Summary: He died a god. Came back a man. But when he couldn't get it up, you went to a witch for help. Now he’s feral, too big to fit, and he won’t stop fucking you. 🔞 Daniel Hall x Reader | The Sandman Smut
"I'm sorry," Daniel whispered as he pushed off you.
His shaft, once magnificent--majestic in both length and girth--slipped out of you in a limp caricature of its former glory.
It had been months since he came back from the dead, but the beast that once made you howl in ecstasy hadn’t returned with him.
He had chosen to stay in the waking world with you. A beautiful choice. A romantic one. But one that did little to restore his strength.
"It's okay," you sighed, stroking his chest. "We'll try again tomorrow." But he was already fast asleep.
----------------------------------------------------------
You were rifling idly through the drawers in his office the next day when you found a small, creased parchment tucked beneath some papers. A witch’s contact card.
Your brow shot up.
A few hours later, you sat in a dimly lit room, explaining your predicament to a middle-aged woman with silver locs and an amused gleam in her eye. She listened with a mix of empathy and intrigue as she stirred a shimmering brew in a copper kettle shaped like a raven’s beak.
Finally, she poured the potion into a dark bottle and handed it to you.
“Just a sip,” she said with a warm smile, “unless you’re feeling brave.”
But you were already tucking the bottle carefully into your purse, blowing her a distracted kiss on your way out. You didn’t hear her final words trailing behind you.
Daniel had just finished dinner when you handed him the bottle.
“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the unmarked vial, then you.
“For your strength,” you said, shrugging innocently. “Bottoms up.”
He uncapped it and downed it in one go.
An evil grin spread across your face as you undid the belt of your silk wrap dress, revealing the sultry lingerie you’d picked out for the occasion.
Daniel’s gaze darkened as it traveled over your form. One snap of his fingers, and the delicate fabric you’d worn for him dissolved like mist.
His desire for you had never been in question. Getting his man to function had been the problem.
Until now.
When he stood to undress, your eyes dropped to his groin- and your jaw dropped with it.
It looked… angry.
Thick veins snaked along his shaft. It pulsed, growing by the second, engorged to a size bigger than the memory you’d been mourning.
Longer. Thicker. Streaked with veins.
When his fingers brushed your cheeks, your knees dropped in reverence.
"Welcome home, daddy," You whispered lustily before planting a kiss at the very tip.
Daniel's hand found your scalp, at first tenderly massaging it, then tightened boderline painfully as you slobbered all over him. His velvet thickness filled your mouth and stretched your jaw as you struggled to take as much of him as you could, slightly gagging in the process.
His deep groan reverberated through you, sending pulses of pleasure to your weeping core.
When he pulled you off him and lifted you, you wiped your tear-streaked face, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as you worked the kinks from your aching jaw.
He carried you into the bedroom, his bobbing dick leading the way.
Tossing you on the bed, he covered your body with his, slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hand slid down to your slit.
Little mewls escaped your parted lips. Your hips lifted as his thumb ground into your clit, drawing slow circles around your sensitive nub, while a single finger dipped into your sheath.
A few pumps more, and he added a second finger, stretching you this way and that, prepping for the stiff, fat snake he had between his legs.
You tore your lips from his, bucking up against him as you begged in sheer desperation:
“Daniel, please. I’m ready. Please, just put it in.”
His eyes--dark with lust--crinkled in amusement as he continued to pump his fingers into you, grunting in approval when you finally clenched around his digits with a small cry, liquid gushing out to coat your thighs.
“You first,” he moaned into your ear. “Always.”
Fisting himself, he rubbed his tip against your slit, coating it in your slick juice before pushing in.
Your legs fell further apart as your fingers dug into his shoulders.
He was big--much bigger than you remembered--and as aroused as you were, it hurt a little to take him.
He made short pumps, fucking you with half his length until you started to writhe against him, clawing his back in unabashed pleasure.
Grabbing your hips, he slammed the rest of his length into you with a short stab of pain, holding himself still until the pain passed and you started squeezing around him again.
His body engulfed yours, kissing your neck and murmuring filthy, nearly unintelligible words of encouragement into your ears, as he rained battering thrusts on your willing sex.
You were starting to sob when he ground against you, his tip lodged firmly against your womb.
He raised his head to look at you, wiping the tears from your face as he smiled.
“That’s my girl. You always take me.”
He held still as he kissed you, giving you time to come down from your high. Then his hands trailed down your thighs, lifting and wrapping your legs high around his waist.
You looped your arms around his shoulders, hanging on for the ride of your life.
He fed his girth into you, letting you feel every ridge, every thick vein lining him as he massaged your core. Then he picked up the pace as he started to fuck you.
Hard.
Punctuated.
Thrusts.
Each slam landed with a grunt, his arms wrapping around you to lock your body to his. His hips pounded down in relentless strokes; deep, unforgiving thrusts that had you gasping.
Your eyes rolled back, your mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Your third orgasm hit like a wave--starting deep in your core and rippling outward, flooding your body with warm, pulsing shocks.
He pushed in one last time and went still, groaning your name like it hurt as he spilled litres of hot cream deep inside you.
Your limbs slackened, and you fell back onto the mattress, utterly spent. He withdrew and padded off, returning with a damp towel to clean you up--wiping your folds with delicate care.
You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you basked in the aftercare.
Until the rhythm of his wipes changed.
Slower. Lingering.
Your eyes flew open. You looked down at him at the exact moment he looked up--and held your gaze--as he lowered his head between your legs.
The first flick of his tongue sent an electric jolt straight to your brain, and you instinctively tried to pull away. You were sore, stretched from his new size.
But he held your waist, keeping you in place as he pressed kisses and licked softly at your oversensitive pith.
...until you felt yourself leaking again.
He grinned up at you, then flipped you over, lifting your butt like an offering.
You yelped when his palm landed on your ass- just as he slid back into your stretched, still-aching hole.
This time, his pace was steady. His hand reached under to rub your clit, circling until he felt you tremble. Then he gripped your hips so tight you were sure he’d leave bruises, pounding into you like a man possessed.
He jerked once, twice--then pulled out.
You tried to drop back down onto the bed, but his grip kept you suspended.
And for the first time, you panicked.
Looking back over your shoulder, you saw it-
He was still hard.
“D-Daniel?” Your voice shook. “I’m sore.”
His hands slid up to part your cheeks.
“I know...” he growled, voice tight and strained. “I can’t help it. I'm sorry."
Then he bent down... and kissed the tiny, puckered star.
“It’s a good thing you were built to take me,” he rasped, then spat into it, dipping a finger as he started to prep your third hole for his entry.
He added his tongue to his finger, making you moan helplessly into the pillow.
Bloody witch brew.
Far away in her cottage, the gray-haired witch cackled as she watched Daniel fuck you into a coma on her crystal ball.
"Humans," she murmured as she sipped her tea, "they never follow instructions."
