( post crisis ) Superboy Prime is literally canonically a nerd, thus I offer 'nerd boyfriend' Clark ( gender-neutral ! reader )
he will talk to you about whatever new issues came out this week, and, he will get so so into it - he'll just ramble on and on. then when he's finished he'll take a deep breath and go 'so what do you think about it ?' because yes. he will one way or another - make you read comics, and you will have to form an opinion about it
but he will debate with you about it if he doesn't agree (though he does restrain himself because he is trying to be better at regulating his emotions but he will admit that he has to catch himself and tell himself to take a deep breath when you say something that is - to him an 'utter shit take'). but he likes it - kinda - it's cute to see you defend your opinion and he likes being able to share his interest with you and talk with you about it (even if he kinda forced you into that)
the first times you came over to his home, he spent most of that times showing you his collection - a huge grin on his smile as he did (so you couldn't quite tell him that you didn't care about it).
he definitely loves it when you come to the shop where he works at toward the end of his shift so you two can hang out afterwards. what he doesn't quite like is when you saw him 'debate' with customers - he isn't as kind with them as he is with you. he somewhat worries that it'll impact negatively your vision of him, he looks at you like a beaten puppy and tells you 'but this dude said this ... i couldn't let it slide ... i'm not usually like this with customers !' (he is. kinda. though he is trying to change his attitude and get less argumentative ! he has been improving ... slowly but surely !)
he totally research and read about your biggest interest too, even if it something he doesn't care about because he knows that you put up with his rambling about what he likes, he wants you to be able to do the same with him ! (there is nothing like talking to your partner about your favorite interest after all)
bonus : if you do cosplay / like it, he is so making you cosplay his favorite character/a character that he feels like suit you (he will pay for the cosplay ... don't ask how he got the money. he will pay) and he will fangirl over you. maybe he'd be willing to do a couple cosplay too ... you'd have to convince him (just a little bit, he is quite weak when it comes to you).
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
fucking higuruma hiromi after losing against him in court.
TW: fem reader, public sex, enemies to loverish relashionship??
everytime you go against higuruma hiromi in court you lose. always.
it infuriates you how good he is, it makes you feel worthless, like all your studies were for nothing.
you're a a good lawyer, one hell of a good one only not as good as the man sitting across the room, softly smiling at his client who was now free of charges.
a rare sight that can only be seen after he's won a case. you alone see how his facial features relaxes, how his dark tired eyes radiate with life, how soft and loving his gaze becomes. it's gone as soon as it appears, but you look for it everytime, so much so you think you're losing on purpose just to see his stoic facade break for a spilt second.
he's just too good at everything and you hate him for it.
standing up, you excuse yourself to your clearly disappointed client and walk out of the courtroom, feeling exhausted. you discard your heavy dark robe from your shoulders as you make your way to the restroom.
you swing the door open with ease and head towards the sink, gently splashing cold water in your face once the faucet's turned on. looking back up at your reflection in the mirror, you swipe a cold wet hand on the back of your neck in an attempt to calm your nerves.
"asshole! never letting me have the spotlight.. not even once! whatever i do, he's always two steps ahead! what does he have that i don't? urggh"
knock knock
"miss? are you alright? i saw you leave the courtroom in a hurry and got worried something was wrong"
you could recognize that deep gravely voice anywhere. you've heard it so many times during trial sessions it was now engraved in your mind.
you'd be lying if you said you never got off to it. you wanted to know how his voice sounded like when he was high on lust, what your name sounded like on his tongue, how his lips would feel like on your cunt, would it be soft or rough?
"miss, everything okay?"
the vibrations his low moans would send throughout your body when you'd close your legs around his head or how hot he'd look with your juices dripping from his nose..
"MISS!"
his words snap you out of your train of thought. startled by his change in volume, you accidentally shove your phone that was neatly placed on the edge of the porcelain sink. it falls to the ground with a loud smash.
higuruma swiftly opens the door to find you unhurt, but the same can't be said for your phone.
"shit.. what do you want?"
"i was worried. you left in quite a hurry i thought something was wrong. i came to check up on you, but you didn't respond"
worried about.. you? huh
"then i heard a loud bang and here we are. i see you're fine. excuse my intrusion." he bows his head slightly.
why is the higuruma hiromi, your adversary, talking to you? let alone worried about you?
"thanks? im fine though you just scared me"
"im not one to pry, but what were you thinking about to get scared this much?"
shit
"nothing! its just been a long day! im fine really just go celebrate your win with your client!" you half-yell at him tears threatening to spill. it has been a rough day indeed, but for some reason higurama hiromi looking out for you made it worse.
sighing, you pick up your phone from the ground. screen shattered to bits, water seeping through the cracks, you're definitely gonna have to replace it.
"i see you staring you know" he closes the door behind him.
click. you freeze. you look up to see him walking towards you.
"i notice you staring after every victory"
you try to keep a straight face, but the blush creeping onto your face betrays you.
"instead of focusing on your client's lose, your full attention is on me"
he closes the distance with two more steps, looking down at you like you're his prey.
"you're doing it on purpose, aren't you?" his voice dips even lower with a dash of intimidation in his tone. it makes your knees weak.
no! you'd never lose on purpose just to see higumura's soft smile, you would never! right?
"what!? i would never! your mind must be playing tricks on you. drop the superiority act you're not special." you look away, his closeness making you blush harder.
thick long fingers coming up to roughly yet gently grasp your jaw turning it back towards him.
"your reaction says otherwise," his gaze is burning holes through your skull.
oh it's hot. so hot. hotter than you had imagined.
warmth pools between your legs. you bring your thighs together in an attempt to create friction. higuruma notices and shamelessly looks down then back up at you.
"stop acting like a sore loser you're clearly enjoying this" he brings his lips next to your ear "darling" he drags the word out mercilessly.
your breath hitches in your throat as the pet name rolls off his tongue like velvet.
"i know a way to fix that attitude" his fingertips trace the thick lines of your jugular veins with such a ghostly touch it makes you shiver.
"s-stop.."
he pauses his movements.
"what was that? if you want me to stop you'll have to be more convincing than that" he makes his voice even lower and tiltes his head slightly to look at you "besides, your pupils are dilated and your breathing is uneven. you're fooling no one but yourself."
asshole. he's not wrong though. you want this, really bad.
he resumes his teasing. this time though, his lips make contact with the sensitive skin of your neck. you bite inner lip to suppress a whimper. hearing no reaction from you, higuruma moves his attention to the other side, but you don't give into him.
"not there either huh? how about.." he slowly moves his head towards the front of your throat "here"
he kisses the spot where your adam's apple resides. a broken whimper escapes your mouth, he smirks, he finally broke through your walls.
he licks and bites that spot repeatedly.
you crank your neck backwards, it feels so good. your back arching slightly, ass digging on the sink's edge. your free hand coming up to cover your mouth which is oozing with breathless moans while the other grips the sink so hard your knuckles turn white.
he pulls away and chuckles earning himself a small sob.
"i thought you wanted me to stop?" he deadpannes and you glare at him.
cocky bastard
his large hand snakes up your body, sending chills down your spine as it moves upwards. it stops at the base of your neck and gently guides your body backwards until your back hits the wall.
he doesn't retract his hand instead his fingers squeeze a little bit, just enough to feel pressure. his other free hand come up to loosen his tie. he's got you pinned and there is nothing you can do but wait for higuruma hiromi's next move.
he spreads your legs open with his knee, placing it in-between your thighs. he can feel how wet you are through the thick fabric of his pants. he looks up at you with an unreadable expression, his knee slowly pushing forward and back in a lovely tempo. your head rolls back and hits the wall, eyes closing in bliss. more. you want more.
"that desperate hmm" he asks softly more to himself than anything.
you can feel his hard-on pressing against your lower stomach. you force yourself to open your eyes and look down. it's huge. you had a feeling he was big, but you never expected him to be this big. like the saying goes, it's always the quiet and shy ones..
the hand that was busy fiddling with his tie moves down to your cleavage and traces its way down until it reaches the rim of your leggings.
you grab his wrist in a weak attempt to stop him from going any further, but the look you give him says differently. the corner of his lips twitch upward slightly and continues his slow descent into your pants until he reaches the wetness between your thighs exactly where his knee is rubbing you.
"ahh f-fuck-"
you were not a virgin by any means, but you've never been touched that way before.. rough yet so gentle, your pleasure not being left as a second thought, not being seen as disposable once the act was done for your partner.. you never experienced a healthy encounter like this.
his eyes widen as his fingers dip further in your sopping cunt, knee still moving between your legs.
"p-please" you whisper.
"please what? speak up miss, what do you want?" he enters one finger in you with ease. you moan out and shut your eyes grinding yourself on his digit.
"i need- ahh" he boldly adds another "y-you sir mffgh" and a third.
"that's a very good girl" you're sobbing uncontrollably with every thrust of his fingers.
his cock twitching in his pants as you're tugging on his tie, he needs you as much as you need him which is why he halts his movements and pulls out of you.
"noo" you whine at the loss of contact.
he unzips his pants and pulls them down just enough for his cock to spring out. eyes wide, you gasp at what you see.
"like what you see princess?" again with the pet name. jerk.
it's massive. it's veiny. your mouth starts to water and before you can stop yourself, your hand is wrapping itself half-way around him. low grunts coming from deep within him. he removes his knee from between your thighs, if it wasn't for his other hand pining you to the wall you would have fallen over with how weak your legs were.
he mixes your slick with his leaking pre to lube himself, pumping a couple times before gently pulling your leggings down and angling himself with your hole.
"i've waited a long time to do this" he confesses "this might sting a little"
he pushes forward. you bite your hand to suppress a scream. that stretch is unlike anything you've experienced before. you can feel the bulging veins of his dick the more he moves inside you. he's only half way in, but you're already feeling so full.
"atta girl taking me so well" he growns through gritted teeth. you're tighter than he had imagined it's driving him insane.
you're unable to utter a sound let alone speak as his thick length penetrates you fully and all you can do is let him rip you apart while tears roll down your cheeks.
he pauses his movements to let you adjust to his size for a couple seconds then starts moving up and down at a slow pace. his fat cockhead grazing that sensitive spot deep within you, but not quite touching it.
"you feel so mmm so good darling" you whine at his praises "so warm and so tight that pussy was never treated right huh? i can tell by how she's squeezing me." you're mouth partially opens in an 'o' shape letting out a silent scream.
his lips attach themselves to your neck once more, sucking sloppily and biting gently while his hand dips between the two of you, finding your soaking cunt again, spreading your pussy lips open with every glide of his fingers. using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles on your puffy clit, smearing your slimey slick all over it.
"h-higu-higuruma fu-fuck" he smirks on your neck, quickening his pace slightly.
"m-moore please-"
"i'm afraid you're not ready for that yet." he mumbles against your skin. in truth he's holding back like crazy. he craves you like a madman. he wishes he could have you every second of everyday, to hold you protectively, see you smile and hear your laughter every morning when waking up. instead, he's forced to admire you from a distance and that only so often, but today you're his.
his long thrusts become jagged, his breathing rough on your skin. small white ring going around the base of his cock with all the stimulation he's making your pussy endure.
"m'so close s-sir ahh"
he's bucking up in you harder, fat cockhead kissing your g-spot with every thrust. pulling out half way only to push back in with loud continuous squelshing sounds. his fingers come up to your agape mouth, nestling themselves inside which you mindlessly close your lips around and start to suck eagerly, tasting yourself on him.
he's moaning at the sight before him.
"cum for me angel" as if on command you're gushing on him, he follows soon after, hot ropes of cum coating your insides, womb bloated with his seed.
"that's it babygirl, you're doing so good" he curses under his breath as he fucks you through your orgasm "so so good.." he whispers.
you slowly open your eyes when your high dissipates, very self-conscious by the events that just transpired. a blush creeps up your face and you look away from the man huffing in front of you.
"hey, look at me" he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger and softly turns your head back to face him.
"do one thing for me.. just one"
"you just had your way with me and now you're ordering me around? tsk."
you yelp when he pinche your overstimulated clit. a silent way to punish your attitude.
"win against me just once and I'll make you mine."
you blink. huh
"show me your actual skills. impresse me. surprise me. make me want you even more than i already do, but don't make it too quick" he lowers his voice and whispers in your ear "i want to take my time taming your body.."
you're clenching on his soft dick that's still plunged inside you. game on.
It's past midnight at your gym security job, and the cute member who's been coming around for months slips off the treadmill. What starts as a panic quickly turns into something a lot more exciting. [masterlist]
pairing: adrian chase x f!reader
tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, strangers to lovers, injury, casual voyeurism if you squint, semi-public sex, somewhat canon compliant, this does use my headcanon for adrian's healing factor, cunnilingus, fingering, protected sex, cute ending
word count: 7.1k+
a/n: this is my favorite adrian fic of mine, reposting to give it new life on this blog <33
The back office at the gym was a jail cell. A tight, stuffy room with air conditioning that blew up at the ceiling and rattled a loose tile incessantly. There you sat, an envoy on wheels in front of four cheap monitors, overseeing the entire gym. Members weren't even aware the place was staffed after sunset, the sparse three or four gym goers coming to lift in peace.
That's how you like it, locked in your trashy little back office with snacks from the vending machine and the whole place mostly to yourself. Got a lot of reading done, and sometimes...sometimes, something interesting happened.
Tonight is one of those nights.
You'd seen him in the gym now and again when the sun was far gone and the night was settled into its typical peaceful terror. Dark brown hair, wire-rim glasses, always in a baggy shirt and black sweatpants. Sometimes he'd come in with a sheen of sweat already, his hair sticking to his forehead and the glasses askew, but as long as he did his reps without strangling himself, it wasn't much your business what state he came in.
The one thing that really stuck out was that he scanned his member card at the empty desk when he came in. It was already required at the card reader by the locked front door, but he always scanned it twice. A little peculiar, but better than the guys who thought midnight meant they could have their shirts off while they sweat all over the equipment.
You shudder to yourself in the room watching one of those exact men hop around from machine to machine without wiping them off. It isn't your job to clean up after grown men, but when he leaves, you still slump out of the chair with a grumble and make a quick trip around the floor, rag and disinfectant in hand.
There were horror stories of diseases transmitted via gym equipment, and the thought alone is enough to keep you scrubbing.
The sound of a muffled beep from outside stops you in your tracks, however, and you all but throw the supplies away as you dash back to the office.
A second beep from inside the gym settles the lingering nerves, and you sip your water as you watch Glasses slip into the locker room. You prefer not to assume the worst of the guys who work out at night, but this one seemed especially harmless. If he'd seen you, it wouldn't have been the scariest thing in the world.
You throw your feet up on the desk and recline in your chair as he comes out of the locker room, heading for the treadmill. He pushes his glasses up before he starts running, adjusting a pair of wired earphones as he finds his rhythm.
The picture on your monitor isn't exactly high definition, but he's got a nice profile, good stature. He runs with a little pep in his step. You can see his reflection in the monitor to the left, camera centered on a row of mirrors in front of the weight rack. He grimaces as he runs, bottom lip pulled down, teeth gritted.
Watching him breathe in through his teeth jumpstarts your own manual breathing. You close your lips and focus on pulling breath in through your nostrils, eyes trained on the stranger running on screen.
You watch him do the same as he slows the treadmill half a mile’s speed, one heavy breath out to reorient himself.
His eyes flick around to the nearest camera, or at least, it looks like they do, and for a second it's like he's in on the moment, breathing with you.
Shaking your head, you laugh quietly to yourself and flick your thumb over the pages of your book. All you could do during the night shift was imagine, these sappy, fantastic words carrying you away, sometimes head over heels.
You'd never heard Glasses speak, didn't know his name, and he was unaware you even existed.
He's just a cute stranger on a treadmill, and you're just bored.
You watch him speed back up, fumbling with his earbuds once again, when he loses his feet out from under him.
You gasp, sitting up and rushing out of the back office before you see him settle into his fall.
“Oh my god, sir, are you alright?” You keep a couple foot's distance. He isn't twisted or bent in any weird ways, by all appearances he just fell flat on the floor, but you'd rather not risk the liability by touching him before he asks for help.
“Ow, motherfucker.” His voice has a kick to it, with an edge of irritation, and he starts pushing himself up with the arm that landed under his torso. “Shit! Ow!”
You give him a wide berth as you come around to turn the treadmill off, the emergency clip crumpled at the bottom of the cupholder.
“Sir, I work here, I'm the night security officer, can I help you get up?”
He extends his free arm toward you, “This arm is the uninjured one.”
You wrap it around your shoulder, settling your hand on his back and supporting him best you can as he wobbles up. There was weight to him that you didn't expect, and couldn't surmise based on the squashed ratio of the office monitors.
“There's a first aid kit in the back, okay, and I'll call you an ambulance if —”
“No! No hospitals, I'm sure I'm alright. Just need a nap.”
He favors his arm as you guide him to the manager's office, parallel to the security office and tucked away from the floor.
“A nap is probably the last thing you need...if you have a concussion or—or a broken arm—”
“Mm-mm, didn't hit my head.” He lets you sit him down on the cheap couch in the office. Your boss said it was for wooing investors, but it's been a nap couch more than anything. Now it served as a half-assed gurney.
“Sir—”
“Adrian, my name is Adrian.” There was a coarseness to the way he spoke now, like the shock and hurt had settled into anger and impatience.
It felt informal and just too personal to use his name, the spirit of customer service holding tight to formality and pleasantries. Still, you relented, knowing pleasantries were the least of your worries right now.
“Adrian, you're bleeding from your lip, and your arm...”
He licks his bottom lip, smearing the blood away with his tongue, and his nose scrunches in response to the taste.
“I'll take an alcohol wipe.”
You dart over to the first aid kit on the wall and return with gauze, wipes, and a handful of bandages. Sitting down on the coffee table opposite Adrian, you pull back when he reaches for the supplies.
“Sorry, I have to administer first aid care if you don't want me to call an ambulance. They made me take a whole course and everything.” You slip on a pair of gloves.
“Understood, laying back down, and just so you know, I'm not allergic to latex.” He settles into the corner of the couch, cradling his arm, slowly circling his wrist, then his shoulder, his fingers pressing along the bones to feel for pain. He watches you tear open the alcohol wipe.
“We don't use latex gloves, but thanks. This will probably sting, sorry.” You press the wipe to his lip, and his nostrils flare, but he keeps from hissing or flinching, if he'd had the notion to do so at all.
Wiping the blood from his lip, you replace it with the gauze, “Once we get this bleeding stopped, we can see how bad it really is. When you ran your tongue over your lip, did it feel like you busted it? Just nod or shake your head for me, don't talk.”
He shakes his head, and you catch sight of his eyes for the first real time. It isn't so much the glinting pale green as it is the way he keeps them open, wide and alert, like a deer in headlights. He doesn't seem afraid, just aware, watching you as you press the gauze into his lip.
“That's good.” You gingerly nod, “And the arm? You don't think it's broken?”
He shakes his head again, and stretches the arm out in front of him, wincing, but circling his wrist to show off the mobility.
“Okay, okay, don't do that. You could have a hairline fracture or something, you landed on it right?”
He nods.
“Could have pinched a nerve or bruised something. I'll have to write up an incident report, especially since you don't want an ambulance called. Are you sure you don't want me to call?”
He nods again, and you press a fresh piece of gauze to his lip, dabbing to be certain the blood has stopped.
“I'm gonna take a look at your lip now, do you mind?”
“All yours.” His voice is still low, and he lets you tilt his face this way and that as you inspect the lip. His breath hits you as you tug his lip down to check the inside, a small hitch before an exhale, his body stiff for that split second.
“Alright, it's not totally busted, looks like you bit it during the fall, but just the outside punctured. There's really not a good bandaid for lips, unfortunately, but it should scab soon.”
You get up to toss the used supplies in the trash, and pull a sheet from the bottom drawer of the desk.
“I'll need your autograph on this guy once I've filled it out, sound good?”
Adrian half smiles at you, and shakes his head, “I don't sign anything without a lawyer present.”
You stare at him and press two fingers to your forehead, sighing, “I—okay, I'll have to call the general manager then, and—”
“Gotcha! Just a joke, you know, to lighten the mood. This is all pretty serious, but I'm fine, really! I just need a nap.” He settles horizontally on the couch, blinking hard, “I'll sign your paper after, deal?”
There's a pause, and he squints his eyes at you, “C'mon, are naps illegal here or something?”
“Well, no, but it's really dangerous for you to nap right now, I'm sorry, sir, but—”
“Great, then you can just watch me sleep the whole time. If I start dying, wake me up, but I'm one-hundred percent sure I'll be okay. I've fallen hundreds of times in my life.” He yawns, “And my name...” His eyelids slide closed, “...is Adrian...not 'sir.”
Before you can protest again, he's passed out, and you watch his chest rise and fall steadily. You grab a pen from the desk and sit on the floor next to him, scribbling out the incident report, your free hand hovering in front of his mouth to keep track of his breathing.
It's a short report, you stare at the last sentence, bolded with your pen: MEMBER DENIES EMERGENCY MEDICAL TRANSPORT AND ASSUMES FULL RESPONSIBILITY OF INJURY UPON LEAVE FROM THE PREMISES.
You sit for several more minutes, rereading the report, watching Adrian's breathing. The arm he hurt slowly falls from where it lays atop his chest, settling parallel to his body. He doesn't wince in his sleep, and his lips stay parted, a quiet snore vibrating past his mouth.
His sweat dried hair curls over his forehead, dark strands shining under the warm table lamp light.
When the adrenaline calms, and you aren't so immediately terrified of Adrian's state of injury, your thoughts again begin to wander.
He sleeps so peacefully on the couch, his features—objectively pretty whether you agree or not—still as he breathes, strong jaw giving way to a muscular neck, collarbones peeking out from the loose neckline of a too-big tee.
This man is gorgeous.
His little visage in the monitors didn't do him justice, a tiny grainy thing that lost the detail of his eyelashes, and the curve of his arms.
You aren't sure where to put this ill-timed, odd-placed attraction to the injured, sleeping man in front of you. You're sure it's inappropriate on some degree, unachievable on another.
He stirs for the first time and you jump up into one of the chairs around the coffee table, rereading the report again and again as he blinks awake with a quiet groan.
“Morning, were you watching me the whole time I was asleep?” He has a real smile, and you watch him push up to sit with ease, weight on his injured arm.
“You told me I should, so...” You slide the report closer to him, and offer the pen, “Deal's a deal.”
“That it is.” He scans the paper, muttering to himself, and nodding in approval. “Yeah, I'll take responsibility. I'm good as new, anyway.” He reaches for the pen with the injured arm, and signs the paper.
“Your arm sure is doing better.” You slip the paper into a folder on the desk, and drop the pen back in its place.
“Told you it would be.” He pushes himself up and walks over to you, placing both hands on either hip. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all.”
“Pretty sure laughter is the best medicine.”
He laughs at that, “That doesn't make any sense.”
You chuckle alongside him, a little charmed and a little thrown off.
“You're not wearing a nametag, you know, and you never introduced yourself.”
Adrian shifts gears faster than anyone you've ever seen, and you stutter in response, “Oh, right, well I don't really interact with the members so I just don't bother.”
“Long name.”
He smiles again, and you laugh before finally offering up your name.
“That makes more sense. Now onto the second most important question.” He leans in, hands still on his hips, “Can I see the security footage of me falling?”
“I— well, I can't take anyone into the security office...”
His features go crestfallen, and he looks away from you. Something about disappointing him drives a stake through your chest, and you're eager to wipe that upset from his face.
“B-but, I can take video of it on my phone and show you.”
As quickly as his demeanor falls, it lights back up, and he leans against the desk, crossing his arms, “I'll be awaiting your return!”
You tut, “Can't have anyone in the office without supervision either, you can wait out on the floor.”
“Say less.” He hops up and hurries out of the room.
You pop across the hall into the security office, rewinding through footage on the attached laptops. It doesn't take long to find movement amidst the minutes of stillness.
It was a hard fall, and you're genuinely amazed he made it up with minor scuffs and a possible bruise.
Flicking your gaze up to the current monitors, you see Adrian pacing the rows between machines, weaving in and out, doing figure eights at random. He pauses to look around, finding the nearest security camera, and he gives a quick wave before pointing toward the locker room. He shakes his hand over his mouth, like someone drinking from a glass.
If you were thinking differently, it could be something more suggestive, but the thought doesn't cross your mind. Not even for a split second.
Crossing the gym floor, phone in hand, you knock at the doorway to the locker room, “Adrian, you in here?“
“Yep, and I'm totally decent.”
“Well, I'd hope so.” You find him sat on a wooden bench, screwing the lid back onto a sad looking water bottle.
“Well, it is a locker room.” He says it without attitude, just an apparent fact that yeah, he could've been indecent in here.
You sit down next to him, and he scoots closer, your shoulders brushing together briefly, “It was a pretty bad fall, brace yourself.”
You're not exactly sure what reaction you were expecting from him, but the raucous laughter that follows the video isn't it.
Adrian leans back, his hand on his stomach, and he just about slips off the bench before catching himself. You're not sure you've ever heard such true laughter before, not for a long time, at least.
“Can I see it again?” He can barely get the words out, but you play it again, and he continues to lose it. The laughter echoes in the tile covered locker room, and you can't help yourself when you start to laugh as well.
Covering your face with a hand, you catch his gaze, laughing together for several minutes before you have to find your breath. His hand is on your shoulder, steadying you both, not harsh, just stable.
“Oh, man,” His voice has lifted, and he shakes his head, “You've gotta send that to me. Please tell me that's allowed.”
“Yeah, sure, nothing in the rulebook that outlaws that.” You cool with the last dredges of your laughter, cheeks warm and smile lines firm in your face. “Here, put your number in.”
He hands the phone back to you, having sent himself a text that says 'Hi Adrian!'
You send the video right then and there, watching as he pulls his phone out from his bag with a smile. He loses it with laughter upon replay, and he texts back a string of merman emojis.
“Merman? Didn't even know that existed.”
“The ocean is full of crazy stuff, Aquaman is really just the tip of the iceberg.” He slips his phone back into his bag, and turns to you, a smile stuck on his face.
You smile in response, too awestruck to speak. He has the enthusiastic cadence of a party clown, with none of the added discomfort. You actually feel at ease sitting here with him in the late hours of the night. Panicked beginnings aside, he'd woken with what seemed like a new lease on life, and pulled a total 180 on you.
He shifts the conversation when you break eye contact, his firm stare warming your cheeks and kicking up butterflies.
“My friends and I go to this bar on Saturdays, you should come and tell the whole story to them! The video is cool and all, but nothing beats an eyewitness account, it'd be so badass.” His voice sounds genuine, but it's a pretty big leap from one moment to the next.
“I—” You let out a quiet laugh, wanting to jump at the opportunity to see him somewhere in the actual, real world, and not immediately following a potentially catastrophic fall. There's no way he's serious, though, and you shake your head without meeting his eyes.
He swings a leg over the bench and scoots closer, “Are you shy or something? You were totally cool and collected when I busted my ass an hour ago…” Pondering for a moment, he frowns, “Oh, or do you not want to drink beer with me and my friends? It's your choice, but I gotta say you'd be missing out, one of my friends is a lesbian so she can get us into a bar where the beer tastes like skittles.”
You laugh again, and meet his eyes, “I just kinda thought you were joking about that.”
He furrows his brow, “No way, dude, it really would be badass! And maybe my best friend would finally get off my ass about finding another chick to join the crew.“
Getting carried away, he animates with his hands, and changes his voice, “He'd be all 'Wow, Adrian, where'd you find this babe, that's so awesome of you.' and I'd tell him how you came to my rescue like a minor league superhero, then you can tell them the rest of the story.”
Catching your unwavering eyeline, he straightens his posture, “Or, y'know, something totally different and more casual.”
All you can do is laugh. You're being pulled between calm familiarity and daunting giddiness. By all accounts, you should have returned to the back office, bidding Adrian goodnight and hoping the nap truly was some magic fix-it.
But here you were, sitting in the sterile, silent locker room next to him, in a pause that only grew more tense with each passing second.
“I'm in.” You finally speak, swallowing the nerves that thrum in your chest, “As long as you actually do introduce me as the babe that saved your life.”
You extend a hand.
Adrian lights up, and he takes it, “Deal.”
A good handshake should last two or three seconds, based on every job interview you've ever had, but Adrian shakes your hand for a long, long time. His smile remains enthusiastic, but you're almost certain he's slowly pulling you in with the tight grip of his hand.
You let it ride, inching closer on the smooth lacquered wood of the bench, almost invisibly.
His eyes stay wide as he makes his first obvious move, leaning in, your hands close to his chest.
“Would it be weird if we kissed right now?”
Your breath hitches. The question comes out of thin air, but with the constant whiplash of your entire time knowing Adrian, it isn't a complete surprise. You part your lips to respond, a weak stutter escaping.
“Wait—”
There's an immediate disappointment that pounds in your heart, and you watch Adrian's eyes flicker around the locker room. He leans closer, “Are there cameras...in here?”
“No.” You whisper, and then, a little louder, “To both questions.”
The slow smile of realization crosses his lips, and before you can even decipher why, he's kissing you.
It isn't rough or quick or even with very much passion, but it's a good, solid kiss. He wraps his hand around yours, cradling them between your chests, smiling through it. This doesn't have the familiarity you felt sitting next to him, but it wasn't lighting you up inside either.
It was a first kiss, truly. Bumpy and awkward, and you found your mind rewinding through the night, wondering how you ended up here. How you'd managed to find the one gym weirdo who put you at ease and was cute enough to kiss so early into an official meeting. Another part of you felt like a creeper, having seen him so many nights, having fixated a little when you got restless with your books.
You pull away, and he searches for your lips with his eyes closed before accepting the loss, still holding onto your hand.
“Adrian, I know we honestly literally just met, but I feel like I should tell you something.”
“Okay.” He sits expectantly, his glasses askew.
“I've been watching you in the back office for like, a long time.” Your eyes settle on your intertwined hands.
He tuts, and rolls his eyes with a smile, “Of course you have, it's your job.”
“No, like, you specifically. I dunno, you're the cutest person who comes in during the night shift, and it's pretty boring back there most of the time. It just felt weird because I've known of you for a while, but you didn't even know I was here, and, I don't know, I feel like a creeper kissing you.”
He raises his eyebrows, “You think I'm the cutest person? I kinda thought you were kissing me out of pity, like, maybe you're afraid I really do have a concussion and could die.”
You laugh, “You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?”
He shakes his head, “Nope, don't need it.” Leaning in, there's an excitement in his voice when he next speaks, “I will take another kiss, though.”
The next kiss is less awkward, and Adrian's free hand coils around your waist to pull you as close as he can get you on the bench. He drops your hand and slips his fingers around the back of your neck, enveloping you with his touch.
This feels like the kind of kiss that happens more than once. You knot a hand in his shirt, and rest the other atop his thigh. You're certain he had you tight in his grip, but the hand on his thigh was more a mental ground than anything else, your fingertips squeezing his musculature.
You could get very easily carried away in a kiss like this, and with Adrian's hold tight around you, it doesn't take long to decide you'll go as far as he wants in this locker room.
Slipping a hand in his hair, you tug him away from your lips, exposing his throat. Your eyes meet his as you drag your mouth up towards his cheekbone, dotting kisses around his face, down to the edge of his jaw, and finally to the pulpit of his neck. The faintest trace of salt is stuck on his skin, a remnant of the workout that led you here, and you latch your lips to the spot until all you can taste is skin.
When you pull back, there's a rosy pink mark, and his eyes are glossing over. You peck his lips with yours, and he blinks hard, leaning into the direction your fingers graze against his scalp.
His eyes catch yours, and as he comes back to the moment, you see the faintest flicker of his eyelids, the slightest kick of his eyebrow.
Without a word, he tugs you into his lap on the bench, and you fumble at the sight of his arms flexing around you.
He's cute alright, but the bits of his body that you can see are absolutely outrageous.
His hands find home on your hips, and he leans backward to lay on the hardwood, pulling you down with him, your breath connecting your mouths before you can find enough footing to kiss again.
You don't need the guidance of his hands to start rocking back and forth on top of him, the need that follows his tongue in your mouth is more than enough to get you going, but the burning touch of his fingerprints isn't unwelcome.
Between kisses he mutters, “You comfortable? Your legs spread just right?” It should come off more facetious than it does, there's a layer of desperation to it, a desire to please.
You hum into his mouth, “Mm, for now.” And he chuckles at the response, whispering, “Good, and you're sure there are no cameras in here?”
“Certain, but we can move somewhere else if you're nervous.”
He shifts a hand from your hip to your hair, running a fingertip along the hairline, his thumb over your eyebrow. He taps you on the nose, “Not nervous, just don't want you to lose this cool job because of me.”
You lean down for another kiss, and slip a hand under the hem of his shirt, “It'd be worth it.”
Adrian shuts up then, letting you slide the shirt over his head and toss it into the open bag beside you. You knew on some level he had to be muscular—he came to the gym five times a week, but you still aren't prepared for the breadth of his muscle. His pecs are spattered with light freckles, and he has a harsh farmer's tan on his arms.
You sit back on his lap, just admiring the view, circling your hips a little to watch him squirm underneath you.
He giggles, the faintest blush blooming under his cheeks.
“Wow. I—wow.” You exhale.
Tugging you back down, Adrian shushes you as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing from your pulse to your clothed shoulder. Your skin underneath almost burns for his lips on you, and you wrench off the branded gym shirt without his prompting.
“Woah, I thought I was the eager one.”
You shush him now, and with the decision made for him, his hands roam over the warm body you've given him.
He doesn't ask when he slips his fingertips underneath the cup of your bra, his palm over your breast, the other hand fiddling with the clasp. When it snaps free, he's quick to wrap his mouth over your exposed breast, tongue swirling around the field of nerves, just faintly sucking.
Grinding your hips down harder, he pulls back from your chest with a pop! and his eyes drag down your body.
“I can't believe this is happening.” He breathes, both hands coming over your breasts now, sliding up slowly to watch how they fall back into place when he lets go. He seems mesmerized, and you draw his attention by pulling a hand up to your mouth, and letting him slip two fingers over your tongue.
You haven't exactly been dreaming about this moment, not really. It's more an intrigue, a curiosity. Adrian wasn't a crush, just the cute boy at the gym that got you through your boring night shifts sometimes.
And yet, he was here, laid out in front of you, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock hard underneath you.
In your wildest dreams you wouldn't have imagined this much.
Everything you do seems to mesmerize him, and now he watches with awe as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, his interest cut with moans as you grind on his bulge.
His hips languish towards you, not bucking exactly, just pushing, an almost involuntary side effect of the desperation that's spiraling in him.
You take the soaked fingers from your mouth and guide them down to the hem of your track pants, watching as Adrian's eyes follow with excitement.
He's all but given himself over to you—there are little moments when you can feel him trying to gain some control, but he just as quickly falls back into this quiet hypnosis, eager to please and ready to do whatever you want of him.
Guiding his hands over the wet folds of your cunt, you rest his first two fingers on your clit and circle them just so.
Adrian wrests free from your grip in this moment, sitting up and forcing you backward on the bench. He hovers over you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot and harsh, but still with a smile, “I know what I'm doing. Just because I'm in awe of your body, of your tits, of that fucking hot tongue of yours, doesn't mean I'm clueless.”
He tugs down the waist of your track pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses from the center of your pelvis up between your breasts as his fingers slide along your lips, slick with saliva and arousal. He circles your clit before slipping back down towards your entrance, and he presses two curled fingers inside you. The instant shot of pressure has you arching your back up off the bench, but he sets his free hand firm on your stomach, forcing you back down.
You curse and writhe as he fucks you with his fingers, his thumb stretching up to circle your clit best it can, little nicks of flesh that drive you crazier than if he were to go full on.
The harder you fight, squirming under his touch, the deeper you can hear his smile as he coos at you.
“That's it,” and “Good girl,” and “I told you, huh?” as you struggle underneath his hold.
Adrian lets his weight settle onto you eventually, swallowing your moans with his kisses, the cotton bulge of his sweatpants grazing your thigh. You reach blindly for it, and he lets you palm him over the fabric, his touch on you faltering just barely before his resolve steadies.
The ebb and flow of his fingers doesn't grow stale, but you do grow more desperate, and with each kiss you wish more and more that it was his mouth between your legs.
“Adrian, mm, fuck, can you—”
He pulls away, slowing the rhythm of his fingers, and you jerk up against him.
“Jesus, use your mouth. Please, I need it.” You choke out, and you hear his smile once more. It seems to never go away.
“Anything for my guardian angel.”
The pet name shoots a warm spiral in your belly, and you know you've no right to even be referred to as anything heavenly, especially not now, but fuck if it doesn't sound good with his cheerful cadence.
He lays his tongue flat over your lips, shaking his head left to right to settle it into your folds and hit as many nerves as he can as he licks up once, twice, three times before he lets the tip run over your clit.
The feeling is white hot, a mess of spit and flesh and his warm, spongy tongue. Adrian stares up at you as he works, his gaze menacing from this angle. He seems pleased to keep his eyes fixed on yours, but the angle cranes your neck uncomfortably.
You let your head fall back on the bench with a thud, pressing your hand hard over your forehead to push away the beads of sweat that form. Your free hand slips into his hair, combing through the strands, and grabbing tight when you can no longer keep rhythm.
His hands wrap tight around your thighs, keeping you latched to his mouth, and if you were asked, you couldn't even wager a guess as to what he was doing down there. His spit pooled on the bench, and he sucked two wet marks into one of your thighs, the faintest nip of teeth punctuating them.
“Am I gonna make you come?” He asks, breathless and muffled from between your legs, and all you can do in response is whine and grip his hair tighter, pushing him into your cunt, “Fuck, I love those noises you're making.”
You feel one of his hands leave your thigh, and he moans against you, a deep, shuddered breath that hits your pussy in a way you're sure he didn't intend to feel good.
“Adrian, you know I'm gonna take care of you, right?“ You can barely get the words out, staving off the impending orgasm that coils in your body. ”Don't make yourself come yet, I wanna do it.”
The groan that he emits in response is hungry, and the slick noises of his tongue on you grow filthier, louder, faster. He hums against you, and as he slides a hand up your stomach to hold you down again, you lose it.
Arching away from the bench and into his hand, your moans echo off the lockers, legs shaking in a wave that starts at your stomach and radiates out through you. They're quick, successive pulses, and if Adrian's hold on you wasn't so strong, you're sure you would've rolled right off that bench.
He laps up the viscous mixture of spit and arousal until the touch grows overwhelming, and you have to tell him it's too much.
“Come here.” You say, and he swipes a hand over his sheening mouth as you sit up and tug at his sweatpants, kissing around the harsh lines of his pelvis.
“You don't have to—”
You shush him, pressing your lips around the outline of his bulge as you drag the fabric down. Staring up at him, you watch his wide eyes flicker between you and the near exposed erection, his hands dead at his sides.
You're certain you look the same way he did when he was playing with your breasts, mesmerized and taken aback by the hot stranger that's allowed you to touch them. His erection springs out from the boxers that come down with his sweatpants. It isn't the largest you've ever seen, in person or not, but it's swollen and dripping with precum, and it jumps when you faintly smear the precum over the tip.
Standing back up, you tug Adrian to your lips with a hand around his neck, the other slipping up and down the length of his shaft. He whimpers into your mouth, and your cunt starts to throb.
“We're gonna fuck, right? Oh, please tell me you want me to fuck you. I have a condom in my bag, if you want that.” Adrian pulls back from you, his Adam's apple straining hard in his throat as he regains some sense of composure.
You laugh, and nod, and it's all Adrian needs.
He pushes you backwards towards the cheap excuse for a vanity, and you hit the edge of the counter before he lifts you up and sets you on it.
Breaking to rifle through his bag, you spend this moment taking in the sight of his entire body. His cute, hapless face and wide eyes are antithetical to his broad musculature, but the dimples at his lower back make you smile. He turns around with a wrapped condom in hand, waving it at you with a half smile, pushing up his glasses.
His lips latch to your neck as he gets his hands under the backs of your knees, letting you fall into the mirror, body curved as he slots himself just in front of your entrance.
He pulls away and rests one of your legs atop his shoulder so he can roll the condom over his length, and fuck if he isn't sensitive. He shudders just doing that, and you wonder how easily he could come if there was nothing between you for protection.
Grabbing at your legs, he tugs you onto his cock, your ass half on the counter, mostly supported by him. The tendons in his neck strain as he lets out a string of quiet expletives, and you gasp at the full pressure of him inside you. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, bucking his hips forward slowly at first.
He grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut, leaning forward to envelope you best he can as he picks up the pace. He's just shy of your lips, but he takes the offering of your thumb in his mouth, fingers splayed over his cheek.
You grind your head back against the mirror, focused on your breathing, moans escaping on each exhale.
You don't know that anyone has ever felt better inside you.
Adrian fills you up entirely, his pelvis rutting against yours, the head of his cock like a ball of lead inside you that hits over and over again, muddying your insides.
He finally finds your mouth, his tongue pushing between your lips and slipping around without rhythm or care. These kisses are sloppy and desperate, interrupted by whimpers and curses and Adrian's tendency to wander down to your breasts.
Digging your nails into his lower back, you push him impossibly closer, and his teeth sink into the flesh of your chest, tongue flicking over the hard bud of your nipple. He stops fucking into you and starts grinding his pelvis instead, cock buried deep inside you, and the friction of his skin on your cunt sending shockwaves down your legs. If the pressure wasn't enough to get you close again, the byproduct of his movements was.
You grip him tighter, hold him closer, you want every inch of his skin on you, sticking and sweaty and so harsh it'll hurt to peel away at the end of this.
Adrian licks from your nipple up your chest, along the side of your neck before latching his lips to the edge of your jaw.
“Fuck, I'm—shit—” Your hair musses up against the mirror, and before you can get a full sentence out, you're shaking under him again, the pressure in your gut rising up through your body, like a string tugging you toward Adrian, your body arching until your spine feels like it's going to snap in two.
He breaks away from your neck, kissing you through the second orgasm, his hands squeezing underneath your knees.
You barely register the gasp he lets out into your mouth, but you're riding the last dredges of your climax when you feel his rhythm falter. He lets one of your legs slip out of his grasp and rest in the crook of his elbow as he braces himself with a palm on the mirror.
Through gritted teeth he moans, sucking in harsh air, and he rests his forehead against yours as he comes, still pumping inside you through it, pulling every last bit of pleasure he can from the moment. You feel it pool beneath your entrance as it slips from the opening of the condom, fucked out and overflowing.
As he regains some composure, he gently sets your legs down, his hands gentle on your hips to keep you from sliding off the counter, slick with sweat.
“Maybe I do have a concussion,” He pants, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss, “Something that good only happens in my dreams.”
You laugh, and kiss him again, “This is the last time I'll offer an ambulance.”
He meets your gaze, fingers smoothing the back of your hair, and he shakes his head, “I think you healed all my ailments.“
There's more laughter, more kissing, but eventually you peel away from each other, and it does hurt, but Adrian takes your hand and doesn't let go.
“Are there showers in this place? I never thought to look because showering in public is a biohazard if I've ever heard one.”
You nod, “Yeah, the women's are used less though, so they're cleaner.”
Rifling through the pocket of your track pants, you pull a small set of keys out and open up the supply closet in the locker room, tossing a towel to Adrian before wrapping one around yourself.
He gathers your discarded clothes and his bag, following you into the other locker room with his fingers wrapped around your wrist.
The running water fills the silence of the gym, and you both crowd under the spout, sighing at the warmth.
It's a quick rinse, Adrian combing his fingers over your scalp, you pressing a kiss to the hickey you'd left earlier. Neither of you say anything, all shy smiles and admiring glances.
When you get out, he roughs the towel over your head and you dry each other off before sitting in the warm steam of the room in the damp towels. You're opposite him in the hallway by the showers, legs against each other.
“So, you're going to come to the bar, right?” He asks, fiddling with a loose thread.
“Deal's a deal.”
He smiles, “I'm glad you saved my life.”
You roll your eyes, but his voice is earnest. There's something special about him, you're certain, and you really think he'd give you the chance to figure it out. He doesn’t seem like a one and done kinda guy, his eyes glistening as he stares at you. You could get attached to this kind of casual admiration.
You crawl over to sit next to him, taking his hand, “Hey, maybe one day you can return the favor.”
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
synopsis : phainon gets a severe case of baby fever after seeing you act so motherly. shenanigans (breeding you) ensue.
MDNI, i cannot stop you from reading but i'd like you to refrain from openly engaging with my posts. do not repost or use to feed AI.
tags / cws :: baby fever, breeding kink, breeding-centered dirty talk, piv sex (obviously), mating press, porn with a bit of plot.. not beta read only proof read once or twice, i apologize in advance for any mistakes 😭
phainon feels the first seeds of his future obsession appear in his mind when he sees you tending to a young child in okhema’s streets. the two of you were out for a stroll, when you crossed paths with a little boy who had scraped his knee just moments ago. phainon’s eyes watch you intently as you kneel down to look at the tiny wound, comforting him with sweet words, drying his tears with your sleeve. you even buy the child some ice-cream, and as you retreat back to phainon’s side, you say, “he’s cute, isn’t he?” maybe it’s just phainon’s imagination, but he swears he can hear a hint of longing in your voice. well, his hormones might also make him a bit biased, making him think you might want a child, but he can’t really help that, can he?
phainon’s mind is playing this scene on loop. you looked so motherly, right by the young boy’s side. if he didn’t know you, he would have assumed you were his mother – and would have been disappointed to know such a pretty lady was already taken. he’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he accidentally walks into a lamp pole, but even then, as you cradle his face to check on him, he still has this dreamy look on his face. you, the mother of his children… that sounds nice.
that night, phainon brings you home earlier than usual. soon as the door is shut, he’s kissing you like he wants to devour you until nothing is left. you’re positively responsive, of course, but you seriously wonder what’s gotten into his head. he’s usually passionate, yes, but he likes to take his time… so you’re practically stunned when he carries you, not even to the bed, but to the kitchen counter, which is closer by just a few meters.
your clothes are ripped off. literally. you try to complain about his barbaric behavior, something about making him face aglaea’s wrath after destroying the clothes she created, but he shuts you up with a kiss so hot you forget about it (for tonight, anyway). he spreads your legs open, let the ripped fabric pool on the floor beneath you. phainon throws one leg over his shoulder, and just as he’s about to begin to pound into you, you grab his face to make him really look at you.
phainon feels his dreams of getting you pregnant shatter as you say, “hey, you forgot the condom…” he tries to swallow his disappointment. he was so blinded by his lust, he forgot that you aren’t aware yet of his need to knock you up.
“actually, i was thinking,” he starts, his tone suddenly much more nervous, “we could do it raw, tonight.”
his words make you raise a brow. “but i might get pregnant.”
“that’s… what i want.” he confesses, and before you can even say anything, he adds, “please. please, consider it. i-i know pregnancy is difficult, but i’ll take such good care of you throughout the whole thing, i’ll never leave your side, i’ll make sure all your cravings are satisfied – i’ll even carry you room to room, if you would please just let me get you pregnant.”
by the end of his speech, he’s panting, and his cock, clearly just as desperate, is resting on your stomach, leaking pre on your skin. he’s itching to put it in, but he’s holding himself back, waiting for you to agree.
you stare at him with wide eyes. clearly, you didn’t expect any of that. where did this baby fever come from? but at the same time, you can’t say you’re exactly opposed to the idea. you’ve had thoughts of starting a family with phainon – but they were fleeting, and you never thought it would amount to anything serious.
until tonight, that is. so, now that you have phainon between your legs, ready to breed you until all you can think of is his name, you give him a small nod. you hope you won’t come to regret this later, but that thought is stopped by his lips coming to crash onto yours once again.
amidst kisses, he sings your praises, thanks you like you’re his goddess, for letting him do this to you. “thank you, thank you thank you thank you thank you…” the words begin to blur, he’s making less sense, but he doesn’t care. as soon as he sinks his cock in your warmth, it’s like a beast is unleashed. you’ve never felt him fuck you so thoroughly before tonight, his hands all over your body, particularly your breasts and your stomach.
whenever you can see them, his eyes are clouded, glazed over with a lust so primal you wonder if he’s even human anymore. his hand lets go of your left tit to focus on kneading the tender flesh of your ass, and instead, he leans forward, to take your already swollen nipple into his mouth. he’s sucking desperately, his moans still audible despite the fact his mouth is full. not just that, but the pace of his hips somehow fastens.
“i’ll… i’ll get you pregnant tonight… promise,” your ears are filled with the rambles of a man that seems driven mad with lust. you’re barely able to register everything that’s happening, from his hands, to his hips, to his mouth by your ear, “you’ll be so pretty and full with my kids, ‘n i’ll take good care of you… my pretty wife, my pretty children…”
he doesn’t move away from you when he finally cums. you’ve only done it without protection once, so the sensation is foreign, and it leaves you craving more. even after that, he thrusts in a few more times, just to make sure his cum won’t spill out once he pulls out.
as he looks at you, he seems back to normal again. somewhat, anyway. he cradles your cheek, just like you did earlier today, and his voice is soft, as he asks you, “one more time… please?”
you’re weak to that soft, puppy-like look in his eyes. despite the fact you know you’re already in for a morning full of stiffness and cramps, you nod slowly. phainon grins, and he changes your position, picking you up to put you on the floor.
“can’t we move this to the bedroom, at least?”
“but i need to breed you right now. or i’ll die. i don’t wanna waste time walking all the way to the bedroom...”
you can only give him a deadpan look at his dramatic reply. the pout he was sporting as he argued with you turns into a grin once again, when he doesn’t hear you complain. he folds you in half with ease, pushing your knees to your chest. you groan, feeling your whole body stretch under his mighty hands. he remains gentle, but you can feel how he’s holding back…
“this position allows me to reach your womb more easily,” he casually explains, before beaming, “it’s called a mating press! funny name, isn’t it?”
you find the contrast between his excited attitude and the foulness of what he’s saying amusing. but you don’t really have the time to ponder it further, because phainon’s already drilling into you. he’s making sure that his first load remains deep inside you, not a single drop wasted. at the same time, phainon brings a hand between your legs, the pad of his finger pressing against your clit.
you’re left moaning even louder than before, as he rubs it hard, occasionally pinching it, just to make sure your eyes remain open.
“keep looking at me, dawnlight,” he coos, using his other hand to keep your gaze on him, “i love seeing you like this… i love you, i love you so much…”
you’re struggling, really, to follow his words. the pleasure is making your vision blurry, a mix of tears and feeling light-headed. but you try your best, even if he’s in the middle of wrecking you.
his hand knows your body all too well. while phainon wishes his mouth could do the work instead, he can see you’re enjoying yourself as it is, so he continues, flicking, rubbing, twisting – until he sees your body twitch in this oh so familiar way.
“you’re about to cum, aren’t you, my love?” phainon asks, smiling at the sight of you, ready to cum because of him, like so many times before, “go on, beautiful… be a good girl, and cum on my cock.”
you do just that, and phainon adores how you look when you’re cumming. it breaks his heart how you’ll never know just how gorgeous you look, wallowing in your orgasm – from your eyes glistening with tears, to your curves, trembling, covered in a thin veil of sweat. in fact, you’re so gorgeous, he ends up cumming seconds after you, spilling white ribbons deep inside of you.
you’re both left panting, as his hips come to a rest against you. he doesn’t dare to pull out, not just yet anyway, too scared of a single drop dripping out of you. after all, phainon is on a mission tonight (knocking you up), and he doesn’t want to fail.
“phainon,” you call out, as you attempt to move away from him, to sit up. your legs are starting to hurt from this position, and you think you’re definitely spent for the night, “let’s go shower now, okay?”
phainon immediately whines, leaning forward to press his cheek against your knees, giving you his best puppy eyes. “but… please, dawnlight, I just need one more… one more, to make sure you’re pregnant. please? can you let me do that?”
you groan, and throw your head back. you know damn well that when he says one more, what he means is “the whole night”. but… those puppy eyes of his are hard to refuse.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
the next day, you wake up to the sight of phainon nuzzling your breasts. as well as a throbbing ache in your entire body.
“phainon of aedes elysiae…” you mumble, mustering a glare you send his way. to which, he just smiles at you in pure, unbridled adoration.
“good morning, my love,” he greets back, before pressing a kiss to your left breast, “there’s nothing wrong with me admiring the body of the mother of my future children, you know…”
“children?”
“… i wouldn’t mind if kephale were to bless us with twins. or triplets.” when you pull on his ahoge, he whines, and nuzzles your chest again, “i was joking! just joking, dawnlight! although, if you want more children after the first one, i’m up to it–”
“phainon!!” you tug on his hair harder, and this time, it’s enough to make him drop the idea of children. he relents, and moves to bury his face in your neck, while his hand comes to rest on your midriff, rubbing it in circles. it hasn’t even been a week, much less a day, but phainon’s already imagining a baby bump there.
“when our little one grows older, i’d like to make him visit aedes elysiae,” he whispers, hope lacing his voice, “we can all play in the wheat fields in the morning, eat a hearty lunch my mother will make, then watch the setting sun by the dock. it would be nice, don’t you think?”
his dreams of a future amidst the golden wheats of his village make you soften. it’s idyllic, yes, but you’d love that anyway. you wrap your tired arms around him, and kiss the top of his head. “it would be nice, for sure.”
end notes : one of my friends on twitter suggested this and i immediately stopped writing whatever else i was on to focus on this. idk about you guys but i would happily let phainon impregnate me.
mdni/18+, smut, dom adrian, praise kink, blow jobs, office romance
Ahhh 🙀 this is my first smut, please interact if you like it!
Based off a request I saw earlier this week from @fartknockerz 💙 Pls enjoy!
Tag List @xoxocamis @drunkvirgo @tezzzzzzzz @whatislovevavy
“What are you doing?” Harcourt asks, brows furrowed. She sips her beer, following your line of sight.
“He is so fucking fine.” You murmur as you watch Adrian high five Chris then walk to the target to retrieve the darts.
“Chris?” She quirks her brow. “I'm not into sharing.”
“No... Adrian.” You snort a laugh.
“Honey, no.” She sets her beer down, concern creases the lines of her face. “He's a legitimate psychopath.”
“Come on…” You glance at her, mouth quirked. “Look at him.” You both turn to watch him gyrate his hips after getting another bulls eye. “He’s wearing light wash dad jeans and New Balance sneakers…”
“Yeah, exactly, look at him! The shoes should be a hint.” She shakes her head. “You’re young and he's seriously damaged.”
You hum. Your eyes travel up his muscular frame and you bite your lip, recalling the time you bandaged up a wound he sustained a mission, it was a slice across his ribs. Now you know… he's absolutely ripped under those dorky ass clothes.
Besides, how damaged could he be? He collects Pokemon cards and spends most of his money at the local comic book store.
“Don't shit where you eat.” Harcourt warns, a knowing look in her eye as she studies you.
“Says you, the one shitting all over the office and fucking Peacemaker.” You roll your eyes and drag them back to the object of your very inappropriate obsession.
“Well, don't say I didn't warn you.” She says with finality, and tips her beer back.
“Why the fuck is this written in glittery teal ink?” Murn drops a stack of reports you prepared for Adrian on your desk.
You look up, swallowing hard, pink rising to your cheeks. Your eyes flick over to Adrian, who's leaned against his desk, arms crossed, glaring at you.
“And why are only Adrian's reports in this fucking… blue green mess?”
“It's teal.” Adrian says levelly.
You can't tell Murn it's because it's Adrian's favorite color and you do just about anything to capture his attention. Besides eye fucking him at work and bringing him coffee, the sparkly teal pen is all you have so far.
Groaning inwardly you take the stack of papers. “Sorry.”
“What’s so wrong with it, Murn?” Adrian says levelly, gaze dark with irritation. “Such an asshole.” He mutters.
“Shut it, Adrian!” Murn turns, an angry look on his face. “I already had to take you off the mission today because you're a murderous, unpredictable, human aberration.”
Adrian scowls back at him, the muscles in his back and arms bunching.
Murn glares at him. “When I say don't kill innocent bystanders, I damn well mean it!”
“Come on! It could've been an accident.” He jumps to his feet.
“It wasn't an accident and you know it.” Murn growls.
“Okay, maybe you're right.” He says, thrusting an angry finger at Murn. “But, you know you need me out there.”
Murn considers for a moment. “You’re right.” He sighs. “If you can calm down, I'll consider you coming with us later. Show me you have some restraint and can control your impulses, no matter how confrontational you feel.” He pauses. “Convince me you'll listen to my directives or you can sit here and push paperwork until you're eighty.” Murn grins sourly.
Murn looks down at you. “Re-write those reports, and not in sparkly teal or pink or anything other than black ink or your internship is done.” He turns on his heel and slams the door behind him.
“Fuck him.” Adrian growls, a scowl darkening his face. “I think teal is the best color, especially for people who can't decide if their favorite color is blue or green.” His nostrils flare.
“Thanks for… standing up for me.” You say, heart pounding. As his eyes sweep over your face, a muscle in his jaw twitches.
“I dont know how im supposed to fucking control myself when I have to deal with all of this bullshit.” He kicks a nearby computer chair, sending it sailing across the office.
He tosses his head back, jaw clenched.
“Murn wants you to control your anger, so you don't accidentally kill innocent people, right? Where's your Switch? Maybe that would take your mind off everything.”
“I think I left it in the damn van.” He mutters. “Fuck! How the hell am I supposed to calm down before they leave?” His face scrunches in thought. “Now I'm not going to be able to go and kick butterfly ass with Peacemaker.”
“The keys are right there.” You motion to Murn's desk. Sliding out from behind your desk you walk over and hold them up. “I can fix the reports later. Let's go get your Switch.”
His smile beams. “Fuck yeah!”
“Where the hell is it?” Adrian tosses a crate on the floor. His cheeks are red, glasses fogged. He can’t find the Switch and he's angrier than you've ever seen him. Usually, he gets in one of these moods and fighting criminals is the only way to level him out.
You continue to search, opening a cabinet. “Are you sure you left it here?”
“Yes! Of course I was sure I left it here, otherwise I wouldn't have said it.” He sits on the bench seat, glaring down at you.
“What else helps?”
“Killing criminals.” He seethes. “Punishing them.” He adds darkly.
“That's it?” You ask, eyes eating up the flush that stains his cheeks and the way his chest is heaving under his Vigilante armor.
“And jerking off.” He spreads his gloved hands in frustration.
“Really?” Your voice hitches and your body heats with the rush of excitement that courses through you.
“Yeah, but I don't have time for that shit, it takes me forever and they're leaving to go kill butterflies like… way sooner than it would take for me to jerk off.”
You can't help but envision Adrian, cock in hand, jerking off, cursing and whimpering until he comes. Your mouth waters. You want to see it for yourself. No, you want to do it for him…distract him from his problems.
“What about… head?” Your voice is low, acutely aware that you're eye level with his lap.
He swallows, looking down at you with creased brows.
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”
You lick your lips, searching his eyes. “Let me.”
He checks his watch and starts unzipping his pants.
“Fine. It's worth a try.” He's hard after a few pumps in his fist. You watch as his fist travels up and down his thick shaft, squeezing himself from root to tip until a bead of precum slides down his swollen head and into his fist.
His face is tense as he watches you, crouched in front of him, practically salivating.
“Are you going to give me fucking head or not?” His voice is craggy with anger and lust.
Nodding you crawl forward and take him in your hands. Your lips connect with his cock, tongue licking the pre-ejaculate. Then you take him in your mouth.
His breath hitches and he gently places his hand on your head.
“Fuck.” He groans.
You hum, savoring the taste of him, of the way his cock slides across your tongue, of the way your jaw aches from the width of him.
“Suck harder.” He commands. You suck hard, pushing down until he hits the back of your throat, then you run your teeth up his shaft as you bob back up.
He lets out a string of frustrated curses. “I know what you've been doing.” He says, voice low and firm, like someone about to deliver a scolding. Your eyes drift up to his, they're darker than usual. “Despite everyone thinking so, I'm not an idiot.”
His gloved hand moves from the top of your head, to your cheek. As he silently watches as you bob up and down on him, his thumb caresses your cheek. You lock eyes with him, the mutual desire is palpable.
“I've seen how you've been looking at me.” He rolls his hips, thrusting gently into your mouth. “With those come fuck me eyes.”
His hand moves from your cheek and fists your hair, he thrusts. You gag. “Is this what you want?” He growls.
You look up, eyes tearing, and nod. Yes, yes this is definitely what you want. That dark expression of his is earth shattering, tearing down your defenses and replacing them with a need to please him, to make him understand how much you want to make him feel good, however you can.
“You and your little teal pen?” Your pussy aches and you let one hand drift down and under the opening of your mini skirt.
“Oh, yes you know what you've been doing to me.” He thrusts again into your mouth, mouth slightly open, watching you rub yourself. You open your jaw wider and breathe through your nose.
“Fuck, yes. Take it.” He groans.
He thrusts again, picking up the tempo. You hold his gaze and breathe through it, acutely aware of frothy saliva dripping out of your mouth and down your chin.
“Tell me you like this.” He says, voice higher, eyes wide as he watches his thick cock disappear into your mouth and down your throat. You nod.
“Say it.” He fists your hair harder and fucks into you faster, the head of his cock stetching and burning your throat. “I. Need. To. Hear. You. Say. It!” He punctuates each word with a thrust.
You try to, but your jaw can't move and his swollen cock is stuffed down your windpipe. You can feel your cheeks heating, getting red and blotchy, your lips already feeling stretched and swollen. Adrian looks down at you, a sharp edge to his smile, pupils blown wide.
“So fucking pretty.” He manages before pressing your face further down and fucking your throat with fast hard trusts.
Your chest is heaving, breathing hard through your nose. The effort of taking his cock like this and keeping air in your lungs makes little strangled sounds escape you every time he thrusts.
Impossibly, he stiffens even more at this and lets out a low dark groan. You can't help but recall how Harcourt warned you that Adrian was damaged… She called him a psychopath. The cold, dark look glinting in his eyes now, as he fucks you and commands you, while he chases his pleasure, confirms it in your mind.
When you start seeing stars popping in your vision, he pulls his engorged cock out of your mouth completely and you sputter, gasping, and look up at him while ropes of saliva tie your mouth to his cock.
“Say it.” He commands.
“Yes.” You gasp. “Yes, I want you to fuck my throat.”
“Do you want to eat my load?” He breathes, his dark smile twitching.
“Yes, I want -”
“Good girl.” He taps the tip of himself against your lips as you speak. “Open.” He growls.
You do, and he eases himself in again, wrapping your hair around his hand, like a horseback rider might hold a reign. He presses into your throat again, the stretch of accommodating his bulbous cock head brings tears to your eyes.
Then, using your hair, he tugs you up with him as he stands. You gag. “Don't spit it out.” He murmurs gently, and guides you, cock still impaling your mouth, towards the bench. You sit.
“Good girl.” He whispers. He stands, hunched over, and his pants fall around his ankles. He curses as he fucks into your throat, balls slapping your chin, chasing his orgasm fervently. “ Fuck... such a good girl…” He murmurs.
Your fingers circle your swollen, throbbing clit through your damp underwear, desperate for some relief of your own.
Grunting with effort, his thrusts become wilder, hips losing rhythm. That's when the van door opens and from around Adrian’s pumping hips you see Economos’ shocked face.
“Oh, god! Why am I seeing his ass? Fuck! Is nothing sacred anymore?”
Adrian keeps railing your tonsils, unphased by the entire team witnessing him fucking your face, and you rubbing youself like you're in heat.
Through watery vision you see Harcourt shake her head and turn away. Murn stands and watches impassively, while Adebayo tilts her head, mouth ajar.
Peacemaker is a red and blue blur as he approaches. “Hell yeah dude, good for you! I'm just going to -” He slides the door closed.
“Fuck, im going to come.” He looks down into your face, biting his lip, glasses skewed, his mop of hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Your heart swells.
“Ugh, ugh, fuck.” His fist tightens in your hair and his cock throbs in your mouth as he shoots a huge, hot, salty load of cum down your throat. Breathing hard he uses the hand not ripping your hair out to massage the side of your face with his thumb while he continues to spill his seed into your mouth, urging you to swallow it down. Cum dribbles out of the corners of your lips and you shudder, hips rolling as your own orgasm washes over you.
When he's finished, he loosens his grip on your hair and smoothes his hand over it, combing it back with his finger tips.
Smiling, he pulls up his pants. “Wow, okay so add head to the list.” He says happily while buckling his belt. Then he leans over, moves a cushion on the bench, and stuffs his Nintendo Switch into his cargo pocket.
“Found it.” He winks.
When he sees your legs are weak and shaking, he sweeps you into his arms and carries you across the parking lot and into the office. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and kisses, leaving a stinging bite. “That was so good.” He whispers. You smile and wrap your arms around him tighter.
Nobody turns to look at you when you both stumble in, except for Economos.
“What the fuck, are we all going to pretend that shit didnt just happen? This isn't normal!” He huffs. You adjust your skirt and walk shakily to your office chair, flopping into it.
“Let's go … kill some butterflies, I guess.” Adebayo says weakly.
“Yes, we still have a job to do.” Murn holsters a pistol.
Peacemaker and Harcourt share a look, smiles pulling at their lips.
Adrian scoops your glittery teal gel pen up and grabs your hand. The pen tickles as he writes his number across your palm.
He grins then looks around.
“Okay, let's go? Murn, I'm good to go! I promise I wont kill anyone unless they are actively trying to hurt one of us. Or you tell me not to.”
Murn inclines his head. “A deal's a deal.”
Adrian punches a fist in excitement. “Rad!”
Everyone files out, you keep your eyes averted except for when Chris nods at you and gives you a thumbs up.
Adrian, holding his mask, is the last out the door. He winks and a warm, sweet, smile spreads across his face.
“Be a good girl and call me tonight.”
Pls interact if you want to see more like this from me... 💙
« c’mon, baby, bite on it.. » clark panted, his hips working on autopilot as they slammed into you repeatedly, while he presented his forearm to you, waiting for you to plant your cute little fangs in his skin of steel. he had in a full nelson, but let go of one of your limp legs. « c’mon, don’t needa think about it, just do what am sayin’, yeah? oh, yeah, good girl… good effin’ girl, that’s right- ah-! »
clark has always had a habit of talking you through things, be it doing the dishes, cooking, or sex. but you wonder what in earth came through him tonight because, fuck, was he talkative.
« g-gonna… hm, gonna fuck those useless braincells outta ya, yeah? been- ngh– been stressing out way too much about all that- that useless stuff, my love… » and he slammed up again, heavy balls tightening up with every twitch of your delicious pussy, all warm and gooey and sweet and he could practically taste your juices being squeezed out of your hole by his thick cock claiming its spot inside.
your fangs dig deeper into his skin, as if attempting to draw blood, but the kryptonian simply moans—whines in your ear, as if you could bite down harder, hurt him further. with you, pleasure blended with pain, and whatever you could do to him would feel too fucking good.
« lemme fill you– p-please… lemme fill that cute tummy up.. yeah? you want that? want it all inside? oh, yeah, my sweet honey… yeah, i know you want it. » the arm holding your leg up goes higher, bending your body into impossible flexibility. he cooed praises in your ear, whispers of sweet nothings to distract you from the bundle of pleasure focused on your core—in vain.
he saw that was in vain when a stream of cut squirted out of your pussy, soaking the mattress, and your walls smashed around his twitching cock, which did not take long to follow. « fffuhh- ngh– gah! y-yeah! baby, that’s it- hmm, yesss… s-such a p-perfect girl taking it aaall— ahh- fuck! fuck, it feels so good! m’cumming again! m’cumming! gonna make you a mommy- ah, m’cumming, mommy! »
and then he came again, more this time, filling you to what felt like the brim with his seed.
