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Where all the dominant y/n fics???? I'm tired of not f*cking back, being weak, being a "good girl" and "a pretty princess". Sure, that's all fine and dandy and hot and stuff. But where are the dominant y/n fics? Reader on top, choking him, making him whimper and cry out? Let me call him "my sweet boy". Where's the variation in kinks? C'mon now, I wanna be strong, too.
synopsis: Adrian always makes everyone else's birthdays feel really special. You're determined to return the favor.
tags/warnings: FLUFF, Checkmate office dynamics, HR manager!reader, Adrian makes her life more difficult in practically every way, brief mention of childhood birthday trauma
word count: 3.3k
notes: everything has changed chapter twelve ideally coming next week. I'm working on part thirteen right now!! for now, have some fluff in honor of our boy's bday
Masterlist
You expect him to make a big deal out of it, the way he makes a big deal out of everyone else’s.
On Chris’s birthday in November, Adrian went all out. Balloons that matched the exact colors of his Peacemaker costume (and you mean exact—you spent hours at the party store with him comparing shades of red and yellow and blue). An Eagly-shaped birthday cake, which Eagly himself did not appreciate very much and pecked into crumbled pieces. A dozen old appliances bought off of Facebook marketplace for the two of them to go out shooting together. A wrapped box with lingerie that confused everyone in the room until Adrian said, “It’s for Harcourt. So she can look sexy for you. Duh.”
Somehow thoughtful and weird and inappropriate all at once—Adrian in a nutshell, you’ve come to learn. He’s a walking HR violation.
Which means, as the Checkmate HR manager, you have lifetime job security.
Despite his inability to read a room and function with any kind of social skills, you find him…endearing. He really does make an effort for everyone, especially when it comes to birthdays. He’d done something special for your birthday, too, just a few weeks after you first started at the company. A little party in the break room with all your favorite snacks, a multitude of colorful gel pens in the brand you like.
When you asked him, bewildered, how he knew any of that stuff about you, when you had just met him. He readily admitted to peeking through the window of your apartment from the fire escape in the middle of the night while he was on patrol.
(Thus ensued your first bizarre HR meeting where you had to explain that stalking his coworkers is not an okay after-hours activity.)
But when it comes to his own birthday, Adrian’s lips are sealed. Not even Chris knows when it is.
“He’s cagey about it,” Chris says when you ask him in the break room one day. “I think it’s part of his whole secret identity thing, I don’t know. He’s weird about it.”
“He’s weird about everything,” John says.
“Stop insulting your coworker directly to the HR manager,” Emilia says.
“It wasn’t an insult! He’s an endearing kind of weird.”
“He’s also the reason we hired an HR manager,” Ads says. “I’m sure they are fully aware of exactly how weird Adrian is.”
You are, in fact, perfectly well-aware of Adrian’s quirks. He makes your work life more difficult in practically every way.
Since then, you have a standing weekly meeting on Friday afternoons to talk about every faux pas Adrian has made that week. You quickly realized it was easier to tackle his social missteps in bulk than to address them one at a time. Otherwise, you really would just be following him around all day correcting his behavior. Not that it would be any trouble. He’s really fucking nice to look at, even when he says stupid shit.
Though you were expecting those conversations to be awkward at first, you’ve weirdly started looking forward to them. He seems to actually like talking to you.
“You tell me what I’m doing wrong, so I can fix it,” Adrian says all the time. “And not in a mean way. In a nice way. No one else ever did that for me. They just tell me I’m an idiot, or laugh at me.”
In fact, since you started the weekly meetings with him, and spent more time with him…you’ve fallen a little more in love with all of his quirks every time he talks. You are by no means trying to change him. You like Adrian, just the way he is. You’ve just helped him learn some boundaries, that’s all. Set some ground rules.
And Adrian is nothing if not a rule follower.
“That’s sexual harassment," Adrian says one day, when he overhears Chris telling Emilia that her tits look great in that shirt. “Which is illegal. Vigilante kills people for that, you know!”
All this to say—despite his social deficiencies, Adrian makes up for all of his shortcomings with sheer effort and enthusiasm. Especially when it comes to birthdays. If Adrian is around, you feel special on your birthday, because he makes it special. Even if he crosses a few socio-emotional boundaries along the way and you need to help him course correct.
“I can’t believe none of you know his birthday,” you sigh.
“Don’t you have access to our personnel files?” John asks. He looks at Ads. “We do have personnel files, don’t we? If you don’t have the password, I can hack them—”
“I’m not sure why all of you talk about Adrian like he’s the only person in the office who has no boundaries,” you comment. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“I don’t know, you tell me, madam HR manager.”
You look at him, unimpressed.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do a little snooping. All in the name of celebrating a good friend’s birthday, right?
“We never had this conversation,” you say, and you head back to your office with a determined skip in your step.
Adrian’s best friends doesn’t know his birthday. But you—you can find out. Because John was right. As the sole member of the human resources department at Checkmate, you have access to everyone’s personnel files, including Adrian’s. No one needs to know if you take a little sneak peek—
“June 30,” you murmur triumphantly, staring at your computer screen. Next week. A Tuesday.
It might be an abuse of power, and it might not be a great look for the HR manager to be snooping through employee data, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re determined to make Adrian’s birthday as special for him as he makes everyone else’s.
That Friday, when you ask Adrian to go out and pick up the lunch you’d ordered for the whole team, he trips over himself to say yes to you, like he always does. It makes your tummy flutter a bit, the way he’s wrapped around your finger, but you try not to take it to heart. He’s wrapped around Chris’s finger too. You’re not special.
You wander casually over to Chris’s desk and tap on his shoulder.
“Hey. Can I talk to you in my office real quick?” you whisper. Ads, nearby, makes an ooooohhhh you’re in trouble sound.
“Is this about the dick joke I made at our team meeting this morning?” Chris asks. “Because it was funny. Everyone laughed at it. Including you.”
“It’s not about the dick joke you made. And I did not laugh, I snorted, which is not the same thing—”
“It was an amused snort!”
“Okay, yes, your dick joke was funny, even if it was absolutely not office appropriate,” you sigh. “Now will you come with me? I want your help with something.”
“Sure,” Chris says, smiling proudly, because he got you to drop your professional persona, even for just a moment.
As the door to your office closes behind him, he asks, “What’s going on?”
“Adrian’s birthday is next Tuesday,” you say.
“You dirty dog,” Chris teases. “You did snoop in the personnel files.”
“Oh, shut up!”
“Next Tuesday,” Chris muses, ignoring you. “Not much time to plan anything.”
“It’s not. Which is why I’m asking for you to help,” you say. “You’re his best friend. It would mean a lot if you helped plan his surprise birthday celebration.”
“We can’t do a regular surprise party,” Chris says, thinking aloud. “Especially not at his house, since he still lives with his mom. She would be a downer. I would say do it at my place and we can surprise him, but—if anyone pops out from around a corner, Adrian would probably shoot them before he could every say happy birthday.”
You bite your lip and wince. “True.”
“What about the retro video arcade?” Chris suggests. “He fucking loves that place. He’s got the high score on the Frogger machine.”
Your eyes go wide and bright. “That’s perfect. I’ll call the owner today and see if I can set something up on short notice. It’s a Tuesday night, so it can’t be that busy.” You start to reach for your phone to look up the address and phone number. “Then I just need you to get him there.”
“That won’t be a problem at all,” Chris says. “He is constantly asking me to go there with him.”
“You won’t give away the surprise?”
“Adrian will be too excited that I want to spend time with him to question my motives.”
“True. I’ll—” You cut yourself off when you hear the slam of the front door and realize Adrian is back with lunch. “We’ll reconvene later. I’ll spread the word to the rest of the team.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Chris nods.
The two of you leave your office together, and when he sees you together, Adrian’s brow furrows for a moment, then he smiles and laughs.
“Dude, I warned you not to make that dick joke earlier—it was fucking hilarious, but I told you it was an HR violation—”
Everything comes together exactly the way you want. The owner gives you a discount on the party room despite the short notice because Tuesdays is always a slow night, anyway, and Adrian is a regular who the man likes, despite his odd quirks. You run to the party store for teal, black, and silver balloons. Ads orders a cake. Even Emilia helps out, running to grab drinks, plates, and plastic utensils.
And Adrian is none the wiser.
“Me and Chris are going to the video arcade tonight!” Adrian tells you excitedly, late that afternoon as everyone wraps up their work.
“What if he beats your Frogger high score?” you tease.
Adrian frowns. “He better not. Especially not on my—” He cuts himself off, eyes cutting away from yours quickly, and his face flushes red.
Your brow furrows. Why doesn’t he want you to know it’s his birthday? Is he upset that no one remembered?
“Maybe just don’t let him play that machine,” you quip, moving the conversation along and ignoring his blunder. He looks at you gratefully.
“Hey, dude, you ready?” Chris calls from across the room. It’s a signal for everyone else to get their asses moving and head over to the arcade before he and Adrian can get there.
“Coming!” Adrian calls. He grins at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” you say.
Adrian heads out to the Vigilante-mobile with Chris. He chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.
He’d almost admitted it to you, just now. That it’s his birthday today. Not a good idea, he thinks. After years and years of disastrous failures when he was younger, hoping and praying that anyone would show up to his birthday party—no. He can’t do it all again. It’s better for no one to know. To not expect anything from anyone.
He glances at Chris in the passenger seat as he pulls out of the parking lot and smiles. Some time with his BFF is more than enough for him.
“They’re coming, they’re coming!” Ads reports from her spot by the window. “Everyone hide!”
“No,” Emilia says. “We are not doing the hide and pop out to surprise him thing. Remember?”
“He would shoot somebody,” John reminds her.
“Just—stand over by the front door. The whole group. In plain sight,” you suggest. “No jumpscares necessary.”
“Okay, okay—”
You wait with the rest of the group with your eyes locked on the entrance to the arcade. Adrian is laughing when Chris opens the door, a sound that quickly dies when his best friend steps aside and he sees you and the rest of the 11th Street Kids standing there holding Happy Birthday balloons.
“What the fuck?” Adrian asks, a little wary.
“Happy birthday!” you say. You elbow Ads.
“Happy birthday!” Ads says reflexively. She nurses her wounded side. “Jesus, you have a strong elbow—”
“What the fuck?” Adrian repeats, and you start to get nervous before his entire demeanor transforms, a giant smile taking over his face. “You—how did you even know—”
“Someone snooped through the personnel files,” John says.
Adrian’s head swivels from Chris right beside him to the rest of his friends standing in formation in front of him.
“I—what—” he cuts himself off. His hands are shaking a little. He looks to the nearby table, at the Super Mario themed cake you’d ordered, at the Vigilante-colored balloons. “You guys did all this for me?” His voice cracks a little. He clears his throat and flushes.
“We can’t take the credit. It was her idea,” Chris says, gesturing toward you. Adrian turns to you with wide eyes.
“You stalked me?” he asks in awe.
“Adrian. I did not stalk you. I just…checked your personnel file for information I didn’t know,” you try.
“You stalked me,” he says, delighted.
Your cheeks feel hot. “You always make everyone else’s birthdays so special. I just wanted to do that for you, too. You deserve to have the best birthday ever.”
Adrian’s face morphs into an unfamiliar expression. He blinks quickly, like he’s suddenly trying to hold back tears.
“No one has ever done anything like this for me,” he chokes out. “Thank you.”
Chris takes pity on him when Adrian starts actively sniffling, clapping Adrian on the back.
“Why don’t we play some games? I am told you have the record on the Frogger machine. So I obviously have to beat it.”
“No,” Adrian says, immediately snapping out of his impending emotional spiral. “You can’t. The machine, uh…is broken.”
It’s an obvious lie. The Frogger machine is blinking and beeping less than a yard away. You smile.
“How about some skee-ball, then?” you suggest. “There’s enough lanes for each of us.”
Adrian smiles. “Yeah. Hell yeah.” He rushes in the direction of the machines.
“Lowest score has to babysit Eagly next time Chris is on an away mission!” Emilia calls, rushing after him. You laugh, glad that even stone-faced Emilia Harcourt is willing to get in on the fun.
“Fuck all of you,” John says. “You all know that I suck at things that require hand-eye coordination—”
“You carry a gun, maybe you should fix that,” Ads says.
“I guess it’s a good thing Eagly likes you the best anyway,” Chris laughs.
John smiles, just a little.
As the night goes on, the group breaks up to try out different machines, but the entire arcade is ringing with laughter, friendly jabs traded back and forth over pinball scores and failed levels of Space Invaders. After a few hours, as it grows later, things quiet down a bit. About twenty minutes ago, you parked yourself in the section with maze-games, working your way through all the different versions, listening with a smile as John and Ads try to beat each other’s Centipede high scores.
You feel someone walk up behind you, but you don’t look up, your brow furrowed with concentration as you stare at the screen, jerking the joystick back and forth as you try and epiclaly fail to beat a level on the Pac-Man machine.
“Can I ask you something?” Adrian asks, his voice directly next to your ear and the console makes a womp-womp noise as you startle and get eaten by a ghost.
“Damn,” you mutter. “I was so close!”
“You were not,” Adrian says. “Respectfully.”
You laugh and turn to face him. Your face flushes a bit when you realize how close he’s standing to you. He’d been looking right over your shoulder at the screen, but now his attention is fixed on your face. You feel your whole body flush with heat.
“What’s up, Adrian?” you ask. “You had a question?”
“I thought you didn’t like me,” Adrian says.
“What?” you say, bewildered. “Why on earth would you think that, Adrian?”
“I mean—I’m like. So fucking annoying. You constantly have to hold my hand through behaving appropriately at work, and I’m just a dumbass and a bad person and an inconvenience—”
“Stop that,” you chide gently. “You are not an inconvenience, Adrian. I like our weekly meetings. I like spending time with you. You are a good person and I like you, you idiot.”
“You called me an idiot,” Adrian gasps, delighted.
“That’s what you got out of that? Really?”
“You tell me all the time not to call people idiots at work. I’m rubbing off on you,” he grins, a little wicked glint in his eye.
“We are not at work,” you point out. “Those rules don’t apply.”
“None of the office rules apply right now?” Adrian asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Well,” you consider. “This is not a work event. It’s a birthday party. With your friends. Who just happen to be your coworkers. So I think we can bend the rules a bit.”
“Even like, the sexual harassment rules?”
“Adrian,” you say, exasperated.
“No, no,” he says quickly. “I just—I mean—” He swallows, looking suddenly nervous, but still excited. “You’re always telling Chris and Emilia not to make out at work because the rest of us did not consent to seeing all that. Right?”
“Yes,” you say. “So if they wanted to make out right now, no one is stopping them. But we are still in public, so—”
“And if I kissed you?” Adrian blurts. “Since, you know, we’re not at work? That wouldn’t be an HR violation?”
Your heart stops. You pause and look at him, waiting for the punchline. But he just looks at you, eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses, with a smile on his face.
“Uh, no,” you say, a little flustered. “That wouldn’t be an HR violation.”
“Great,” Adrian exclaims. “Can I kiss you then?”
“You want to kiss me?” Your voice goes up an octave higher than usual.
“I always want to kiss you. Even though you are so, so shitty at Pac-Man. But I only ever see you at work, and that would be an HR violation.”
“Please stop saying HR violation,” you say, your voice high and thin.
“Okay,” he says, his voice softer as he steps closer to you. “But…I can? Kiss you?”
“Yes,” you whisper. “You can.”
His lips touch yours, eager and searching, and you respond in kind, letting your arms wind around his neck. His arms snake around your back, pull you into him by the hips, and you can already feel how you’re affecting him. It makes you giggle, and when he pulls away from you, he laughs too.
“This was really, really nice,” Adrian says.
“The kiss, or the party?”
“Both,” he says.
“I’m glad you liked it,” you giggle.
“The kiss, or the party?”
“Both,” you say softly. Your fingers twist the curls at the nape of his neck, and he hums, leaning forward to kiss you again.
“I think I liked the kiss more,” he says against your mouth.
You don’t bother answering with words, just open your mouth for him, let his tongue touch yours, let him press you against the game console. The joystick and buttons press uncomfortably into your back. You can’t bring yourself to care.
“The arcade closes soon,” Adrian says when you break away for air. His chest is heaving too, but he’s smiling, wider than you’ve ever seen. “I was thinking, maybe I could bring you home, and we could HR violate each other.”
“Adrian,” you deadpan.
“I mean we should have sex,” he clarifies.
“I know what you meant, you idiot.” But even as you roll your eyes with exasperation, you smile. “We can do whatever you want, birthday boy.”
You who sends Jack proof of your bad luck and him trying to comfort you.
Jack, who takes you on all kinds of dates, no matter if he himself has already experienced it before. He wants you to enjoy it all with him and make new memories with you as well.
Jack, who doesn’t try to hide how proud he is of even the smallest accomplishments you reach. He knows you sometimes like to undermine the things you do, but he will be damned to not shower you with praise.
You and Jack, who have little inside jokes. Often they stem from something silly you have said or done in the past and Jack doesn’t let the joke go. The people around you usually try to get in on it, but Jack loves that it’s just a thing between the two of you. Not to mention that he doesn’t like to risk making you feel uncomfortable or ridiculous in front of others. So he just keeps up the teasing, enjoying the way you fluster for some jokes or roll your eyes at others.
You who creates a folder on both of your phones displaying the most epic spills you caused.
Jack, who hears about all kinds of places to go to on a date from patients at work. He makes a mental note every time someone mentions something you might find interesting and takes you there the next chance he gets.
Jack, who sometimes comes across estate sales or random things people are throwing away and leaving on the streets. He knows what you like, so the second he sees anything with potential, he snaps a picture and lets you know he possibly found something new for you. He doesn’t wait for a reply or confirmation if you actually want the item, he just takes it with him. You love it every time.
Jack, who sends you the most random pictures of things he thinks you would find joy in.
Jack, who doesn’t hesitate to leave a place the second you show signs of not wanting to be there. He will wrap things up, pay the bill, find an excuse to say goodbye and get you out of there, no matter what. And when you’ll feel bad for him missing out, he assures you he would rather spend time with you, in a place you feel comfortable at, then do anything else.
Jack, who does charity work whenever his schedule allows.
Jack, who helps you out with your hair. No matter if it’s wash-day and he has to take over when your arms start to hurt or if you decide to undo your latest hair-style. He will sit down and do it with you.
Jack, who will ask you to show him how to braid or twist your hair if you decide to do it yourself at home. He isn’t all that good at it, but he won’t give up so easily.
Jack, who will pay for your hair-appointments the second you mention them, no questions asked.
The Pitt crew, who will have Jack send you pictures of support when you inevitably end up leaving the ER with yet another new injury, wishing you all the best and a quick recovery so the night shift attending will stop fretting.
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like when you’re playing with his hair. late at night, in your chambers—
your fingers root themselves into the white, almost silver strands delicately. as if you’re afraid he’ll run if you rush into it. you wait until he completely melts on top of you to gently drag your nails over his scalp. his face presses into your chest, nestled between your breasts and nosing at your sternum like he’s been reduced to basic instincts. he seeks out more of your touch once your hand stills. he needs your nails teasing him in the softest ways, he needs your fingers twisting and tugging at his hair in a manner that comforts him. a whine crawls up his throat, raspy and unguarded. your other hand raises, just so you can swipe your thumb over where his brows furrow in the middle. his lashes flutter in response, his lips move— “why did you stop?”
or when you’re kissing him. somewhere you shouldn’t be at all—
the stone is cold against your back. aerion’s hands are traveling everywhere and anywhere he can manage. squeezing your waist beneath his palms, rubbing your hips, even daring to grab your ass through your silk and linen. you gasp quietly against his lips, eyes falling shut as you realize your prince is feeling you up in an abandoned hall. you can hear footsteps. they’re faint but present enough to coax you to turn your head as if that helps by any means. your lips are already kiss swollen, you’re already struggling to keep up. and his own remain connected to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. they’re murmuring against your skin— “why did you stop?”
especially when you’re in his lap. in the bath, after a long day of duties and requirements—
the warm water has you hazy and aerion needy as you settle against him, sinking down until you feel complete again. you both release a broken breath, sticky foreheads pressed together and lips slick with shared saliva. his nails bite at your hips under the water, the sting is dull but there’s more than enough pressure to leave small indents behind as he urges you to rock your hips. once, and then twice, despite your trembling and the way you smush your cheek against his shoulder. you still, huffing out another breath. your hands rest on his chest for a second and he grabs them, thumbs pressing into your palms and rubbing in little circles. he hisses— “why did you stop?”
( pick a quote + a feeling + a trope ! let’s see what fic you end up with. )
author's addition: this lil build-a-fic is inspired by @scealaiscoite ’ s adorable idea ! her prompt lists are literal perfection. go stalk her blog pls she’s the best ever 🧸 you’re welcome to tweak phrasing as needed, but please don’t add to or rewrite the original post. give credits to @fawndrip / @suprclark if using.
— QUOTE
❛ stop smiling like that. it’s distracting. ❜
❛ you make it really hard to stay just friends. ❜
❛ why does it feel like a goodbye? ❜
❛ you’re blushing. ❜ — ❛ no i’m not. ❜
❛ just friends don’t look at each other like that. ❜
❛ i missed you. that’s all. ❜
❛ you remember the little things. that’s what gets me. ❜
❛ tell me to stay. and i will. ❜
❛ my hand fits so perfectly in yours. it's like i'm made for you. ❜
❛ do you want me to leave? ❜ — ❛ no. i want you to stay forever. ❜
❛ i think i knew it was you. even back then. ❜ — ❛ then stay. ❜ — ❛ but that's the thing. i don't know if i know you anymore. ❜
❛ i don’t know how to stop wanting you. ❜
❛ this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t. ❜
❛ you’re not just anyone. you’re you. ❜
❛ if we kiss now, everything changes. ❜ — ❛ i know but that's a risk i'm willing to take. ❜
❛ i’ve been in love with you since the night we met. ❜
❛ tell me it meant nothing. lie if you have to. ❜
❛ i was easy to leave, wasn’t i? ❜
❛ you don’t get to miss me now. you lost that right when we broke up. ❜
❛ say something. anything. please. ❜
❛ i loved you. that should’ve been enough. ❜
❛ i wish i didn’t remember everything. ❜
❛ don’t look at me like you still care. ❜
❛ i’m tired of pretending this doesn’t hurt. ❜
❛ you said forever. i believed you. ❜
❛ if you didn’t mean it, why did you say it? ❜
❛ you chose them. you always do. ❜
❛ i don’t hate you. i just wish i’d never met you. ❜
❛ you let me go like i was nothing. ❜
❛ please don’t make this harder than it already is. ❜
❛ are you sure? cause whatever this is it doesn’t feel like love. ❜
❛ it’s always been you. i just didn’t know how to say it. ❜
❛ say that again. i dare you. ❜
❛ you really don’t see it, do you? ❜
❛ i think i like you. like, like like you. ❜
❛ do you always look at people like that? ❜
❛ you make it really hard to think straight. ❜
❛ oh my god. you’re blushing. ❜
❛ this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t. ❜
❛ i should’ve kissed you when i had the chance. ❜
❛ you’re not helping. you’re being pretty. it's distracting. ❜
❛ you make me nervous in the best way. ❜
❛ every time you look at me, i forget what i was saying. ❜
❛ just admit it. you like me. ❜
❛ if you don’t kiss me right now, i might explode. ❜
❛ you’re dangerously good at that smile. ❜
❛ only one bed ❜
❛ mutual pining ❜
❛ fake dating gone real ❜
❛ friends to lovers ❜
❛ strangers to almosts ❜
❛ found family ❜
❛ rivals with tension ❜
❛ the “oh” moment ❜
❛ confessions at 2am ❜
❛ sunshine x grump ❜
❛ forbidden ❜
❛ hurt / comfort ❜
❛ secretly in love ❜
❛ reunion after years ❜
❛ accidental domesticity ❜
❛ slow burn ❜
❛ “just friends” denial ❜
❛ second chances ❜
❛ love letters never sent ❜
❛ childhood friends ❜
❛ exes ❜
❛ soulmates who don’t believe in fate ❜
❛ enemies on the same side ❜
❛ sleep talking confessions ❜
❛ one falling first, the other falling harder ❜
❛ patching up wounds with shaky hands ❜
❛ “who did this to you?” ❜
❛ dancing in the kitchen ❜
❛ jealousy over nothing ( but also everything ) ❜
❛ late-night phone calls ❜
❛ caught in the rain ❜
❛ almost kissing but someone interrupts ❜
❛ waking up next to them ❜
❛ fixing each other’s tie / collar ❜
❛ taking care of them while they’re sick ❜
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coach!robby who does his absolute best to keep you away from his old nemesis jack, because he knows exactly how abbot's mind works. especially since the two of you have been hooking up since he became your coach.
tennis player!jack who's a little washed up, but still making his rounds on the tournaments and winning occasionally. he makes most of his money from books and ted talks, but he can't quite quit tennis yet
tennis player!jack who seeks you out at a tournament. you're young, pretty, and robby's newest protege. turns out, you're in need of a friend and confidant. a position jack is more than happy to fill.
coach!robby who has to watch jack win you over, and knows he's got to do something about it if he wants to keep you
which is how you end up in a hotel room in sydney, overstimulated to the point of tears between two tennis legends
this has been sitting in the drafts for awhile lmao, haven't looked at it since. ⊹ ࣪
𝜗ৎ Just thinking about Dex, who has a thing for being dominated. Didn't matter how he appeared on the outside, he knew what he wanted.
Right now, he wanted to feel something.
You kept your heel planted firmly on the bulge in his pants, the pointed tip digging in with slow pressure. Dex stayed on his knees, hands flat on his thighs, chest rising and falling faster now.
"This is pathetic really," you say while pressing. "Can't even wait until I come back." You applied a little more makeup to the sides of your face. You planned on going out tonight but Dex came back a little earlier than usual, for reasons known now.
You rocked your ankle, grinding the heel in a small circle over the trapped length. It was funny really, the man who could put a playing card through someone’s skull from across a room, was now fighting not to grind against your foot like an animal. But his hips betrayed him, making him jerk forward on instinct.
"Please," he said quietly.
The pressure from your foot was growing enough to get him off, so you loosened up, just to keep him aching and obedient. You turned back to the mirror, picking up your small makeup brush again. The makeup went on in careful strokes along your cheekbone while your foot rolled slow circles over his trapped memember. "You wanna feel more?" you asked glancing down at him. He stared at you, eyes darken, yet he nodded his head.
You rolled your eyes, "So you can't talk now?"
"Please, please take it off," he says, still on his knees.
You then took your heel off, the heat of him was immediate, the warmth, the precum. You dragged the arch of your foot along the underside in one slow stroke from base to head. Dex’s breath punched out of him in a low sound that was almost a grunt, but he kept his hands where they were.
"This what you wanted?" you asked, still sounding bored even as you rubbed the head of his dick with the ball of your foot, smearing the precum around.
He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to whiten the skin, but the sound still slipped free and needy, completely at odds with the lethal man he was outside this room. "Yes y/n," he managed. "Thank you, I need it"
@cherrishkissed ♡
author's note: I got 53 drafts...still going through stuff 💔
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