─── NO NUT NOVEMBER CHALLENGE WITH ROBERT
synopsis: you and robert haven’t touched in eight days. When he comes home, the tension explodes into rough, hungry, and all-consuming sex.
contents: rough sex, edging, oral(r! receiving), blowjob, creampie, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm denial.
The house was too quiet. Eight days. Eight goddamn days since Robert had last touched you, last buried himself inside you, last claimed you in ways that left you trembling for hours afterward. The distance had been a test— work, some unspoken crisis—and every day without him had been a fight to keep your sanity intact. But tonight, the air was charged with tension. Tonight, he was home.
You were in the living room, pacing slowly, your fingers tugging at the edge of your shirt, imagining the weight of him pressing against you. The front door clicked, and your pulse spiked. You didn’t need to look. You already knew it was him.
“Y/N,” his deep voice called from the hallway, low, guttural, and already leaving a trail of heat across your skin.
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your body moved before your brain could catch up, toward him, breath catching as his eyes locked on yours. There was that sharp gleam in them—the one that promised both punishment and ecstasy. He stepped into the room, tall, commanding, his hand brushing a stray strand of your hair from your face.
“You’ve been bad,” he murmured, fingers ghosting down your jawline, brushing against your lips. “Eight days, and you’re still this wet for me?”
Your breath hitched. “I… I missed you,” you admitted, voice trembling.
“Missed me?” His hands gripped your hips, tugging you flush against him. “I don’t want words. I want action. I want you.”
Before you could protest, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, teeth grazing as his hands roamed with intent. You melted against him, the pent-up tension of over a week completely unraveling under his touch.
He pulled back, letting his gaze rake over your body. “God, you’ve been waiting for me,” he said, voice thick with lust. His hand slid down, brushing against your wetness over your panties. Your back arched instinctively.
“I—Robert—” you tried to speak, but he silenced you with his hand over your mouth.
“No talking. Not yet,” he commanded. He tugged you toward the bedroom, a trail of kisses along your neck and collarbone, teasing, marking, tasting. By the time you hit the edge of the bed, your body was on fire, every nerve screaming for him.
“Off,” he said, pushing your clothes away with practiced ease, exposing your bare skin to his hungry eyes. He knelt before you, hands bracing on either side of your thighs, and you already knew what was coming. His mouth was on you, slow at first, teasing the sensitive skin, lapping and sucking in a way that made your hips jerk.
“Robert…” your voice broke.
“You’re not allowed to come yet,” he said against you, teeth grazing your inner thighs. “Not until I say so. Understand?”
He smirked, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, then deepened his ministrations, slipping a finger inside you. You gasped, your thighs quivering, your hips thrusting on instinct. He teased relentlessly, curling his finger, hitting the spot that made your knees shake, but he never let you reach release. Edging. For eight days, he’d waited, and now he was making you wait again, savoring every shiver, every plea, every shuddering moan.
“You’re mine,” he growled, slipping a second finger inside, pumping with precision. “You’ve waited this long. You’re going to beg me before you come.”
“robert, please,” You cried out, hips bucking, nails digging into his shoulders. “I need you, please let me come.”
He laughed, low and dangerous. “Not yet. I said not yet.” He withdrew, leaving you gasping and trembling, desperate for release. Then he stood, yanked off his pants, and came closer, letting you take in the full sight of him. Hard, commanding, beautiful.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You obeyed instantly, knees sinking into the carpet as he towered above you. His hands gripped your hair, guiding your mouth to his length.
You took him in, lips sliding over him, tongue teasing, swirling, tasting. He groaned, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your chin, tilting your head, controlling every movement. The sounds you made—wet, needy, desperate—spurred him on.
“God, your mouth feel so good,” he growled, thrusting lightly, testing you. You hummed around him, sucking harder, letting him feel every inch of your hunger. He edged you with his hips, slow, teasing, until your own arousal throbbed with need, your body aching for the next wave of him.
“suck. me. harder.” he ordered, thrusting into your mouth. You obeyed, lips wrapping around him, tongue sliding over the tip as he groaned, thrusting into your mouth roughly. Your hands gripped his hips, trying to take as much as you could, tasting him, feeling him fill you in a way that made your head spin.
“God, you’ve missed me,” he murmured between thrusts. “You feel so good,” His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back and then letting it slide forward again. “Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.”
“I want you, robert, please,” you moaned, hips bucking, desperate.
He smirked, guiding you onto the bed, then positioned himself between your thighs. “Finally. About time.”
The first thrust drove you into the mattress, nails scraping his back, moans spilling uncontrollably. Rough, fast, commanding—he didn’t hold back. Eight days of denial poured into each movement, each groan, each slam into you. You arched into him, feeling him stretch and fill you, lost in the intensity of it.
“I own this—every part of you,” he growled, gripping your hips, pounding into you with a mix of dominance and need. “Come for me. Show me how much you’ve waited.”
You couldn’t hold back any longer. Orgasms tore through you repeatedly, clenching around him, your cries filling the room. But he didn’t stop. He kept moving, keeping you on the edge, teasing, making sure every release came sharp, jagged, incomplete. You felt your body shaking, high after high, completely at his mercy.
Finally, he slowed, pulling back slightly. “Now, now I let you take all of me.” With one final, deep thrust, he filled you, hot and hard, burying himself inside. You clutched him, legs wrapped around him, sobbing with the intensity of it, your body wracked with wave after wave of release as he drove you into submission.
He held you through it, slow and steady now, whispering your name over and over, until your trembling subsided. Then he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, arms tightening around your body.
“You were worth every second of waiting,” he murmured, brushing hair from your damp forehead. “Eight days, and I’ve never wanted anything more than you.”
You leaned into him, fingers tracing his chest, still shaking, still tasting him, still intoxicated with the aftermath of your shared fire. “I missed you too much,” you admitted softly.
He kissed your temple, a softer touch now, but still possessive, still claiming. “Never doubt it. Always.”
And for the first time in eight long days, everything finally felt complete.