#robert smut

He starts small.

Rolling his sleeves up just before walking past your desk. Leaning against the doorframe instead of standing properly, puffing out his chest. Taking his time with his coffee when you’re nearby, eyes flicking up just long enough to catch you looking.

“Got something on my face?” he asks one morning, tone mild.

“Nope, just thinking…”

“That’s dangerous.” He smirks.

You narrow your eyes at him.

Another day, he stretches deliberately, arms raised, back arching just enough to be distracting. You try very hard not to stare.

“Y’know,” he says without looking at you, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to start charging admission.”

You scoff, heat crawling up your neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Robertson. Are you always this perceptive and annoying?

“That’s a personal question. I charge extra for those.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

One afternoon, he leans against your desk during break, close enough that you can smell coffee on his breath.

“You're standing awfully close; what do you want?”

Robert looks you up and down. Glancing at your name badge, then back up to your eyes. 

“Making sure you’re still focused,” he says. “You tend to lose it around me, y/n.”

You scoff. “Are you flirting, Robertson?”

“I flirt with everyone.”

“You don't look at everyone like that.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed.

“Like what?” He pauses, then adds, “Never mind. I was testing a theory.”

“And?”

A smirk curves his mouth. “Confirmed.”

He pushes off your desk and walks away like he didn’t just flip your entire afternoon upside down.

You mutter something under your breath.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You catch him on the way out of the office. “Heading home, Robert?”

“Mmm, not quite yet. I have plans tonight.”

“Oh,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. “Is that so? Have fun, then.”

“I will. Thanks.” He offers you a small smile. “Goodnight.”

The next day, he looks… normal. No glow. No smugness. No evidence of anything out of the ordinary. It bothers you more than it should. You wonder where he went. So you approach his desk and lean casually against the edge.

“Heya, Robert,” you say. “What did you get up to last night, huh?”

“Just took Beef for a niiiice long walk.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah,” he says, glancing up at you. “He really needed it.”

That smirk again.

“Why? What did you think I was doing?” He's testing you. And he doesn't think you're brave enough to challenge him and push back. 

Two can play at that game, Robertson… 

Let the games begin.

The change is immediate. Just there—a subtle shift in the air, like a current changing direction.

You hover at the edge of his desk longer than necessary, long enough to feel the familiar pull of his attention even before he looks up. That awareness steadies you instead of rattling you.

Robert is mid-conversation with Galen, one elbow hooked over the back of his chair, posture loose in that infuriatingly deliberate way of his. He’s smiling at something Galen just said—easy, unguarded—and for half a second you almost hesitate.

Almost.

You adjust the folder in your hands, straighten your shoulders, and step fully into his line of sight.

His smile shifts, sharpening at the edges as his eyes flick up to you, then down to the folder, then back to your face.

“Well,” he says, voice warm, “if it isn’t my favorite distraction.” He glances pointedly at the folder. “Should I be flattered, or is this strictly business?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you place the folder on the corner of his desk rather than handing it to him, forcing him to lean forward if he wants it. The pause stretches—just long enough to be intentional.

“Robert, can you stop flirting with me for a second? I need your signature.”

The word "flirting" lands between the three of you like a live wire.

“Flirting?” he echoes. “That’s a strong accusation.”

Galen glances between you, sensing it instantly. “Am I in the way?”

“Not at all,” Robert replies, still watching you. He doesn’t break eye contact.

“Page three,” you reply, tapping the paper once. “Unless you’d like to argue semantics in writing.”

Something like amusement flickers through his eyes. He takes the papers, flips through them with deliberate slowness, then signs—his pen moving steadily, unhurried—and slides the folder back toward you, returning his gaze to yours.

“There,” he says. “All yours.”

“Thanks.” You collect the papers and turn away without another word, refusing him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Behind you, Galen leans closer to Robert. “You good, man?”

Robert doesn’t answer right away. His eyes follow you back to your desk. “Yeah, perfect.” 

You don’t look back.

But you can feel it—the shift you caused, the recalculation happening behind his eyes.

You had your hair down. You never have your hair down. 

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

By the end of the shift, the office is thinning out. Jackets are shrugged on. Conversations taper into low goodbyes and the hum of computers winding down. You gather your things at an unhurried pace, acutely aware of where Robert is without looking. You don’t need to—your body already knows.

You could just leave.

You don’t.

Instead, you drift toward his desk and lean back against it.

Not in a rush. Just… lingering. Close enough that your hip presses lightly into the edge, close enough that he has to tilt his head up to see you.

You feel it immediately when his attention locks into place. The subtle shift in his posture. The pause before he speaks.

“Caaaaan I help you with something, y/n?” He drawls, voice easy. But there’s an edge to it now, something sharpened. Alert.

You don’t answer right away.

You look at him.

Slowly.

His hands. His shoulders. The faint crease between his brows he doesn’t realize he gets when he’s being watched.

His pen stills between his fingers.

Finally, you lift your eyes to meet his.

“Relax, Robertson. I’m just observing.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Robert Robertson doesn’t have a response ready. The pause is brief—but real. His mouth curves, but it’s not smug. Not quite. His grip on his pen tightens. There's mutual awareness in the game you're playing. 

 “Well,” he says after a moment, leaning back in his chair, gaze never leaving yours. “In that case…”

Whatever he was going to say, you don’t let him finish.

You straighten, pushing off the desk, the loss of contact noticeable even to you. You slip your bag over your shoulder, your smile small. Knowing.

“Have a good night.”

You turn and walk away without waiting for an answer.

Behind you, Robert stays seated, eyes tracking you until you’re gone, the unfinished sentence hanging between you like a promise—or a challenge.

Either way, the game has changed.

The game continues for the next week or so.

It settles into something almost habitual—small, deliberate moments threaded through otherwise ordinary days. You linger a little too long near his desk. He finds excuses to cross your path. Neither of you ever touches, never quite crosses a line, but the space between you feels increasingly intentional.

Today his sleeves are rolled up, forearms on display, the faint lines of muscle and tendon visible as he signs off on something. You don’t bother pretending not to look. He notices; he just gives you just enough time to finish before shrugging into his coat.

It’s new. Dark. Fits him far too well.

You gravitate toward him without thinking, stopping just within conversational distance.

“You look good in that jacket, Robert,” you say, lifting a brow appreciatively.

“I always dress like this,” he replies easily.

(He absolutely does not.)

“Oh, really?” you say. “Well, it looks nice anyhow.”

He glances at you sidelong, something amused flickering in his eyes. “A compliment from you? Are you feeling okay?”

You lean in slightly, just enough to breach his personal space. “Super.”

Robert shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back. His shoulders stay relaxed, his posture open—though you catch the subtle inhale, the way his focus sharpens. “Should I be concerned about this sudden proximity?” he asks.

“Only if you’re nervous,” you reply easily.

“I’m not nervous.” He exhales through his nose, something like a laugh. His eyes focused on yours. Gaze unwavering. Daring you to challenge him further. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Testing my self-control.”

You see no reason to lie. You tilt your head. “And?”

“And it’s rude to set someone up to fail.”

You smile. “You’re doing just fine, Robertson.”

“Careful,” he says quietly. “You’re going to make people talk.”

You shrug, unbothered. “Let them.”

For a moment, he studies you like he’s reassessing the rules of a game he thought he understood.

Then his mouth curves—not smug this time, but thoughtful.

“Dangerous attitude,” he murmurs.

You step back before he can say anything else.

You were feeling bolder now. How far could you push him untill the tension snaps? It was time to step things up a notch.

“Royd, I’m not sure what’s going on with my computer,” you say sweetly.

“Oh—no problem,” Royd replies, already rolling his chair closer. “I’ll take a look.”

Robert glances over from across the room.

And immediately regrets it.

You’re leaned in far closer than necessary, shoulder nearly brushing Royd’s as you point at the screen. One hand rests casually on Royd’s shoulder for balance, and your posture is all wrong—knees locked, hips tipped back just enough to be distracting, and your ass is almost showing in your skirt that is totally not regulation. It was nowhere near your knees. You were supposed to be wearing a pencil skirt, not a mini skirt, and—fuck… You know exactly what you’re doing. He marches over to you with a huff.

“If you have any self-respect,” he says coolly, stopping beside you, “you bend down with your knees. Not your ass.”

Royd startles. You blink innocently.

“Robert,” you say, affronted. “Good morning to you too.”

He ignores that, eyes flicking briefly to Royd before settling back on you. “I know how to fix a computer, y/n.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply lightly. “I didn’t want to bother you.” You pout, mockingly exaggerated. “But Royd was right here. And he seems very capable.” You glance at Royd. “Don’t you?”

Royd clears his throat. “Uh—yeah. I mean. I try.”

You tilt your head, considering. “Do you work out?”

Robert’s jaw clenches, and he reaches past you to tap a few keys. “It needs a restart.”

Already fixed.

Royd blinks. “Oh. Uh. Guess I’ll—yeah.” He wheels himself away, suddenly very invested in not being involved.

You straighten slowly, turning toward Robert with a satisfied little smile.

“Wow,” you say. “That was fast; thanks, Robert.”

“I don’t like inefficiency,” he replies.

“Funny,” you hum. “You walked all the way over here.”

His eyes flick to yours. Sharp. Suspicious.

“You were arching your back like you needed medical attention.”

You grin. “Jealous?”

“No.”

“Defensive.”

“I’m professional.”

“You insulted my posture.”

“You were endangering office morale.”

You step a little closer, lowering your voice. “You didn’t like me touching him?”

Robert exhales slowly, gaze dropping for half a second before returning to your face.

“Next time,” he says quietly, “just ask me.”

You smile, bright and pleased. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Dirty trick, y/n.”

Robert runs to the washroom before returning to his desk, and you snicker.

➽──────────────❥ ⋆˚࿔ ˎˊ˗

Later that day Robert stops just short of your desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable in that infuriatingly calm way of his.

“What exactly was that stunt you did earlier?” Robert narrows his wandering eyes.

“What stunt? It only seems like I got your attention. Also, my eyes are up here, Robert.”

“Tch, I was looking at your screen,” he says evenly.

“Sure you were.”

A corner of his mouth twitches. “You leaned halfway into another man’s lap to report a frozen cursor.”

“I was asking for help.”

“I’m pretty sure you were troublemaking.”

You gasp softly, hand to your chest. “Wow. Is that jealousy I hear?”

“No,” he says immediately. “That’s concern.”

“For my computer?”

“For your dignity.”

You lean back in your chair, spinning slightly. “Funny. You didn’t seem very concerned when you fixed it in ten seconds flat.”

He leans down, bracing one hand on the edge of your desk—close again, too close. “I don’t like being distracted during work hours.”

You tilt your head up at him. “Then why do you keep coming over here, Rob?”

Silence permeated. His eyes flick to your mouth and back, the discipline it takes not to linger written all over his face.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” he says quietly.

“And you knew exactly what you were doing when you walked over.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t play games, y/n.”

You smile, slow and sweet. “Sure you do. You just show up when you think you’re losing them.”

He straightens slightly, exhales, and steps back. “Don’t pull something like that again.”

You grin. “Or what?”

He pauses, eyes dark. “Or I might stop pretending it doesn’t bother me.” You watch as his fists clench. “This isn't over.” 

“Aw, Robby, we’re just getting started.” You shoot him a toothy grin.

So worth it.

*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*

You're on lunch and head into the breakroom for a snack. The room smells faintly like burnt coffee and microwaved leftovers. You hum thoughtfully in front of the vending machine, pretending to study your options.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Robert leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. 

Perfect.

You sigh a little louder than necessary, pressing a button, then another.

“Huh,” you murmur. Then louder, “Hey Waterboy, do you see anything wrong with the vending machine?” 

“O-oh? Uh, erm, what's it doing?” He looks up immediately.

You turn, resting one hand against the vending machine.

He steps closer, squinting at the display.

“It’s refusing to give me my chips,” you say seriously. “Which feels personal.”

He laughs nervously. “Sometimes you have to hit it on the side.”

“Oh?” You glance at him. “You sound experienced.”

“I’ve… fought with it before,” he admits.

You tap the glass. “Care to show me how it’s done?”

He hesitates, then gives the machine a light knock. Nothing happens.

You gasp. “Wow. Strong and brave.”

Behind you, Robert shifts.

Waterboy scratches the back of his neck. “I mean—I could try again?”

“Please,” you say sweetly. “I believe in you.”

He hits the side a little harder. The bag of chips wobbles but doesn’t fall.

You clap softly. “Look at that. Progress.”

Robert clears his throat from across the room.

You ignore him.

“So,” you say, leaning closer to Waterboy, “is this part of your job description? Heroic snack retrieval?”

He grins now, a little more confident. “Only for emergencies.”

“Well, I’m definitely in danger of starving,” you reply. “You’d better save me.”

He gives the machine one more solid smack. The chips tumble down.

You light up. “You did it!”

Waterboy beams. “Told you.”

You bend to grab the bag, deliberately slow. “Guess I owe you one.”

Robert looks up from his phone.

“You can start by walking me to the locker room later,” Waterboy jokes.

You straighten, smiling. “Well, keep talking like that and I might actually take you up on it.”

Across the room, Robert sighs.

“Well,” you say, stepping aside, “thank you for your service.” You pause, then add innocently, “You’re really good under pressure.”

Waterboy flushes. “Anytime.”

“Oh wait, you got a little water riiiight here.” You grab a paper towel and wipe the side of his face, lingering on his cheek. 

“Y-yeah, um, that'll happen. I do kinda throw up water...” 

“That's alright.” You pat his cheek. “There you go.”

You finally turn toward Robert, who’s watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, and give him a wink. You walk out of the break room, and you're sure you can see the steam coming out of his ears.

You might actually get written up today. Your shirt is absolutely not appropriate for the workplace—but you’re desperate to have Robert’s attention again, consequences be damned. So you make your way to his cubicle, posture relaxed, confidence weaponized. 

You walk to his cubicle. You're flashing waaay too much boob at him. Dress code thoroughly broken.

Robert looks up—and freezes.

Completely still. Like his system has temporarily shut down.

You’re pretty sure you’ve broken his brain this time.

“You seem quiet today, Robert,” you say casually. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” he replies, jaw ticking.

You lean casually against the edge of his desk, pretending not to notice where his eyes very pointedly aren’t looking. “Flambae just told me I look great in this shirt. It’s cute, no?”

Robert stands abruptly and shrugs out of his jacket, thrusting it toward you.

“No,” he mutters. “Cover up.” He hisses between clenched teeth. 

You blink. “Huh?”

“Have a good shift, y/n,” he says, already turning back to his computer and adjusting himself in his chair like he’s trying to regain control of his body.

You step back, tugging the jacket a little tighter around yourself.

“Yes, sir,” you tease.

He's so getting you back for that one.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later during your shift, you hear Robert curse from his cubicle.

“Oh shit,” Robert huffs. “That's a big coffee stain. This won't do.” 

Before you can even swivel your chair, he’s already unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, letting it drop to the floor like it’s nothing.

He knows you’re looking. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t cover himself. Just stands there shirtless, calm as ever.

“Hey, y/n,” he says, glancing your way, “you still have the jacket I lent you?”

Oh.

Oh fuck, he’s playing dirty now too. This had to stop. 

You swallow, forcing your eyes back up to his face. “Unbelievable, Robertson.”

You hesitate, then slowly slip the jacket off your shoulders, holding it out.  “Here. Try not to stain this one too—unless you’re planning on going home cold and shirtless.”

He takes it from you, fingers brushing yours—deliberate. Not accidental. Never accidental.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t let that happen,” he says quietly, eyes flicking over your face. “Right?”

You scoff, but it comes out a little breathless. “You’re awfully confident for a man currently standing half-naked at work.”

You were done playing; this ends tonight.

Everyone's gone home; it's past office hours. The lights are dimmed, the office humming softly in that after-hours quiet that feels a little illicit all on its own. Only you and Robert remain—for the exact same reason. To end this.

“Y/n.” Robert calls you over. “You keep staring at me like that, I'm gonna start charging.”

“For what this time?”

“Rent. You've been living in my head all day.”

You snort softly. “In that case, you owe me rent too, Robertson. You really had to go half-naked on me today just to get my attention?”

“I think we both know,” he says, stepping closer, “I was getting back at you for showing me half your breasts. In broad daylight, y/n? Really? For shame.” He smirks.

You lift your chin. “I think I accomplished my goal. Got your attention, right?”

Robert's fingers meet the hem of your shirt, hesitant but teasing. “I'm trying very hard not to touch you.” 

“You're failing.”

“I know.”

You both pause. The air is thick. Heavy with desire. He looks at you with those big brown eyes, earnest and intense. That stomach-dropping, butterfly-inducing look. You give it right back to him. Refusing to back down.

“You know this doesn’t end with us pretending we don’t like each other,” he says quietly.

His hand slips into yours.

“I know.”

“So why are we still pretending?”

You shrug, lips curving. “Because it’s fun.”

“It is,” he agrees, inching closer. “Except I’m getting impatient.”

You lift your hand, thumb and forefinger tilting his chin up. “And if we’re both reading this the same way?”

“…Then I kiss you.” 

The words hang there.

A beat.

“Does this mean you’re gonna break first?” you ask, biting your lip just slightly.

“Nah,” he murmurs. “I think you are. So say it.”

“If I do,” you whisper, “then it’s real.”

“It already is.”

You shrug, a smile softening as you lean in the rest of the way. And boy does it feel so good to be wrong.

His mouth meets yours gently. You kiss him back, slow and certain, hands sliding up into his jacket, over his shoulders, pushing it onto the floor. 

He laughs, breaking the kiss. “Got you.”

“Moron.”

“You love it.” He pulls you back to him, hungrier, deeper this time; he’s done pretending too. Your hands rest on his chest. Your back bumps softly into the edge of a desk as he crowds your space, one hand warm and steady at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw. The kiss turns unhurried but intense, all heat and intention, like he’s memorizing the feel of you now that he’s finally feeling you without constraint. His hands travel to the front of your blouse, tracing the seams against the straining fabric near your cleavage. 

“May I?”

“Since you asked like such a gentleman, yes.”

His thumbs hook into the front of your blouse and tear it open, making buttons fly to the floor.

“Robert!” 

“Whoops, hands slipped.”

You're back on him in seconds. Eager, feverish hands squeeze at his waist while your impatient lips kiss down his neck.

“Get on the floor.” He murmurs, low and sultry.

“W-what?”

“Now. I'll make it worth your while.”

You're rewarded for breaking first. 

You two are moaning so loud on the office floor of SDN; it's like you're begging for an HR violation. Your red lipstick is smeared down the sides of your face, your hair is frizzy, sweat is beading at your forehead, and your skirt is pushed up past your waist. You better hope there are no working cameras right in the middle of the cubicles.

“Good, baby?” he peers up, chin wet with slick.

“Yes! God yes! Your face looks good—mmh—buried between my thighs like that, Robertson.” Robert slurps messily at your dripping entrance.

“Mmm? Been thinking about this, pretty girl?” His tongue teases circles around your clit making you squirm.

“M'yes—you're too damn handsome for your own good. Y’know that? Fuck… It makes me outrageously angry to stare at that pretty boy face all day. Nnngh, more—”

“So needy.” He picks up the speed of his fingers curling into you. “How do I think I felt? Being assaulted by your gorgeous—mmh, oh fuck, please finish—” Robert's hips rut into the carpet. 

“So c-close!” You throw your head back when Robert hollows his cheeks, sucking hard on your clit while curling his fingers inside you. 

You come with a moan and melt into the floor with a sigh. “F-fuck, Robertson.”

“You think we’re done here?” He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean. “I still gotta punish you for flashing your tits and ass at me.”

Robert pulls your legs straight up in front of him, resting them on his shoulder. He lines up to your pussy and pushes in slow. A low groan escapes you.

“Nah, I'm enjoying this. You can tease yourself if you please, though.” 

“Oh fuck.” He feels so big; you're squeezing the life out of his dick. “Faster, Robert.” You whine, desperate for another release. 

“Asshole…”

He pulls you back against him with a harsh thrust, making you shriek. Your back is already arching off the floor as he pulls you onto his lap. He can see the way your tits bounce back into you with every thrust. 

“Come on now, you can do it. Show me how you play with yourself when I'm not around. 

You moan, one hand reaching up to tease one of your nipples, the other reaching for your clit. 

“Robert,” you pant, “Please—” 

“Hmm? What do ya need?”

“Harder—Ngh—”

His cock drills into you slowly but hard. It's mind-numbing the way he makes you feel with each rough stroke. Your pussy pulses around him, signaling you're near the end.

“That's it, baby, let go, give it to me, you can do it.” He says in inbetween pants.

You come crying his name, he fucks you through your orgasm steadily, and you're too blissed out to notice the damn smirk on his face. You mumble something as he pulls out; he leans down to kiss you deeply. Next thing you know, Robert is flipping you over on your stomach, squeezing your ass. 

“M’still sensitive, Robert.” You whine.

His erection slaps down on your ass. “Shoulda thought of that before you teased me, naughty girl.” He pries your cheeks apart, lining up to your entrance; you're already soaking his blunt tip again. “You gonna be good now and take all of me?”

“Yes! Just hurry and—O-OH.” You gasp as he thrusts into you roughly.

“Heh, fuuuuuck, now look at what you made me do.” He pumped into you like a madman, your cunt pulling him in further with every plunge. Fucking you hard and fast like you wanted. 

“R-Roberrrrt!” You whine, his cock digging into you, hitting all your spots. He holds your arms to your sides as he ruts into you from behind, fucking you into the carpet with fervor. Shit… he was so deep, deeper than before. He was making you drool. 

“Doin so well for me, that's it.”

Your orgasm comes faster this time, you can't stop it. 

“Fuck, y/n… w-where do you want it?” Robert winces trying to hold back.

“Inside! F-fuck, just don’t stop—please!” 

Robert doesn't hold back when you come again, and he's not far behind you. Pumping into you a few more times before stilling, hot seed spilling into you. He collapses onto you with a pant, muttering a curse. You lay there for a moment, laughing under your breath. You really just fucked like that on the floor like animals and— 

A door slams.

You both panic. Robert pulls out of you with a messy schlorp and tosses you your blouse, or what's left of it. You hurriedly pull down your skirt as he steps into his pants.

Robert helps you to your feet; your legs are shaking, and you lean on his shoulder for balance when none other than Chase rounds the corner.

You all exchange glances. Both of your hair is a mess, both sweaty and flushed, clothes half on. Chase's eyes darken immediately. 

“Nasty-ass motherfuckers…” 

"Oh, I know you two didn't—" He pinches his nose. “I'm gonna give you both 2 minutes to get the hell out of here before I file a complaint and you lose your fuckin jobs."

You both scramble past him, bumping into each other twice before hastily making your exit.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A/N: Poor Chase… and Galen, and Royd, and Waterboy… oh well. It was worth it right? Don't worry they came in early to make sure there was no evidence. And they all came to your wedding afterward.

thinking about having a quickie with robert robertson-

the (surprisingly) hot new hire at the sdn who caught your attention at first glance.

during breaks, he would often strike up a conversation with you, conversations you would keep tucked away within your memories as you replayed them over and over again-

never once getting tired of his presence.

what started out as gentle, flirty banter quickly morphs into something much more. your heart swells with a rush of affection for him, making you capture his lips in a sudden kiss in response. letting out a grunt of your name, he traces a path down your sides with his hand, lightly gripping your ass before pulling away first from the kiss.

robert takes you with him, starting a rather fast pace toward one of the rooms before locking you both in the nearest bathroom stall. he slides a hand down your pants, tracing a path toward your now damp panties.

“you’re already so wet for me.” you tremble, hearing the smirk in his voice when he suddenly touches you through the sheer fabric.

“rob-“ you trail off, back already arched against the cold wall when he pushes a finger within your heat. “sssh, stay quiet. we don’t want to get caught in this rather… compromising position, how would we?” he begins pumping his fingers within your core, sending hot shockwaves of pleasure down your spine.

“ngh… quit acting all… high and mighty.” despite the coil felt in your abdomen threatening to snap, you manage to cup at his own erection through the front of his pants. “you’re just as needy, robertson.”

robert lets out a string of curses at your words, instinctively grinding his clothed length against the palm of your hand. you were right- he was achingly hard for you, every pulse of his cock practically screaming for release.

“so… why don’t we just get right to it?” you whisper in his ear, allowing the seductive tone of your voice to send him right over the edge.

his hands were suddenly on you, with your headset and clothes hurriedly taken off and left in a pile on the ground. robert lets out a low whistle while admiring your nakedness, cupping at your breast while tracing at the curve of it. “you’re beautiful, and all mine.”

leaning down, he captures one of your aching nipples within his hot mouth all while running the tip of his cock around your entrance. your toes curl at the sudden sensation, already drenching his cock in your juices when he suddenly pushes into you.

your back arches against the wall while robert holds both of your legs wide open for him. with half lidded eyes, he begins ramming his cock in and out of your heat at a rapid pace, basking in your soft mewls and moans of desperation.

“o-oh fuck! you feel so fucking good…!” you wrap your arms around his neck while clenching your legs around his waist.

“s-sssh, we don’t need… the others to… ngh… hear!” robert harshly whispers into your ear, making you whimper as you bit down on his shoulder.

after a few more thrusts, you arch your back once more, feeling your release quickly approaching each time robert’s shaft catches and rubs at your swollen clit.

when your keens were getting a bit too loud, robert captures your lips in a searing kiss, silencing both of your moans as you came together in a tangle of sweat and heat. you tremble upon feeling every pulse and twitch of his cock, basking in your pleasure with an almost drunken smile on your face.

when the post-lovemaking clarity kicked in, robert gets down on his knees while spreading your legs. heat was felt pulsating against your cheeks when you stuttered, “w-what are you doing?” he simply smirks at you, spreading your pussy lips that still held the evidence of your respective release oozing out. “cleaning you up, of course.”

you end up spending a significant amount of time in the bathroom stall, with you releasing several more times on his tongue. and when you were both finally dressed, you exit the bathroom to see blonde blazer smirking and giggling at you.

“what are you laughing at?” robert tried to keep his expression neutral, yet from how wrinkled both his and yours uniform were, he wasn’t sure if he could hide what had just transpired from the blonde superhero.

she continues to laugh, gesturing toward his headset that he now realized was still lit up in green, leaving you gaping as well in mortification.

“we heard everything.” blonde blazer confirms with another fit of giggles, making you nearly pass out on the spot as robert turned an intense shade of red. he knew that no one on the z team would ever let him live this down-

“fuck.”

end notes: robert is so cute 😚😚😚😚😚 i couldn’t help but write a little something for him. i apologize if there are any errors and if this is ooc, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡