Robert Robertson x fem!reader 𓂃 explicit sexual content, first time, gentle dom!robert, fingering, oral (m giving), penetration, praise, body worship, dirty talk, aftercare.
The movie ended, but neither of you moved.
Not when the credits rolled. Not when the screen went dark.
Robert just kept looking at you — soft, slow, warm.
“You keep staring,” you whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “Can’t help it.”
He reached up and brushed a curl away from your cheek, fingers lingering a second longer than they needed to. When you didn’t pull back, his hand slid behind your neck and pulled you into a kiss.
Not a shy one.
Not a testing one.
A hungry, careful kiss — like he’d been waiting too long.
His mouth was warm, steady against yours, but the second you sighed into it, he let out a quiet groan in the back of his throat and deepened it. His tongue brushed yours, slow and teasing, and your whole body melted.
You tugged him closer desperately, fingers curling in his shirt, and he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.
“You,” you breathed. “I want you.”
His eyes darkened instantly.
“First time?” he asked quietly, thumb brushing your lower lip.
Robert exhaled through his nose — slow, controlled, almost like he was praying for patience.
He crawled over you, caging your body with his, and kissed you again — deeper, slower, with deliberate pressure that made your stomach twist. His hands slid under your shirt, palms tracing your waist, your ribs, every inch like he was learning a map.
“Can I take this off?” he asked.
He stripped you out of it gently, eyes dragging over your chest, your stomach, the curve of your hips.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”
His mouth followed the path of his hands — kissing your chest, sucking softly at your collarbone, moving lower.
When he reached the waistband of your bottoms, he paused.
He pulled them off slowly, revealing you inch by inch, his breath warming your thighs. Then he settled between your legs, spreading them gently with his hands.
“God, look at you,” he murmured, voice dropping low. “You’re already wet.”
Your face burned, but he kissed the inside of your thigh reassuringly.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “Means you want this.”
His fingers slid through your folds, slow and testing. The moment he brushed your clit — barely — your hips jerked.
He smiled softly. “Sensitive. I’ll go slow.”
He circled your clit with his thumb, light pressure at first, then firmer, watching your reactions like they were instructions. Your breaths turned shaky, thighs trembling, and he hummed approvingly.
You nodded quickly. “Yes—yes.”
That made him groan quietly.
“One finger,” he said. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
He slid a finger into you — slowly, carefully — letting you stretch around him. The initial pressure made you gasp, but the sting eased quickly.
“You’re so tight,” he whispered, voice breaking a little. “Fuck.”
He worked you open gently, finger curling just right, his thumb stroking your clit in soft circles. Your back arched, breath catching.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let yourself feel it.”
He added a second finger, stretching you wider. You moaned, hips grinding into his hand without thinking.
“There you go,” he praised. “Good girl.”
Hearing him say it made heat rush through your entire body.
You were already close — embarrassingly fast — but he slowed his movements instantly when he felt you tighten.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Want to taste you first.”
Before you could respond, his mouth replaced his hand.
His tongue slid over your clit, warm and slow, and you cried out, fingers grabbing his hair. He groaned against you, the vibration shooting up your spine.
He ate you like he wanted to take his time — long, slow licks, soft suction, fingers curling inside you with perfect rhythm until you were shaking underneath him.
“Come,” he murmured against your skin. “Come for me.”
His mouth sealed over your clit and pleasure snapped through you, sharp and warm. You came hard, shaking, thighs squeezing around his head, and he held you through it, licking you softly until you whimpered from overstimulation.
He kissed your inner thigh as he came back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded, still breathless. “Yeah…”
“Good.”
He kissed you gently.
“Cause I’m not done.”
He slid his pants off, and when his cock pressed against your thigh, your breath caught — he was thick, bigger than you expected.
“Don’t look so scared,” he teased softly, kissing your cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He lined himself up, but didn’t push in yet — his forehead pressed against yours, breath warm and careful.
“I’ll go slow,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”
He eased into you — one inch, then another. Your jaw dropped, a mix of pressure, stretch, heat all at once. He groaned, deep and shaky.
“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he panted. “Relax for me, baby. You’re okay.”
You forced yourself to breathe, and he slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully inside you.
The fullness made your toes curl.
You gasped, clutching his shoulders. “Robert—”
“I know,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I know. Just let your body get used to it.”
He stayed still until your breathing steadied, then pulled out slightly and pushed back in — slow, deep strokes that made your stomach twist and tighten.
The pressure shifted into pleasure, warm and building.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “You’re taking me so well.”
You moaned, legs wrapping around him.
“More,” you begged. “Please— Robert, more.”
He groaned — a sound so raw you felt it in your chest — and began moving a little faster, hips rolling in steady, deep thrusts. His hand held your face, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you.
The mix of tenderness and intensity made your eyes sting.
“You feel so good,” he breathed into your mouth. “So fucking good.”
Your walls tightened suddenly, pleasure surging fast.
He grabbed your hand, interlaced your fingers, and pressed his forehead to yours.
“Come with me,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
You held his gaze as the pleasure broke — hard, overwhelming, pulling a cry from your throat. Robert groaned, thrusting deeper, and with a low, muffled curse, he came, burying his face in your neck.
His hips trembled against yours, his breath shuddering.
After a few moments, he kissed your shoulder, your cheek, then your lips.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded, still breathless. “Yeah… better than okay.”
He smiled — a soft, proud, relieved smile — and pulled you into his chest, wrapping your legs over his.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “We go again whenever you want.”
And he held you long after your heartbeat steadied.