my guys live here

I quite like the idea this particular individual is… some form of super fan, a stalker. Maybe someone very taken with the idea of Tenna as this cute, silly, incorruptible figure that they desperately want to rape. Perhaps this person has trauma of their own, due to a past assault, and finds the idea of a reciprocal romance frightening, especially one that involved Tenna expressing his attraction to them.

This person might leave letters to Tenna, talking about how cute and lovable he is, how terrible they feel for wanting to hurt him. How he's such a great host, and everyone should adore Tenna, and they don't understand why his show isn't getting as much attention anymore. And Tenna, of course, who has gone so long without proper fan engagement uhhhh especially from someone willing to detail to him how many times he like. Chuckles and how many pixels are on his screen and the exact different shades of pink his various nearly identical suits are just. A bunch of insane shit nobody in their right mind should notice right. Interspersed with compliments. And the occasional threat to Tenna's safety. Well. Tenna is jorking his penis. Shrugs.

Bit of uhhhh reverse irony one might say. That the stalker is so conflicted and guilty while Tenna pants and growls and shoves each letter to his face to huff and sniff hoping to catch the scent of whoever is giving him all this wonderful attention. Hand down his pants, gripping his cock, whimpering as he strokes off to the idea of catching them leaving one of their letters and fucking them so hard they can't walk out of his dressing room. Where I presume these letters are being dropped off. He must have a dressing room and an office, but I figure it's a bit harder to get in there… almost as hard as he is walking home or to his car at the thought of getting watched! Teehee <3 starts wearing tighter pants hoping they can see his cock, stops wearing his tie so he can unbutton his collar like a whore and bend over mid broadcast to show off his chest.

He wants to know what they look like so badddd. Sets up his own cameras hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but they've got a mask on when they come to drop their next letter off, and he snarls and breaks the monitor in frustration. They seem so very, very sweet. He wonders if they grew up watching him? They talk about every decade of his work with such fondness, they must be a longtime fan. He does so love his fans. And this little fan has become so very special indeed.

Of course he finally wakes up groggy one night in his penthouse, hands shackled to the steel frame of his bed. His screen is already foggy, and his tongue feels numb. He rolls his hips up into heat as awareness comes back. He had been dreaming a wonderful dream, all dizzy pleasure and warm attention attention attention… now he's gazing down at a pair of legs, wrapped snugly at his waist, as someone squeaks and lifts their body off his cock with a stuttered apology.

He gawks for a moment, and they press their hands over his mouth, like they want to silence him. Which almost makes him laugh in shock, still dazed, because he's a TELEVISION, and he speaks from his speakers. They must know that. They're a fan. Half naked, only in that old TV Time shirt that was a limited run of a merchandise line from ages ago… same one he saw his special little fan wearing, back when he set up the cameras he had hoped would give him a glimpse of their face.

"Sorry, Tenna. I just like you so much." They drop their hips back down on him, half soft, and he grunts as they start to rock, unpracticed little wiggles of their body against his in a way that's just. Too. Cute. "Y-You can close your… erm… I mean, you can shut your screen off and pretend this is a dream, okay?"

His claws flex, popping out from where they sheathe in his fingers as they slide up and down on his length. They've never taken someone his size before, because they only sink halfway down before they push themself back up on shaking knees. Watching them makes his mouth fill with drool, fangs growing sharper. He still can't see their face. They've worn that surgical mask again, but he can see how dilated their pupils are… and he can see how nervous they are, too. Too nervous to stay on him long enough for either of them to get off, how their whole body shivers when they run their hands across the metal on his chest.

"It's not my fault, I just like you. I like you, I love your show, I love TV, I like how you walk and talk and I like how you dance and laugh and— and— Oh!" They startle a bit when his size jumps, whole body shifting to accommodate the sharp flare of ego that sends his head spinning. "I… haven't seen you do that on air in awhile, sorry."

"Keep going."

"H… huh?"

"Keep going, please. Come on." He whines, fingers shaking, wrists twisting as he jerks at his restraints. He wants to flip them over, and really hammer into them. "You keep— pulling off, pulling back. Don't you wanna make your Mr. Tenna feel good? Really, really good?"

He tries to give them a smile, something to reassure them that he's not *mad* because how could he be mad at such a sweet fan? But a line of staticky spit drips past his sharpened teeth, down his screen, and they flinch.

"I…" They do it again, goddamnit, they pull back and flop against the sheets, scooting away from him entirely now, pushing their oversized shirt down to cover their slick legs and no no NO! NO! "I'm so sorry, I just love you. I have to go, okay? Please keep making TV f-fun."

He flexes his arms and yanks, and the chintzy chains they used to bind him to his bed frame snap. They scream, and it makes his head spin as he pushes them flat to the bed, shifting so he's over them, and he forces their legs apart with a quick kick of his knee against theirs.

"Don't leave. Don't you want an encore?" He pants, and this time when he pushes in, he goes all the way in. They shriek, but it feels so, so good, the way they squeeze him, that he can't help but start hammering in, licking the tears off their face as he hums his theme song just for them. 

He wonders if they know all the words; the theme only airs on holiday special episodes, but they must, right? If anyone would, it's his extra special fan, and oh. Sweetie. They feel so nice and wet, what were they so nervous about? How did they keep him under so long… did they press that magnet on the floor to his head, and scramble his brains while he slept, hoping they could sneak a kiss and cuddle and leave?