YES SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR SYCAMORE!!! i love that goofy ass professor so much hes one of the biggest reasons i started playing pokemon but hardly anyone writes about him solo/with a reader 😭
can i request some nsfw headcanons for sycamore?? with or without an s/o i dont mind!
(also i dont see any request rules anywhere so let me know if im breaking any!!)
Oh Sycamore the man you are…
i will GLADLY write those headcannons for you :3
(also yeah i should probably write some rules but you’re not breaking any no worries)
feel free to borrow these headcanons, but please just tag me! (for credit and also I wanna see)
Sycamore NSFW Headcannons 💙
(Minors, turn back now)
Certified Waist Grabber
Doesn’t even have to be sexual, he just loves grabbing your waist
But…he also loves it when it’s sexual too
Loves giving AND receiving oral
Giving him head under his lab desk OH MY DAYS
He has a very sensitive neck
Definitely is a switch, at least in my head
Soft when he’s dom
Whiny when he’s sub
Likes it when you’re a little mean to him when he’s sub
When he’s dom tho, get ready for so. much. PRAISE
“You’re doing so well for me, my darling”, “Such a perfect sight”, “Truly a masterpiece”, “You sound so beautiful, my love”
Missionary is definitely his fav position
He loves holding you close while he fucks you, hearing every little sound that you make
Only a bit vocal when he’s dom
Not loud, but he’s definitely letting out some soft moans and whimpers
When he’s sub tho…
He’s BEGGING for it
Wants you to make him feel good so badly
Doesn’t like pain during sex, big no for him
He might dabble in some hair pulling, would definitely leave some hickies on you, but that’s pretty much it
Bro is a LOVE MAKER
He makes LOVE
Takes his time with you, making sure you feel good
Will consistently check in on you
“Are you doing alright, darling? Not too much for you?”
Will fuck you rough if you ask, but he loves just slow, passionate sex
Sleepy morning sex hehehehe
Loves walking up behind you, warming his arms around your body, and pressing his hard-on against you
I’d say he has an average sex drive
But if he doesn’t see you for awhile, let’s say you’re traveling or something
As soon as he gets his hands on you, he’s not stopping until he just can’t take it anymore
Would mumble compliments and obscenities in Kalosian under his breath while he pleasures you (mmmm French man)
Whenever he works late, he loves to call you over to his lab…and maybe bend you over his desk
Doesn’t it do it often, but once in a while, if he’s really feeling pent up and he’s held up at the lab, will go in his private office to jerk off to a picture of you he keeps on his desk
I’m surprised there isn’t much content out there for him honestly. But regardless, i love that silly professor man very much
ETA: thank you clawshots for making these gifs for me!!!! AHHHHHHHH! 😵💫😍🥳🥰
You get Chapter 1 today. And since Chapter 1 is short (836 words) Chapter 2 will be posted this Saturday (and then subsequently on Saturdays from there on out)
Word Count: 836
Taglist (if you would like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment so I can remember! My brain isn't the best sometimes, but I'll try my best to tag you in the future chapters!):
The afternoon sun hung low over Rivière Walk, that soft gold light glinting off the slow-moving water as Lysandre and Sycamore made their way eastward. The gravel path crunched beneath their steps; Gogoats grazed in the distance; the breeze carried the smell of river reeds and the faint perfume of blooming meadow flowers. Sycamore chatted easily, hands moving animatedly as he recounted some new trainer he’d met that week, a young girl with a surprisingly powerful Lucario—
But Lysandre wasn’t listening. Not entirely.
He rarely walked anywhere with another person—Sycamore was the only exception—but even now, his attention was split, drifting inward, restless behind that controlled, statuesque façade. His strides were long and precise, his posture straight as a blade; the wind brushed through his spiked orange hair without daring to disturb it. His gloved hands stayed clasped behind his back.
“—and I swear,” Sycamore laughed, nudging him lightly with an elbow, “her Mega Lucario nearly took my arm off. I really must stop offering to spar without warming up first.”
Lysandre huffed, the closest he gave to amusement. “A man of your age should know better than to leap into battle unprepared.”
“Oh, I’m old now, am I?”
“You are older than the girl.”
Sycamore rolled his eyes, still smiling. It was the kind of warmth that softened even Lysandre’s edges—marginally. They continued past the broad curve of the riverbank, birds calling overhead, until the elegant silhouette of the Battle Chateau rose ahead of them, standing proud above the trees.
Then the doors opened.
And you stepped out.
You emerged with a confident, almost regal ease, your Absol trotting at your side, its blade-like horn gleaming in the sun. You bent briefly to scratch its fur, murmuring something soft—something that made Absol’s crimson eyes narrow with pleased affection before it pressed its head against your thigh. Your battle clothes were slightly mussed from exertion; there was a glow to you, the unmistakable energy of someone who had just won, and won thoroughly.
Lysandre stopped walking.
Sycamore nearly kept going without him, catching himself when he felt the sudden absence of footsteps beside him. “Lysandre? What—?”
He followed his friend’s gaze to you, before snapping back to the taller man. Sycamore saw the way Lysandre’s sharp blue eyes followed the slope of your shoulders, the assured gait, the gentle but commanding way you guided your Absol aside so another pair of trainers could enter the building behind you. He saw the subtle narrowing of his gaze—as if evaluating and dissecting. Appreciating.
Sycamore’s brows lifted. Then a grin spread over his face, slow and knowing.
“Well, well,” he murmured, folding his arms. “Something has caught the great Lysandre’s attention.”
Lysandre didn’t answer at first. He watched you instead. Watched the way you paused at the steps to adjust your bag strap, the quiet grace in your fingers, the ease with which Absol leaned against your leg. Watched as you turned in the same direction he and Sycamore had been heading, beginning down the path ahead and completely unaware of the two powerful men who’d just become your audience.
Finally, Lysandre spoke, low and contemplative:
“…Strength expressed through elegance. A rare combination.” Another beat. His eyes followed you like a flame follows oxygen. “And a trainer who inspires loyalty in an Absol…That is not a bond forged without depth.”
Sycamore pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “My, my. High praise from you.”
“It is not praise.” Lysandre’s gaze stayed fixed on you, absorbing every detail. “It is observation.”
“Mmhm.” Sycamore’s smile softened into something more genuine. “You like her.”
Lysandre didn’t deny it. He never did when Sycamore was right.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, analyzing you the way an architect studies a structure —checking balance, proportion, intention. And something in his expression shifted. Not softening, but sharpening with purpose.
“Approach her,” Lysandre said quietly.
Sycamore nearly laughed. “Ah, so I’m to do the talking?”
“You are better at easing strangers into…unfamiliar propositions.” The faintest flicker of wry amusement touched Lysandre’s mouth. “And she would respond more openly to you than to me.”
Sycamore brushed imaginary dust from his coat. “So you trust my judgment?”
“I trust your ability to recognize beauty,” Lysandre replied. “And to discern when it is…worthwhile to pursue.”
Sycamore’s heart gave a little jump, old affection stirring, and he couldn’t help smiling warmly at his old friend. “Very well. I’ll speak to her.”
He clapped Lysandre lightly on the arm. “Try not to stare too intensely while I do, hm? You’ll frighten her.”
Lysandre didn’t look away from you. “If she is frightened by intensity,” he murmured, “she is not one we seek.”
Sycamore’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, she’s exactly the one.”
And without another word, he set off down the path to catch up with you—while Lysandre remained behind just a moment longer, watching, assessing, deciding.
You had no idea what kind of night you were walking toward.
The XY gang finding out that the reader is dating Sycamore
The rumors are true, Anon, I do like Sycamore. Thanks for requesting!
-Mod Sylveon 🌸
They truly didn’t see this coming.
You two seemed so professional when you were together. You called each other by your last names, the most affection they’ve seen you two give each other was a hand shake, they never would’ve guessed that you were dating.
And when you mentioned going on a date after work, the gang was rightfully curious.
“Ooo, Mx. l/n is going on a date!” Shauna squealed. “With who? With who?”
“Why, the professor, of course. Who else?”
The silence that followed your casual statement was deafening. Calem was the first to break it.
“...You’re dating Professor Sycamore?”
“You didn’t know?” you chuckled.
“No, we didn’t know!” exclaimed Serena. “Did you expect us to?”
Your eyes widened. “Did- did neither of us tell you guys?!”
Sycamore as a dad is a 10/10 concept but let me bring you this: The professor finding out his s/o is pregnant. Bonus if his s/o kept giving him hints but the man is so oblivious he couldn't catch it at first
GOD!!! I’M LIVING!!! THIS IS GONNA BE SO LONG BUT I LOVE THIS SYCAMORE IS SUCH HUSBAND MATERIAL!!!
Professor Sycamore versus Pregnancy
Round 1 (the first twelve weeks)
- Sycamore honestly just thinks that his S/O is sick when he catches them with their head shoved halfway down the toilet, and is genuinely concerned but when it stops after a few days, he writes it off as the fluwhen it happens a few days every week tho, he’s like ‘we gotta go to the doctor’ like this man’s doctorate is useless. he is a doctor in cute animals not people problems. His S/O talks him down from a doctors visit but he still brings them a bunch of vitamins and like anti-nausea medicines until the sickness seems to go away after a month or so and he forgets about it.
- When his S/O starts tossing and turning in the night, Sycamore is quick to figure out that their need for cuddling has gone way up - he loves it but he worries about his S/O’s sleep cycle and health when he’s away at conferences and has to pull all-nighters at the lab. Of course, he just thinks it’s that they’re just getting closer as a couple.
- To be honest, both of them might be in the dark at this point, but so far,Sycamore Status: Oblivious as Hell
Round 2!!(the next 16 weeks)
- Sycamore notices his S/O gaining some weight but is literally like ‘good. they are eating well.’ He’s got grandma goggles with S/O, if you know what I mean, the kind of partner who is constantly fighting his need to feed and take care of his S/O. When they bring it up, he is quick to reassure them he loves everything about them, but doesn’t get why his S/O is just laughing at him when he says it.
- When the weird cravings kick in he just thinks they’re finally willing to try the ‘finer’ kalosian/poke french food that most self respecting people wouldn’t put anywhere near their mouths. When they gag at his typical home cooking, he wonders if their palate has just evolved too quickly for him to keep up with.
- Gross but, when his S/O is having to get up multiple times a night to pee, he’s just like ‘ur drinking too much water ho stay dehydrated so we can get some sleep’ but just kinda has weird dreams but nothing else really.
- Finds his S/O one day after work sobbing on the couch, just watching the kid tv show channels and is just??? confused but pats them on the back until they calm down enough he can turn the tv off and cook dinner
- Honestly doesn’t get it until his S/O grabs his hand and just puts it on their stomach when the baby is kicking - This Is What Kills The Man
- He just starts crying obviously and kissing his beautiful S/O and is just like ‘can i touch it???’ and they are like ‘u already r’ and he’s the kind of dude who will drop down to his knees and start putting little kisses on their belly and talking to it (’i love u!’ and no one knows if it’s to the baby or S/O lmao)
- Tells EVERYONE. His students, the assistants, his hairdresser, your plants, and constantly like ‘i’m dad??? i’m dad!!!’ and grinning all over town like an absolute fool - its infectious and literally all of lumiose knows about this baby and is sending cards and shit
- Sycamore Status: Aware but Ditzy
Round 3!!!(the last 12 weeks)
- Sycamore is just in a state of very researching typical panic. He’s stressed out and trying to buy every ‘what to expect when you’re expecting :^)’ book out there and is putting together the most common advice in a very dry survival guide/instructional manual to make sure he’s doing everything right
- His lab is constantly trying to page him because he may have paternity leave, but he dead ass forgot to let anyone know he was taking it and literally just stopped coming to work.
- On first name basis with the local maternity/babies r us stores because just when he thinks he’s babyproofed it all he finds another hazard or another thing his child definitely ‘needs’ in a catalogue and goes racing back to the store the next day. (does his baby have a ‘your first bunsen burner’ playset? maybe so, maybe so.)
- The mood swings have really begun, but they aren’t violent mood swings or nothing. His S/O just cries all the time and he’s so beside himself with what to do because they’re like ‘i know that i am sobbing but i swear i’m fine. its the baby, i know that this can of peas is nothing to cry over i promise’ but they’re all gross and sad about it still so he’s just like ‘i uh love u???’ and eventually just learns that crying is just a new state of being for his poor S/O and just to be there for them while they calm down.
- The last few weeks before the baby is born, he’s spends hours holding his S/O’s stomach and talking to the baby and stuff. He really wants to be connected to both his partner and the baby through the pregnancy and wants them both to know he loves them? So much?
- Sycamore Status: 2 Stressed 3 Blessed
Bonus! Birth!
- The S/O was admitted before the birth, because Sycamore is a worry wart and didn’t want to have to leave it to chance where they were/what was going on when the delivery started, but he’s still an anxious man
- A Big Weenie, who can’t take the sight of his S/O being in pain or blood so he’s trying to be there while also not fainting at the overwhelming sight of uh everything lol
- the waiting room is filled with just everyone they’ve ever met basically and they all brought gifts for the S/O and baby and did Sycamore cry? U betcha
- When the baby is born, all the stress and adrenaline just kind of leaves both the parents and they’re just kind of exhausted but relieved like they can’t believe that they’ve made it?
- True Ending is Sycamore let’s his S/O hold and nurse the baby first before holding them, but Good Ending mandates that he’s the first one to hold the baby and he breaks down and cries, and that makes the baby cry which makes the emotional hormone addled S/O cryThat’s the first family photo, courtesy of the nurse (who won the draw to deliver the baby, literally everyone loves this family in lumiose, i cannot stress this enough)
Heh (tucks hair behind ear). So I heard you do pretty good Sycamore stuff...Anyway to possible write a Sycamore x Reader x Lysandre one? Can it be a mix of fluff and the good stuff (smut), heh.
(or just one doesn't matter. I'm happy with both)
Heh
heheheheheheheeeeeeee
I gotchu anon I gotchu
I love them both dearly so this is great
feel free to borrow these headcanons, but please just tag me! (for credit and also I wanna see)
Being in a relationship with Sycamore & Lysandre (Headcanons)
SFW:
Both of them are romantics deffo
Sycamore's love language is quality time, while Lysandre's is either gift giving or acts of service
Speaking of gifts, Lysandre definitely spoils both you and Sycamore with the gifts he gives
At the start of the relationship, he tends to give more lavish gifts, more expensive ones mainly to impress you two
Later on though, he realizes that you both don't even really care about the price of the gift, but more the meaning behind it
He then takes more time researching your interest or hobbies, getting you things that genuinely make you happy and are important to you
Cafe and Dinner dates are common for the 3 of you
You all try to go to some place new every time, or try something new together
Sycamore is more adventurous with food, while I feel like Lysandre is a little bit reserved with what he'll try
He has a sensitive palette (or so he says), but he would try at least a little bit if the two of you really want him to
Especially if y'all give him puppy eyes
He can't help but say yes to that!
Movie nights at home is another date activity that I think they both love
Just all 3 of you on the couch, snuggled up together watching whatever movie that was picked by one of you (y'all take turns)
Lowkey headcanon Sycamore to be a bit of a movie buff
He just loves watching cinema!
Lysandre says he doesn't have enough time to watch movies or tv
There's a 90% chance that whatever y'all are watching, Sycamore has at least seen it once and Lysandre has never seen it at all
At least one of y'all pass out while watching the movie (it's probably you let's be honest)
The 3 of you end up just cuddling on the couch for the rest of the night
Or until someone starts dragging yall into bed, where you all end up tangled together, sleeping soundly
NSFW:
Oh boy oh boy
We going to Paris baby AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH
Take me to that tower
Eiffel PRISM TOWER
They both LOVE to make you feel good
Got their hands all over you
Out of the two, I personally think Lysandre would be the most dominant
I feel like they would both tag team you tho, if that makes sense
They love to watch you get flustered
They tease you about it, Lysandre does it the most
Both very passionate in bed
Sycamore/Lysandre sandwich eheheheheeeee
No one gets left behind!
Everybody cums lol
Typically it's the boys being dominant over you, but y'all like to switch it up sometimes 😛
On rare occasions, Lysandre might let you and Sycamore dominate him
It's a pride thing
FOREPLAAAAAYYYYY
They love it
God they are such romantics in my head AAAAH
Love it if you wear lingerie ("that's basic" I DONT CARE)
Y'all's bedroom definitely has a comfy + sexy vibe too it
Warm dim lighting, dark tones (browns, reds, etc.), candles, big bed with nice bedding and comfy pillows, overall just a chill atmosphere
So it's easy to get into the mood
They take their time with you
And they make every second count
They be whispering sweet nothings in your ears oh my gah it's everywhere
"You're so beautiful, darling", "So eager for us, aren't you?", "Did you need to be touched by us this badly?", "Don't worry, Mon cœur, we'll take good care of you"
They kiss you
They kiss each other
We all win
Double penetration??? Yes.
Not as often tho
Sycamore is weary of pain during sex, so he isn't too fond of it as much
But sometimes he'll indulge with the two of you
But only if safety is insured and it isn't TOO painful
Eiffel tower tho????? Fuck yeah
We in Paris
I have already said Sycamore is the Aftercare King
And I feel like Lysandre is in that same boat
But nothing beats how caring and attentive Sycamore is like come on
They take their stress out on you WHO SAID THAT
I love them very much and I want them both 😛 so sorry it took so long for me to post this! I've been picking up more shifts at work + project deadlines so I've been a bit busy :3
Taglist (if you would like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment so I can remember! My brain isn't the best sometimes, but I'll try my best to tag you in the future chapters!):
The room was larger than you expected, much larger than any standard auberge accommodation. The moment Sycamore opened the door and stepped aside for you, you could tell this space was lived-in, curated.
Claimed.
You stepped in slowly, taking it all in. Warm lamplight. Rich fabrics. Dark cherry wood furniture. A faint, familiar cologne—spiced citrus and something deeper, something you suspected was Lysandre’s.
One travel case sat neatly in the corner. The desk bore scattered research notes in two distinct handwritings: one a looping script and the other, sharp, decisive strokes. The bed was large enough for two tall men—possibly three—and the blankets were thick, soft, and expensive.
“This is…really nice,” you murmured.
Sycamore smiled, sheepish and charming. “Lysander prefers roomy accommodations when we travel. The inn keeps this one reserved for us.”
You set your bag gently on the desk. It felt strangely intimate placing something of yours into a room that so clearly belonged to them. And yet, Sycamore’s relaxed and warm presence made it feel safe.
“Please,” he said, gesturing with a soft flourish, “sit wherever you like. Make yourself comfortable.”
The small couch beside the bed looked plush, inviting, the kind of seat you’d melt into after a long day. You chose it instinctively. Sycamore chose the bed, sitting on the edge so the distance between you was minimal but still respectful.
Espeon, of course, immediately leapt onto the comforter.
“Espeon—!” you hissed, scrambling up. “No—get down! This isn’t our room.”
“It’s all right,” Sycamore assured quickly, raising a calming hand. “Truly. She’s welcome.”
But Espeon didn’t just settle on the blankets. She padded straight over to Sycamore with serene confidence, circled once, and then draped her front half across his lap
You blinked.
Sycamore looked delighted, and he ran his fingers through her fur. Espeon purred, her long split tail giving slow, relaxed swishes.
“She has excellent intuition,” Sycamore murmured, scratching beneath her chin. “I’ll take her approval as a compliment.”
You sank back into the couch, bewildered. “That’s so weird. She’s never been this friendly with a stranger. Even people she likes, she’s usually… aloof.”
“Well,” he laughed softly, “I do have a way with Pokémon.” Then, with gentle curiosity, “May I ask—who was your first partner?”
The shift to soft conversation steadied you. You nodded, settling more comfortably against the cushion.
“My first partner was from Kanto, actually,” you began. “Since I was born there.”
“Ah,” he said, leaning forward slightly, stilling his hand on Espeon. “So which starter did you choose? Bulbasaur? Squirtle?”
“Charmander.”
He brightened. “A classic choice. May I ask why?”
You laughed softly. “Because it was a challenge.”
His brows rose in amusement.
“I almost picked Squirtle,” you admitted. “He was adorable. But Charmander…I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to prove I could raise something everyone said was difficult.”
“And was it?” Sycamore asked knowingly.
“Oh, oh my god.” You groaned, covering your face for a moment before letting the memories spill forward. “When he evolved into Charmeleon, he turned into a complete menace. Stubborn, rebellious, arrogant—he ignored half my commands, and then laughed at the other half. Picked fights just because he wanted to show off. I swear it was like living with a fire-breathing teenage boy.”
Sycamore hummed thoughtfully. “It’s very common in that evolution line—especially for males. A surge of hormones during the evolution process. They become hot-headed, territorial, driven by instinct more than guidance. It’s rarely permanent, though. If you have a good bond with them.”
You nodded. “It wasn’t. When he became a Charizard everything balanced out. And he ended up being amazing. One of the strongest partners I have.”
“Is he still with you?”
“He is,” you said proudly. “He’s on my main team. He even matched Lance’s Charizard when I challenged Kanto's Elite Four, and then again in Johto when he was the Champion.”
Sycamore’s eyes warmed, deeply, and genuinely. Not just impressed by your strength, but enchanted by your energy. The way you lit up when talking about your Pokémon. The soft pride in your voice. The tenderness woven through every word.
You felt it when he looked at you.
Sycamore smiled at you softly. Intimately. “Your Charizard is lucky,” he murmured. “You don’t just train Pokémon—you understand them.”
The way he said it made your breath catch. Not because of the compliment itself, but because of the tone.
His voice gentled as he shifted closer on the bed, one hand still resting lightly on Espeon’s soft flank.
“And Johto?” he asked quietly. “You mentioned raising your Meganium there. That you found her as a Chikorita. Tell me about her, about how you met.”
You inhaled, the memory tugging at your chest in that familiar, bittersweet way. “It’s kind of a sad story,” you began.
His brows lifted with interest, his full attention fixed on you, warm and patient.
You leaned back into the couch cushions. “I found her in Violet City when I went to challenge Falkner. Or…rather, an elderly man found her. She’d been abandoned.”
Augustine’s expression softened instantly.
“She was in terrible shape,” you continued. “Her previous trainer wasn’t happy with her from the start. He challenged Falkner and lost. And instead of taking her to the Pokémon Center to get her healed up, instead of…comforting her or trying again, he just—left her. Decided she wasn’t worth the effort and went in search of stronger pokemon.”
Sycamore let out a low, pained exhale. Espeon purred and comfortingly bumped her head against him.
“A man in town found her wandering near the Sprout Tower,” you continued, “He nursed her back to health, let her stay as long as she wanted. Gave her the freedom to choose her path.”
“And that’s when you met him?” Sycamore asked softly.
You nodded. “The man saw me training with my team—Charmander and Totodile—we lost horribly to Falkner, by the way.”
That earned a quick laugh from Augustine.
“It wasn’t their fault, though,” you continued, “I was young, and still very green with pokemon battles. Their loss was my fault.” You paused. “But I picked them up, talked to them, told them it was okay, that we’d get stronger together. And we’d try again.” Another pause. “And we did.”
“And the man saw that.”
“Yes.” You smiled faintly. “The man approached me that evening. Told me he had a young Pokémon who’d been hurt, one who longed for a trainer but was too afraid to choose. He asked if I’d meet her.”
Sycamore leaned in slightly, eyes soft. “And you said yes.”
“I did. Honestly, I wanted a Chikorita from the start as she's one of the Johto starters, but, of course, I was only allowed one. And I chose Totodile.”
“And yet,” Sycamore murmured, “one found their way to you anyway.”
You nodded in agreement, smile wavering as emotion crept in. “When I knelt down and asked if she wanted to come with me she just…ran straight at me. Hit me so hard I fell backwards.” You laughed, breathy. “And then she cried. Sobbed, even…if pokemon can even sob. She was shaking so much.”
Sycamore’s expression went molten, touched with a quiet ache. Espeon stretched her paws, and settled again.
“Being abandoned must have been so traumatizing for her. She didn’t know how to believe in herself yet,” you said. “Every little mistake made her flinch. She trained until she was past exhaustion, desperate to prove herself to me. She thought I’d leave her too, the same way her previous trainer did.”
“But you didn’t,” Sycamore murmured.
“Of course not.”
“And she learned,” he continued, “She learned that mistakes aren’t a sentence. They’re opportunities to learn and grow.”
You nodded. “Toward the end of her time as a Bayleef, she was incredible. Took down trainers left and right—even ones with type advantages. She fought with everything she had. With so much heart that she could take hits she shouldn’t have been able to withstand. She wanted to make me proud, I think. And she did.” Your voice softened. “I think…I think that’s how she was able to mega evolve.”
Silence settled for a moment—gentle, warm, full of something that felt like shared understanding.
Finally, you admitted quietly, “I still wonder what she saw in me that day. When I asked her to join me…what made her trust me? We were strangers to each other, had no rapport, no relationship. But she took to me the moment she saw me.”
Sycamore watched you, his eyes moving over your face with open affection, admiration, something almost tenderly reverent.
“She saw what I’m seeing.”
His voice was low and certain.
Your eyes lifted to his.
“That softness,” he continued, “the way you look at your Pokémon like they’re partners, not tools or titles. You carry your strength without flaunting it. You care first and judge later.” He paused, smiling gently, almost in awe. “She saw someone safe. Someone who would choose her even when it was hard.”
Heat crept up your throat. Not embarrassment, exactly, but something warmer, something blooming.
Sycamore’s eyes held yours, steady and sincere.
“And she was right,” he murmured. “Anyone would be lucky to be chosen by you.”
There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. Sycamore let out a quiet breath and smiled.
“I suppose,” he said gently, “it’s only fair that I share a few things as well.”
He shifted, stroking Espeon once more before she curled her tail around herself. Then he launched into stories—small ones at first, but each one peeling him open just a little more.
How he’d once accidentally released a dozen Scatterbug inside a lecture hall during a practical exam.
How he’d spilled a full pot of coffee on a stack of critical research documents and tried drying them with a hair dryer, only to make the ink run everywhere. (“Lysandre still brings that up when he wants to humble me,” he muttered.)
How Lysandre once lectured him for a full ten minutes because he hadn’t eaten all day while preparing a presentation for the League. (“He pretends he’s not bossy,” Sycamore said, shaking his head fondly. “He absolutely is.”)
Each anecdote brought you a little closer, not just to who he was as a professor, but as a man—brilliant, passionate, a little clumsy, and tender. The room warmed with laughter, with empathy, with little shared glances that lingered too long.
And then, he exhaled, looking at you with something careful and brave all at once. “I keep finding myself drawn to you,” he said, softly, “Is it all right if I sit beside you?”
Your breath caught unexpectedly. But you nodded. “Sure,” You said, before smiling. “It’s your couch anyway.”
He offered Espeon an apologetic rub before gently shifting her off his lap. She grumbled, indignant, before deciding the soft blanket beside him was acceptable and curling up there instead.
The couch dipped under his weight, the warmth of him settling beside you, the faint brush of his sleeve against your arm as he positioned himself at a polite, but intimate, distance. And suddenly you were very aware of the way your pulse drummed in your ears.
At the bar, this proximity didn’t bother you. But here, in the quiet, in his space, it felt charged.
He must have sensed your awareness because he eased you back into conversation, voice low and gentle, grounding you with questions, stories, soft laughter. And without even realizing it, you were relaxed once again
And then sitting beside you became touching you.
It was innocent at first. His knee brushed yours whenever he shifted. His hand grazed your fingers when he gestured animatedly. (“I’m terribly expressive, forgive me,” he said with a sheepish grin.) His thigh pressed lightly against yours when he leaned in to hear you better.
And then the touches changed. Still subtle. Still gentle. Still so careful. But there was intention now.
His hand brushed your back when you laughed. His fingers dusted your forearm when you spoke seriously, grounding you with a quiet warmth. He read you, effortlessly, adjusting his touches to the rhythm of your breath, the openness of your posture, the softness in your eyes.
At one point, he reached up, slowly, giving you every chance to stop him, and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary.
You held your breath for a second, before lifting your gaze to his, caught by the gentleness in those blue eyes.
And suddenly your thoughts were a swirl:
God, he’s beautiful.How are his eyes so soft?Why does he look at me like that?
Your heart fluttered, warmth rising into your cheeks. You must have gotten lost in your own head, because by the time you came back to yourself—
—his face was closer. Inches away. Close enough for his breath to ghost over your lips and for instinct to slightly close your eyes.
But he paused there, waiting. Offering you the out, the space, the decision.
You swallowed, your pulse racing, and your head tilted back just slightly, instinctively, subconsciously…
…an invitation.
Whether you meant it or not, he understood it, and Sycamore closed the remaining breath of space and kissed you.
love love love your work. consider: breeding kink sycamore where he knows the reader cant get pregnant for whatever reason... not that that stops him from trying 🫣
I am a firm believer that if that man loves you, nothing will stop him from showing his love for you, both romantically and sexually
(not proofread, fuck it we ball)
professor sycamore x fem!reader
cw: infertility, explicit smut, husband!sycamore, breeding kink, sycamore is determined lol, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, mating press
(minors go bye bye now)
The bedroom you shared with your husband was starting to smell of sex and sweat. The lights were low and the home was quiet, well, expect for the noises coming from the room.
“Such a beautiful sight” your beloved Augustine grunts out, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. He leans over to press a kiss on your temple, and you can’t help but get a little shy at the softness, instinctively bringing your hands to cover your face.
Sycamore almost immediately grabs your wrists with his hands, pinning them down above your head as his thrust grow stronger. “Don’t hide from me, my love. You know how much I just love seeing you melt before me.”
You slip out a whimper, trying so hard to keep your eyes on your husband as he slams his hips into your throbbing heat. He always knew how to take care of you. Years of passionate love-making, and yet it never gets old with him. You easily melt under his gaze, so pitiful and his to claim over and over again.
After you two got married, family from both sides already started asking about kids. You two, of course, wanted to start a family of your own, one of your own flesh and blood. Night after night, you and your lover tried for a baby. Countless pregnancy tests, seemingly endless negatives, you were growing concerned.
“W-what if I can’t get pregnant?”, you whisper out, voice trembling as tears flow down your cheeks, clutching yet another negative test while sitting on the edge of the bathtub. “…what if we can’t have our family? It’ll be all my fault Augustine…”
“My love,” Sycamore starts, crouching down to your level, voice soft and caring, “we can have our family. We will have our family, whether it’s by blood or if we have to adopt.”.
“You, mon trésor, are so strong.” Sycamore says, bringing his hands up to hold your tear stained face, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “You are not broken. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“If I can’t get pregnant, will you leave me?”, you can’t help but sob at the thought. The two of you spent so many nights laying together, going on and on about a future with kids of your own, how he would love nothing more than to be a father. The idea of not being able to fulfill that scared you. What if he sees no point in staying if you can have his children? Your mind starts to race, but is interrupted by Sycamore bringing his lips to your, kissing you with such conviction.
After some moments, he finally breaks the kiss, looking at you with sadness, like he was hurt by your words. “You must be out of your mind if you think I would ever leave you. Kids or not, I married you because I love you, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”, a small smile breaks on his face in a attempt to comfort you, “I chose you, and only you. And I would gladly do it all over again.”
Hearing the gynecologist say the word “Infertility” shattered you. There was no way you could bear children. You couldn’t help but beat yourself up again about the matter. Sycamore, on the other hand, stayed calm and collected, making it his mission to help you and comfort you through this. He loved you, regardless of what that doctor said.
Even though you can’t get pregnant, that definitely didn’t stop your husband from fucking you like it’s the goal.
“A-Augustine-” you moan, back arcing as his length reaches your g-spot. “That’s it, mon cœur”, he growls, his lips close to your ear, “Does it feel that good? Do you love having my cock deep inside you?”.
You can’t help but groan, dragging your nails down his back as he speeds up, the sound of skin slapping filling the bedroom. Sycamore releases your wrist and immediately brings hands down to land behind your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders.
You both moan at the change of angle, your heat clenching around his length, which makes Sycamore shudder above you.
With your legs on his shoulders, he brings his front half down, pushing your legs to your chest, bringing you into a mating press. “Would you like for me to fill you up, darling?”, Sycamore slurs, getting drunk of the feeling of you around his cock. You whimper, bringing your arms to swing around his neck, your faces so close that your foreheads touch.
“Use your words, my darling. Does my beloved wife want me to breed her?” Sycamore speaks lowly, breath heavy and hot.
“Yes…y-yes please. Augustine p-please…” you stutter out, arms wrapping tighter around his neck in an attempt to make him move closer.
“Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”, he says before bringing his hips back to the pace he was at before, slamming into your heat as you two kiss, moaning and groaning into each others mouths.
Sycamore keeps his pace consistent, hitting the back of your pussy. You feel the coil your stomach tighten, ready to be released at any second. Your breathing is getting heavier, your insides clenching around your husband as you get closer and closer to the edge.
“F-fuck my darling, you’re squeezing me so much. Are you close my love?” Sycamore groans out, his hips starting to stutter, indicating he’s also close. He brings the arms that were beside your head to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in the mating press.
“Cum with me, darling. Let me feel you lose yourself around my cock while I breed you.”, he says before slamming his lips into yours, sloppily making out with you as you reach your releases together.
“A-Augustineeee, I’m gonna-”
“Me too, love. F-fuck, I’m going to fill you up, my beloved”
You feel that coil snap, bringing you to your release, trembling around Sycamore’s cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, reaching his own shortly after.
You can feel him fill you up. The warmth spreading inside of you, Sycamore fucking his cum deeper into you as he coats your walls. Not a single drop will ever get wasted, and he will make sure of that.
Once he finally slows down his thrust, and your trembling from overstimulation dies down, Sycamore slowly moves your legs of his shoulders and lays on to of you, his length still resting inside you to keep his release in you. Both of you are sweating, hearts beating rapidly, breath heavy and hot, just enjoying each other’s presence.
Sycamore breaks the silence. “I love you.”, he says, his head next to yours, his voice muffed by the pillow his face is shoved into. “You did such a good job for me, my darling.”, he lifts his head up to look at you now, looking at you with that same affectionate face he’s been looking at you with for years now.
He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling out of you. Some of his release starts to leak out of you, where he promptly pushes it back into you, ripping a whimper from you. “You look so beautiful, my love. Such a perfect wife. Such a perfect pussy for me to fill.”
i hope you all enjoyed! so sorry it took me so long anon, but I had fun with this request!
