly an hour would forever be ingrained in his mind. He can time every sob and sniffle, he deciphered every befuddled murmur, he listened to every curse of his name. He knew you were bad - because he was too. But Robert had not been okay for so long that it was hard to tell when he got hit with another blow. He was used to not being okay. He knew things were hard for you, but he never thought you’d be in a place where you needed help getting out of. And he never thought he’d be the one to put you there.
“Wasn’t good. Drinkin’ a lot.” Chase says.
Chase looks at you with a cocktail of emotion. A look he’d deny ever having on his face, but he looks at you with such pride, and fear, with love and hope all wrapped up into one. Robert and Chase have always been close, but Robert always saw Chase as the cool older brother he always dreamed of having. Somebody to talk to, to look up to. Somebody who would be there for him. Chase looks at you like a parent does as they admire the child they’ve watched flourish into adulthood.
“Kid’s strong though. Came back in the end.” He states. “Who knows? Maybe you'll both come back in the end.”
From across the room, you laugh, angelic and sweet. And he wonders if the person you’re speaking to feels the same warmth flood through their chests at the sound. He doesn’t fight the smile that appears on his face, but it falters as your eyes drift to him. Your brows cinch in confusion as you find him already looking at you, and Robert quickly pulls another half-assed grin and sends you an awkward wave. Which you return, just as unsure as he was.
“But what the fuck do I know?” Chase says, “Maybe they fuckin’ hate your guts and think you’re an emotionally constipated cocksucker who needs to invest in a good therapist to work through the long fuckin’ list of issues you’ve got going on.”
Robert’s face scrunches, and he flinches back at the statement,
“Was that something that was said?” He asks, “That sounds way too specific to just come up with on the spot.”
Chase only shrugs.
“Private information. Not at liberty to confirm nor deny.”
The thought had appeared to you earlier this morning, but it decides to revisit you during lunch. If there is a God, it’s obvious to you now that the guy really doesn’t like you.
You imagine somewhere beyond the sky and the clouds, he laughs at your strife and torment, weighing out which would be the funniest option to fan the flames with to watch you struggle even more. This one is especially cruel, though. Somewhere deep in your mind, you began to believe you may never have to see Robert again. You’d never have to feel the swirl of emotions in your gut, never have to relive all those memories over again. But this isn’t a passing moment. You don’t see him in the corner of a coffee shop; you don’t get the choice to speak to him or pretend you never saw him at all. He’s here now, and there’s no way around it.
Though the air in the building has shifted for you, those around you stay the same. People still wave to you as they pass in the halls, make conversation at the vending machines, and you do your best to keep up. But it’s hard. Your mind strays, retracing your steps to find its way back to every encounter you’ve had with Robert. Recent and former. Your chest grows heavy at the fact that you’ll now have more experiences to add to the list that your mind rewinds again.
A hand wraps around your clad wrist, and you halt in your step. You don’t need to turn to know who it is. You knew that it was only a matter of time before Robert sought you out, ever the diplomat when he wished to be. You knew the conversation was coming; you just wish it didn’t have to be so soon.
“Hey,” he breathes, “can we talk?”
You roll your lips and take a look around the hall. This isn’t the place to have this conversation. But you don’t have much of an option- especially if you want to limit as much interaction with him as possible.
“Let’s go somewhere private.”
His fingers drag across your wrist as he lets you go, the feather-light touch fading slowly as you lead him down the hall to the first conference room you can think of.
You let him in first, let him take a seat in whichever chair he chooses, as you lock the door and close the blinds. Dread sinks over you, head to toe, goosebumps erupting over your skin as you pull the chair out on the opposite side of him. You’re still close, less than three feet away, but any closer is dangerous.
You don’t know where to start. You don’t know if you should speak first or let the awkward silence swirl through the air until Robert mulls over what he wants to say. You don’t know if the conversation will simply skim the top or if Robert believes that you’ll get to the bottom of everything that’s happened between you and come out people reborn. But you don’t have it in you to delve that deep. Not here and not today.
“So..” you trail. “How was your first shift?”
Robert blows a huff of a chuckle out of his nose,
“It was, uh, something,” he answers, “definitely something.”
His chair is angled towards you, pulled out from the head of the long table to close the gap, elbows resting on his knees, folded over. His presence doesn’t take up as much space as you remember. You wonder when he learned to make himself smaller.
“How many times have you dispatched them?” He asks.
“More times than what was in my job description.” You chuckle. “It’s hard for them to keep a dispatcher.”
“Yeah. I can see why.”
For a moment, the air is lighter. You share a soft laugh at the now shared experience of the chaos of the Z-Team. He looks at you through his eyelashes and his cheeks round with a smile. But then it all comes crashing down on you once again.
“Listen, Lume.” he starts. “I can’t even begin to apologize-”
You decide at this moment that you can’t. You believed that you’d have the strength to resolve this here and now, and move forward with a new slate. But the fear takes hold of you and drags you back.
“Robert, let’s not do this. Not right now.”
“I just want to-”
“I know what you want to do.” You say, eyes softened and smile pained, “Just not right now.”
His chest falls, and he drops his head. Your chest sinks at the disappointment in his posture. You’ve always hated the dejected stance on him, always hated when you hurt him. But this time you don’t extend your hand. You keep it tucked to your chest and don’t offer the chance to be bitten.
He nods and finds your eyes again.
“Okay,” he says. “How do you want to move forward?”
Yet another question you have no idea how to answer. But you have to, nevertheless.
“I have too much going on right now for things to be difficult in another part of my life,” you start. “I don’t know how things are going to progress from here, and I don’t know how either of us will feel in the future. But right now, I think the best way is to keep what happened outside of the office. Start fresh for now.”
He takes a moment. Letting your words really ruminate before he decides what he wants to say. Then he nods again.
“Alright. I can do that,” he replies. “Just know whatever you need, I'm here.”
The statement stuns you. It’s been a long time since you viewed Robert as someone you could rely on. But it would be nice to be able to feel that way again. You send him a soft smile and nod,
“Okay.”
“You weren’t as hard to find as I thought you’d be.”
Chase turns to look at you and then swears, with a snap of his fingers. He pulls out a chair in defeat and plops down into it. It was always so funny to you when you got the upper hand on Chase. It’s not often, but the victory is sweet every time.
“Let’s get this over with.” He says.
You pretend to think, finger tapping obnoxiously on your chin,
“Nah. I think I’ll wait. Drag it out a little longer.”
You sit in the chair beside him at the small rec room table and slide him a Crunchbar. A peace offering that he hesitantly accepts. He looks at it like you poisoned it, keeps his eyes trained on you as he grabs it like he’s waiting for you to launch yourself at him. Once it’s in his hands, he tears the wrapper open and breaks it in half, sliding the side still in the wrapper over to you.
“This’ll be good for you, kid. You need the break. And Robert will be good.”
You know that. You know that you’re overworking yourself, and you know that Robert will be a great dispatcher. But it doesn’t ease the sting. You lean slightly to take the candy bar in your hand.
“How’d the day go?” You ask.
“As good as it could go for those shitheads,” Chase says, “Flambae lit a park on fire, Sonar fangirled in front of his hero and made a goddamn fool of himself- now, that was some funny shit - and Invisigal rocked Robert’s shit.”
You stop mid-peel of the wrapper and almost choke on your breath. The other two instances you could predict. That was all in the realm of normal for the Z-Team. But what was that last one? You clear your throat quickly and ask for clarification.
“I’m sorry- What happened?”
And Chase tells you as if you had simply asked what the time was.
“Invisigal happened.” He says, “Didn’t listen to what Robert told her to do - big fuckin’ shock there- they had it out right here, and she punched him.”
Before you can truly register the thought that’s formed in your head, you’re up and out of your seat, phone in your hand, and on the way to the closest conference room.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
The door is left ajar in your leave, and you still have no idea what exactly is that you’re going to say when you type out your message.
Team Meeting in 5. Conference room B.
The team is already there when you arrive, which still surprises you. You’d like to say you know exactly how you earned their respect, but you don’t. It all happened before you had a chance to notice their change. One day, faith for you was born. And it showed. This gives you hope that the conversation that is to be had will go well.
The small chatter that filled the room ceases, and they greet you all in their own personal manners. They smile, and all break out into the regularly chosen pieces of dialogue after a new dispatcher is selected. They tell you the new guy sucks, that he’s nowhere near as good as you are, that they want to talk to Blazer about making you their official dispatcher. Except for Invisigal, whose line of sight is strictly trained on the mahogany of the table. She chews on the inside of her cheek and takes a quick peek at you from the corner of her eye before she quickly looks away again.
Insecurities lie deep within Visi. It wasn’t something that was hard for you to figure out once you really observed her. And you made the effort to try to help her work through them. But Invisigal has to want the change for herself. She has to make the conscious decision to do good and choose the right decision. And punching your dispatcher, no matter how angry they make you, is not the right decision.
Punch-Up is the first to ask,
“When are ye comin’ back?”
You take a quick breath and hope that as you begin to speak, the words will come to you.
“I fully understand that the last batch of dispatchers you all have had has not been especially to your liking.” You start. Your tone clear and firm. Half of the room has the smarts to realize that this meeting isn’t like the others. This isn’t a meeting to simply see how they behaved and how they thought the new dispatcher was faring.
Because you already know. There are no little white lies they can tell you about how, yeah, they fucked with the new guy, but it’s all in good fun! The day went well either way. Something has happened, and you’re already aware of it. And you’re here to set the record straight. Flambae takes his feet off the table, Mal and Prism share “oh, shit,” looks across the table, and Visi still has yet to look at you for more than a split second.
“And I know that we all work well together as a team. But when I got hired at SDN, I was not hired as a dispatcher. I was hired to be a mentor. I was hired to connect with you all and teach you how to be the great heroes I know you all have the power to be.”
“What’s this about, boss?” Sonar questions, ears twitching as he pushes himself off the wall he leaned on.
“I’ve gotten word about a few things that have happened on today’s shift. And I don’t care about you giving the new hires a run for their money. If they can’t stick it out, then they’re not the right dispatcher for the team. But what I do care about is keeping you all on the right track.”
The group is rag-tag. They’re disrespectful and hard-headed. But you’ve managed to earn their trust and their respect. And you will forever be grateful for that fact, and you would never consciously do anything to jeopardize that. And you can see it in their face that they understand that. So you choose your next words carefully.
“And some of the behaviors I’ve learned about today are something I never want to hear has happened again.” You say.
Invisigal’s posture deepens; she leans her body away from you and bows her head further in the opposite direction. She doesn’t like criticism. This is something you’re aware of. But the only way she can grow is if she accepts that she made the wrong decision and learns from it.
“Robert was a great hero. And he’s good at what he does. And yeah, he can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but so can all of you-”
“That is true,” Punch-Up interjects.
“But he’ll do good by you. All you have to do is give him a chance.”
The room looks at you apprehensively. Faces scrunched in reluctance and eyes clouded with uncertainty.
“I’m not telling you that you have to trust him just yet; that’s something he has to earn from all of you. Just like I did. So all I’m asking of you is to keep trusting me.”
The room grows silent. The team looks amongst themselves as each of them tests the waters, waiting for somebody to make the first decision. Prism is the first to answer.
“Fine. I still think he’s a bitch.” Prism says, “But if you think he’s got what it takes. I’ll give him a shot.”
And it’s not long before the rest of the group gives a nod and soft murmurs of agreement. One by one, they all leave their seats and begin to file out of the conference room. You give Golem a pat on the arm and turn to keep Visi in your sight. She doesn’t go invisible, she doesn’t push Flambae out of the way to dash out of the door. She simply comes to a stop in front of you, face artificially stern but eyes gleaming with despair.
“Well, go on,” she spits. “Just yell at me so I can leave.”
“I’m not going to yell at you.”
Her brows furrow and her head twitches to the side. She doesn’t believe that you’re not here to berate her. And that makes your heart sink. You want the best for her. But she also has to face the consequences of her actions.
“I believe you have what it takes to be a hero.”
Despite the disheartened look she wears, her eyes still spark.
“You have it in you to do infinite amounts of good. But there is only so much that I can do for you before it comes down to you. You have to want this for yourself, and you have to not let your anger control your decisions.”
You reach out and touch her shoulder, and you smile when she allows you to.
“You don’t have to be a villain anymore. But I can’t let this slide without any repercussions.” You say. “If I hear of this happening again, it will be on your permanent record. Am I clear?”
A moment passes. Then she nods.
“I understand.” She says.
You give her a squeeze on her arm and move out of the door. But before she gets too far, you call out to her.
“I believe in you, Visi. It’s time you start believing in yourself.”
She doesn’t say a word, but the dispirited look on her face shifts into something softer, more hopeful, and her lips twitch like she wants to smile. And then she vanishes.
Once you’re sure she’s gone, you flop into one of the empty chairs and finally take the moment to rest. While you didn’t plan for today to go smoothly with all that was already happening, you had no idea this would be the way things went. You sigh and throw your mask on the table, fingers rubbing and prodding where the migraine lurks under the surface.
Life as you once knew is changing course. You’ll have to learn a new routine, a new way of thinking, and a new level of professionalism. You could never have imagined this would be the way you and Robert would meet again, and you could’ve never imagined you’d struggle with it as much as you are. The thought makes your heart beat haphazardly and makes your head spin. It’s involuntary, and that’s what makes this so much harder. You can’t fight against a threat you can’t predict, a threat you can’t control. The weight is crushing, you can feel your collarbones start to creak, and your knees bend under the mass you try to carry. The seams crack, and the stitches tug, and you fear that it’s only a matter of time before you completely crumble. You don’t know what you need, you don’t know what can stop it before it begins. You let out a deep sigh and curl your fingers into the soft skin of your palm. Your gloves protect you somewhat, but you can feel the curve of your nails dig crescent indents in your skin.
The clock on the wall strikes 5:15. Your day is over. The office slowly empties, and you finally register the ringing of the alarm on your watch. You press a button, and it silences. The chair squeaks as you stand, and you take in one more deep breath. Despite the obstacles in the way, your day didn’t completely crash and burn. You finally got to do the job you were hired for, you got to mentor and teach members of the Phoenix Program, you didn’t burst into tears in the bathroom, and you didn’t wring Chase’s neck like you wanted to this morning. So, maybe that means there’s hope for tomorrow.
You don’t know what the future holds for you now that Robert is inserted into your daily life again. You don’t know whether or not the road leads to you and Robert crashing and burning and hurting each other more than you already have. You’d be stupid not to believe that it wasn’t an option on the table. But there is another option, where you both don’t crash and burn. Where something happens, and that something is good. Whatever that may be. But that’s a bridge you don’t have the energy to cross yet. But whether you’re ready to take that step or not, that bridge is in sight, and one day you’ll be right in front of it.
⤷ ゛ SYNOPSIS ˎˊ˗ In which Robert is sick of playing eye tag with you, and decided that SDN’s annual Banquet is the perfect time to make that clear...only, you seem to make it your goal to make him as worked up as possible. :: AFAB!reader x Robert R.
CONTENTS - everyone seems to keep you away from Robert grrr, oral sex m!rec & f!rec a little, 2 creampies (wrap it up), ridiculous tension, exhibitionism and dumbification if you squint, z-team cameo, light choking, marking, p in v, porn with plot, nervous Robert blink and you miss it, spanking, fingering f!rec, deepthroating, slight breath play, Robert is obsessed with your eyes/eye contact, idek this shit just raunchy...
GENRE & WC - smut, 7.4k (oops..)
authors note: not fully edited lawddd, but enjoy
bzzt!
bzzt!
— The faint buzzing in your purse caused you to perk up ever so slightly, hands reaching into your small purse to dig out your phone.
The buzzing seemed to catch the attention of your teammate, and “date”, Victor. His large bat ears twitching as he glanced over at you for just a moment before returning to the back of the drivers head.
“Robert?” Victor questioned, his gaze still locked forward. He was fully aware of whatever weird HR violation you and Robert had going on, often being subjected to hear you ramble about it after work every day…hence why he’s even your date tonight in the first place. You want Robert’s attention, his jealousy. So of course he would help you, like any good friend.
And dammit, if Victor wasn’t ecstatic at the opportunity to piss off Robert. Two birds with one stone.
“God, i hope so.” You grin, biting your glossed up lip as you open your phone, the bright glow causing you to squint for a moment as it illuminated your face in the dark car, all the while you pointedly ignoring the small head shake and snicker Victor gives you. Though the moment your eyes land on your message notifications, they practically light up.
Robert : 8:38pm —
“ Hey.”
“On your way yet?”
You scan over the text quickly before your fingers are flying over the keyboard, typing up a response so uniquely you that you’re sure Robert rolls his eyes when you send it.
You : 8:39pm —
“Why? Do you wanna see me that badly?”
You wait impatiently for his reply as you watch the 3 bubbles pop up in the corner of your text, heeled foot tapping against the floor of your Uber. Meanwhile Victor’s getting invested now, his blinded gaze finally leaving the back of the drivers head as it makes its way to you. “What’d he say?—Actually, what did you say?” He questioned as his eyes narrowed for a moment.
“Just wait…he’s typing.” You huff in response, to which Victor holds his hand up in mock surrender.
Robert : 8:41pm —
“Maybe. Is that an issue?”
You nearly squealed like a school girl. You were an absolute sucker for your ridiculously hot ( and miserable ) boss-of-sorts. The way he seemed to handle your attitude and teasing so easily…the idea of it made you dizzy and fuzzy in the legs. You quickly shook off the thoughts—you had to reply; and fast.
You : 8:43pm —
“Mmm…no.”
“Just wanted to hear you say it.”
You grinned at your own reply, but before you could even think at what he would say, his reply was sent.
Robert : 8:43pm —
“Thought so. Let me know when you get here.”
It's like he nearly predicted your text.
What he couldn't predict? The fact that you wouldn't listen.
You've arrived at the banquet with not as much as a text to Robert about your arrival, your arm was snuggly wrapped around Victors as the two of you walk inside, allowing yourself to admire the large ballroom.
A gorgeous high painted ceiling with dangling chandeliers, your eyes darting around the circular ballroom to the velvet-floored hallways, each leading to a guest's suite, your rooms keycard now snug in your purse.
"Hey...i'm gonna leave you alone for just a sec, alright?" Victor suddenly speaks up, his tone suspiciously sheepish.
"Victor-?" You spoke up, only to see a small white baggy peak from his pocket as he walked off, his arm untangling from yours. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.
"I'll meet you at the table!" He calls over his shoulder, giving a small wave before he disappeared into the crowd.
"Asshole.." You muttered, letting your gaze scan the room, eyes lingering for an extra second on familiar faces...and when the eyes you felt burning into the back of your skull became almost unbearable, you finally crane your neck, looking over your shoulder to meet the gaze of familiar-dark and serious, eyes.
Just as a grin began to form on your lips, you were suddenly tugged forward when a familiar Australian accent rang out in your ears.
"Late, as always," Malevola teased, pulling you along to dance. "Y'know, Robert's been looking for you since he got here,” She snickers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you swayed.
"I know, he texted me." You replied with a grin, taking the moment to glance back over your shoulder.
And you couldn't hide the shiver you felt when you realized he was still looking right at you.
You decide to play it off, flashing him a smile before turning back to Malevola, your conversation inaudible to Robert from across the room as he narrowed his gaze in your direction, almost desperately trying to read your lips.
"If he keeps this up, he'll burn two holes into your head at this rate," Malevola spoke up over the music, almost sighing as she shakes her head.
"You think so? We've played longer games of whatever this is, believe it or not." You replied, nearly grinning to yourself as you swirled the wine in your glass--which you had swiftly taken from a waiters tray when he breezed by with the quick offer.
"Maybe you should give him a break? Actually speak to him?" Malevola questions, almost, just almost, feeling bad for Robert with your obvious teasing.
"Probably...I was hoping he'd decide to come up to me..but I guess he's being patient," you huffed, cheeks puffing for just a moment before looking back at Robert. only to find him seated at a table. Alone.
"...But I've never been patient, honestly." You shrugged, giving Malevola a swift wave before turning on your heel and making a beeline for Robert, eyeing his black satin button up and the way it fit him in a way that was almost sinful.
When you finally made your way over to Robert, you sat down beside him, your chair facing his as you leaned an elbow onto the table.
"You never texted me," Robert spoke up the moment you sat down, forcing himself to keep his gazed locked on his drink. "Was it on purpose? Or do you just enjoy fucking with me—?" He questioned, his tone laced with sarcasm as usual, but a hint of something else was in his voice. restraint, maybe?
"Maybe. Is that an issue?" You mocked, quoting his text from earlier with a shit eating grin on your face.
His gaze immediately narrowed, biting back whatever slick comment was on his tongue. "Don't even start being like that. You—.." He cut himself off, whatever he was planning to say dying on his tongue almost immediately when he felt your heel graze the inside of his calf.
He nearly gave a sigh.
"Don't what?" You spoke, honeying your tone as you played oblivious, heel running up and down his leg slowly.
"Don't...just don't be an ass, yea?" He suddenly spoke up, rough hand grabbing your ankle under the table to stop you—and to give himself a moment to think about anything but the way you look in that dress. "Quit it, will you?" He mutters, keeping your ankle firm in his grasp.
But you didn't miss the way his thumb ran across your skin for just a moment.
Before you could speak, he sighed, pressing his forehead against his own glass of wine, his eyes shutting for a moment before they opened to find your gaze. "By the way, you...you look—" He began, his eyes trailing down your form before he was cut off by a voice behind him.
"Well! You've finally Arrived, Phenomenal!" Katon speaks up, his chest puffed out and confident as usual. Meanwhile Roberts eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the interruption.
But It was Katon, Phenomaman of all people. You wouldn't choose him over Robert, that much Robert knew. You knew it too.
So when you agreed to his invitation to dance, you didn't miss the way Robert nearly shattered his glass in his hand at being blown off for the umpteenth time tonight. He was seething.
Dammit, he was needy. And you in that god forsaken dress wasn't helping him at all right now.
You spared him a singular glance over your shoulder, giving him a look and a wave before you blended into the crowd with Katon to dance.
But to Robert, you did the exact opposite. You stood out in the crowd to him like a sore thumb. Your figure swaying along with Katon--and it was pissing him off immensely. You should be dancing with him, you knew that.
So why were you so insistent on being difficult?
He saw you. Saw the way you kept glancing back over in his direction. The way you swayed a little more when your back faced him. He saw it all.
So when you excused yourself from Katon to the ballrooms balcony, he was on his feet following you.
You gave a deep sigh as you leaned on the balcony's railing, the air refreshing on your lungs and the breeze cooling down your skin, until you were suddenly warm again, looking down only to find two arms on either side of you, the familiar black satin rolled up to the elbows to reveal the even more familiar scars.
"Robert,—"
'"What the fuck are you playing at? Huh?" He suddenly snapped, his voice warm against your ear. "You've been acting up all night, the hell's your problem, huh?" He adds, grabbing you firmly by the waist as he spins you around, his gaze burning into yours.
"...Been driving me crazy all god damn night, care to explain why that is?" His voice just barley above a whisper as he speaks, his gaze dropping down to your lips for just a moment before returning to yours, quietly waiting for your response.
You had to fight for your damn life to fight back the smirk that threatened to form on your lips. You had been driving him crazy all night...and you loved the way it was turning out. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about Robert, I've been socializing, who says ive got time to be worrying about you?—"
Roberts grip tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your noses nearly touched. "Don't give me that bullshit right now. I've been keeping my eye on you. you know I have." He spoke, the end of his sentence sounding almost breathless as his hair gently blew with the wind. His gaze locked on yours.
"I know," You whispered in return. Your own gaze unwavering, stone hard against his own as your hand moved to caress his shoulder, pulling him closer ever so slightly.
"God dammit," He sighed, pulling away as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair then down his face as he turned away from you for a moment, taking in a deep breath--like he was trying to control himself, undoing the top button of his shirt before finally turning back to you. "you—"
"What're you two doing out here? Party's inside, bitches," Alice's voice suddenly rang out, her half pink and half blue bob seeming brighter under the balcony lights, causing a grin to fall onto your lips at Roberts frustration. he looked like he was about to snap.
"Yea...we—" You began before Robert spoke over you, his gaze still locked on you as he spoke over his shoulder. It seems no one could finish their sentences right about now.
"We..were just about to head back inside." He spoke, his tone suspiciously measured as he raised his brows at you in silent warning.
Only when Alice walked back inside did Robert Practically pounce on you, leading you back inside by the wrist as he kept his gaze cool and measured as you both weaved through the crowd and upstairs--to the suites.
"Thought you were all calm and collected Robert, what happened to 'not in a business setting'?—" You snickered as he practically shoved you into his suite. Your purse sliding off your arm onto the small dining table.
Though, before you had the chance to admire the absurdly large Suite SDN gave him, you were being spun around, stumbling until your lower back hit the back of the suites gray couch. One of Roberts hands landing firmly beside you on the couch, the other on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips finally crashing onto yours.
It wasn't soft, it was needy, desperate. Like he had been aching for this moment and was finally letting It all out. His tongue swiped against your lips before slipping past, giving a soft groan as he pressed closer to you.
The kiss was dizzying. He barley gave you a moment to breath, leaving you gasping against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling breathlessly when he picked you up by the thighs, staggering to sit on the couch with you perched on his lap.
His hands were greedy, exploring every inch of your body they could reach as his lips stayed on yours.
"Never knew you were so needy," You teased against your mingling breaths, only for him to wrap his hand around the nape of your neck and pull you back into the kiss.
"Shut it." He muttered in reply between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip enough to make you gasp before slipping his tongue back past your lips. His free hand finding purchase on your hip, holding you down firmly on his lap.
You couldn't help the moan that slipped past your lips as he held you down against his lap, feeling something—him, between your legs. You felt a rush of pride as you rolled your hips against his own, pulling a gasp from him before he held your hips still.
"You keep pushing your luck," Robert muttered, pulling back from the kiss as his hands rested on your hips, his thumb running over the skin of your dress as he tightened his grasp periodically.
He fought back a grin when you followed his lips for a moment when he pulled away, scoffing at the small, almost unnoticeable frown that formed on your lips.
You wanted to make a sly remark—anything, just for the sake of being difficult. Yet you only found yourself staring at him, not quite catching whatever look he gave you before Robert—to what you could only name, manhandled you over his lap, one hand holding you down while the other rested on the back of your thigh.
“Maybe.., I should fix that.” He spoke with a quick raise of his brows, tone cool and measured as he began pulling your dress up, the fabric scrunching up right on your hips to reveal your panties underneath.
Your gaze widened at the sudden predicament you found yourself in, collecting your thoughts before looking over your shoulder at Robert as your hands held the side of his thigh tightly.
“You wanna spank me?” You nearly laughed. Robert was the most vanilla looking man you’ve ever seen in your life. No way in hell was this man kinky—let alone into spanking. “You wouldn’t, no, you couldn’t! You’re the same guy who looked at sonar weird for liking cuffs—shit!”
Your ridicule towards him was cut short by a your gasp, followed by a sudden stinging and loud ‘clap—!’ as his hand landed down against your skin, the area slowly beginning to feel warm.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He questions with feigned curiosity, his hand rubbing the reddening skin of your ass as the other held your back down.
Your hands squeezed the cotton fabric of his slacks as you took a moment to recover from the sting, your gaze firm on the carpet floor of the suites living room. "Hah—you are fucking unbelievable, Robert..” You breathed out, a grin forming on your lips.
“If you wanted to touch my ass that bad, could’ve just asked, y’know.” You teased, before you felt his hand land once—then twice, each hit on a different cheek as you kicked your legs up with a small squeal.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart?..you make it sound so easy,” He spoke, his voice lower then before as he gave a sigh through his nose.
Smack—!
“As if you wouldn’t tease and tease, like you already have been all night.” He continues, his hand rubbing the tender skin as he chooses not to comment on the way your thighs squeeze together, only moving his hand to hold them apart.
“Robert—“ You huffed out, trying not to sound as breathless as you actually were. “I thought you’d hit harder than that,” you murmured, grinning at your own comment.
“jesus, you just don’t know when to quit it, do you?” He muttered, suddenly yanking you up so your back was pressed hard against his back, his knees keeping your legs pried open. Before you even had the chance to comment he landed another smack onto you, except this time right between your legs.
“Shit—!” You jolted, your thighs tensing as they tried to close, but his legs kept you open—vulnerable. Your hand reached back to tangle itself in his hair behind you, taking a moment to tug on his brunette locks, the other bracing itself on his thigh.
Robert’s hand slid down from your knee, his fingers grazing over the dampening patch on your panties. “You love this shit, don’t you?” He mutters quietly against your ear, almost like a realization.
He doesn’t flinch when you tug at his hair, only letting his fingers lightly brush over your panties once more before slowly moving to pull them aside, 2 of his rough fingers trailing up and down between your slit. “Fucking soaked. You get off from driving me god damn crazy, pretty? Being all rough with you cause’ you pissed me off?” He spoke, and he nearly scoffed when you gave a soft sigh.
“Mhm…pissed off is a damn good look on you,” You breathed out with a smile as you felt his finger circle your clit, hands tightening in his hair again for just a moment. Your back arched against his touch as he pressed down a little harder, his free hand rubbing up and down your waist.
“you’re annoying as all hell, i hope you know that.” He mutters quietly agaisnt the skin of your neck, his lips brushing your pulse as he nips at the warm skin before soothing the sting with a lick.
“You love it,” You teased, and all he gave in response was a small hum against your neck before his hand on your waist slid down, slipping in 2 fingers, letting them curl agaisnt your gummy walls. His other hand remaining focused on your clit, teasing with feather light circles.
“Mmn—God..” You moaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip as your hips rocked against his fingers, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as he continued peppering kissing and leaving bruising marks along the column of your throat. He gently groaned when you tugged on his hair again, his hips bucking up instinctively before relaxing.
His fingers continued their ministrations, scissoring you open as he kept his face buried in your neck. Your moans and whines made it increasingly difficult not to just fuck you stupid on the couch. When he pulled away from your neck, His hand slipped away from your clit, slowly dragging up your body, grazing your hardened nipples before wrapping around your throat.
Not enough to make it hard to breathe, but enough to let you know he could—and would, if he was tempted.
You whined at the loss of his hand, but it was quickly forgotten when his fingers brushed against that soft spot inside you, starring your vision for a moment as you squirmed, your breathing becoming labored.
“Look at you now, what happened to all that talk, hm? Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re all whiny.” He couldn’t help but snicker, tightening his grip for a moment when you didn’t reply. “I asked you a question, pretty girl. Answer it.”
You bit at your bottom lip, your hand coming down from his hair to cup your boob, toying with your hardened nipple as your hips squirmed, letting your clit grinding against his palm.
“Keep going,” You breathed—begged. You could be difficult later, right now all you wanted was for the knot forming in your stomach to be satiated.
Robert gave a half-hearted scoff as a small smile fell onto his lips. “Thought so,”
His forearm flexed as he began to quicken the pace of his wrist, your cunt squelching with each thrust of his fingers. Meanwhile your back arched, hands toying with your breast as you moaned you pleas of ‘being so close.’
"Ngh, fuck! Robert, m'comingm'coming—!" You gasped out, vision nearly blurring as one of your hands grasped his wrist, feeling the knot in your stomach come undone as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs shaking as he kept them pried open.
When he finally felt you squeeze around his fingers, his grasp on your throat loosened slightly, letting you ride out your high as his continued to pump his fingers until you began to whin that it was 'too much'.
"Oh, so now you wanna complain?" Robert mocked, his hands rubbing the inside of your thighs before maneuvering you—slightly gentler than before, as he puts you on the floor, the soft carpet grazing your knees as you knelt infant of his man-spread form.
You finally caught your breath, hands resting on Roberts knees are you gazed up at him, eyes glossed over with need. "What? You want me to suck your dick?" You questioned between deep breaths, a grin forming on your lips as you gazed up at him.
"And if I do? You gonna do it, or you going to whine that it's 'too much' again?" He snickered, only for his smile to falter slightly as you reached for his slacks, hurriedly tugging down the waist band along with his boxers, his cock suddenly springing free.
You took a moment to admire him, his cock long and veiny, twitching with need as a drop of precum dripped down the side from his reddened tip. You took him into your hand, gently stroking him as you leaned forward, your gaze never leaving his as you licked your lips.
“You think I can't take it? You've really gotta cool your ego, Rob–” You began, continuing to be difficult as always until Robert took ahold of his cock from you, swiftly leading your head closer by your jaw and squishing your cheeks to open your mouth.
“Open up. Tongue out.” He ordered, his tone not leaving room to argue.
You didn't hesitate to stick out your tongue, feeling the weight of his tip against it as he slowly began sliding himself deeper into your mouth–inch by inch, every bob of your head taking him deeper.
“You wanna act like you can take it? Then take it, and stop fucking talking for once,” He nearly groaned. His head tilted back as his hand found purchase in your hair, guiding your head across his length. Meanwhile you gave a small moan around his cock as he guided your head, gagging around his length.
“Fuck, youre so pretty like this..should keep this bratty mouth stuffed more often, hmn?” He mocked, pushing your head down til your nose brushed against his pubes, leaving you there gagging. Robert moaned your name quietly under his breath, his breathing becoming ragged and deep as he ran his free head over his face.
He kept you there till he felt your nails dig into his thigh, only then did he finally pull you back, giving you a moment to breathe as you gasped and coughed. When you finally calmed down, he guided your mouth back onto his cock, watching as your thighs squeezed and rubbed together before your hand slowly drifted down.
“Hands off.” He spoke up, and when you didn't listen, he pushed your head deeper. He only eased up when we watched your hands fly away from in between your legs.
“Mmnf–” You moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch in your mouth as his eyes rolled back, his chest beginning to rise and fall harshly.
“Shit, sweetheart, m’almost there. Keep going for me, alright?” He breathed out, his hips instinctively bucking into your mouth as you continued to gag around his length. The moment he felt your tongue trace a vein on the underside of his cock, he swore he saw stars. His whole body tensed as he came undone, his hand holding you down as he came down your throat, the feeling of you swallowing around him prolonging his high.
He let go of your hair, letting you pull back as you coughed, your voice hoarse and scratchy as you spoke with a hand coming up to fix your now tousled hair. “That's all you got?” You scoffed, keeping up that same attitude as you looked up at him, but it was obvious you were starting to crack.
Robert couldn't control the breathy laugh that left him, sitting up as he met your gaze. “Listen, if you wanted me to fuck that attitude out of you, y’couldve just said that.”
You couldn't even think of a response before he was picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. arm wrapped firmly over your back as he made a beeline for the bedroom.
“I can walk by myself, Robert. Put me down–fuck!” You spoke, squirming in his grasp until he landed another firm smack onto your ass, causing you to tense up as you looked back, only to find him already looking back at you.
“No. Quit the squirming already.” He replied before looking forward and opening the room door.
The moment he tossed you onto the bed, you were surrounded by a plush blanket, looking up at the curtains that surrounded the circular canopy bed. Yet you only had a moment to take in the room before Robert began to undo the ties, letting the curtains fall around the bed, effectively hiding you two from the rest of the world.
“What’re you–” You began to ask, keeping that smug look on your face as you looked in Robert's direction, knelt in front of your laid out figure.
“Strip, pretty.” He interrupted suddenly, fully taking off his belt that had already been undone in the living room and tossing it beside you. “Because as much as I love you in that damn dress, I need it off. Now.” He admitted, his eyes trailing up and down your form.
“Cant even ask nicely?” You snickered, taking your time as you sat up on your knees, keeping your gaze locked on his before you slowly–teasingly, began to take off your dress, finally letting it fall off your body as it pooled around your knees, laying back down to fully pull it off.
And he smirked to find that, to his pleasant surprise, you wore no bra. Better for him.
Without another word, he leaned forward, one hand resting beside you while the other squeezed your waist, pulling you up to meet him as he kissed you just as greedily as before. Teeth clashing, tongues tangling around one another as you moaned into the kiss.
He removed his hand from your waist, moving to undo the buttons of his own shirt as he kept his lips on yours. The moment he got to the last button, he pulled the satin fabric off, prying it from his arms behind him before tossing it god knows where, his hands rushing back to find your skin–you. He breathed deeply as his hand tangled in your hair, his hardening cock pressing against your thigh before he began moving down, trailing hot opened-mouth kisses down your hickey adorned neck and sternum until he reached the lacey hem of your panties,
He gave a huff before tearing them without a second thought, his low gaze immediately landing on your blushing clit, not hesitating when he leaned down to kiss and suck on it as you tossed your head back, thighs squeezing around his head before he pulled back.
“Turn around for me.” He whispered, placing one last chaste kiss against your clit before taking your hips to guide you as you turned onto all fours. You felt his hand push your head down against the plush pillow before trailing firmly down your back, leaving you arched downwards.
“Do you do this often with your sex dolls at home?” You spoke over your shoulder, words laced with your usual teasing and honeyed tone as you stretched your arms out in front of you before relaxing.
‘Yes, actually. All the time. I bend them over just like this, and fuck them for hours while i pretend theyre you.” He replied–way too casually. His hand kneaded the skin of your ass before he let his thumb run down the puffy lips of your cunt, marveling at the way your hips squirmed and pushed back against his thumb.
“Are you always this desperate?” He suddenly fired back, raising a brow as he let his thumb circle your clit, watching you clench around nothing.
“Im never desperate, Robert.” You breathed out, but the way you shivered told a different story.
“Right…and I'm the president.” He snickered while pulling his hand away, pulling your hips back to feel his cock resting between your plush ass, heavy and hard.
He reached over you to grab both your wrist with one hand, his other reached beside you to grab his belt, not even blinking once before he began to tie your wrist behind you, letting your binded wrist rest on your back. He watched you squirm and tug on the new restraints with a huff.
“Wow…look at you, huh? How many times have you played out having me bent over in a suite?” You spoke up, giving a breathy giggle.
“Oh, I don't think you wanna know.” He chuckled quietly, before moving his cock to your cunt as he guided the tip up and down your folds, using your cum as a make-shift lube.
“Don’t scream, sweetheart.” He warned with a grin before he slammed his hips against your ass, filling you to the brim in one thrust as one hand rested on your hip, the other holding your bound wrist.
“Oh—!” You gasped, the side of your face nuzzling against the pillow as your back arched deeper, biting down on your bottom lip to muffle a whine that left your lips.
You felt your eyes roll back as Robert began pumping in and out of you, soft pants leaving his lips as he pressed his palm against the back of your head, fucking you into the mattress at a teasingly slow pace.
“How’re you doing down there, pretty? Hm?” He teased, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.
You gave a gasp as you felt his tip push against your cervix, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to catch the breath he continuously kept knocking out of your lungs.
The way he was talking wasn't helping either, every comment that left his lips only seeming to make you needier.
“Mhmmn. That feels so good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” He panted against your ear as his hand on your head moved to wrap around your throat once more, his hips quickening their pace. “See how good I can make you feel when you just lose the attitude and behave?”
All you could give was a nod and whine out a pathetic “Mhm!, Yes—God, yes—“ , letting him marvel at just how easily he broke you down. He was so deep couldn't decipher where he’d end and you began.
You felt your vision begin to blur, your breaths labored as you blabbered absolute nonsense about wanting more and wanting it hard.
“Shit, you’re so pretty, sweetheart—Don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” He gasped against your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy. A groan slipped past his lips as he kept his pace quick, the force of his hips jolting you forward with each thrust just for his hand on your throat to keep you in place.
His hand on your throat only egged you on further, a dizzy, fucked-out giggle slipping past your lips before it bled into a moan, wrist still tugging on the tight leather around them.
He gave a shuddered breath when he felt your gummy walls squeeze around his cock like a vice, the faint ‘shlick’ echoing throughout the room as his hips rammed forward against your ass. Each of his thrust added onto the ring of white that’s already gathered on the base of his cock.
You could feel his chest rising and falling against your back as the muscles in your thighs tensed, the waves of hot pleasure shooting up your spine every time be brushed against that gummy spot inside you leaving you at its mercy. Leaving you to just feel.
The smell of sex filled your nostrils, your breath catching in your throat with every pulse and twitch roberts cock gave inside your weeping cunt. You tried to speak, to beg or mock–but your tongue felt fuzzy and heavy against your lips.
You felt that familiar knot of pressure forming in your lower tummy, your whole body tensing as your arms writhed behind you. The feeling of Roberts tongue dragging up and down your neck only pushed you further to the edge, your legs beginning to shake as you felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you.
“You close, baby? Gonna let that pretty pussy finish all over my cock with me?” Robert spoke, his voice low as a moan slipped past his lips, his abdomen tensing as he felt himself get closer with each pump in and out of your dripping cunt. All you could muster was a nod,feeling him twitch inside you like he was trying not to fill you to the brim right then and there,
“Cmon sweetheart, finish for me. And let me see that pretty face while you do.” Robert urged teasingly, watching as your glossy eyes focused back onto his. “Oh, and say thank you.” He whispered against your ear.
The moment your gaze met his, he was a goner. Your fucked out expression was enough to tip him over the edge as he kept his gaze locked on yours. His eyes fluttering as he spilled his seed into you, the sudden feeling sending you crashing over the edge with him.
“Robert, fuck, thank you–!” You managed to blabber out between your muffled moans into the pillow. Your arms and thighs tensing as your vision went white before you blinked all the stars away.
Robert continued to fuck you through the aftershocks, his hips stuttering for just a moment as he groaned against your shoulder blade.
The two of you took a moment to catch your breath, roberts hand leaving your throat as he undid the belt around your wrist before tossing it aside just as before.
Robert quickly flipped you around, the tip of his half-hard cock still inside you as his hands caressed the underside of your thighs before he slowly began pressing them further, and further, until he had you folded into a mean mating press with your calves dangling off his shoulders.
You gave a small groan as you adjusted to the sudden change in position, the hunger in Robert's eyes still visible as you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your eyes trail down his scarred torso.
Suddenly without warning, Robert bottomed himself out inside you once again, groaning at the way your gummy and overstimulated walls practically hugged his cock like they were made for each other.
Your hands immediately began scrambling, one tugging and tightening in his hair while the other found purchase on his back, nails digging into the already scarred skin as you tilted your head back, mouth hung open as you let out a string of moans, every pump of his cock inside your greedy cunt quickening his pace.
Robert swore it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.
His hands held your waist tight, leaving you arching up as he kept pulling you back to meet his thrust, his cock pulling out of the tip before slamming back in, kissing your cervix enough times to make your body jump.
“Shiiit–s’too much, Robert–mmn!” you whined out, head still tilted back as he fucked you stupid, your attitude lost somewhere deep in the depths of your brain that refused to function right now.
“Eyes on me baby. Look at who’s making you feel this good, yea? Who’s using you like you’ve practically been beggin’ him to.” He spoke firmly amidst your gasps, one hand moving up from your waist to grasp your chin, leaning your head forward as he made sure your eyes were locked on him.
His head moved down to let his lips graze your tits, his tongue swirling around your perky nipple as his mouth closed around it, watching your back arch before switching to give the other the same attention, all the while his eyes remained locked on your hazy ones.
The way his chest pressed against your inner thighs left you folded like a lawn chair, his cock pumping deeper at the welcoming angle. You couldn't even think, mustering up a slurred “Please–”
You were a writhing mess, Roberts hands back on your waist as he made your back arch up towards him. You nearly squealed when you felt his hand pressing down on your lower stomach, a curse slipping past his own lips as his brow furrowed at the feeling.
“You take me so good, gorgeous...I've got you.” Robert whispered, leaning forward as his free hand raised up to your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before sliding it past, groaning as he felt you bite down and run your tongue over it.
You two were both a panting and sweaty mess, curses and murmurs slipping past both your lips before you suddenly heard a door slam, and what followed after was a stuttering and nervous voice.
Seems Waterboy was still on janitor duty for tonight…even though Robert swears blazer said he could take off.
“Any…Anyone here–In here?” Herman spoke up, his cleaning supplies in his bag as his voice rang out.
The two of you were hidden from the poor man's view by the curtain around the bed, yet you still froze in place, his cock stilling as it remained stuffed inside your cunt. He wouldn't move, christ, he wouldn't even breathe.
Until he felt you clench around him, a small sigh leaving him as he kept his face in the crook of your neck.
And then he dragged his hips back and forth, slow and deep. Once, and then twice, until he found a pace that was enough to make you tense and squirm while keeping the sound of your weeping cunt muted.
“You can be quiet for me, can’t you pretty girl?” He whispered against your shoulder, a hand still pressing down on your lower tummy while his other moved to push his middle and index finger into your mouth, letting you bite down on them as you gave a shaky sigh and a nod.
He smiled at your obvious attempts to stay silent, placing a kiss onto your shoulder.
faint footsteps trail into the room, the sound of fabric on fabric ringing through the quiet room as Herman cleaned up the discarded clothes on the floor. All while Robert continued to bury his cock deep into you. He pulled his fingers from your mouth a shit-eating grin on his lips as he leaned up to kiss you, his movements teasingly slow and hard.
But you could feel how tense he was, your nails digging into his biceps as you kissed him back. He was teasing himself just as much as you by doing this, yet he maintained his semblance of control.
The moment you heard the suite doors shut for a second time, you let out a moan against Robert's lip, one you’d been holding back ever since Herman entered to clean.
Roberts' pace immediately quickened as he panted against your lips–harder, faster. His breaths were harsh as he moved his hand from your lower tummy down to your clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud. “Look at you, pretty, all dumb and desperate for my cock like you need it to live.” He spoke, his own voice beginning to sound needy.
He was close, stupidly close, and he wanted to finish with you.
You felt tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer fucked-out bliss you felt, gasping and whining out half-prayers, half pleas for more.
Robert's thrust grew sloppy and uneven as he felt you clenching around him, your cunt sucking him in so tight he’d think you didn't want him to leave. His rhythm grew completely off–all because of you, and what you didn't even realize you did to him.
His free hand flew to your waist, his grip bruising as he kept you close to him, moans spilling from both your lips like some erotic harmony as you both chased your release. He's muttering breathlessly against your shoulder, as your nails dragged down his back.
“Fuck-s’good–Robert, m’close..” You whimpered against his lips as he went to kiss you, tongue and teeth clashing with pure need.
“Thats it, sweetheart–cmon.” He grunted, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside of you, a shudder running through your wrecked body when you cried out a moan due to him continuing to fuck you through your undoing.
“Too much, please–” You nearly sobbed from the sudden overstimulation, catching your breath with a sniffle as he slowly pulled out with a groan, letting your legs fall onto the bed on either side of him, aching.
Robert quietly mourned the loss of your warm cunt before hands found your face, pulling you into a kiss.
Except this time it was soft–gentle. Like he was conveying every deep-seated feeling he had harbored for you into it.
“Dont ever fucking make me chase you around like that again, pretty.” He whispered against your lips, nearly pleading between laboured breaths as he rested his forehead against your own.
“Youre mine, alright?” He added quietly before kissing you again softly.
You gave him a lazy nod, your body too tired to muster up the energy to speak, simply finding yourself melting into the comfort of the bed, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy.
“Hey…let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart..then you can sleep.” He murmured softly as he got off from above you, placing one last kiss onto your tummy.
You gave a soft grumble in protest, reluctantly opening your eyes as you watched him pull back the curtains, revealing the before messy room to now be organized.
“Huh. Guess Herman did a pretty good job,” Robert spoke with a small chuckle before heading towards the suite's bathroom.
You laid there, eyes quietly roaming your surroundings before a small chuckle left your lips, causing Robert to come back with a damp rag and confused look on his face.
“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” He spoke, not being able to help the chuckle that followed after watching you.
“Just…” You spoke up, voice hoarse. “i always thought you were a vanilla kinda guy,” you whispered with a small snicker, jolting when the cool rag gently brushed against your sensitive cunt.
“Well,” Robert shrugged, gently cleaning you up. “Now you know I'm not.” He murmured, taking a shirt he grabbed from his suitcase and gently helping you put it on.
“Now, quit questioning how kinky I am and get some sleep.” He spoke, laying down beside you as he tugged the blanket over both of you.
“The banquet isn’t that important anyways.” He whispered against your hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he let himself relax.
You all but melted into Robert’s arms, cuddling up close to him as you found yourself dulling into sleep almost immediately
And as you drifted off, you found yourself thinking you could really get used to this.
Sonar : 11:28pm —
"Ma'am, you won a fucking award, where are you??"
"..You guys still fucking or what?"
a/n - check out my newest Robert piece here !
🍀I Love Otoges🍀 @chelseaasstuff - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
