pussydrunk! waterboy who is just busy looking up at you with that same adorable tone of pleading in his irises in unison of his tongue burying itself deep, deep into your cunt like his life depends on it.
pussydrunk! waterboy who has two fingers inside you to make you even wetter than you already are, his mouth busy pleasing your clit—it only got better when you shoved his face down onto your heat using his hair. god it would be the best if you wrapped your legs around your neck.
pussydrunk! waterboy who laps his tongue into your entrance to lick up the slick that had been a result of your other precious climaxes; the bridge of his nose ‘coincidentally’ bumping into your bud as he kept those roughed up lips of his on yours.
pussydrunk! waterboy who loved to have his hands on the outskirts of your thighs, warm palms that landed on your cold skin kept you anchored down from every climax that could lift thousands off their feet—
pussydrunk! waterboy’s long fingers plunge deep into your sweet g-spot had your back arching right onto the tips of his fingers. “oh… my god. doing s’good baby, i—”
pussydrunk! waterboy who cannot, for the life of him, keep himself off you for more than ten minutes when in bed together :)
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This is my first ever smut so don’t kill me guys please 🙏 I hope you enjoy this I really tried hard. Special thanks to the discord member in my Dispatch server for helping proofread!
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updated: 3/7/2026
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———
Where reader encounters a villain who makes you experience wet dreams of the people who are dreaming of you.
———
Chapter 1: Passionate lover (Flambae)
You only knew something was wrong when you opened your eyes.
You were standing.
For a few blissful seconds, you lingered in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, your mind still wrapped in the warmth of exhaustion. You expected the familiar comfort of your bed beneath you, the softness of blankets tangled around your legs, the faint hum of your apartment's air-conditioning, the distant glow of city lights bleeding through your curtains.
Instead, cold air brushed against your skin.
The sensation was immediate and wrong.
You were not lying down.
You were standing.
A sharp jolt of panic shot through your chest as awareness slammed into you all at once. Your body tensed instinctively, muscles locking as your eyes darted around the unfamiliar darkness.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Not bright enough to illuminate the room completely, but enough to cast a pale, sickly glow across polished floors and empty desks. Shadows stretched long and distorted between rows of workstations, twisting across the carpet like reaching fingers.
The faint ticking of a clock echoed somewhere in the distance.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Your breath hitched as your senses scrambled to make sense of the world around you.
The SDN office.
After hours.
You blinked, trying to force your mind to settle, but everything felt out of place, like your thoughts had been left somewhere else and only fragments had come back with you. For a brief, disorienting moment, you wondered if you had fallen asleep at the office, if exhaustion had simply taken over without you noticing, leaving you here in the meeting room after hours.
But even as the thought formed, it did not hold.
You remembered leaving.
You had gone home. You had slept. You were certain of it.
So why were you here?
Your confusion deepened as recognition finally locked into place, you were in the meeting room.
Alone.
The glass walls surrounded you like a transparent cage, reflecting your expression back at you in fractured layers.
You stood there wide-eyed, unsettled, searching for answers your mind could not quite form. Everything felt undeniably real in a way that made your skin prickle. The room had weight to it, as if it existed beyond perception alone.
The air carried a faint, sterile scent of industrial cleaner, sharp enough to cling to the back of your throat. Even the temperature felt intentional, like somehow it was cool, controlled and unnatural in its consistency.
Above you, the overhead lights hummed softly, dimmed to a muted bluish glow that painted everything in cold tones. Shadows stretched long and thin across the empty chairs, bending along the floor like they did not quite belong to the furniture casting them.
Beyond the glass walls, the main office sat abandoned, there were no movement or distant typing or muffled conversations. Not even the subtle mechanical hum of a building still alive with people working late.
Only silence.
“…Did I… forget to go home?” you muttered under your breath, the words coming out slower than your thoughts, disoriented and uncertain even as you said them.
There was no ambiguity in that memory.
And yet…
Here you were.
You pushed yourself up from the table, palms pressing against its cool surface as if physical contact could anchor you to something stable. Your breath felt too loud in the quiet as you tried to steady your thoughts, to force the situation into something explainable.
Then the lights flickered.
Just once.
A brief stutter in the overhead glow that made the shadows jump.
And in that same instant, a warm current of air brushed against the back of your neck.
Heat.
Your entire body locked.
You turned sharply.
And Flambae stepped out from the dim corner where no one had been a moment before.
He moved like he belonged there anyway.
Strangely, he feels taller than you remembered. Straighter, as if the space itself adjusted to accommodate him. His dark brown hair was tied back neatly into a ponytail, though a single loose strand fell across his forehead in a way that looked almost careless, almost deliberate.
His suit clung to him in a sharp, black silhouette, tailored so precisely it seemed less like clothing and more like an extension of him.
The deep V cut exposed the defined lines of his chest and the upper ridge of his abdomen, while faint flame-like patterns traced along the edges of the fabric, glowing subtly, like embers refusing to die beneath ash.
And his right hand, the missing ring and pinky fingers caught the light as he flexed it unconsciously at his side, the motion small but unmistakably real.
The air around him felt warmer still, as though the room itself had begun to remember fire.
“Flambae? What are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely confused.
He was one of the few people who would leave immediately after a mission, you would never catch him lingering after hours. Seeing him here, in an abandoned office long after hours, did not make sense.
And it didn’t help that he didn’t answer.
Instead, he moved.
Slowly at first, then with a quiet, deliberate certainty that made the space between you feel suddenly too small. Heat followed him like a second presence, rolling off his body in subtle waves that pressed against your skin, warming you in a way that felt intrusive in its intimacy.
Instinct made you step back but he kept coming, unhurried, as if he already knew exactly where you would stop.
And you did.
Only when your back met the edge of the meeting table did you realize you were trapped between it and him.
Too close.
Your breath caught.
Flambae stopped just inches away.
Close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, steady and controlled, each exhale carrying that impossible warmth that seeped through your clothes and into your skin.
His eyes were different from the usual flame he had in them, it was lit from within, not just with power, but with something deeper. Something that felt less like observation and more like possession of attention he had refused to give anywhere else.
He lifted a hand.
For a moment, you didn’t move.
His palm settled gently against your cheek.
The contact made your breath stutter.
He was warm, unbelievably so.
Not painful or burning, but intense in a way that made your senses sharpen painfully around it.
“I…I don’t…” you started, but the word never land properly in your throat.
“You’re always putting yourself in danger for me,” he said quietly.
His voice was lower than usual, roughened at the edges, like something had been worn down by repetition and memory.
“I remember the first time you stepped in.”
His thumb moved slowly across your cheekbone, almost absentminded, but deliberate in a way that suggested he was memorizing the feeling of you being there.
“You didn’t hesitate,” he continued. “Remember the first time… when that guy ran at me? I would have handle it but…” he laughs as if recalling.
“You hit him so hard you almost knock his eyes out… and then you just told him to back off…like nothing was going to take me away from you.”
Something tightened in your chest at the memory because you had not thought it stayed with him like that.
His hand lingered on your face a moment longer, as though reluctant to let go of something fragile.
Then he leaned in slightly, not enough to close the distance entirely, but enough that everything about him filled your space completely.
Heat, scent, presence.
Smoke and something faintly sweet underneath it, like sugar caramelized over open flame.
“I want to return the favour,” he murmured.
Your pulse stumbled.
You shifted back on instinct, only to meet the edge of the table fully now, the impact subtle but grounding, pulling a sharp breath from you that betrayed you more than you wanted it to.
“W-wait, Flambae, what are you-”
The words broke apart as he moved again.
His arms came down on either side of you, braced against the table, it was not forceful or aggressive, but final in the way they framed you in. Not touching, but close enough that there was nowhere for your attention to go except him.
Heat wrapped around you from all sides, and even the air felt different here.
He lowered his head just slightly.
Close enough that his breath brushed the edge of your words before they could finish forming.
“Don’t run,” he murmured, softer and lower now. Almost unsteady in a way that did not match the confidence of his posture. “Let me thank my savior…”
A pause.
His gaze flicked over your face like he was trying to commit every reaction to memory.
“…my love.”
The word landed heavier than everything else.
“Lov-”
You didn’t get to finish it.
Flambae kissed you like a man drowning in salvation
.
The moment his lips crashed into yours, the world narrowed to pure fire. Heat poured from him and into in what you can describe as hot fudge, scorching and sweet, as if years of restrained hunger had finally snapped free. His mouth claimed yours with devastating intensity.
At first, it was slow. Deliberate.
He brushed his lips against yours in a teasing caress, coaxing, tasting. His breath ghosted warm across your skin as he tilted his head, deepening the angle. When you parted for him, his tongue slipped inside, sliding sensually against yours in lazy, exploratory circles.
The taste of him was rich, spiced smoke and something darker, masculine, addictive. Each slow stroke sent molten pleasure trickling down your spine.
Then the restraint fractured.
His grip on your jaw tightened, firm but careful, holding you exactly where he wanted you. The kiss turned possessive. His tongue swept deeper, stroking every inch of your mouth with long, deliberate drags, from the base where it met yours, curling upward along the roof of your mouth, then flicking teasingly at the sensitive spot behind your teeth.
He savoured you like fine wine, like scripture, like something he had waited lifetimes to devour.
A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest as he pressed his powerful body flush against yours. One large hand cradled the back of your skull, fingers threading possessively through your hair, while the other splayed across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. The hard planes of his frame, broad chest, strong shoulders, and the heat radiating from skin, pinned you with delicious weight.
Your knees buckled, but he held you effortlessly, supporting you as if you weighed nothing.
His free hand slid under the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing burning paths along your ribs and up your side. It almost feels like a poorly lit cigarette on your skin. Everywhere he touched, your skin ignited.
Whether from his natural heat or the faint shimmer of his powers, each caress left trails of molten sensation that sank deep into muscle and bone, making your breath hitch and your stomach coil tight with need.
Jesus.
“Fuck…” he whispered roughly against your swollen lips, voice thick with his accent. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
He pulled back just enough for your foreheads to rest together, breaths mingling in hot, shaky bursts. His dark eyes, amber-flecked, roamed your face with raw reverence and hunger.
“I’ve wanted you like this… for so long,” he confessed, voice breaking slightly. “Every time you’re near me, I burn. I forget how to breathe unless I’m tasting you.”
Then he dove back in.
This kiss was pure urgency. He tilted your head back further, devouring you with deeper, more demanding strokes. Teeth grazed your lower lip, tugging with just enough pressure to make you whimper.
The sound seemed to snap something primal in him.
Flambae’s mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. He dragged his tongue slowly down the column of your throat, savouring the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his lips.
When he reached the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, he sucked gently, then harder, teeth scraping lightly as his groan vibrated straight through your skin.
“Right here?” he murmured, voice dark and pleased when he felt you shudder violently against him. “So fucking responsive for me…”
And god, did he take advantage.
His grip on your nape tightened, fingers fisting gently in your hair as he yanked your head back further, exposing more of your throat.
He attacked it with reverence and hunger, long and wet licks followed by sharp nips and deep, sucking pulls that left blooming marks of possession on your skin. Each bloom of heat and pressure made your body arch helplessly into him, soft, broken sounds spilling from your lips.
You gasped sharply when he latched onto a particularly sensitive spot near your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a dark purple claim while his tongue swirled slow, torturous circles.
Then came teeth.
Each nip alternated between rougher and softer, some leaving faint pink marks behind while others were soothed instantly by slick drags tongue afterward, testing how much pressure would make whimpers escape next time.
And oh boy did it work.
A sharp gasp ripped free before could stop yourself, “Ah- p-please-”
Suddenly, that made his head clear for a moment as he pulls back and look at you.
“D-Do you want me to stop?” he rasped against your damp skin, voice rough with lust and a thread of genuine concern. He searches your face for any displeasure or denial.
You stared at him, disbelief flickering across your face. Stop now? After all that teasing, he couldn’t be serious.
"No.”
The word came out firm, absolute. And your expression followed suit, unyielding, almost daring him to misunderstand. Do I look like I want this to stop?
A sharp exhale broke from him, something between relief and ruin, like the last thread of restraint snapping all at once.
His forehead came to rest against yours, as though even that small distance was suddenly too much.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word fractured and unsteady. His mouth lingered on the shape of it, lips parted as if he were still chasing the memory of you on his tongue.
Then he kissed you again.
Slower this time. Deliberate. Unhurried in a way that felt almost cruel, because it made it impossible to want anything else.
He followed the line of you like he could not help himself anymore. A near-touch of lips at your neck, a ghost of warmth along your collarbone, a trace of breath against your jaw before he found your mouth again, each return deeper than the last, each kiss stealing whatever air you had left to give.
When he finally spoke, it was against your lips, voice roughened by want and something far more dangerous certainty.
“I can’t stop now,” he murmured, the words low and unshaken. “And I won’t.”
A pause, just long enough to feel like surrender.
“Not when you taste like this,” he added softly, as if confessing a truth, he no longer had the strength to hide. “Not when you feel like you were meant to be close to me.”
Flambae’s fingers grazed the zipper of his suit with a kind of reverent patience that made the air feel thicker. The low metallic whisper of the teeth separating seemed impossibly loud in the charged silence between you.
Fuck. This was happening.
Inch by inch, the fabric parted, revealing more of him in a way that made your pulse spike. A rush of heat rolled off him, not just physical warmth, but something alive, electric, like standing too close to an open flame.
Your pulse hammered in your throat as he shrugged the top of the suit off his broad shoulders, letting it slide down his arms and pool at his waist. Every movement was fluid, deliberate, like lava. The closer he leaned, the more his presence pressed against you, scorching even through the layers still separating your bodies.
His heart thudded visibly beneath his skin, and when your gaze traced downward, a smug, firelit satisfaction flared in his molten orange eyes.
The piercings gleamed in the low light: two silvery bars through each nipple and-
He caught your chin between thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly tilting your face back up to meet his.
“What is it?” His chuckle was pure sin, the low and rough vibrating against your ear as he leaned in. “See something you like?”
Your face burned. The smirk curling his lips told you he already knew exactly where your eyes had wandered.
Your face burned as you finally snapped your gaze back up to his, only to find that smug, firelit smirk curling across Flambae’s lips like he had known exactly what you were looking at.
“Can’t show you the rest yet…” he rumbled, voice thick with dark amusement and barely leashed hunger, “not without unwrapping my gift first.”
His hands moved to your clothes with the same measured reverence. Fabric whispered over your skin as he lifted it away, cool air kissing newly exposed flesh for only a heartbeat before his calloused palms replaced it. Those hands skimmed up your sides, thumbs brushing along every curve and dip like he was memorizing sacred scripture.
He didn’t rush.
Every touch was slow. Worshipful. His molten gaze dragged over your bare shoulders, the hollow of your throat, lower, drinking in every inch like a man starved. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he swallowed hard, breath growing ragged.
His dark gold eyes, blown wide with raw hunger, roamed over every newly revealed inch of you like he was committing a masterpiece to memory. The gentle curve of your shoulders. The soft dip between your collarbones. Lower still, tracing the lines of your body with a reverence that made your skin prickle.
A muscle ticked sharply along his jaw as he swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. Sweat already glistened along his brow and the strong column of his neck, yet his mouth looked suddenly dry.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, the words slipping out like a prayer offered at an altar.
His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts as he drank you in completely. Those eyes burned a slow, possessive trail from your collarbones down to the hollow of your hips, mapping every contour as if he planned to paint it later with his hands and mouth.
One calloused thumb brushed across a peaked, sensitive spot on your chest, light at first, then with just enough pressure to make it tighten and jump beneath his touch.
The friction sent a sharp spark of pleasure straight through you, proving how intensely your body was already responding to him alone.
He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, sharing the same heated breath. His large palms slid up your spine in slow, possessive strokes, claiming every vertebra.
But he didn’t stop there.
Those hands traveled downward.
Over the cage of your ribs. Past the dip of your waist. Until his fingers hooked firmly into the last piece of fabric still clinging to your hips.
This time, Flambae didn’t ask.
He didn’t warn.
Truth be told, this man had waited too damn long.
With one rough, decisive yank, the fabric joined the rest of your clothes in a forgotten tangle on the floor. In the same fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly and laid you back onto the wide metal table.
The cold surface hit your bare back like a lightning strike. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as the frigid metal bit into your overheated skin.
The brutal contrast, scorching heat radiating from Flambae’s body hovering above you, versus the icy steel beneath, ignited every nerve ending at once. He did not let go. Not even for a second. His hands stayed locked on your waist, holding you steady as your feet left the ground and your full weight settled against the table.
A ragged breath punched out of him at the sight of you spread out beneath him. Your chest rose and fell in shallow, quick inhales. Sensitive peaks on your chest pebbled tight from the chill and from him, standing out against skin still flushed pink from his earlier touches.
“Fuck…” Flambae rasped, voice hoarse and wrecked. His orange eyes blazed brighter than ever. “You’re so goddamn perfect…”
His calloused palm dragged slowly up the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your center, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off his skin, close enough to make your body ache with anticipation.
“W-wait…” you breathed.
He paused instantly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with surprising patience, the fire in his gaze banked but not extinguished.
“I’m a virgin.”
The words fell between you. For a heartbeat, stunned surprise flickered across his face. You gulped, suddenly wishing you had not said it.
“I still want to continue though…” you admitted shyly.
Flambae’s expression softened. He cupped your face with aching gentleness, thumb stroking your cheek.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “Just watch… and learn.”
Flambae dropped to his knees like a man on fire because that is exactly what he was.
The moment his hands slid up your thighs and spread you wider across the cold table, the air left your lungs in a sharp, stunned exhale.
His tongue dragged one long, filthy stripe along your most sensitive flesh.
A choked, guttural moan tore from deep in his chest the instant your taste hit him, salt-sweet and addictive. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as if the flavour alone overwhelmed him. Lips sealed around your entrance, he lapped at you with slow, indulgent strokes. Sucking. Licking. Gently nipping.
He savoured you so thoroughly, his tongue pressed inside, slow and deep, like he wanted this moment to stretch into forever.
But the second he found that perfect angle, your hips jolted violently off the table. A full-body arch tore through you, back bowing sharply, toes curling so hard they ached, a raw, punched-out gasp ripping from your throat.
Oh god. That spot was ruinous.
“Right there?” he growled against you, the words muffled by the slickness coating his chin. Saliva and your arousal glistened on his skin. Evidence of his devotion and the hunger he could no longer hold.
“You need more, don’t you?” It was not really a question. He already knew.
He dove back in with a rough groan that vibrated straight through your core. This was pure possession. A starved man claiming the exact flavour of your surrender.
His tongue thrust deep, brutal yet controlled, spearing past resistance like fire melting through ice. Your helpless body arched again, toes curling white-knuckled against the frigid table as he held you firmly in place, growling into your flesh while pushing even deeper.
Every movement grew sharper. Spit dripped obscenely down your skin and onto the metal surface. His tongue flickered rapidly over that devastating spot, curling upward inside you just enough to make your vision bleach white behind closed eyelids.
“Fuckin’ perfect…” he mumbled into you, the low vibration sending fresh waves of pleasure rippling outward.
Spit and slick were smeared everywhere… across your thighs… the table… glistening along his jawline…
Then he shifted.
He pulled back slowly, obscenely slow, a thin, glistening trail of saliva stretching between his lower lip and your skin like a fragile thread. He licked once across his bottom lip.
Christ, that stare was lethal.
Without breaking eye contact, Flambae brought his hand up. Two thick fingers. Index and middle glistened with spit and your own wetness. He pressed them gently against your entrance first.
A prod. A test. A tease.
Then he slid them inside. The stretch was immediate and breathtaking.
The moment he curled those fingers exactly right, something inside you shifted completely. A low, pulsing heat radiated from his fingertips. It did not burn. It bloomed. Gentle warmth spread outward from your core in slow, rolling waves, matching the frantic rhythm of your arousal pulse for pulse. As if he could sense exactly how much heat you needed, both literally and figuratively.
Your body clenched hard around his fingers, greedy and desperate, trying to pull him even deeper. The wet, obscene sounds of his slow thrusts filled the room.
You were right on the edge, teetering on it, ready to burst. Your thighs tried to snap shut but he forced them open again with strong hands.
Your hips bucked wildly, his broad palm pressed firmly down on your lower belly, pinning you helplessly to the cold table. Your head thrashed side to side, overwhelmed… oh god. oh god. oh god- until his fingers caught your jaw and gently but firmly brought your gaze back to his.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
You did.
“You know,” Flambae murmured, his voice softened to a near whisper against your skin as he curled his fingers deep inside you, “most people spend their whole lives begging me not to use my powers.”
He thrust harder on the last word, driving his fingers in with deliberate force. The controlled heat inside you flared brighter, pulsing in time with each stroke.
His eyes, heavy and luminous, never left you, tracing every flicker of reaction across your face like it meant everything.
“But you…”
Another thrust. Faster this time, deeper, the wet sounds of his fingers plunging into your slick heat growing louder and explicit. The burning warmth rolled through your core in heavy waves, stroking every sensitive nerve until your thighs began to shake uncontrollably.
“…you look at me like you want more.”
On that final word, his pace turned ruthless. He fucked you with his fingers in fast, relentless strokes, curling sharply against that devastating spot with every thrust. The pressure built higher and higher, coiling viciously in your belly.
You broke.
The orgasm tore through you with brutal intensity. Your entire body seized, back arching sharply off the cold table as powerful contractions clenched and pulsed around his fingers.
A raw, broken cry tore from your throat. Pleasure crashed over you in blinding waves, your core gripping him in greedy, rhythmic squeezes.
He stayed with you through every shuddering pulse, drawing it out until your vision whited out and your ears filled with rushing sound.
Only when the strongest waves finally began to ebb did he slowly ease his fingers from your fluttering entrance. The drag was torturously slow, making your overstimulated body twitch and whimper. He lifted his glistening hand to his mouth, locking eyes with you as he slid both fingers past his lips.
Flambae sucked them clean with a low, appreciative groan, relishing the taste of you like you were a five-star meal.
Pop!
When he finally pulled them free, a dark, satisfied smirk curled his lips, his orange eyes gleaming with wicked hunger. And your skin buzzed with lingering heat, limbs heavy and warm as if submerged in molten honey.
But of course.
It isn’t over.
Slumped against the table, boneless and trembling, every inch of your skin still humming with aftershocks. Your thighs quivered, slick and warm, while your entrance continued to flutter and pulse greedily around nothing.
You felt so empty, so open, that your body practically ached to be filled again. It would swallow him whole the second he pushed inside.
And. As if the man himself heard you.
Flambae rose slowly from his knees, his movements unhurried, predatory. Those molten orange eyes stayed locked on the way your body continued to clench and pulse, dark with raw, undisguised enamoration.
A low, appreciative rumble vibrated in his chest as he drank in the sight of you… wrecked, glistening, and entirely his.
A light glint below caught your attention.
His already rock-hard cock sprang free, heavy and flushed deep with arousal, slapping audibly against your lower belly as it was finally released.
Your breath caught sharply in your throat.
Holy fuck.
The sheer size of him left you stunned… thick, long, and intimidatingly perfect. The flushed head already glistened with a bead of precum, but what truly made your eyes widen was the row of silver Jacob’s ladder piercings running along the underside of his shaft. Bar after bar, perfectly spaced, gleaming under the low light like dangerous jewellery meant to ruin whoever took him.
The metal looked cold and unforgiving against the burning heat of his cock, promising an intensity you had never imagined.
You stared, pulse hammering wildly, a fresh wave of nervous excitement twisting low in your stomach.
He was huge, far bigger than his fingers had prepared you for, and those piercings only added to the overwhelming visual. Every ridge and bar seemed designed to drag against every sensitive inch inside you.
Flambae watched your reaction with a dark, satisfied smirk, one hand wrapping loosely around the thick base of his cock to give it a slow, lazy stroke. The movement made the piercings shift, catching the light.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “Breathe.”
He leaned over you again, caging you in with his heat. The heavy weight of his cock dragged along your slick as he positioned himself, tapping the thick, pierced head against your entrance.
once… twice… three times.
A slow, teasing rhythm, like a polite knock at the door of a place he already knew would welcome him to the hilt.
The sheer size of him combined with those deliberate, merciless piercings made your stomach clench with dizzying want and nervous anticipation.
The slow, deliberate drag of his pierced cock against your overstimulated nerves made your back arch violently. Every barbell sent sharp, electric jolts through your core. You whimpered, fingers scrabbling weakly at the table’s edge, but he only chuckled darkly and kept teasing.
Tapping, rubbing, pressing just the head against your fluttering hole before pulling back again. The wet, filthy sounds of your arousal filled the room.
Then, without warning, he thrust.
One powerful snap of his hips buried him to the hilt in a single devastating stroke. The stretch was intense, but the sensation of the Jacob’s ladder was something else entirely.
You felt every single piercing as they slid inside you. One after another. Each cool, rigid barbell popping past your tight rim and dragging along your inner walls.
It was an overwhelming, textured invasion.
The metal felt noticeably cooler than his scorching flesh, creating a wicked contrast that made your eyes roll back. Each barbell created a distinct, raised ridge of pressure as it rubbed relentlessly against your most sensitive spots. The piercings did not just fill you; they stimulated. They dragged. They pressed. They rolled and bumped with every brutal thrust, stroking places inside you that made your thighs shake uncontrollably.
Flambae fucked you wildly now, hips slamming forward with raw power. The wet, filthy sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, skin slapping skin, the obscene squelch of your arousal coating his pierced cock.
Every time he pulled back, you felt the ladder of barbells tug and catch slightly on your fluttering walls, each one sending sparks of sharp, electric pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.
When he drove back in, they slid home again, one by one, like a relentless, textured ridge designed to ruin you.
“Feel that?” he growled against your ear, voice thick with lust. “Feel every fucking barbell stretching you open? That’s my cock claiming you… ruining this greedy little hole.”
“Fuck yes!” You scream out.
He growled, voice dropping into a guttural snarl. “Take it. Take every fucking inch like the perfect little slut you are.”
Before you could even adjust, he started fucking you wildly.
His pace turned savage, hips slamming forward with relentless force. The heavy slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely, his balls smacking against you with every punishing thrust.
The table creaked violently beneath you as he drove deeper, harder, the metal piercings stroking and rubbing along every sensitive spot inside you with merciless precision.
Pleasure and overstimulation blurred into one overwhelming storm, your body still twitching and spasming from the earlier orgasm, now forced to take this brutal onslaught.
You could only helplessly cling to him.
Your arms flew up, wrapping tightly around his neck and shoulders, fingers digging desperately into the sweat-slick muscles of his back.
Your legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as your body shook and jolted with every savage thrust. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, overwhelmed moans and broken cries spilling from your lips.
Flambae leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his hot breath mingling with yours as he fucked you like a man possessed. His voice became a filthy, intoxicating whisper right against your ear between heavy grunts.
“That’s it… cling to me, you desperate thing,” he rasped, voice sweet and degrading all at once. “Look at you… shaking, crying, stuffed full of my cock. Such a pathetic, beautiful mess… but so fucking perfect for me.”
Another brutal thrust made the piercings drag sharply inside you. Your walls clenched violently around his thickness, gushing slickly around him.
“You were made for this,” he groaned, nipping at your jaw, his accent thickening with lust. “Made to take my cock like a good little hole. So tight… so wet… even after you came so hard you nearly passed out. Greedy. Needy. Mine.”
Your nails raked down his back as another devastating wave crashed through you.
The overstimulation bordered on painful, yet the pleasure was sharper, deeper, more consuming. Every thrust sent the heavy head of his cock battering against that sensitive spot inside while the ladder of piercings rubbed and pressed in ways that made your toes curl and your vision blur.
Flambae’s rhythm never faltered. A deep, punishing strokes that made your body bounce on the table. His strong hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he used you, fucked you through the overwhelming sensations with raw power.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispered tenderly, kissing the tears from your cheek even as his hips snapped forward viciously. “My azizam… taking me so deep. I can feel you fluttering around me…milking my cock like you never want me to leave. That’s it… let me ruin you properly.”
He groaned in pleasure, hips snapping faster, more erratically.
“Fuuuccckk… milk my cock with that greedy hole. I can feel every single piercing getting squeezed by you. So fucking tight. So fucking mine.”
The sensory overload consumed you. The burning heat of his body, the relentless slap of his hips, the cool, hard, dragging texture of the piercing rubbing you raw from the inside, and his low, accented voice whispering both filthy praise and sweet filth into your ear as he fucked you through the overwhelming storm.
You could only hold on tighter, lost completely in the raw, cinematic intensity of being thoroughly claimed by him.
But there is no such thing as salvation.
Your body jolted violently against the table as Flambae’s pace suddenly quickened.
His hips snapped forward with frantic, punishing speed, each thrust deeper and more desperate than the last.
The wet, obscene slap of his cock and balls against your skin grew louder, faster, more chaotic. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your chest as his powerful frame moved over you like a man unraveling at the seams.
The piercings were relentless now. Every brutal stroke dragged the full row of cool, hard metal barbells along your overstimulated inner walls with filthy precision.
The textured ridges caught and rubbed against every sensitive spot inside you, creating wave after wave of sharp, electric pleasure that bordered on too much. Your hole clenched and fluttered wildly around his thick, pierced cock, the contrast between his burning heat and the cooler metal only heightening the overwhelming sensations.
“Fuck- I’m so close,” Flambae growled, voice hoarse and ragged, thickening with raw need.
His dark eyes were glazed with lust as he stared down at you, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel too good… too fucking perfect. I can’t- I need-”
He slammed into you harder, the table creaking dangerously beneath your joined bodies. One of his hands gripped your hip bruisingly while the other braced beside your head. His breathing was ragged, almost broken.
“Please…” he begged, voice dropping into a desperate whisper against your ear. “Let me cum inside you. Please, my love. I want to fill you up- want to pump every drop deep inside this perfect, greedy hole. Can I? Fuck, please say yes-”
His thrusts grew erratic, the piercings dragging and bumping inside you with every frantic movement. The sensation was devastating, each barbell stroking you from within as his thick cock swelled even harder, as if trying to convince you.
You managed a broken, overwhelmed “Yes-” between moans.
The word barely left your lips before Flambae snarled in relief and slammed into you with animalistic force. His hips stuttered, then drove deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he came hard.
You felt everything.
The sudden, powerful pulses of his cock as thick ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, piercings throbbed and pressed against your walls with every heavy spurt, amplifying the sensation until it felt like the metal itself was marking you from the inside.
Your own orgasm crashed over you in a blinding wave, triggered by the sheer intensity of being filled so completely. Your body seized around him, entrance clamping down rhythmically on his pierced length as pleasure tore through you in violent, shattering pulses.
You cried out, clinging desperately to his sweat-slick shoulders, nails raking down his back as you shook and gushed around him.
Flambae groaned deeply, burying his face in your neck as he kept grinding slowly through both your orgasms, milking every last drop into you. The wet, messy sound of his cum mixing with your arousal filled the air with every shallow thrust.
For a long moment, the world narrowed to the heat of his body, the erratic twitching of his cock still buried deep, and the lingering drag of those silver barbells inside your fluttering, cum-filled entrance.
Then everything softened.
Flambae’s movements slowed to gentle, soothing rocks. He stayed inside you for a while longer, breathing heavily against your skin, pressing tender kisses along your jaw, your throat, and your sweat-dampened temple. His voice was low and sweet now; the roughness melted into warm affection.
“You did so well… so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stroking your sides with reverent hands. “My azizam. Taking everything I gave you.”
He finally pulled out slowly, careful, and gentle, a thick rush of his cum leaking from your used entrance. You whimpered at the loss, but he was already there scooping you up effortlessly into his strong arms and carrying you to the soft bed nearby.
He laid you down with utmost care, then joined you, pulling your trembling body against his chest.
Flambae wrapped you in his warmth, one large hand gently stroking your back in slow, soothing circles while the other cradled your head. He whispered soft praises between kisses, sweet nothings in that low, accented voice, cleaning you tenderly with a warm cloth he fetched without ever fully letting you go.
His fingers traced lazy patterns over your skin, grounding you as the intense high slowly ebbed into peaceful exhaustion.
You nestled deeper into his embrace, safe, spent, and utterly cherished.
-———
You shot upright in bed, breath catching like you had just surfaced from deep water.
Morning light slipped through the curtains in soft, indifferent stripes. Your heart was still going too fast, like it had not gotten the memo that whatever that was… was not real.
For a moment, you just sat there.
Staring.
Trying to reconcile your own brain with the absolute nonsense it had just produced in dream form.
Because it had been too vivid.
It had all felt so real…the stretch, the cool drag of the piercings, Flambae’s desperate begging, the overwhelming pleasure, and the tender aftercare that followed.
You lay back down for a moment, breathing deeply, staring at the ceiling as the vivid sensations slowly faded, leaving behind a strange mix of satisfaction and aching emptiness.
Flambae wasn’t here.
Yet your body still hummed with the ghost of his touch.
herman’s face was buried into your cunt, hands stuck to the soft skin of your thighs, you didn’t realize how truly strong he was if he had the same confidence and willpower to fight others with the same energy he had in eating you out.
“ooh—fuck! herm- hah, w… wait!” you had your hands buried in his brown strands of hair, your inner thighs only tighten even more. watching those big, oceanic eyes staring right back up; fuck they were ruining you. and you were so into it.
“mmmn… mhm, g-glad—mmf!—you like it…” you shut your eyes at your boyfriend humming vibrations into your wet, greedy entrance. long, lengthy pale fingers grinded against your sweet, spongy area inside.
“mmfgh—haah, s-sorry my—nnh—love,” he couldn’t help but whimper out under his breath. his palms were slightly shaky, it felt like if he had taken his mouth off of you for more than a second; you would fall frail, and fragile. he didn’t want to leave you, not even for more than he needed.
you have no idea where your herman had learned… but gosh his tongue dragging up your slit had felt more than just ephemeral… it was breathtaking. literally.
“ooh, aahnn—fuck! s’good…” you couldn’t help but let out breathy moans, he had been kissing and sucking at your clit for hours, and hours again. “mmn,”
and when you squirt for the first time? oh he is absolutely head over heels all over again, and he’s back to making out with your cunt like it’s his first time hooking up with someone at a fancy party.
“thought… that only happened w-with me…” … “oh i mean you know, my um… my powers…”
May I request headcanons for Sonar, Royd, Flambae, Waterboy, and Robert reacting to his shy gn s/o asking to kiss his cheek please?
" like i'm gonna lose you! " . . . 𝝑𝝔 cute ass prompt oml for some its just a surprise peck !! </33 ft. sonar, royd, flambae, waterboy, robert x gn! reader (separately)
synopsis. they didn't expect, but they weren't going to complain!
cw: fluff, kissing n all that sap LOL, gn! reader, established relationship!
wc. idk, not proofread & might be ooc!
< main masterlist | dispatch masterlist >
sonar did not want to expect anything from you, don't take that in a bad way! i mean he didn't want you to feel pressured to do anything just because you were in a relationship, and people made you feel obligated to put yourself into uncomfortable situations.
similarly: an example being public display of affection, he knows you weren't a big fan of it, so he will only initiate it if you would like.
and usually- you would ask him if it was fine to do this or that with him, even if his answer had always been yes... but this once, instincts took over you.
"oh, th.. thank you so much vic'!" you smiled with glee, your face was flushed with small, yet dark hues across your cheeks. maybe you were the angel that came to save him... maybe he should use that line on you next time too! that's what he was thinking about before...
peck!
...
his mind went blank.
completely... empty.
"...victor? sorry, was that too sudden? i-i can um... i can-" you were cut off by his sudden hand on your shoulders, looking at you with those pretty little eyes he stared at you with.. you gasped underneath your breath, your boyfriend still in shock. his ears were straight up, shock still fills sonar as he tries his best to process what you just did...
"could you... could you do that again? please?"
royd loved to show you off, always telling everybody how amazing you are, and how thankful he was to have such an adorable partner like you were. you always returned the affection in your own quiet, subtle ways, likes your hand in his, or a hug that others would barely even notice...
and again, he never forced you to do anything, especially if you didn't want to, or felt innately uncomfortable with certain situations; he should be the one protecting you whilst you do the same, so when you...
leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek when he gifted you your favorite book, and took you both out to the place you both first went out in. "you like it, my love?" you loved to watch him smile whenever he gave you things, like his affection; whether in words, actions, or physical gifts. or all the above.
"oh, royd! i.. i love it so much." you couldn't help but have a show of teeth, grinning ear-to-ear, with that same loving gaze you shared with him many times before. he had closed his eyes shut while he chuckled, rubbing his neck before-
peck!
"i... i really can't think of... of anything else to thank you..." - "u-uhuh, y-y're welcome, angel..."
flambae was known to tell everybody about you. he talked about you so much, others knew just as much as he did, so even when your birthday came around, people would immediately be able to guess what he'd gotten you.
so was it really a surprise when usually he was the one usually initiating the kisses between you?
not that much...
up until this one day you came over to sdn to bring him lunch, a place where everyone could talk to you about how much your boyfriend loves to mention you. "hi chad." you wave to him as he gets up from the seat he was sat up on a table.
“aye… azizam… you made it.” the long black-haired man picks you up briefly as he puts you back down. “wha… for me?” pointing to your small lunch placed in your hands, “mhm, for you.”
you hum as you watch hum take it into his arms, “gosh, this is so good—name, baby what’d you put into this?” — “my love.”
your face had that beautiful little smile you always did, and before he could notice, your lips had pecked his cheek.
“…chad?”
…
“huh? yes, sorry… what, baby? you need new earrings? a ring?”
waterboy… oh herman, you don’t even know what’s coming. as much as you are shy with others, you do tend to like causing a few harmless pranks on your boyfriend—so what was the harm in this one when…
oh my god.
you were just making coffee in your kitchen, early; breakfast brewing carefully, you were doing dishes to clean up after yourself before you see another set of hands beside you, helping you with cleaning up as well,
"oh, herm- you don't have to," you bumped his hip with your own as he shook his head, "no, nono. let me help." a small smile was plastered on the tall man's face. he had been helping you around almost the whole morning,
"herm, it's your day off, you should be resting..." taking a seat beside him on the couch, you gradually lean onto his shoulder. "doesn't matter, i'm always gonna... gonna help you all the same, you're my partner, not my slave."
you felt your heart flutter at his words, god you loved him so much... there wouldn't be much of a surprise when you-
peck!
"...thank you again, hermie." - "u-uhuh, anything... for um- for you." his face still nonetheless in shock, the waterboy couldn't help but blush, you hadn't been one to initiate too much,
even when you lean against him, he was as frozen as the sea during winter.
one way to shock the mecha man of sdn was to tell his incredibly shy significant other about his deprivation of affection, despite being true or not would not affect the results. robert never asked anything of you that he thought would be crossing boundaries,
so the surprise on his face was as clear as day when he received a nice little peck on his cheek from his significant other.
even when his cheeks were heated up, he still spoke with the utmost sincerity and respect as you did, god could you stop looking so cute when you smile like that?
"you know... ahem, you could always kiss me, no need to ask." an awkward cough emitted from his throat mid-sentence to really get your attention, his palms clasp around yours while eye contact is kept between the both of you.
he couldn't help but touch the spot you had placed your lips over for the rest of the day, restless about you- about how easily you could break the walls he had spent years building around himself.
through sarcastic remarks, and ironic insults, he found himself having the utmost seriousness when he ended up in your arms that night, and every other night.
𑣲 " ...you? i want them! " ♡ robert, blonde blazer, invisigal, sonar x gn! reader . . . 𝝑𝝔 UWAAAA i liked this layout a ton!
૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა cw: sfw & fluff content ahead, established relationship
𑣲 synopsis: when a girl comes up to the both of you asking for someone's number, but unexpectedly... they're asking for you.
𑣲 wc: ~1k ; not proofread, might be ooc!
robert robertson iii
you both are going out for the fun of it since it's been a while since it was just the two of you, no coworkers, no hero funny business, no beef- actually beef was with you guys since no one was available to babysit.
but that's basically just you two since beef is just sleeping or sniffing random shit most of the date.
so when you sat down on a bench nearby the usual sorbet ice cream place you both always went to, you felt like you were already being eyed down from afar... it felt a little scary nonetheless.
so when you finally got your half of the ice cream, a pretty, blonde girl of a height around five foot five; "hey, i thought you were real cute, you available anytime this saturday?"
you hadn't replied at all but you simply let your boyfriend do the talking, obviously assuming she was asking him.
"sorry, i'm-"
naturally assuming she was asking him, you hadn't expected to see her shoving the brunette out of her way and took the spot that was supposedly his seat, now beside you.
"i meant you, pretty. i wouldn't mind the dog either."
slowly turning his head to where the woman had sat down, offering up a piece of paper with her number written in ink, "you... her- oh, you wanted hers..." just as gradually processing it as you let out a laugh at his reaction.
politely rejecting the girl, she nods her head in small disappointment before respectfully leaving-
bye he ends up sooo jealous afterwards i can't lie. will hold your hand way more often than before, so legit your hands are filled. one hand to hold beef by his leash, and the other with your adorably seething boyfriend.
blonde blazer
pls mandy is like both shocked, and not shocked. first you two were on your way to sdn together, coming back from lunch together. you were just gonna greet your girlfriend goodbye before somebody noticed you in the lobby while waiting.
"hey, u- um... could i get your number? i thought you were really cute..." a shy girl tries to wave to get both your attentions on her, but before she could continue, "oh, i'm taken, sweetheart sorry-"
"oh, sorry... no i meant um... them?" peeking over the blonde's shoulder to look at you, holding mandy's bag, and eating a popsicle in the other, "wha, me?"
"yeah! i um... i've seen you around a ton, and saw the pokemon card in your phone case, and i thought it'd be cool if..." shyly twiddling with a piece of her hair before offering out her phone, her own phonecase having the rock-fairy pokemon diancie on the back. "ohhhh, yeah, sorry no, i'm matching with pretty girl over here." you smile before nudging mandy to show her own phone case.
ah... you had plusle, and she had minun. that made it clear to the poor thing,
the girl being all flustered and embarrassed after realizing you two were literally coming back from a date; your significant other being visibly surprised still from how the interaction went down. was it not obvious you two were... you know what nevermind.
once the lady leaves, the blonde hero places a kiss on your cheek. "so this is why you got us these?" - "not really, but it's cool that she recognized it."
she would memorize all pokemon for you, she DON'T play bout you.
invisigal
courtney gets hit on a lot believe it or not, it was normal for people to ask for her number when you two went out, aaaand you came to terms with that. it's not like they know about down bad she is for you in private LOL
walking around the mall, happily eating at the paper bag of mini pancakes your lovely girlfriend had bought you, proudly walking around and giving everyone a gaze that said "yeah, they're with me, what of it?"
both of you were standing idly at a plushie store, shopping for a new one to place on the bed once more because... well you mentioned wanting another, and court offered to buy said plushie !!!
muttering under your breath, you contemplated choosing between the squirrel, and the dinosaur. the squirrel, a fluffy, adorable tail- one that you would love to cuddle into and share with your significant other... or the dinosaur that gave you uncontrollable cuteness regression.
courtney was patient with you believe it or not, she wouldn't mind waiting a hundred years just to tell you she can buy you both. LOL
sighing, but before you could choose, a girl comes up to the both of you, "uh, excuse me? could i get your number?" a happy-go-lucky peers over to the both of you, but your girlfriend was quick to say,
"sorry, taken and very lovingly going to sta-" - "oh no, i meant the beauty next to you, my bad."
courtney's head snaps up in absolute confusion. no one had even dared to think about trying to talk to you, i mean, you were by her side 24/7...
"oh! me? well, ms. short-tempered here is taken by me... sorry to you as well."
the woman nods at your reply, before respectfully leaving...
oh my godddd courtney is sizzling with jealousy. not even because that lady had asked for your number, but someone dared to ask for your number when she was right there with you?
holds your hand a little tighter before stuffing both animals into the cart.
"oh, i just want-" "i'm buying both."
sonar
victor is APPALLED to think anybody has the courage to even come up to either of you LOL. you two either give scary as fuck but hot vibes or power couple that's untouchable vibes, so it's a surprise when anybody tries to hit on either of you.
you were buying bunny-shaped desserts from your favorite bakery nearby, sonar standing right by your side. (offering to pay when in reality its his money but better managed by you).
that's when the cashier suddenly spoke, "hey wait you forgot something!" you realized you hadn't received your change as you approached the front desk again, sonar following silently beside you,
"thanks!" you cheer as sonar is the one to take the money from the lady before going back to scrolling mindlessly on his phone again before- "hey, could i get your number? pretty cute, i can't lie. it'd be a waste if i don't ask now."
shared silence was clear in the air as you and your boyfriend shared a gaze for a moment before placing the money whilst he replied. "they're my partner, sorry."
"oh i didn't mean you, you don't look approachable at all, no offense, but you..." from referring to your lover and back to you, you sort of just stared in shock. "oh, me? no, sorry he's my very handsome boyfriend."
when you two leave, he isn't necessarily jealous... no, he becomes more possessive than he already was. whether that was a bat tendency or shit he picked up, you hadn't even realized he pulled you closer by your waist as you yapped away all his thoughts.
putting his phone away before saying, "you are dangerously hot." - "where'd that come from?" - "just processed now."
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Can I request nsfw headcanons for Royd, Sonar Flambae (if you don't mind), Waterboy, and Robert eating fem reader out please?
content warnings: nsfw & 18+ content ahead, flambae isn't included, fem anatomy! reader, gn! afab! reader, no gendered pronouns/petnames used, oral, established relationship
you may as well say royd is having the time of his life when he gets to taste you, it's a blessing, a reward, a prize, it's fuckin' everything and he's LOVING it.
holds you down by your squishy thighs in order to lick everything he can, not that you could escape from his crazy vice grips that stayed solely on your hips, thighs, and everything nice.
likes it better when you pull on his hair, it's one of the ways he can tell you subconsciously ask him for more.
sets a very clear boundary if ever you ask him to, because he is very strict about it when you do happen to use it, and will always put your feelings first. all the guys on the list here do this actually :P
loves to hum into your cunt, it's an addiction he unfortunately cannot resist, not even for you, not even when you're so overstimulated you physically cannot even come for him anymore
he sometimes says he'll eat you out as foreplay/to prepare you for his dih but forgets about it when he gets to eat you out.
yes the whole night he sometimes it's just him kissing your pussy like crazy, no words exchanged other than his praise, while you whisper his name out.
sonar is all of a sudden a deep fucking diving explorer, and does not wanna come out, not when you taste this amazing, not when his tongue could reach these parts of you.
no idea how this would work, but please just know he would definitely do this a LOT.
although he highkey loves to switch between your ass and cunt a ton, he'll just ask you which one you prefer more :)
can't help but look up into your eyes either, just staring at you with all the admiration a guy could hold for his partner- you were everything to him, and he was happy to serve.
although he'd never say it. he'd much prefer be the one in control, and the one who can make you squirt like crazy.
on that note: the first time you squirted, he definitely wanted to try until you would do it again. he wants to know how it happens, and he's not afraid to use his fingers to stroke at your g-spot while his tongue is busy pleasing your clit.
his strength is way more than enough to at least mark your body from how good he holds you down so you don't squirm, and squish his face too much.
can i also note that he loves your thighs? it's a CRIME how much he bites, nips, and kisses at your inner thighs without actually kissing your cunt first. it physically pains him unfortunately to not lick your thighs pre-oral.
waterboy is MESSY WITH IT. sorry not sorry, i've been preaching this for the past month and i just can't believe if you think he'd be anywhere near 'clean'.
herman loves to hear 'hermie' slip from your lips, makes him want to kiss, and prod at your entrance all the way more to make way for his thumb to rub over your clit.
lets his body harmonize with yours in a way, loves to moan at the same time when you let out your own sounds, it really feels like you're hypnotizing him into making him eat you out even more than he already was.
his grip is surprisingly very firm despite his slippery fingers outside the bedroom, why? because he KNOWS what he wants, and definitely when there is a will, there will be a way.
he's gonna make sure you feel him, because he's gonna be suggesting you to sit on his face, no matter your weight, he just wants to make sure he gets literally everything.
dream death (if there's anything called that) would be to get suffocated while giving you oral. it's happened a few times, and he wouldn't mind if that was the way he goes out.
lightly bites your thighs right before going in for it, is fucking in love with the way he could just tonguefuck you while getting to stare up at the expressions you make.
this man is a FREAK dont believe the innocent propaganda.
robert is a man of taste, culture, and skill. he hasn't given oral to that many people but god is he great at it; it really sincerely feels like he's been doing it for years, and is giving his everything to you each and every time. at least that last part is real.
loves to groan so you feel every single vibration inside you possible, it's cute to see the way you react.
highkey much prefers when you allow yourself to sit on his face too, he can carry his own weight, and could probably lift yours too, sends kisses down your stomach before doing so too
likes to edge you by letting out warm exhales onto you before he actually starts, loves the way you try to squirm while atop his chest, it's the cutest thing you've ever done in his eyes.
hums your name into your cunt, can't stop when he's started to mutter your name, whether that be with his last name, or your last name, but it usually is the latter.
could eat you out any position though, as long as he gets to taste you.
very much prefers to eat you out rather than actual fucking but he goes with whatever you like more.
cleaning & patching up their wounds 𝝑𝝔 ft. the z-team (+ blonde blazer & royd!)
cw: blood/injuries mention, fluff fluff fluff
cleaning robert's wounds causes a domino effect of questions as you spot all the old scars that cover his back, collarbone, spine, and etcetera. although he seemed simply 'complacent' with what you were doing now, he had never gotten them really medically checked, so feeling your soft fingers apply ointment onto every single one—every single aging wound you could... it made him feel at pease, made him feel all fuzzy inside to know he was being cared for. please keep doing this and he might just admit to liking it!
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
blonde blazer/mandy on the other hand? feels a little embarrassed, flustered even to feel your hands carefully wrapping her arm with soft bondage after applying medicinal lotion onto her rough, ragged skin that was so used to saving others. it felt nice to be cared for, she would blurt out loud with knowing it. but you? didn't comment, not when she looked this much at peace—closed eyes, and a small smile, who would dare interrupt such a scene? not you certainly. not when you were already admiring every battle scar you could.
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
invisigal/courtney fought about this for about... ten minutes before giving in because her leg continued to hurt like absolute hell, it's not like she was in this much pain everyday, but there was no need for you to worry this much about her... so quit acting all nice and shit, wrapping the wound on the back of her knee with care. fine, if it means that she would stop limping like a loser; do whatever you want.
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
sonar/victor is a little snarky about it, a little smirk on his face as he watched you sit beside him, wrapping his arm in white bondage, blood slowly dying it into red. "you care about me, don't you." tease scattered everywhere in his tone, knowing you would just roll your eyes and continue to heal him back to health. no complains in sonar's mind... other than the fact he didn't get to see your cute little concentrated expression the whole time.
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
prism/alice was the one rolling her eyes at the way you teased her whilst being the one to apply bandages over wounds you spotted when she came back in the office earlier. she hated how much you cared... hated it because it made her feel all warm inside, she wasn't a microwave, so why was her face a few shades darker as she watched you take her gloves off to check on her wrists and palms to see if they got hurt too. just kiss her already!
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
flambae/chad reacted similarly to sonar, a proud smirk on his face while you told him off to be more careful with himself. he loved being in your care so much, sometimes he admits he gets himself scratched on purpose to come by and visit you—anything to see the adorable expression on your face as you faced his wounds with professionalism. he felt insanely satisfied every single time, sometimes leaving as if there were never any scars at all. couldn't ask for anybody better for the job <3
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
malevola was known to rarely get hurt... so how was she frequenting you and your supply of bondage? simple! she was not hurt... and you kind of knee, but played along seeing her little smile, watching you wrap her older scars over with your soft yet calloused hands. the first time you had your fingers roam her body in search for scars was the first time you had seen her let her guard down fully.
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
waterboy/herman was one breath away from passing out at how close the two of you were to each other. not like you minded, but this was one of the first that someone had been rubbing his wounds carefully with ointment. i mean it's not like he got hurt all the time... but when he did get hurt, he never had anyone to turn to. "does that hurt?" — "n-no, not at all!" he manages to bite out even after hissing a little.
𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ——— 𝝑𝝔 ———
coupe/janelle had never gotten anyone to revitalize her like this either. it's not her first time getting hurt, but god did she love watching the way you concentrated in order to not let her arm bleed out into an infection. even with every sarcastic remark, you could sense she was still appreciative of what you were doing for her. —mumbling a small thanks as she scurried off outside again.
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punch up/colm acted strong and fierce like no one could stop him, even when im the end, he did end up getting hurt. he acted like his arms were invincible, only for them fall once more—now in your arms seeking care. not like he explicitly asked for you, but he only cooperated when it was you. so of course, when he got hurt, he always, and only expected to see you. guard down faster than lightning, he felt the safest when you were the one patching him up, that's that.
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phenomaman/katanur rarely got hurt either. in fact, it would be considered a miracle to his enemies he even got a scratch at all. but when these small wounds happened and he saw you rush to his side, he honestly didn't mind getting hurt a few more times... he loved to talk about his day while you did, totally not because you were forced to listen. (all jokes aside, he's an enjoyable person to be around!)
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royd barely got hurt, in fact whenever he did, it's not like it pained him to have said wounds. he always said "they're just there" and that's that, but when you came along and offered to wrap bondage around them? he was suddenly all for it. suddenly it does hurt, and suddenly has to go over to you and let you handle all the battle scars on his muscles! (battle scars = scratches from a cat that morning).
the first time robert saw you crying, and the soft sniffling in order to try and hide it from him- god you don't know what you do to him. whatever you feel, he feels too, whether or not he's experienced what you have or not, he gets wanting to hide it from others; but now you have each other, and he wants you to know you can tell him anything, you can punch him, kick him, do anything to him, as long as it makes you feel better. and if you can tell, he can't really explain his own feelings that well, nor is he super great at comforting, he will listen. and listen for hours, for days, he'll stay for as long as you want, just never hide it from him again.
blonde blazer was devastated when she saw tear roll down your cheeks, she would immediately think she had done something wrong and would wanna correct it as soon as possible until you tell her it's not her. she knows what it's like to be at a low place in life, and not know what you want to do with the many years that human life can offer; so understandably, one needs to let it all out in order to feel better. and she lets you, whether that be in her arms, or whilst you eat her cooking, she'll ask you if you want someone to rant to, and if you want the addition of advice. if you say yes? she'll give as much as you need to feel better, but no? then that's fine, sometimes we all just need someone to listen.
invisigal was honestly very appreciative when you felt like you wouldn't mind her being by your side whilst you shed tears. not a lot of people want to stay around her... yet here you were, something so precious, so fragile, so strong, you were everything she could ask for in a person, and you wouldn't mind being vulnerable around her? it felt like the prayers she sent a long, long time ago only received an answer now. she can't give too much advice, but i promise she's a great listener, makes sure to ask you questions, and help you find any root of the problem that may have caused it so you'll know what to avoid next. would let you roam your fingers through her hair, or cling to her shoulder, as long as you would feel better... she wouldn't mind washing the tear stained jackets.
sonar felt similar, he honestly would've loved if someone were to just listen to him rant too. he never really had anyone before, so he was more than happy to be that person for you. even if you stain his suit, his advice is top tier, believe it or not, his talks with you in this state are only real talk, and words that both comfort and are very logical. he's a perfect mix of being both insanely reasonable and an emotionally intelligent person to be around; but the only limit of this amazing ability... was that he only really uses it around you. he only wants it to be used when he's with you. he makes you food, he holds you close, and places the most soothing kisses all over your back and collarbone, he just hates to see you cry. you're the love of his life, who would wanna see their partner crying from something that isn't from pleasure (yes he will joke dirtily but it happens like once or twice only).
royd gives his own advice too, he can't handle to see you cry, but he knows above all, to tell you to never bottle your emotions up after that again. he's an amazing listener, he loves to listen to you, whether that be through sniffles or while you're trying to eat your food, as long as you don't choke, and you're comfortable with telling him... he'll be happy. he's your boyfriend after all, so whatever happens, he'll still be deeply in love with you as per usual, and nothing will ever change that. even when you end up crying in his arms, in his hold, those tears will dry, and those days that your problems no longer feel like a heavy weight on your shoulders are hopefully the days he's there.
malevola doesn't speak that much in the first place, but when it's her significant other? she makes sure you're heard. she makes sure you explore your feelings well, again, she knows what it's like not to have anybody to be there for yourself, so she'd make sure that's not something you go through, whether that be a first-time thing, or something you're used to. everyone deserves somebody to listen, to believe, and to trust, and malevola would be more than honored if that person would be her. just... know you can tell her anything.
prism is a very gentle lover actually, if you're her partner, i assure you that when you cry, you are in very great hands. arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind to bring you closer; telling you it'll be fine and just to let it out. she'll wait for you to not sniffle so much to ask you what's wrong, figure out the root of the problem so you don't panic internally as much. you are hers, and she is yours, this is what partners do for each other, and this is the least she can do whilst you deal with her random bullshit outside the closed doors you two have around your relationship. lets you open up, talk about everything, and asks you questions to explore how you feel about it, and again- know what to avoid next. this lady loves you so much, she wants to solve whatever happened as soon as you can.
flambae doesn't really know what to do when he does see your tears. at first, he'll think you're laughing until he approaches, and the most he really will do for you is to hug you and listen. he isn't the best for advice, but always lets you know that he's there to be an ear, if you want to talk about it, he wants to be the first person you end up thinking about. he wants to be the first person that comes to mind when you ask yourself "who can i tell about this without being judged". he in fact thinks he always shoulder appear first because he's never thought you were any different than that of the person he's spent so much time loving; just tell him, and he'll be right there.
punch up is a man of many words, he knows what to say for many devastating situations people are put in everyday, you were his everything, so he would give everything. you always give him 1000%, so to see you at 0% killed him inside, he didn't want you to be so lost, not as lost as he was back then. he knew the feeling of having no one to turn to when something happened, or when someone left, and to think you were trying to go through that alone when he was there? he wants to know why you would hide it in the first place, but a bigger priority would be to locate the root of the problem, and solve it from there. he knows a thing or two about choices that shouldn't be choices, choices that should've had a chance to just be to choose all- his heart goes out to you. he'll hug you as close as possible, may god punish him if ever an angel like you slipped.
