Imagine having sex with Waterboy but your a secret sub.
You feel that you have to be the dominant in this situation; like most when it comes to Herm. Sadly though, you can only cum if your in a sub mindset. This is fine, you can act and get yourself off later. You don't mind sacrificing your own pleasure for Herm, it's not like you dislike taking care of him.You make him cum a couple of times and he loves it. Don't get him wrong, your definitely pleasing him, but he does notice that you don't seem like this gets you off. Your acting is great and its fun to play the roll, but God you just wanna get off.
Long story short, after Herm makes his hypothesis; he tests it. He flips you over and starts talking and acting the way you did to him. A small smirk blesses his lips when you lock your legs around him and moan for the first time that night; a real moan. Something clicks in his head; this just works for him, for you, for the both of you together.
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.
Many thoughts are running around in my head about waterboy, so here's some! Sfw & nsfw!
Warnings: nsfw, mdni, drug usage, overall debauchery, spoiler: waterboy's real name
Getting waterboy's coffee order :3! Either from when he was a janitor or brand new to the z-team (if you work at SDN)
Waterboy getting teased about his major crush on you by his co-workers.....they're bullying him relentlessly actually can someone stop them
Him trying to find new reasons to continue to talk to you before you have to depart <3
"So he-hey, uh, the-this weather, right? Heheh, jus-just crazy...with the clouds and the skies- sky. Um, w-what's your favorite? Weather. You-your favorite weather- type?"
You two exchanging numbers and he then puts a little heart next to your contact name! He loses his phone the next morning and you help him find it by calling it......and everyone, including you, seeing the heart.
Smoking weed with Herm!! I'd imagine you'd have to bring the topic up, and either have a desire to get high or already do, but one day in passing conversation Herman admits he'd like to try it (but only if it's with you)
The two of you are at your place, sitting side-by-side near an open window or door. You can tell he's nervous, he's as still as wood and keeps his hands on his knees, playing with a part of stitching on his suit. Between your lips, your hands, the flame, and the pre-roll you are holding between your fingers, Herm isn't too sure where to look and instead just keeps glancing back and fourth.
You take the first inhale, given that you purchased the joint and it's your place that you're both residing in for tonight. Herm bites his lip, keeping note of the image of the smoke leaving your lips (regarding if you blow it towards him or not) to his memory, especially when your eyes look back into his own.
The joint is now nudged in his direction with a simple message; your turn. Herm reaches out for it, but comes to the daunting realization that he is indeed Waterboy.
Waterboy, with wet hands, sitting on wet towels, with wet hair sticking to his face, about to take a joint made of plant and paper. His expression drops, almost like agony as he grows completely aware about how he asked you to include him and how you'd also taken plenty of precautions for his powers, but that there's no way he'd be able to hold that without ruining this wonderful night between you two.
The moment his eyebrows furrow, you put two and two together and understand his predicament. You bite your lip and chuckle to yourself, either at the situation or at his kicked-puppy look.
"Here," you say, sitting up and leaning towards the superhero. "Let me help."
You rearrange the lit joint in your fingers and hold it barely in-front of his mouth, he smiles and tries to utter a "thank you", but he's more tongue-tied around you than everyone else.
By the time he does wrap his lips around the filter, his body shakes momentarily about the indirect kiss before inhaling- and immediately coughing up a lung.
Well, it's a good thing you've brought some ice water for you two to share, he'll need it.
Roleplaying with him....hear me out.......he's being rewarded for "saving you" from "the danger".....Hero/Civilian..........or better yet.....Hero/Villian...you domming tf out of him as you've "beat" him in your "battle".....
YOUR FIRST TIME HAVING SEX WITH HERMAN!!!! foaming at the mouth rn.......
As much as he loves and truly cares about you, there's no way you're having sex at his house.
He's already crying. He's so flushed and towards the edge, barely holding on from his dick being down your throat for ages. By the time you're ready to ride him, he knows he's in for either a very short or a very long night.
He's sitting up against the headboard of your bed, currently being straddled by you. Your thighs are resting on the side of his, almost exactly like your hands and his face; wiping away his fat tears.
"It's okay," you whisper. "I'm right here, we don't have to." Your fingers curl and glide against his heated cheeks between your soothing kisses.
"N-no. I do- want to- I-I really like you. I'm just overwh- trying not to d-disap-disappoint."
His earnest honesty earns him an 'awwh' from you, bringing yourself chest-to-chest with him and enjoying plenty of kisses.
Your hips raise and you shift forward, tracing your hands down his abdomen and meeting to his shaft. You arrange him right where you want him, and then pull away from his kiss.
"We'll go slow, is that okay?" You ask. Herman answers a nod, his eyes fixated on how deliciously close he was to entering you. As you sink yourself down onto him, you could feel his teardrops slowly make a return; matching in rhythm with his open-mouthed whimpers.
The stretch his size gives you stings, but between his powers, pre-cum, your spit, and whatever else is mixed between you both provides an easy glide along his length.
Herman cumming quickly....THEN PROCEEDING TO EAT IT WHILE HE RECHARGES !!!!!!
Hermy fingering you while you (attempt to) teach him how to kiss, moaning into each other's mouths while the noises your cunt is making fills the room.
Your entire mattress is pretty much soaked after you two make love (his wording)
BRO Imagine telling Waterboy about No Nut November. You make a bet with Herman, if he gets through the entire month without cumming; He gets to put a baby in you on December 1st. Except you do not make it easy for him. You send him sexy videos, pictures, and voicemails. You show off new lingerie that you know he'll love, hearing how wet you are, and whining his name as you cum.
Poor Hermie is holding on by a thread, trying to keep himself controlled while you are amping up the teasing. Wearing a skirt with no panties at work and flashing him when no one is looking? He's running towards to showers to take a long cold one. Promising that you'll leg lock him and keep him inside? He's cursing you internally while trying to do his work.
Then the 1st if December arrives and you hear the front door slam open. Waterboy is shaking, red-faced while gasping for air; a large bulge throbbing in his wetsuit. His swim goggles are foggy, while his gloves are missing. His hair is in a messy style. He rips the zipper down the wetsuit while he runs towards you. The kiss is hungry as he slams his lips against yours.
I just had to share this
Herman is so desperate!! He's already ready to call it quits at the end of the second week (SDN helps keep him distracted, and he's tired by the time the two of you gets home - it helps a great deal) but the real pain is on the breaks, ones where he happens to actually be at the SDN building, where you work.
You know his schedule, and so you take extra care of him - of which includes putting raunchy notes in his lunch that you make him, about how you touched yourself the night before while thinking about him coming inside. Sometimes, if you find the time, you put a little polaroid in there, as well! Although, that's pretty tame compared to the other times, yanking him into the janitor's closet, groping and biting down, lightly dragging your nails down his body.
The moment- and I mean the moment- December comes, he doesn't even wait until the weekend! He comes home in a rush, ignoring anything anyone has to say. You may have known that he was going to be horny, excited for his reward, but you couldn't've predicted how ready Herm is to shove himself inside of you. It's all he's been able to think about since he woke up, and now you're going to pay the price!
Herm isn't one to be aggressive, at least not outside of combat (although, even then...). Still, you'll find yourself being kissed, teeth grazing your lips and skin - no discrimination or thought, just wherever he can sink his teeth into while blindly dragging you towards the bedroom, his hands fondle and grope relentlessly.
It's adorable how Herm will literally beg you to wrap your legs around him, to make sure everything is inside, even when he's doing it for you. He'll work his cock in and out, gasping like a man discovering water for the first time, hips snapping against your own as he croaks out praises, and mindlessly talks about how pretty you'll be as a momma.
do NOT expect to be coming out unscathed or dry, he's not verbally mean or aggressive, but he'll keep you trapped on the bed - and he WILL drag you back with a whine if you try to wiggle your overstimulated body away. Herm just needs to make sure you're full, like you promised he could...
Forgive me if this has been done before but the idea of cock drunk reader Vs herm who doesn't know how to handle it đ
WEEHEHEEEEE it would be so easy to get cock drunk off that man. come on, he's got a hose.
your moans and whines fill the darkness of your bedroom, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your lips. your hands clutch the plastic sheet on either side of his head as you add more force to your hips, riding him harder without another thought.
it's too difficult to think when he's filling you completely, the sting from the stretch dissolved to a mind numbing sense of pleasure every time his tip kisses your walls. mindless babbles praise him, whining about how good his cock feels between curses. your eyes are fluttered shut, but had they been open they'd be misty and glazed over with warmth, staring down at him with all the love you felt for him.
herm lays beneath you, hands holding on for dear life on your hips. he's in awe of himself, even more so in awe of you. his moans overlapped with yours in waves. a full body blush peaked at his cheeks watching you grow dumb on his cock.
he throbs, holding his breath to keep himself from coming. he's been riding on the edge for the past hours, but he wouldn't allow himself to come in fear of ruining your bliss. he's never seen you like this, brain empty and body borderline overstimulating yourself because of him. the sight was addicting. you were addicting.
he feels your thighs begin to tremble, a telltale sign of soreness that causes you to whine, and he loops his arms around your front to pull you on top of him. his hips thrust up to pound into you from below, his eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted with every bit of him trying his hardest not to come. your gasps and pleads for him not to stop reward him, the sounds of skin hitting skin almost as loud as you.
âż. waterboy trying his hardest to not cum before you do / navi | m.list
âż warnings: porn no plot, praise kink, sub/dom undertones (obviously waterboy is sub), heâs a whimpering, wet mess!, consensual pre-jac (?) lowercase intended / not proofread
âż a/n: i got dared by @patheticwhitemenlover to write more about waterboy so i had to make this (dw. i throughly enjoyed myself. and my inbox is open to anything about him bc trust meâŚi know everything i need to know now)
waterboy is tucked between your legs with his length filling up your sensitive cunt the to brim, every slight move he made you felt against your cervix and it made a soft moan fall from your lips every time. his drip hair is nustled in the crook of your neck and all you hear and gasps and whimpers as he slowly fucks you. he hasnât even been moving for long and he can already feel himself about to cum, but he doesnât want to early. he doesnât to disappoint you. it would be pathetic if he came after only 5 strokes at most. the grip around your waist tightened as he rutted into you. the gushing sounds were loud and obscene thanks the wetness of your pussy and of his dripping cock. not only was it dripping with water but also with the pre-cum leaking from his poor sensitive tip. it was too much for him to handle. how sweet the perfume smelled on your neck, the warmth of your now soaking body, the praises that slips past your lips as he rocked into you. calling him your âgood boyâ whispering how pretty he is, telling him how good heâs doing for you. âgodân-not yet. not now...â he choked out into your ear.
âwhats wrong, babyâŚ?â you utter, sliding your hand up his bare back to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. âi-i canât do it yetâi canâtâi canât cum yet! not before you,â he moaned pathetically as tears prick in his eyes and they fell as he felt your soft hand grab his hips, encouraging him to not stop. âno, keep going.â
âbut you havenâtââ
âi said keep going.â you ordered, and who was he to not obey your wishes? he nodded rapidly as his arms tightened around your torso, like you were going to slip away if he didnât. desperately he rocked into and the noises from him got loud as he did so and a shaking, toe curling curling orgasm ensued. his cum painting your gummy walls with long warm ropes. but he was going to hate himself if you didnât cum so he overstimulated himself to make sure of it.
this blog is 18+, do not copy my work for anything without my permission ęŤ / dividers by @chrisssiren & @cursed-carmine
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 clitâit 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 âcoincidentallyâ 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 feetâ
pussydrunk! waterboyâs long fingers plunge deep into your sweet g-spot had your back arching right onto the tips of his fingers. âoh⌠my god. doing sâgood baby, iââ
pussydrunk! waterboy who cannot, for the life of him, keep himself off you for more than ten minutes when in bed together :)
The clothe beneath you and Herm was drenched as things typically got when he made contact with them and that included you â your own clothes wet as he clambered on top of you to rut desperately against your thigh. It was far from being experienced, for this was the first time his hardening cock was pressed to your body. Some would call it charity work from your end with the way he'd been allowed to press his abnormally large hands to explore your body.
"So good.. so, so good.." Waterboy breathlessly uttered, strings of need escaping his gently parted lips as he harshly panted against your neck. "You feel â so, good..!"
You curled your fingers into his sopping wet hair, dragging his face up to meet yours where the both of your lips locked in a harsh kiss. It was inexperienced from Herman's end, his tongue lapping into your mouth. Surely wasn't the best thing you'd ever felt but you didn't dare blame him. He'd just never had the opportunity to get laid before now.
Herman's hips juttered with each thrust against your thigh, his throbbing cock aching against his skin-tight suit. It was the only alleviation he'd been allowed to have when he was dry humping you like a dog in heat.
While his lips were moving in time with yours, his fngers went from massaging your waist to groping your breats tentatively.
"Go on, touch me, Hermâ" Daring him, you broke the kiss to pant the words. At the reassurance, his fingers knead the soft tissue between his palms and with a particular roll of his hips, he let out a whine. Desperate was he to pepper hot kisses along your neck between his panting of "please," and "am I doing good? Am I?" to which you'd respond with a "keep going and I'll tell you that you are.."
Sloppier his movements got, and even over your clothes you could tell his body was weeping more water than usual. "You're doing good for me, aren't you? Tell me you're being good." You teased lightly just to hear his whines, "yes! I'mâ so good.. you feel good. I'm gonna be goodâ just for you.." The obscene mix of his words and his desperate actions made you wetter than he possibly ever could. Your cunt was slicked with wetness thicker than his production of water as he narrowly avoided grinding up on it.
"I'm for you â all for you. I'm gonna â I am gonna cumâ Gonna-" He pleaded needlessly, whimpering and whining into the crook of your shoulder with his teeth finding purchase in your flesh. His cock twitched within his tight suit and after gyrating his hips in rough grinds, he busted in the confines of his bodysuit. You could feel the thick, warm liquid coating the insides of his clothing. "Fuckin' came so good.." You muttered, giving his cock a rough press with your thigh once more, just to overstimulate him some. Beautiful sounds dragged from his lips and his hands pulled away from your breasts to caress your face as you felt him twitch.
There is a longer version coming out on AO3 very soon ;3c
literally just a oneshot of you favourite superhero jerking off to you looool ill get to the reqs i pwomise
Can we tell i didnt know what to title this?
18 PLUS ONLY PLEASE
Herman couldn't sleep again; his mind was racing. He laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was always up late due to his insomnia, but tonight it was different. He was anxious. Every little sound that night seemed amplified, and every hour seemed like an eternity.
Herman sighed deeply, rolling over in bed, hoping to find a more comfortable position. It was useless. He couldn't stop thinking about you, he was a mess inside. Every time he closed his eyes, your face flashed his mind, and every little sound made his heart flutter.  Â
He really liked you; but what were the chances that you would actually like someone like him back? He was just an awkward, scrawny waterboy who couldn't stop blushing.
You were stunning, echos of your directions during missions and the sweet praises you hummed whenever he completed one well hummed in his ears.
Herman's mind wandered to the memory of the times you'd spoken to him. You were always so sweet and kind, flirtatious, even. It was like you were purposefully trying to turn him into a blushing, stuttering puddle, and he craved it.  Â
He let out another deep sigh, burying his face into his pillow. The thought of you made him feel like a teenager. He knew he shouldn't let himself think this way, but he couldn't help it. You had him wrapped around your finger.
Herman bit his lip, shifting against the mattress under the covers. The growing stiffness between his legs was impossible to ignore now. His fingers twitched under his pillow, aching to touchâbut he stopped himself. What would she think of me if she knew I was lying here, thinking about her like this? Â
He could still hear your voice from earlier that day -soft, teasing- when you leaned close in the breakroom and whispered,
 "You look so cute in your suit Hermy" God, that did things to him. His breath hitched just remembering it -the brush of your hair against his shoulder, the way your eyes lingered on his lips before pulling away-.
His hand slowly crept down, trembling slightly as it hovered over the waistband of his boxers. Just once, he thought. Just let me imagine it⌠imagine her.
Herman squeezed his eyes shut, trying to quiet his racing thoughts. He could still feel the phantom warmth of your smile against his skin. That little smirk you gave him when you handed him a bottle of water after a particularly hard mission -the way your fingers brushed his, just a second too long. Did that mean something? Or was he just reading into it again?
He shifted in bed, thighs pressing together as another wave of heat rolled through him. His chest tightened. He hated how helpless this made him feel -like every nerve in his body was lit up just by the memory of your voice saying his name.
âHermy~â
Just like thatâhe gasped.
His hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers without permission, fingers trembling as they curled around himself. Softly at first, barely there -a test to see if he could even handle thinking about you touching him like this.
 "Oh god." A shaky moan caught in his throat and he clamped a hand over his mouth. What if someone heard? what if, somehow, you knew what he was doing. The idea sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.
He imagined it: You standing in the doorway in that soft tank top and shorts you always wore after shifts, hair slightly messy from sweat and stress, stepping inside with those knowing eyes full of mischief and warmth, telling him it was okay -that he was okay -to want you.
His hips jerked once into his grip as pleasure coiled low and heavy in his stomach. "Nnghâ!" He muffled another sound with the back of his wrist, breath coming faster now. "C-c'mon⌠s-stopâ" But he didnât stop -he couldnât. Not when in his fantasy Herman got to hear you whisper:
 "Let me take care of you."
And then-
A notification.
On his phone.
From you.
"Hey hermy, u up?"
Im sawry there will be no part two đ for now at least
lord forgive me for my freakiness but wb cervix fucking where the tip of his fat long cock just keeps slamming against your cervix and hitting spots you didnt know existed, hes such a cutie worrying about hurting you but youre absolutely losing it from how good and full you feel<3
awawawahâŚ. that man can bruise a cervix alright⌠fem reader!
your headboard punches holes into the wall with every thrust of his hips. hermâs grip on your waist loosens as he pulls out just until the tip is all that remains snug in your warm cunt, then tightens as he slams his cock back inside you from behind. his tip kisses bruises on your cervix, his long cock stretching you with ease thanks to his water and your arousal.
every thrust punches a moan out of your lungs, your hands gripping the sheets desperately as you shove your face into the wet pillow and sob syllables that vaguely resemble his name. you sound broken from the stimulation, the plush pillow doing little to muffle your noises. he feels a twinge of guilt for liking this so much.
herm shivers when he feels your pussy flutter around his cock. he looks down where he disappears inside of you, your combined wetness connecting his ginger bush with your ass with thin strings each time he pulls back. a whine slithers from his throat, and he leans over your arched back to graze his lips against your ear.
âi-is this good, m-my love?â he whimpers, voice high and shattered. âiâm notâ oh my godâ not hurting you, am i? iâm a- iâm being a good boy for you, right?â
your tongue betrays you by killing off any coherent response, leaving you no other choice but to nod into the pillow. you canât even register how sore your backâs become from his constant pounding, for the mind numbing pleasure coursing through your nerves erases anything that isnât him filling you to your brim from your senses. hot water runs down your body as he pulls you even closer by ribboning his arms around your waist. you can feel him smile in the curve between your neck and your shoulder, kissing your flushed skin as you babble mindlessly in his ear.
âs-so goodâ m⌠my pretty girl feels so wet a-and tightâŚ! love you so mu-uch!â a guttural moan spills from his lips as you tighten around his cock from his praise. âshit!â
he fucks you harder, pounding his head against your cervix with brutal force. youâre sure your pussy going to bruise like a bitch in the morning, but you canât bring yourself to think about that right now when herm tilts your head with a hand around your jaw and takes your lips in a wet, chaotic kiss. you can always ask him to kiss it better, canât you?
Prompt: Heâll suffocate before he lets his sweetheart rise from her throne
Pairing(s): Robert Robertson (Mecha Man) x reader
Warnings: NSFW, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, robbie being a cruel munch, cum marking
A/N: i think about this shit daily and i dont regret it, think i did ok, i aint proof read this shit but it's good nuff
Robert wasnât the type to be dramatic.
He wasnât the type to grovel, to beg, or to act like some lovesick idiot just because you gave him attention. He was polite, sarcastic, composed, and professional â even when the Z-Team was actively trying to give him a stroke over the comms.
Youâd seen him keep a straight face through building collapses, hero meltdowns, and Sonarâs unmedicated nonsense.
But tonight?
Tonight the man walked into your apartment like he was holding back a storm.
Still in his SDN button-up â sleeves rolled to his elbows, a little grease smudged on his forearm, hair mussed from work â he looked at you like you had personally ended his last shred of self-control.
âYouâre home early,â you teased.
âYeah.â
His voice had that strained, polite edge he only used when he was barely hanging on.
âWork⌠was a mess. And you werenât answering your phone. Again.â
You smirk. âMissed me?â
He exhaled once through his nose â not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh â stepping closer, hands slipping to your hips like he didnât remember deciding to touch you.
âSweetheart,â he said calmly, eyes dropping to your thighs then snapping back up, âIâve had a long day. And if I donât get what Iâve been thinking about,â
his thumbs press firmer,
âweâre gonna have a problem.â
You blink. âAnd what exactly have you been thinking about, Robertson?â
He doesnât blush.
He doesnât stutter.
He doesnât lose composure.
He simply sinks to his knees.
Smoothly.
Purposefully.
Like a man whoâs been planning this all damn week.
Then he sits back on his heels and looks up at you â brown eyes dark, steady, focused with the same intensity he uses when giving life-or-death orders over the comms.
âNothing,â he says quietly, firmly, âbut this.â
His hands trail down your thighs as he adjusts his position on the floor â back straight, shoulders squared, expression serious like heâs taking on a mission briefing.
You raise an eyebrow. âYou planning some kind of worship scenario?â
He huffs a short breath. âPlanning? Sweetheart, Iâm offering you a throne.â
And then, with devastating calm:
âSit.â
And thus, that is how youâve been for the past couple of hours â trembling, slumped over him, thighs shaking around his head as you hover above his mouth. Your release streaks warm down your legs, mixing with the slick from his tongue and the shine of his spit, all of it soaking into the sheets beneath him.
Your whole body feels wrung out, your voice raw from the sounds heâs pulled from you. Your fingers curl weakly in his hair, tugging because you barely have the strength to do anything else.
âR-Robert⌠no moreâŚâ you breathe, the plea breaking apart into a thin, wavering whine.
He answers with a low, dissatisfied grunt â the closest heâll allow himself to sounding feral â and keeps going, undeterred. His lips, his tongue, even the faint scrape of his stubble⌠every tiny movement sends another pulse of heat through your overstimulated nerves.
Your clit is so sensitive you flinch every time his nose bumps you, every time his mouth shifts. Your whole body jerks with each touch, thighs quivering violently around his head.
âR-Robertââ you try again, voice trembling.
He just tightens his grip on your hips, holding you steady above him like heâs refusing to let gravity or exhaustion steal you away. His thumbs rub slow, grounding circles into your skin â the only mercy heâs offering.
This man is going to kill you.
You can feel the determination radiating from him, the way his breath huffs hot against you, the way he refuses to give you even a moment to fall apart properly.
Every swallow, every groan, every small shift of his mouth makes you see white behind your eyelids.
Your legs nearly buckle, and he responds by pulling you down closer â not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you whose throne youâre sitting on.
His voice finally rumbles out beneath you, low and hoarse, vibrating against your core:
âNot done.â
And you realize âhe absolutely means it.
Heâs not stopping until he decides youâre done.
Until your legs give out.
Until your voice breaks.
Until you physically canât say his name anymore.
Robert Robertson III â former hero, dispatcher, polite menace âis going to worship you to death.
Youâre beyond words at this point â the noises spilling out of you arenât even moans anymore, just broken, delirious sounds you canât swallow down. Your body trembles like youâve been hit with a live wire, vision fragmenting at the edges.
Robert is a disaster beneath you.
His SDN uniform shirt is completely soaked from your earlier releases, chin slick, hair damp, the entire front of his pants ruined â a dark, obvious patch spreading across his thighs from where heâs come in them again and again without ever touching himself a second time.
And he still refuses to stop.
You whimper something that might be âenough,â or âplease,â or maybe just his name â youâre not even sure â and try, with the last remaining strength in your body, to lift yourself off him.
Itâs a mistake.
A growl rips out of him â low, sharp, warning â and then everything flips.
Your back hits the mattress before you even register he moved. Robert pins your hips down with both hands, his grip firm but careful, dragging you back to his mouth like youâve offended him by trying to get away.
His lips close around your clit again, and the shock of overstimulation makes your spine bow clean off the bed.
His arms lock around your thighs.
You canât move.
You canât breathe.
You can only take it.
He pulls another orgasm out of you, painful and bright, then a second, then a third â each one tearing through your nerves until youâre shaking so hard youâre practically vibrating under him. At some point you start crying, overwhelmed, and he still doesnât stop until your body goes limp.
Then â only then â does he finally pull away, breath ragged, eyes unfocused with how far gone he is.
He pushes himself up on trembling arms, chest heaving. With a strained groan, he shoves his ruined pants down just enough and releases over your stomach and hips â weak, barely-there pulses that tell you heâs as spent as you are.
For a few seconds, thereâs nothing but the sound of both of you panting like youâve nearly died.
You stare at the ceiling in a daze, chest rising and falling too quickly.
Youâre never letting him go down on you ever again.
You also know â with painful clarity â that youâre lying.
Because it happened again the next week.
And the week after that.
And the week after that.
Robert Robertson III doesnât know moderation.
He only knows devotion.
And once he decided his face belonged beneath youâŚthere was no undoing it.
sum. to welcome your new coworker you decide to take him out for a drinkâŚand end up on your knees.
content explicit nsfw, alcohol consumption, make out sesh, coworker dynamic, profanity, oral m!receiving, teasing, porn with some plot, fluffy if you squint
note knew I had to write about him the moment he appeared on my screen.
âGet the fuck outâŚâ Robert mutters, his forehead pressing against the glass of the vending machine as his fist thuds repeatedly against the side. The sound echoes through the break roomâmetallic, stubborn, pointless.
You watch from your seat at a nearby table as he keeps at it, jaw tight, shoulders hunched, determined to win against the machine thatâs swallowed his dollar. The Twinkie inside doesnât move an inch.
After another thirty seconds of silent struggle, he exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. The defeat looks heavy on him.
You rise from your seat, hesitating for a moment before walking over. His gaze stays locked on the motionless snack like itâs personally betrayed him.
You clear your throat softly.
Robertâs head jerks up, eyes snapping to yoursâtired, caught, a little embarrassed. The realization hits him that someone else actually exists in this godforsaken break room, someone who probably also wants to use the same shitty vending machine.
He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck, and mumbles a quick, half-assed apology. âYeah, uhâgo ahead. Guess she doesnât like me much.â
You give the vending machine a light slap, and the Twinkie finally drops.
âHuh,â Robert says wryly, eyeing it like itâs mocking him.
You bend down, grab the treat, and hand it to him. Thereâs the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
âThanks for the hand,â he mutters.
âNo problem. Youâre the new recruitâRobert, right?â you ask, extending your hand.
âIn the flesh.â He gives your hand a quick shake before letting his arm fall back to his side.
âSo, is that shit about you working with Z-Team true?â
He grimaces lightly. âYeah, that shitâs true.â
You raise your brows. âWell, youâve already lasted longer than most dispatchers theyâve been assigned. Half of them didnât even make it a whole dayâhell, not even an hour.â
âYeah,â he says with a dry chuckle. âTheyâre not exactly the most ideal team. But Iâm not giving up on them that easily.â
âWhoa,â you say, eyes widening dramatically. âYour eyes just did this whole sparkly, full-of-hope thing.â You gesture between your eyes and his with exaggerated disbelief.
A disbelieving smile spreads across his face as he shakes his head. âAlright, fuck offâŚâ
You grin. âWell, now I can see why youâve lasted as long as you have.â You take a sharp inhale, pulse skipping a little. ââŚAre you free later?â
He fidgets with the Twinkie in his hand, brow quirking. âYeah, Iâm free.â
âWanna grab a drink? You know, to welcome you to the team.â
âSureââ
âGreat! Meet me at Blackout Bar at eight-thirty tonight. Iâve gotta runâmy break ended, like, five minutes ago.â You toss him a quick smile before rushing out of the break room.
As soon as you slip back into your cubicle, an uncontrollable grin spreads across your face. The rest of your shift breezes byâyouâve got plans with an extraordinarily cute guy. Even if itâs not technically a date.
Your finger taps against the bar counter anxiously. Had he forgotten youâd even asked him out?
Itâs already nine, thirty minutes past the time youâd told him to meet you. It would be awfully embarrassing to get left hanging. You did invite him out as a coworker, though your attire says otherwiseâYouâre wearing a dress thatâs a tad skimpy and a pair of heels you got at the mallâwhich are a pain in the ass to walk in.
God, what is taking him so long?? Maybe heâs letting you down easy. Maybe youâd get an apology text from him in a few seconds where he rain checked and gave a bullshit reason. Maybeâ
âHey, sorry Iâm late. Iâve got a dog back home that doesnât seem to care about my personal life.â Robert says as he sits on the bar stool beside yours. He calls over the bartender and looks over at you, âDonât get used to me buying the round. I only do that for coworkers who make me laugh.â
You roll your eyes at him as the bartender places your drinks on the counter, your anxiety dissipating. Robert has a strange familiarity about him that comforts you in a senseâas if he were some kind of hero.
The next hour passes by in an instant, despite his words he kept buying the next roundâthough itâs only fair since you kept making him laugh. Admittedly, youâre both a bit tipsy now.
Youâre outside of the bar leaning against a brick wall as he stands in front of you. The cool night air hits you and the once lively ambiance has faded into obscurity, youâre only focused on one thingâhim.
âIf I told I donât usually do this, would you believe me?â He asks, curiosity in his gaze.
A silence stretches between you.
âI donât usually do this either,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Maybe youâre imagining it but it seems like with each passing second his face inches closer to yours. Before you realize it his lips press against yours, you freeze in complete shockâ his body tenses and he quickly pulls back once he notices your lack of response.
âDidnât mean toââ he rubs the back of his neck, âIt just⌠felt likeââ
Before he can finish his sentence you grab him by the collar of his shirt and press your lips back against his. you know itâs wrongâbut it feels so right.
His body relaxes and he kisses you back. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you immediately part them. His body feels warm against yours and he smells faintly of alcohol, his movements unsteady.
Without realizing it your hands tangle themselves in his hairâ itâs as soft as it looks.
His slow pace turns rough, in a matter of seconds he grips the nape of your neck and deepens the kiss. His other hand on your waist tracing small circles over your thin dress. You tug at his hair and he groans softly into your mouth. A noise that sends a wave of heat over your body to straight between your legs.
His knee parts your thighs and pushes itself against your clothed cunt. A shiver runs down your spine and you tear your mouth from his.
Youâre forced to meet his tired eyes, now full of something you canât decipher. His lips are slightly parted and wet as if heâs waiting for you to grab him by the collar again.
You try to steady yourself before speaking, but your words come out breathlessly anyways. âWanna get out of here?â
The ride to his home is a blur of moments.
You burst through his front door and the moment it closes youâre the first to lean in, or maybe he is â itâs hard to tell. The only thing clear is the sound of a glass tipping somewhere behind you.
He catches you by the waist before you stumble, half-laughing, half-cursing under his breath. Heâs leaning against a counter your body flush against his.
âYouââ he starts, but you pull him closer, and whatever he was going to say gets lost against your mouth.
His eyes flutter shut but his hands hover for a second â like heâs giving you one last chance to change your mind â then settle at your hips, steady but unsure.
Between kisses, he mutters something quietâ not quite a word, more of a thought he didnât mean to let slip.
Youâve had more drinks than you can count tonight but you feel stone cold sober. You can tell youâll remember everything in the morningâthe way his lips feel against yours, his scent, the faint taste of whiskey and smoke.
Your hands snake their way under his shirt, fingernails running over his toned waist.
He exhales sharply at the sudden sensation, his grip on your hips tightening. His body feels hot and is covered in what you can only assume are scarsâHe has so many, if these were different circumstances youâd look at each one of them and ask him about their pasts.
Your lips part from his with a pop, a string of saliva caught between you.
Although itâs dimly lit you can make out most of your surroundings. His apartment is small, functional, everything neat enough to look like he doesnât spend much time there. Just being in here with him feels strangely more intimate than making out with himâlike youâre seeing the part of him that isnât performative or on duty.
You focus your attention back on him and one of his eyebrows is arched. He looks at the way you guys are tangled in each other and a small smirk appears on his face. âGuess weâre both terrible at taking things slow.â
âYou sound like you want me to stop.â You say as your fingers graze the zipper of his pants, âDo you?â
He unzips his pants with his own two hands, âNever.â
âThanks for the hand.â
âItâs only fair since you helped me fir-â he trails off when you slowly begin to get down on your knees, pulling his pants down as you move. The tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.
You hook your fingers on his boxers and pull them down in one swift motion. Heâs not crazy huge like those guys in unrealistic fantasy books you always have your nose stuck in, but lord he isnât smallâat all.
You softly wipe away his precum with your thumb before kissing him slowly, your tongue gliding across his warm shaft. He hasnât been touched like this in yearsâitâs almost too much to handle.
You look up at him through your lashes as you take him into your mouth, your cheeks hollow. He groans almost immediately and his hand finds your shoulder, grasping for stability. You find a steady rhythmâyour head bobbing up and down his cock while your hands run themselves along his bare thighs.
His chest rises up and down quickly and his hand finds its way to your hair, guiding you. You moan, the vibrations sending a strange, addictive sensation throughout his body. With each passing second he wants more, more of your mouth, more of the feeling of your handsâmore you.
He slumps back slightly and his hips begin to thrust themselves into your mouth. Itâs selfish, he knows it, but that fervent look in your eyes is driving him crazy.
The apartment is filled with lewd, wet sounds and his (very) occasional groans. Every so often he catches a glimpse of your breasts pressing against the fabric of your thin dressâHe canât wait to rip it off of you.
You start gagging, tears in your eyes. when your back arches his cock hits the back of your throatâitâs enough to send him over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over him, strings of curses escaping his lips.
He cums into your mouth and you pull back, gasping for air. You swallow the warm, salty liquid, and it glides down your throat smoothly.
You stand up, your knees slightly wobbling. He stables you with his arms an uneven smirk on his face. He exhales through a shaky laugh. âYouâre going to ruin me,â he whispers, his hand cupping your cheek.
âRelax, youâll survive me.â You say before pressing your wet lips against his. Both of your movements are sloppy and strangely passionate, savoring every moment the two of you are pressed against each other like this.
a/n Lmk if I should write some more Robert stuff :) part 2 soon!!
Prompt: He doesnât want to wake you up for such an unnecessary thing, but his dick making it impossible for him to be able to sleep. He has work tomorrow for fucks sake.
Pairing: Robert Robertson (Mecha Man) x reader
Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, praising, vaginal sex, creampie, this man just needed a good nut
A/N: first time writing for this munch, might be a bit ooc, this scenario has been swimming on my mind for the past couple of days, donât judge me too hard đđ
He drags a palm over his chest, then back down his stomach, like heâs trying to manually reboot his entire reproductive system. Nothing. His dick is still there, still throbbing like itâs trying to send an SOS signal through the sheets. At this point heâs convinced the universe is laughing at him.
He tries the responsible adult thing: deep breaths, unclenching his jaw, thinking about taxes, spreadsheets, that one coworker who microwaves fish at lunch. Nothing helps. In fact, he somehow gets harder, which should be physically illegal.
Robert presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, willing his brain to shut up and his dick to give up. No dice. The damn thing twitches in his boxers like itâs mocking him.
He grits out a sigh that feels like itâs shaved five years off his life.
âFor the love ofâgo. down.â
His cock remains in full rebellion mode.
He stares over at you again. Peaceful. Cozy. Curled into the blankets like some mythical sleep creature who doesnât suffer from nighttime biohazards. You look so soft. So warm. So absolutely not something he should be waking up for this bullshit.
But the longer he looks, the worse the problem gets. His body is basically going, Oh, look, comfort and love and safety? Cool, letâs funnel all blood resources to the dick immediately. Idiot.
Robert drops back against the pillow with another pathetic groan. His eyes are half-lidded, exhausted, begging for mercy. âYou gotta be kidding me,â he mutters to the ceiling, which does nothing but stare back like itâs judging him.
It doesnât help that his hips keep trying to move. Little, desperate shifts like heâs subconsciously grinding for friction. Itâs humiliating. He feels like heâs trapped in some low-budget late-night infomercial titled Man Fights God for Right to Sleep, Loses.
He grunts through his teeth, fed up but not beaten, and drags a shaky hand down his stomach. Heâs so wrung out he can barely keep his eyes open, but he wraps his fingers around his cock anyway, desperate enough to try again even though he already knows how this ends.
He shouldâve asked his therapist for those insomnia meds. Shouldâve swallowed his pride and admitted he canât sleep for shit. If he had, maybe he wouldnât be lying here at two-something in the damn morning with a hard-on that refuses to clock out.
His grip tightens as he pumps his cock, slow at first, then faster when his hips start twitching up to meet his hand on their own. He groans low, biting the inside of his cheek so he doesnât wake you. Precum slicks his palm instantly, letting him stroke up and down without resistance. The wet slide only makes him shiver harder.
Please, he thinks, almost praying at this point. Please just work. Iâm begging you.
His muscles tighten. Heat coils low in his stomach again, creeping up his spine like a fuse burning fast. He pants quietly, breath stuttering with every upward jerk of his hips. He can feel itâhis high gathering, swelling, seconds from breaking.
Itâs right there. Right there.
Why canât he just fall over the edge?
His thighs tense. His balls pull tight. His back arches off the mattress.
Then his body seizes up.
The pleasure spikesâthen stalls. Locks. Refuses.
He chokes on a groan, frustration tearing through him like fire.
âFuck!â he snarls under his breath, voice raw, letting go of his twitching length because touching it hurts now. âFuckâŚâ
His dick jerks against his stomach, angry, swollen, and absolutely no closer to giving him the one thing he needs to sleep.
Heâs exhausted. Heâs furious. And heâs no closer to relief than when he started.
He closes his eyes, just for a second, letting exhaustion drag through him like static. When he turns toward you, itâs instinct, gravity, something primal pulling him in. His arm slips around your waist, and the moment his skin meets yoursâwarm, bare, soft in all the places heâs cravingâhis whole body prickles with goosebumps.
Your naked body molded against him is torture. Sweet, perfect torture.
He presses his forehead to your shoulder and breathes in, shaking. The soft kiss he places there is barely a kiss at all, more like a plea disguised as affection. You shift in your sleep, barely conscious, instinctively pressing your body back into his like youâre made to fit there.
Your ass brushes his cock.
He hisses like heâs been burned, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself.
âBabeâŚâ he whispers, voice cracking as he tries to keep it quiet. Heâs out of options. Out of sanity. âFuck, baby, I need youâŚâ
You let out a soft, sleepy sound, something warm and unintelligible. His heart slams into his ribs.
âBaby,â he tries again, breath hot against your skin. âFuck, can I fuck you?â The desperation bleeds through every word. Heâs begging, actually begging.
You sigh, eyes barely fluttering, and give a slow, easy nod before melting right back into sleep, like he just asked you to pass the salt instead of ruin him.
âShitâŚâ The apology dies on his tongue as his hand moves on its own. He grips your thigh, warm and soft, and lifts it up, opening you for him. Your legs fall into place with the kind of trust that makes his chest ache.
And there you are.
Wet. Glowing in the low light. Ready for him without even waking up.
âThank youâŚâ he whispers against your shoulder, stunned, reverent, starving. Youâre already drifting in dreamland again, completely unaware of how close he is to breaking apart.
He lines himself up, breath hitching as the head of his cock presses against your heat. Then slowlyâso slowly it kills himâhe pushes in.
Your warmth wraps around him like a blessing. Like salvation. Like every answer heâs been denied for the past hour.
He shudders, eyes rolling back.
Thanking every star in the sky for this. For you. For the relief hitting him like a wave as he finallyâfinallyâsinks into you.
He doesnât move at first. He canât. Not when youâre wrapped around him like thisâtight, warm, soft in a way that makes every nerve in his body light up. He holds himself there, buried deep, jaw locked as he forces his breathing to stay quiet so he doesnât wake you.
When he finally pulls back, itâs slow. Careful. Like heâs afraid to lose the feeling of your heat around him. Then he pushes back in, just as slowly, letting his hips settle into a rhythm that gives him friction without disturbing your sleep.
Itâs heaven. Itâs torture. Itâs exactly what he needed.
His mind starts to haze over, his thoughts dissolving into the steady pulse of your body clenching around him. Words start spilling from his lips before he even realizes heâs saying them.
âShit⌠so prettyâŚâ he pants quietly, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet. âTaking me so pretty⌠so wet.â
Another slow, deep thrust. The kind that makes his thighs tremble.
âJust drooling all over me, yeah?â he whispers, breath hitching as your warmth sucks him in again.
His tip grazes your cervix. You tighten around him on instinct, a sleepy, unconscious reaction that nearly sends him collapsing.
âUghâfuckâŚâ he chokes out, shivering. âYou trynna break me apart, ainât you, pretty?â
His voice drops lower, rougher, words slurring as they tumble out. He keeps thrusting into you with that same slow, needy rhythm, each push dragging more filth out of him.
âYou feel unreal.â
âFuck, baby, youâre hugging me so tightâŚâ
âSo warm⌠so wet⌠fuckâŚâ
âYouâre gonna make me lose my mindâŚâ
âYouâre perfectâgod, youâre perfectâŚâ
âGonna make me fill you up if you keep squeezing me like thatâŚâ
He doesnât even know if heâs talking to you or your pussy anymore. Probably both. Definitely both. The filth gets worse the longer he moves inside you, his voice soft and broken, like heâs confessing every dirty thought heâs ever had straight into your skin.
And youâre just sleeping through it, gripping him like you were built for him.
Itâs driving him insane.
He grunts low in his throat when that familiar burn coils tight in his gut again, hotter this time, sharper, like his body finally decided to cooperate. He forces his eyes open. He needs to see itâhis hips snapping gently against yours, the soft bounce of your ass meeting every thrust. Itâs almost hypnotic, the way you take him without even waking up.
âSo closeâŚâ he mumbles, voice ragged. âGonna make a right mess outta you, girly⌠want you drippingâŚâ
He bites back a moan as he picks up the paceâstill quiet, still controlled, but deeper, more desperate. Each thrust sinks him a little harder into your warmth, each push dragging another pulse out of you. Your pussy keeps clenching around him, little fluttering squeezes that make his head spin⌠until one sudden, tight grip nearly knocks the breath out of him.
His hips stutter. His heartbeat jumps.
âHah⌠fuckâŚâ he pants, thrusting through it, barely holding on. âMade you feel good, yeah?â His voice breaks at the end. âMade you cum all over my dick?â
He canât keep the rhythm anymore. His thrusts go sloppy, shaky, franticâhis whole body trembling as the pressure snaps inside him with a violent rush.
He stills, buried flush against you, and spills into you hard.
Hot. Deep. Endless.
âFuckâŚâ he groans, forehead falling to your shoulder as release rips through him. âTake it all, pretty⌠drink in my cumâŚâ
More filth follows, unfiltered and breathless, tumbling out between shaky exhales.
âShit⌠so thirsty for itâŚâ
âThatâs it⌠thatâs my girl⌠milking me so goodâŚâ
âFuck, youâre perfect⌠perfectâŚâ
His cock twitches inside you, pushing the last few pulses of cum into your already-full cunt. When the high finally begins to ebb, he slumps against you, boneless and bliss-struck, panting quietly against your skin.
He buries himself deeper, like he wants to seal his cum inside you. Then he wraps his arm around your waist again, pulling you close, tucking himself against your back like youâre the worldâs softest pillow.
His breathing evens out.
Heâs out cold within minutes.
Finallyâfinallyâready for the best damn sleep of his life before he has to drag himself out of bed tomorrow and pretend heâs a fully functional adult.
ok but can we talk about human!sir pentious aka Pendleton?
HCâs if you were his woman before his death ~
Sfw + Nsfw mixed! MNRS DNI
So we all know now that sir pentious was a stalker back in the day, claiming he stalked everything.
so what happens when the old hag that lives across from him moves out and a pretty dame moves in? Of course his first course of action to watch, he wasnât expecting you to be so breathtaking. Sir pentious would find himself blushing like a mad man, barley able to take his eyes away from such a sight
he only watched a little at first, trying not to fall into the bad stalking habit he did. You usually only had your kitchen drapes open, so heâd watch you do mundane things while working on his inventions, like doing the dishes or drying your laundry.
what he didnât know, is you caught on. maybe it was by chance, or maybe you had a stalking problem too (thatâs parts up to u đ) but you saw his adorable face watching you through his window. at first you wanted to be upset, but he looked soâŚinnocent and honestly quite gorgeous. you were flattered really.
so maybeâŚjust maybeâŚyou âaccidentallyâ left your bedroom drapes wide open. and you just so happened to want to do a strip tease for âyourselfâ completely alone in you bedroom. And you didnât mean to touch yourself as such an angle that anybody peering through your window could see everything perfectly. it was all totalllyyyy an accidentâŚ..hehe
and sir pentious liked this a lot. he was a flustered mess, trying to ignore the tent in his pants. he already felt perverted enough for watchingâŚtouching himself too felt a little too horrible.
The next day, the last thing he was expecting to see was you, holding a dish you baked with a smile on your face, at his front door. to say the leastâŚthe night ended up with you spread out on his kitchen table instead of the foodâŚ.
while what originally started at a relationship purely based on lust, you both found yourselves falling in love.
he was just so smart, and so so nerdy. you thought it was cute how he could go on and on about his inventions. he was always so passionate and confident about them, which was odd to see since he was usually so hesitant and unsure of everything else he does.
Sir pentious maybe be a bit of a nervous wreck most of the time, he tried very hard to shower you with nothing but love and affection.
heâd always name his inventions after you, wether it be your name or something you like. he even made you some things too. Like one time, you complained that your hair dryer never had good air pressure. so the next day, he made you one perfectly designed to give you the outcome you wanted. and another time you complained that it was so annoying to have to envelope your letters and lick the top and try to make it stick. so he made you a machine that does it for you.
but beyond inventions, sir pentious is the kind of man to give you flowers ever single day, rain or shine, it doesnât matter. he always tries to look his best for you too, always wearing his finest outfit and a little bit too much cologne. Sir Pentious would cook you dinner a lot, it might not be too great but he really did try.
he memorizes everything about you, likeâŚeverything. he knows every thing you like, dislike, hate, kind of like but not really, etc.
and cuddlingâŚdonât get me started. he loves to cuddle and hold hands. he also loves surprise kisses. kisses from you are his favorite.
nsfw (minors PLEASE DNI or you will be blocked)
sir pentious loves praiseâŚlike LOVES it. a simple âgood job, baby.â will have his face red and his dick hard.
he gets soooo embarrassed when he gets hard around you when heâs not supposed to. obviously if yall are making out and dry humping, thatâs a different story. but if your just trying to enjoy each others company and he gets turned on, he feels so bad. you donât mind, of course.
speaking of dry humping, he loves it. thoughâŚhe usually cums in his pants from it, which again; leaves him embarrassed.
sir pentious loves to praise you too. heâs not into degradation. he might get a little rougher with you if heâs feeling cocky, but by rougher i mean heâll tie your legs back and âthreatenâ to leave you sobbing (which he will) but never anything too bad.
also heâs a sub. idc 𤡠this guy loves getting pegged. heâd be so vocal and whiney, heâd honestly sound like a girl while getting his prostate pounded.
certified cryer while cumming. he is always in tears during sex simply just from how good it feels. he also talks soooo much. youâd have to shut him up with a gag at times. he just wants you to know how well your doing :(
MUNCH. he loves eating that pussy đ and heâd do a real good job too. heâs look up at you with his pathetic eyes while licking you nice and slow. heâs so pathetic chatâŚi need himâŚ
thatâs all i have for nowâŚbut lmk if you guys would like more! i know i primarily write for naruto but sometimes i need to branch out back to my roots! love u all!!!
i mean itâs literally canon that heâs good at itâŚ
but beyond that, i believe Lucifer would be a god at it. His skills would be impeccable, especially with how long heâs been âaliveâ for.
he is sooo focused on your pleasure. he just wants to make you feel good and satisfied. he will gladly sit inbetween your thighs for hours. he loves eating you out
heâs so pathetic about it too. his eyes, hooded with lust and need, staring up at you as his tongue works its magic.
he will beg you to sit on his face. eating pussy is one of hi favorite things, a dominant women is his second. so you riding his face is like a dream come true.
squirt all over him a he will be in heaven đ (no pun intendedâŚlol) he gets so pussy drunk itâs actually insane. heâs addicted and down badâŚ.lucifer is a yearner and a munch
Alastor
alastor isnât a very sexual person, and heâd much rather tie you up and use his âtentaclesâ on you or his fingers. his mouth is something heâs not too found off. i hc that alastor doesnât even like kissing all that much either
but on the rare occasions he does choose to eat you, your left limp in his bed
alastor doesnât half ass things, he will make sure your spent. heâll hold you down and force orgasm after orgasm out of you.
he always looks a little feral while eating you out. horns bigger, eyes blacked out, and a smile on his face as his tongue reaches inhumane depths inside of your pussy.
i personally donât think alastor would like face sitting all that much. he likes control, and he likes being on top. 69 also isnât his favorite because i donât think Alastor is a huge fan of head either.
bondage. lots of bondage. if heâs eating you out, odds are you are tied up. heâs also the type of guy to put a pillow under your hips and press down on your lower stomach to really make it feel good.
trust, sometimes alastor knows your body better than you do.
Adam
he does it for his own pleasure more than yours for sure. but that doesnât mean heâs not good at it.
he talks so much about his head game and this and that, so the first time he ate you out you were hoping it was bad just so you could rub in his face that he couldnât make you cum. unfortunately and fortunately for you, he made you squirt around 3 times simply just from his tongue.
he dives into that pussy. his face is soaked by the time he coms back up. slow and gentle isnât the way Adam likes to do it
not to mention the overstimulation oh my godâŚ
i donât think adam would mind if you sat on his face, as long as you bend over and 69 him he wonât complain.
but speaking of 69, thatâs his favorite position by far.
he also dirty talks the whole time; even with a mouth full of pussy.
Sir Pentious
like i said in my sir pentious hcâs (linked here) he is lazy with it
not in a âi donât wanna do thisâ or âiâm boredâ wayâŚ.but rather in a soft and sensual way.
heâs always a bit hesitant, asking you if it feels good or if heâs doing it right. he lives off of praise, especially from you. Your moans really build his confidence up to. by the end of it, heâd be a flow state, completely focused on eating you out and nothing else
face sitting is something he would like because he would know itâs enjoyable, since your the one in control. 69 would probably be a bit too much for him. he can only handle so much stimulation at once lmao.
your pleasure is his pleasure. he just wants to make you happy. âi promissssee i wont dissssapoint, my love.â he would declare before using that long snake tongue in all the right ways. his snake teeth are quite sharp and longâŚso just beware of thatâŚ.
Vox
Vox uses sex as a way to get what he wants; i 100% he eats you out to apologize to you. not like you can complain much when heâs really good at it đ¤ˇ
the tv head definitely required you to spread your legs far and wide, giving him all the space in the world to lick and suck on whatever the hell he wants.
overstimulation for sure, while i donât think vox is too big of a munch, he still likes it. and he especially likes making you sob and squirm while screaming his name.
heâs always doing the three finger combo on you too. heâs learned a lot (mostly from val lmao) he curls his fingers up while licking you just right. he knows all the tricks and what makes you tick.
yes you can sit on his face. he loves 69ing and usually will complain of you donât lean over and suck him off too.
vox is a little selfish, obviously, so sometimes heâll complain if you just want head and no penetration. but if you make it up to him with some head too đ he wonât stay mad for too long
hey guys! i knowâŚanother hazbin ficâŚ.im hyper fixatingâŚ.requests are open but going by very slowly so pls be patient đ love u all đ (lucifer i want u soooo badâŚshould i write a sub lucifer fic?)
đđ: P in V, Rubbing, Porn with some Plot, Age Gap (somewhat), Alastor tries to be good but fails, Reader is intoxicated but aware, I have no idea how love potions work so this is my interpretation of it!
đđ˛đ§đ¨đŠđŹđ˘đŹ: Alastor staved off his attraction towards you for two reasons and two reasons alone: heâs twice your age and youâre the daughter of the person who owns his soul, Rosie. But when you phone him for help after realizing someone spiked your drink with a love potion, an unexpected series of events ensues, which involves sex and a deal.
Credit to @lilsleepybear1029 for the title đ¤
Attraction never came to Alastor so easily, in life or death, but that didnât mean he was immune to the feeling, or outright oblivious to it. He wound up finding it in you, and he quickly figured out you felt just the same about him. He witnessed it in the little details like that which your mother somehow overlooked when he visited for afternoon tea.
The unconscious fiddling of your fingers, the tinge of color that spread across your cheeks, the soft, doe-eyed look that vanished when you shyly dipped your head â he knew what all of it meant, and quite frankly, the very notion that you had grown sweet on him flustered him to a degree that was unhealthy for someone as old as he.
You, a youthful and beautiful thing following in your motherâs footsteps, half his age.
Daughter of the very person who owned his soul, Rosie.
Not only was it inappropriate, but it was also unwise to entertain you and your silly little crush.
So, naturally, Alastor chose to do nothing.
And you, well, you decided to test the boundaries of your relationship, even when he maintained an apathetic facade in your presence. Like the hellion you were, you thought you could gradually chip away at his resolve, and oftentimes, he didnât know whether to feel insulted or flattered that you would try to do such a thing to someone of his caliber.
The prolonged kisses you pressed against his cheek in greeting, the lingering touches you left on his shoulder or his bicep, the wistful glances you sent him whenever you volunteered to help your mother around the emporium â it was your way of letting Alastor know that you wanted to be something more than just Rosieâs daughter.
You inspired feelings in him that he hadnât felt since his time on Earth, when he was young and foolish and had grandiose ideas for himself.
He would never relent, though, he couldnât.
And he genuinely believed it would remain that way for all of eternity, that he wouldnât fall victim to your slick attempts to familiarize yourself with him.
But then Alastor received a call from you in the hush of a Saturday night, one that would shift the trajectory of your lives and force them to converge in an unexpected manner. If he wasnât indentured to your mother, he would have let the flimsy little flip phone he resigned himself to, to ring until the ambient noises of the bayou drowned it out.
âWhy are you calling me at such an ungodly hour?â
âI need you. I need you right now.â
âYou sound inebriated, so, I suggest you eat, drink some water, and head to bed.â
âI think someone spiked my drink! Please, Al, I tried calling maâ, but sheâs not answering ââ
âWhere are you?â
You told Alastor that you were at a nightclub in the Entertainment district, one that the Veeâs unfortunately owned. He swore that heâd never set foot in any of their establishments after he and Vox parted ways, however, he had no choice but to swallow his pride and save you from the prick who had the audacity to spike your drink.
Luckily, doing so was rather easy.
He slaughtered the guy with minimal effort and whisked you away in his arms.
âThat was hot, the way you killed that guy for me,â You said, your side glued to his as he led you down the empty streets of Hell. âMakes my pus ââ
It was the long walk to Cannibal district that wound up being difficult.
No thanks to his broken staff, which your mother refused to mend since the duel against Adam.
You clung onto Alastor, the hot, scorching heat that emanated from you somehow burning him through his suit. He watched you from his periphery, ears twitching, trying to ignore the vulgar things that tumbled from your lips as he escorted you home. It was unlike you. Rosie had raised you to be better than that â well-mannered, deft, and cunning.
He had to constantly remind himself that you werenât in your right mind.
And he did so until he was greeted by a random cannibal, relief settling in his bones.
But apparently, getting you home safe and unscathed wasnât enough. You still needed his help, and it unfortunately involved satiating the ache that gnawed at your lower regions, his jaw clenched in irritation as you refused all his attempts to put you to bed. You kept getting up and following after him, pleading, begging him not to leave.
Even though he fancied you, sex with you was an entirely different topic, especially in your state.
âPlease, you canât leave me like this,â You whimpered, hands shakily gripping the lapels of his coat, blown pupils staring up at him.
âWhat do you expect me to do, exactly?â Alastor spoke through a tight grin and a flushed face, flustered and all sorts of displeased.
âFuck me?â You suggested, batting your lashes at him, trying to tempt him.
Yes, he was in Hell, but that didnât mean he discarded his morals altogether.
Alastor immediately pushed you away, your mattress rudely creaking as you fell back, a squeak seeping past your lips at the suddenness of the act. Before he could turn on his heel and take his leave, however, you reached out and snagged his wrist. Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him so, so bad, but right now, you needed him.
There was no attraction, no hint of infatuation behind your request, just pure, unbridled lust that kept building up with each passing second.
âPlease, Al,â You begged, but he refused to look at you, his head fixed to the side. âI mean, what would maâ do if she found out you denied me when I needed your help?â
If your mind wasnât clouded by the love potion, you would have cowered at the way his neck snapped as he turned to glare at you.
âAre you threatening me?â Alastor started, the room growing dark with each word he spoke. âIs that how desperate youâve become, that youâve resorted to ââ
âI donât want you, goddamit, I need you!â You hissed loud enough to get your point across, but also low enough to avoid waking your sleeping mother.
The darkness that threatened to envelop your room retreated behind Alastor, allowing the dim, crimson rays from Hellâs moon filtering through your curtains to take over once more. He pulled away from your grip, but you didnât panic, his feet remaining planted to the ground. It seemed as if he was digesting your words.
Though considering them was another story.
âWell, Iâm afraid that⌠you know,â Alastor redirected his gaze to the side, gesturing with his hand as he spoke, âis not within my professional boundaries.â
Your patience was running thin, the uncomfortable sensation in your core festering and growing, causing your clothes to feel prison-like.
âIt can be if youâre just doing it to help me,â You groaned, hastily reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.
You didnât care anymore, about shame or decency or anything of that nature, even if you stopped caring for all those things the moment you sipped your drink and found out it had been spiked. You were flushed before, but now? A searing, painful heat was rapidly consuming your body, and all you wanted was to go back to feeling normal.
âHave you gone mad?â Alastor let out a scandalized bleat at the sight of your bare chest, eyes widening and heat sprawling across his sharp features. âPut your clothes back on, you!â
Thwack!
You carelessly tossed your shirt at him, the delicate fabric dangling off one of his antlers and unceremoniously draping over half of his face.
âIâll make a deal with you, goddamnit!â You reached for your jeans now. âFuck me and Iâll do whatever you want, okay? I donât care! I just⌠I need you. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.â
Alastor stared down at you, his body still and unmoving, watching you unbutton your jeans and hastily kick them off, leaving you in only your panties. The thin, cotton fabric was drenched in your arousal, granting his eyes a generous outline of your cunt. What an obscene sight you made, his heart kickstarting, his slacks tightening.
You, daughter of the very person who owned his soul, Rosie.
Offering to make a deal with him, falling back onto the mattress and parting your knees, tempting him.
It was inappropriate, and so, so utterly unwise to accept your offer.
Satan knows what sheâd do to him.
Your breath hitched in your throat as a singular finger fell over your mound, only to shamelessly drag down your slit, feeling just how much you yearned for him. You stared up at him through your lashes, chest heaving, cunt throbbing, anticipation swirling in your core as the pad of Alastorâs finger pressed against that sensitive little button.
âIs that a yes?â You breathed out, extending one of your hands to him, your fingers anxiously flexing.
Silence ensued.
And oh, was it deafening.
But eventually, Alastor offered you a nod, including a smile that was less taut and more genuine.
âWe have a deal.â
So much for not relenting, but he removed your shirt from his face, tossing it aside before enveloping your smaller hand with his free one, firmly shaking it. Heâd make a deal with anybody if it meant he could use them to his advantage, though making a deal with you was very different, and it was also simply too good to pass up.
Not that he would have you do anything malicious â no, not unless he had a death wish.
But heâd definitely figure out how to get your mother to address the wrongs sheâd committed against him, like refusing to mend his broken staff.
He needed it, just as much as you needed him at the moment, his eyes following you as you sat up and seized his shoulders.
The sound of clothes being shed, of zippers and buttons being undone resonated throughout your room, mixing in with the occasional huffs and breathy moans you elicited at the sight of his bare skin. If you hadnât lost your bearings and devolved into a desperate, wanton whore, you would have marveled at the scar across his chest.
But you didnât, and despite the mounting apprehension that threatened to consume Alastor at the thought of partaking in such a vulnerable dance with you, he found relief in it. That you were too busy trying to satiate the ever growing ache in between your thighs, your arms finding his shoulders to pull him into you as you lay back.
âFuck me already,â You pleaded against his cheek with a shaky gasp, his palms falling flat against either side of your head on the mattress.
He loomed over you, hard, tense, and a bit uneasy, but he managed to look impassive.
Again, he fancied you, though he couldnât recall the last time he touched someone in such a way.
Not even rut season convinced him to find sexual relief in anotherâs arms.
âHow would you like me to ââ Alastor tried to ask, but apparently, your patience had run out, a bleat seeping past his lips.
The mattress rudely creaked as you pushed against him, sending him tumbling onto his back, switching your positions with a strength he never knew you possessed. A wicked grin sprawled across your features, and though he wasnât rather fond of how powerless he felt underneath you, he couldnât help but be turned on by the act.
âYouâre too fucking slow, old man,â You huffed, making him roll his eyes.
âTechnically, youâre older than I am,â Alastor remarked, his ears falling back for a second. âI was born much later.â
âYou died at an older age.â
You placed one hand on his stomach for balance, the other reaching down and wrapping around the base of his cock, no longer interested in idle chit chat. After all, you were eager to get fucked, to rid yourself of the hot, uncomfortable sensation simmering beneath your skin, especially before the morning snuck up on both of you.
Your mother was an early riser, and she had a habit of checking in on you in the morning.
At 7:30 A.M., to be precise.
And thatâs what you kept in mind as you dragged the head of his cock through your folds, lathering him in your slick before piercing yourself on his length. Your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted in ecstasy, while Alastor let out a hiss, his hands seizing your hips, claws threatening to puncture your flesh with each inch your walls swallowed.
He was nothing short of overwhelmed, you were scorching hot, and he was unused to the sensation of being inside someone.
But you didnât care, you couldnât, not when you lacked the capacity to do so.
The love potion was doing exactly what it was intended to do, inducing feelings of pure, unbridled lust. Nothing more, nothing less. It was obvious in the way you lifted yourself from Alastorâs lap and slammed your hips back down to meet his, setting a pace that was quick and unforgiving. You didnât even give yourself time to adjust to his size.
You just released his cock and placed a hand over his, intertwining your fingers, fucking yourself on him without any regard to his pleasure.
âFuck, Al⌠f-fuck, please,â You cried out, making Alastor tense up. âPlease, please, please!â
And certainly without any regard to the sort of noises you were making, high-pitched moans haphazardly tumbling from your mouth.
While he had little issue with you riding him to completion, he couldnât risk you making further noise, not unless he wanted to wake up your mother. So, he lifted you off his cock and threw you onto your back, but you didnât remain like that for long. Before you could utter a single syllable, he stood up and flipped you onto your stomach.
âDo you want your mother to know what her beloved daughter is doing?â Alastor hissed, settling one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head.
âN-No,â You helplessly mewled.
âWell, it doesnât seem as if so.â
Alastor buried his fingers in your hair and shoved your face into the mattress, not trusting you to remain quiet for the rest of the ordeal, however long it took. But you didnât mind the position, your brows scrunching together and your eyes fluttering once more in ecstasy, feeling the head of his cock part your folds and sink back into your walls.
Even though the pace he set wasnât as quick or unforgiving as the one you previously set, it didnât feel any less good.
The head of his cock perfectly hit that sweet spot nestled deep within your walls, making you flutter around him.
You gripped the sheets, pushing back against his hips as he fucked you, the squelch of his length gliding in and out of your slick cunt replacing the sinful noises you elicited. And Alastor, well, he sunk his teeth into the inside of his cheek, suppressing the pathetic little groans that threatened to escape him, finding more pleasure in the pace he set.
His thrusts were brisk, sharp, and purposeful.
And with every kiss the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot, he drove you closer and closer to the edge â closer and closer to a sweet release from the love potionâs effects. Your muffled moans flooded the mattress in quick succession, your own thrusts growing sloppy and utterly desperate, walls tightening around his length.
âF-Fuck, Al,â You managed to turn your head to the side and mewl out, eyes fluttering open. âPlease, touch me. Rub me. Iâm s-so close.â
His eyes darted down, only to see your back arch and your legs part, showing him your swollen clit.
He slowed down, but only just a bit, releasing your hair and moving his hand down your back.
âAs you wish,â Alastor said, but as his fingers found your clit, he leaned into your back and warned you. âBut the moment you get too noisy, I will stop.â
You hastily nodded your head, eager to finish, to come undone around his cock.
âGood girl.â
You shoved your face back into the mattress and let out a filthy moan. And though it was a heavenly combination, feeling the head of Alastorâs cock abuse your sweet spot and two of his fingers rub your swollen clit in tandem with his thrusts, the way he drawled out that one, simple phrase was what ultimately sent you over the edge.
Your walls clamped down around him, pulsating and throbbing, signaling the end of your suffering and simultaneously milking him to his own.
He released you and collapsed on top of your smaller frame, his hips slack against yours, cock painting the inside of your walls with his spend.
Alastor felt your body slacken beneath him, your muscles relaxing, the temperature of your skin no longer feeling as hot as it used to be.
The two of you lay like that for a while, allowing the sound of your breaths and a silence that was far too deafening to settle between you. While he desperately wanted to leave, to retreat to the hotel and avoid you and your mother for as long as he could, he didnât make a single move. He didnât know what to say or do after he fucked you.
You, the one who offered to make a deal with him in exchange for a sweet release from a love potion.
You, the daughter of the very person who owned his soul, Rosie.
Would you tell her about it?
Alastor pulled his softening length out of your cunt and rolled off of you, landing on the empty space next to you, his chest heaving and his eyes finding the ceiling. The mattress softly creaked as you did the same, but instead of rolling away from him, you went towards him. He almost jumped at the feeling of your back meeting his side.
âI made a deal with you,â You whispered, breaking the silence between you.
His brows scrunched together.
He was perceptive, yes, but he couldnât quite tell what you meant by that.
âYes,â Alastor merely said. âYes, you did.â
He felt your head shift against his shoulder, his eyes flitting down to see what you were up to.
You craned your neck to stare up at him.
âAnd what do you⌠intend on doing with that, exactly?â You asked him in earnest.
He hummed, the filter in his voice crackling and popping. You found it to be rather soothing.
âNothing malicious, I suppose.â
You snorted, making him relax.
âWhat do you mean you suppose?â
âWell, my staff is still broken.â
âWow, okay. Now I understand why you walked me back home,â You chuckled dryly. âAnd here I thought you actually enjoyed my presence.â
âYouâre putting words in my mouth.â
âSo, you do?â
A bout of silence ensued.
The dim, crimson rays of Hellâs moon had become more bright and revitalizing by then, alerting the two of you that the morning was steadily encroaching. Still, you didnât rush to kick Alastor out of your room, sitting up on the bed and locating the clock in your room, only to check exactly how much time you had left till your mother woke up.
It was 5:23 A.M., perfect.
âOkay, Iâll convince her to fix your staff,â You said, standing up and staring down at him, still nude. âIf thatâs what youâre implying you wanted.â
âI am glad to hear that,â Alastor mused, a big, toothy grin sprawling across his features.
You returned his grin, but yours was more devilish, conniving, even.
âYou canât ask for anything else, I fulfilled my end of the deal,â Alastor arched a brow at you.
âI know,â You shrugged. âHowever, if you want me to tell her a⌠well, a fabricated version of what transpired between us in order to convince her to fix your staff, I want you to take me out on a date.â
He blinked, slowly, almost like a cat would.
Now, there was the you he recognized. Deft and cunning.
Alastor knew that there was no need to acquiesce to such terms, considering that you had to fulfill your end of the deal anyway, but he still nodded his head. He supposed that there was no harm in taking you out, especially after the intimate moment he shared with you⌠including the guilt he felt for making a deal with you while intoxicated.
A large part of him also didnât want Rosie to know.
âVery well, then,â He pretended to sigh in resignation. âYou shall have your date, ma chĂŠrie.â
Summary: You wake in his sheets with the truth settling slow and heavy around you. Alastorâs rut has its claws in both of you, and heâs far from done. He wants you nourished, pliant, and prepared to carry what he puts in you regardless of your opinion in the matter.
The ache was the first thing you noticed as you swam toward wakefulness.
A deep pull through your hips. A dull throb in muscles you didnât even remember using. The kind of soreness that made you go still before you had the courage to open your eyes. The sheets beneath you were smooth, cool. Too fine to be yours. The pillow smelled like cedar wood and smoke and that faint static hum you had come to associate with him hung in the air.
Your stomach tightened.
You were naked. Completely. And this wasnât your room.
You lay flat for a long moment, breathing carefully, waiting for something to click into place that would make this feel less real. The night came back in pieces instead. A hand on your waist. Teeth at your throat. His laugh, warm against your ear, when you clung to him. Nothing you wanted to think about. Nothing you could forget.
Footsteps tapped lightly in the hall. Humming followed, bright and steady.
Your heart jumped, hammering against your chest.
The door opened without a pause.
âAh. Good morning,â Alastor said as he stepped into the room, a tray balanced easily in one hand. He smiled at you like he had been expecting this exact scene, like you waking up in his bed was the most natural thing in the world. âI was beginning to wonder if youâd stay asleep all day.â
Your voice cracked. âLast night⌠that happened.â
He blinked once, his grin widening. âOf course it happened. You were marvelous.â
Heat crawled under your skin. You dragged the blanket up higher, covering more of your chest and shoulders. His eyes followed the movement in a way that felt too knowing, too pleased, and you had the sharp sense that if he wanted that blanket gone he would simply take it.
He set the tray down but didnât bother looking at it again. His attention was fixed to you like a hook.
âYouâre sore,â he said, a soft hum of satisfaction slipping through the words. âI knew you would be. You were very responsive, exceptionally so, last night.â
You swallowed hard, not daring to look away from him.
He climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. He didnât touch you yet, but he leaned close enough that the static on his skin brushed yours. Too calm for how intense his eyes looked. Too composed for the wild edge running through his voice.
âThis time of year is⌠rather demanding for me,â he said. âItâs been some time since I allowed myself to indulge the instinct. Yet youâŚâ He tilted his head, studying you with open hunger, taking in every doe like feature. âYou received me beautifully. Quite a surprise.â
Your breath hitched. âInstinct.â
âMmm.â His fingers brushed your hip through the blanket, light enough to make you tense. âA powerful one. Persistent. And now that itâs been rousedâŚâ His smile sharpened. âWell. You can imagine.â
You werenât sure you could. This was your first year in Hell and you struggled to make sense of how your body worked or what it felt. Of the way his touch sent tingles through your nerves, even as fear dominated your senses. Of the way your mind bent to his suggestions.
He slid closer, close enough that his breath warmed your neck. âYou should have heard yourself last night. Every time you reached for me. Every time you held onto me like you couldnât bear the space between us.â His voice dropped. âIt was intoxicating.â
You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you were trying to remember or trying not to. Something about him the night before made you forget yourself.
His hand caught your jaw, gently but with no room to pull away. He turned your face toward him. The look he gave you felt like possession more than affection, something tight and certain and frighteningly warm.
âIâm not done with you,â he said. Quiet. Final. There was no room for argument. âNot when Iâve only just had you. Not when youâre still soft from me. Not when everything in me is still burning for you.â
Your pulse kicked hard enough that you felt it under his fingertips. You didnât want this. You didnât know him, not really. But your body craved him from the first touch. Your mind warred with your body.
He pulled you into his lap like it was already decided, steady and sure, his arms closing around your waist to anchor you there.
âThere you are,â he murmured, almost tender. âYou feel right here.â
You barely had time to breathe before his mouth brushed your throat, a low sound curling out of him.
âAnd now that youâre awake,â he said, voice thick with hunger he didnât try to hide, âwe can continue.â
You barely had time to process the way he held you before his hands settled at your waist, steady and warm in a way that didnât match the sharp heat in his eyes. His grip wasnât harsh, but it was certain, as if he already knew you wouldnât be going anywhere unless he allowed it.
Your heartbeat stumbled, trying to climb into your throat.
âEasy,â he said quietly, though the softness didnât reach the rest of him. âI donât intend to harm you. I simply intend to have you.â
Your breath caught. The way he said it left no room for misunderstanding.
He leaned in, nose brushing the side of your neck. The hum of static rolled through your skin, lifting goosebumps across your arms. His touch wasnât painful, just⌠possessive. A reminder that he didnât need strength to hold you. He was everywhere already. The scent of him. The taste still lingering in the back of your throat. The bruises blooming along your hips.
âYou keep trembling,â he murmured. âIs that fear or anticipation?â His voice warmed. âOr something delightfully in between?â
You swallowed hard. That was answer enough.
He chuckled, low and pleased. âYes. That makes sense. You were the same last night.â
Images flashed through you again, clearer now. The weight of him pinning you down. The way he moved against you like he was carving something permanent into your bones. The way you had given in despite the voice in your mind telling you to run.
He shifted you in his lap, guiding your legs to straddle him. His hands slid up your spine, slow and deliberate, as if he was re-learning the path from memory.
âYou fit beautifully,â he said, tone dipping into something feral. His eyes roamed your face, your bruised throat, the sheets slipping down your back. Hunger sparked there again, bright and wild. âI could climb inside your warmth and stay for days.â
Your breath hitched, sharp and unsteady.
âThat look again,â he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. âYou really have no idea what you did to me last night.â
He pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, his breath trembling just enough to betray how tightly he was holding himself in check. âI havenât felt like this in years.â
His fingers slid back down to your hips and tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to warn.
âAnd I have no intention of stopping.â
He shifted beneath you, pulling you flush against him, and the hard press of him left your mind blank for a heartbeat. Power radiated off of him. If you surrendered to him, you could be protected by that power, sheltered by it. Your fawns could beâŚ
Your hands braced against his shoulders out of instinct more than choice.
He smiled. âGood. Hold on to me.â
Static crawled up the back of your neck as he tipped you back onto the mattress, lowering himself over you with the slow, unhurried certainty of someone returning to something he already claimed.
âLet me show you,â he whispered, voice cracking with heat that finally slipped past his composure, âexactly how real last night was.â
The mattress dipped under his weight as he lowered himself over you, the slow, deliberate way he moved making your pulse climb into something thin and shaky. His hands framed your ribs, warm and steady, fingers pressing just enough to remind you who had put you here and who intended to keep you here.
You let out a breath you didnât even know you were holding.
He felt it. Of course he did.
âThere it is,â Alastor murmured, leaning down until his nose brushed yours. âThat little surrender. You gave it to me again and again last night.â His lips ghosted over your cheek, your jaw, the soft place beneath your ear. âYouâll give it now too.â
Heat pooled low and slow through your stomach. You hated how easy it was for him to coax it out of you. You hated more how much of you wanted him to.
His fingers dragged down your sides, mapping every little flinch and pull of your breath as if committing them to memory. When his mouth settled against your throat, you felt the faint tremor in his exhale, the strain of someone holding back far more than he said aloud.
âThis body,â he murmured, voice nearly breaking over the words, âI spent half the night trying to convince myself I wasnât dreaming it.â
His hand slid beneath the blanket, caressing your stomach, but the promise of where it was going curled heat through your spine.
You moved under him, barely a shift, but he reacted instantly. His grip tightened at your hip. Static rippled across your skin like a shiver made of lightning.
âCareful,â he said, tone warm but shaking with hunger he was done hiding. âYou keep wriggling like that and Iâll forget every intention I had of being gentle.â
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
He laughed softly, breath brushing your lips. âYou remember how eager you were?â His voice dipped lower. âHow you pulled me closer until there wasnât an inch of space? I can still feel your nails in my back.â
You flushed hot, helpless against it.
He cupped your cheek, almost tender before removing his hand, starting in on the buttons of his shirt instead. âLook at you. Still soft for me. Still warm from last night.â His smile deepened into something that didnât pretend to be sane. âI want to feel all of it again.â
His mouth caught yours before you could respond. Not polite. Not careful. All the restraint heâd been holding snapped in the press of his lips, the pull of his hand at your waist, the growl that vibrated through his chest when you kissed him back without thinking.
You didnât even realize you had wrapped your legs around him until he inhaled sharply against your mouth.
âThatâs it,â he whispered, voice ragged. âHold on.â
His body pressed fully against yours, heat sinking into every place he touched. The blanket slipped away. His hands slid lower. The hunger in him sharpened, hot and relentless as he strained against his pants, eager for your warm embrace.
He kissed down your throat, teeth grazing skin just enough to make you gasp. âIâm going to savor every moment,â he said, breath warm against your pulse. âAnd youâre going to let me.â
His hand settled at your hip again, firmer this time, guiding you into the shape he wanted.
âLet me have you,â he breathed, voice strained and reverent and entirely undone. âJust like that.â
The world narrowed to him. His weight. His warmth. His hunger. The promise of what he was about to take from you again.
Everything else fell away.
He kissed lower, covering your skin with his lips as he slowly stood off the bed, pulling the blanket away from you in the process. Cold air replaced his warm caress. A shiver ran down your spine, cold and need, instinct as he called it, mingling as you watched him.
He wasted not a single second shrugging out of his shirt and sending his pants to the ground. Naked as you were, he climbed back onto the bed and into your embrace. You welcomed him into your arms, wrapping around him.
He placed himself at your opening as he kissed your throat. Ears pushed forward, eager to catch ever thud of your heart and gasp of pleasure. He needed you pleased. If he pleased you, you would stay, carry his fawns.
Your legs wrapped around him and what little fear remained was dissipated by the press of his cock at your opening. Your legs flexed, pulling him down into you before he pushed forward.
âGood,â Alastorâs voice washed over your nerves. âWelcome me, just like you did last night.â
You gasped as he slipped deeper into you, parting your walls. âOh, fuck.â
âSo warm,â Alastor groaned. âSo soft for me. So wet for me.â
Heat burned your skin. Shame and need mixed as you struggled to remember why you didnât want this. Why you didnât want him. Why youâd been afraid of such a powerful man who could protect you so well.
âYou feel it now too, donât you?â Alastor laughed. âInstincts that make your mind and body betray each other. Itâs enough to drive a demon mad, this need.â
âPlease,â you whimpered softly, legs flexing, pulling, begging.
âJust like last night.â
He folded over you, wrapping you up in him. Lips met in a biting kiss that quickly tasted like copper. Each shift and thrust of his hips stole more of your sense until somehow, you were pushing at him, demanding of him, wanting him as much as he wanted you.
With a little urging, he rolled and you were sat above him, sinking down the length of his cock. Your hair hung behind you as your head lulled back, letting him fill you. The bed creaked softly as your thighs lifted you off him. His hands on your waist guided you down, keeping your pace.
âYouâre so beautiful like this,â Alastor mused, watching your beasts sway with each rise and fall along his length. Your hair shifted, catching the dim light, shimmering. You glowed radiant in his room, surrounded by his power.
Your head rolled, eyes meeting his as you gasped, moving faster, chasing the sweet pleasure of his cock moving through you. It wasnât enough. A dull ache grew in your thighs. They struggled to keep the pace, even with Alastorâs hands taking some of the weight off you legs.
You curled in on him, bracing yourself against his chest. It took nearly no effort for Alastor to flip your positions again. He covered your lips with yours, drinking in your gasp as he harshly thrust into you when your back hit the bed.
âAlastor,â you whimpered as his fingers gripped your waist. Your hooves ran down the back of his thighs. âMy buck.â
Your words of claim over him spurred him on, driving him to delve into you with a renewed need. The space between your legs grew wider as they feel open.
âGood girl,â Alastor rumbled, pounding into you harder. âSo soft for me. So willing. What a good doe you are.â
You tried to cling to him. There was something about the way he spoke to you, the claim he was making that drove the pleasure to a new height. Was that the same for you? Was that way he was pounding into you so forcefully.
"My buck.â You moaned as the pleasure continued to build. Your nails bit into his back as you held onto him.
âMy doe.â The words came out in a sea of static. âYouâre taking me so good. Just a little more and Iâll fill you you. Leave you full of my fawns. You want that, donât you?â
âPlease?â You whimpered, back arching as he worked through you. âPlease, Alastor. I want it. Need it. Need you.â
Your pleas turned into a long whine. That whine turned into a throaty, gasping moan, punctuated by his punishing thrusts as your orgasm crashed over you. His hips stuttered slamming into you as he fucked you through the waves of pleasure.
All you could do was hold onto him, cling to him as he reached his peak. Warm wetness exploded inside you. Pain shot through you. Sharp teeth cut through the muscle of your shoulder as he ensured you were held in place, gripping you with shadows, claws and teeth.
He didnât let go until the last of his seed was deposited in your waiting walls. Maybe this time, somehow, it would stick and he would be freed from this biological need for the season. Maybe if he had a fawn of his own, the need would rest for a few years.
âOh, fuck.â Weak whimpers rose up your chest as the orgasm cleared the hormone induced fog. Your limbs trembled as you realized once again, you lost yourself to it. âWhat is happening to me?â
Alastor shushed you gently, brushing your damp hair back from your face with the kind of care that made the rest of him feel even more dangerous. âRest,â he murmured. âYouâve done so well. It will all be alright.â His thumb stroked your cheek, tender in a way that didnât match the wild, fever-bright calm in his eyes. âSoon enough youâll be carrying my fawns. Your body just needs strength. Iâll fetch you something to eat, and once youâve recoveredâŚâ His smile lifted, thin and eager. âWeâll continue.â
The words hit you like cold water. Your breath stuttered. Your muscles still trembled beneath you, not pleasure now but the fragile shaking of a body pushed past exhaustion.
âI need to leave,â you said, voice barely holding itself together. You pushed yourself backward on the mattress, trying to put space between your skin and his hands. The blankets bunched under you as you pulled them up to cover yourself, as if cotton could shield you from him.
You didnât make it far.
Something in the air snapped.
Alastorâs head twisted sharply toward you, the motion punctuated by the loud, brittle crack of vertebrae realigning. The sound echoed through the room like a bone breaking in the walls. His smile didnât falter, but it stretched in a way that emptied it of warmth.
âStay,â he said.
Not a request. Not even anger.
A command.
Static rippled across the room, crawling over your skin like the warning before a lightning strike. His posture didnât change, he still sat where youâd left him, still half-draped in the sheets, still smiling that polite, awful smile, but everything in the space narrowed around his voice.
âYou are not leaving this bed,â he continued, tone even, almost calm, which somehow made it worse. âNot when you are trembling. Not when you are mine.â His eyes traveled over the shape of you under the blankets, lingering, devouring. âYouâve nothing to fear. Iâll take care of every need you could possibly have.â
He tilted his head again, another soft crack following the movement.
âNow,â he said, voice lowering. âCome back here.â
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