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poledancingdinos · 1 day ago

Note

So you’ve mentioned this a while ago, when Y/N said she’s never enjoyed doggystyle, or it never did anything for her. Will this be included in the next chapter?

Also can we get a little tease for this part? 🥹🙊

Sure! A 1.6k tease if you would like. (smut below the cut)

“You’re tellin’ me,” he slowly says, crossing his arms, “that you ain’t never came on your hands an’ knees before?”

You bite your lip at how blunt he’s being. “I mean, c’mon, Sy, I’ve already told you that–”

“Oh, I’m fully aware the men before me didn’t amount to shit.” Sy takes the plate from you and starts drying it with a small dish-towel. In his hands, it looks like a saucer. “I’m figurin’ out more an’ more each day just how much.”

Sy puts the dry plate on the counter and then slings the damp dish-towel over his shoulder. As you start washing the next plate, he stops you. “Look at me.”

You look up at Sy and catch an expression of bewilderment and challenge on Sy’s face, and you almost smile despite being a little embarrassed. After all, you should be used to this by now. Sy talks about sex like it’s the weather when, to you, it’s still supposed to be this private, hidden thing.

“You just ain’t never had it done right, darlin’,” Sy deeply says, “and that’s gonna change.”

You twist away from the sink to finally face Sy again, and you push yourself up on the tips of your bare toes. “Promise?” you ask, smirking now, and the smolder in Sy’s eyes darkens.

With a jerk of his head to the side, Sy motions you to begin walking upstairs, and you giddily smile before you start skipping away. You only make it to the refrigerator before you feel the snapping of the dish-towel against your ass, and you gasp and instinctively cover your backside with both hands. With your mouth dropped, you look back at Sy, and he simply points to the staircase, tongue licking a smooth, wet line along his bottom lip.

Upstairs, you hop on the bed and lay on your stomach, bending your arms under a pillow and resting your head atop it. You look towards the doorway until you see Sy’s broad figure make its way into the room. When you make eye contact with him, you slightly push up your ass and wiggle it. The jeans you’re wearing are tight enough that he sees everything.

His mouth is an even line as he approaches the bed and runs his hand over the swell of your ass. “Turn around.”

You hesitate. “I thought we were gonna…do it like this,” you say before muttering nervously, “I mean, not–exactly like this. But. You know.”

“You know better’n to think I’m just gonna go to town on you, now," is his gentle reply. “Turn around, baby.”

After following directions, you look up at Sy and wait for more. It’s a very heavy silence, rapt with anticipation, but you’re not uncomfortable. Sy remains standing, just staring down at you while running his hand up and down your leg. Somehow, even though his touch is over denim, you feel naked.

“What am I gonna do with you…”

You bite your lip. “Whatever you want.”

“Baby,” he says again. “You’re so good to me.”

You shift your eyes and smile while your face heats up. You know he’s getting off on your reactions to this type of praise.

Silently, you watch as Sy wordlessly unbuttons your jeans and slides down the zipper. You push your hips up a little to assist as he tugs both sides of your pants down, and he peels them off your legs one pant-leg at a time until you’re left in just your underwear. He takes time running his hands up and down your legs again, and you spread them slightly so he can see the puffy part of your undies that he always likes to stare at. Instantly, he runs his fingers up the slit between your legs. You hitch in a quick breath.

Feeling a little impatient, you move to sit up on your knees and scoot yourself until you’re at the edge of the bed. With Sy standing up, you’re close to the same height as him, and after you lean forward and kiss him, you reach for the bottom of his shirt to start pulling it up. Sy helps you out and drops his shirt to the floor without a care.

He’s so warm. You kiss your way down his chest and then back up.

“Lay back down,” he orders after indulging for a bit, and you lick your lips and nod.

“You got quite the plan here,” you look up and murmur.

“You said it's never been good for you.” Sy carefully removes the pillow behind your head until you’re resting it just on the mattress. “I'm gonna make it good for you.”

All you can do is swallow.

“Come to the edge of the bed here, sugar.”

Obeying, you do so, and Sy continues to gently pull you until you’re situated as far on the side of the bed as you can be without falling off. When Sy unbuckles his pants and slides the zipper down, his knuckles touch your face. Your lips part as you look up at him.

You should be nervous when he pushes his boxers down next, but you’re not. But–no. You shouldn’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Sy. You continue looking up at him with a vulnerable sort of trust, and he pushes hair away from your face.

When he tugs at your shirt, you lift it over your head and drop it to the floor to join his. When he pulls at your bra-strap, that comes next.

Once you’re laying there in only your underwear, contemplating if you should take those off now, too, Sy brings his cock to your slightly-parted lips. You move your head so he can run the tip along your bottom lip, and there’s wetness there. You automatically swipe your tongue along your bottom lip to take in the taste, and he gives you a small, approving smile before he drags his cock along your upper lip next and does the same thing.

Maybe a weird thing to have an opinion on, but you think his dick is perfect. The thickness alone is so pleasing–just thick from base to tip, from where his hair starts to where he’s cut at the end, from the vein that starts at the bottom and curves to the top–just perfect. You lean your neck forward to start taking the head of his dick in your mouth.

Since you’re just suckling at this point, you lift a hand to begin to pull more fleshy skin forwards, but Sy stops you.

“Just your mouth, baby,” he whispers, and as your head stays still, you move your eyes upwards in confusion. It’s then that he takes your jaw in his left hand, his thumb in front of your ear and his fingers touching your hair, and starts to slowly push his hips forward.

Oh, my God.

Since you can’t talk, all you can do is breathe faster. Since you can’t breathe through your mouth, all of your air comes out in quick puffs through only your nostrils.

As he continues a slow, shallow rhythm inside your mouth, Sy takes your hand that he’d just removed from his shaft and guides it to the top of your underwear. When your hand is directly in between your legs, he lets go.

Your eyes widen. You don’t have any issue with touching yourself. It’s more of the doing it in front of someone else thing that you’re unsure of. The whole aspect of being watched. But when he catches onto your expression and murmurs, “It’s just you and me,” you make a tiny noise around his dick and then relax.

Closing your eyes because you know he’s watching you, you start to move your fingers on top of your underwear in any way that feels good. You match Sy’s rhythm in no time, and everything becomes hypnotizing for a bit. Soon, you’re buzzing with the desire for more, and you whine and wiggle even closer to the edge of the bed so more of Sy’s cock will fit in your mouth as he keeps fucking forward just as excrutiatingly slowly as he started.

You’re just about to dip your hand inside your underwear. That’s when he stops.

When Sy pulls out of your mouth, his cock is slippery-wet as it juts straight forward. You fight the urge to consider it neglected and to reach out to touch, something in you knowing innately that Sy wants to call the shots tonight. All you can do is watch while he moves to the end of the bed.

Sy climbs on the bed and with a grunt and slides your underwear down your legs. Manhandling you a little bit so you’re laying diagonal now, he helps you bend your legs at the knee, and he gently pushes them open. You squeeze your eyes shut after witnessing the intense look he’s got on his face while taking in your pussy.

He’d told you that he was going to make the hands-and-knees position better for you. So far, though, there’s been nothing even close to indicating that you’re going to get there any time soon. When you feel his hot tongue against your slit, you know you won’t be getting there any time soon. Gasping, you look down to find him lifting your legs over his shoulders. Automatically, your legs cross on top of Sy’s back, practically sandwiching his face between your thighs. He puts his hands on the tops of your thighs and looks directly up at you. While his tongue starts moving, you can basically read his mind. “I’m gonna make it good for you.”

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poledancingdinos · 11 days ago

Text

One chapter in and this family already got me sitting here like

The War Horse Rebellion-1

Biker Syverson x OFC Allie Hilton-Chapter 1

Synopsis: Allie Hilton is on the run. For the first time in her privileged life, she can only rely on her own wits to escape a life she was destined for, but also one that she never wanted. What happens when Allie flees as far as she can before running into a small town that just happened to be governed by a large male motorcycle fleet? Well Allie, meet the War Horse Rebellion. Put on your riding boots, it's going to be a rough ride.

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Allison “Allie” Hilton

Warnings: Verbal and Physical Abuse, Narcissistic Parents, Childhood trauma.

**This chapter is building our OFC character and her background. I promise next chapter will have more of Syverson**

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 1:

I have been driving this shitty rental car for days and needed to find a gas station before I ended up coasting on fumes when I saw the sign for Gruene. “What state am I in?” I mutter to myself quietly before remembering that I saw the sign for Texas two days ago and must still be in the giant state. I figured there must be at least one gas station in this teeny town and potentially a motel where I could stop for a few hours of rest. Last night I was only able to get a few sparse hours of sleep crunched up in the back of this Honda civic in an empty gym parking lot before getting too creeped out to keep my eyes closed longer than a few minutes.

I have never lived like this. On the run, and coasting on my own will. Having grown up in a family and household that allowed me to live a life surrounded by wealth, this was foreign territory. We are very distantly related to the grandfather of the Hilton hotel empire, but let’s not get it twisted. Much to my parents’ chagrin, we have never received anything from them other than their famous last name. My parents wanted everyone to think otherwise, so keeping up wealth and appearances became their whole personalities. My father is a corporate lawyer in Charlotte, North Carolina where he spends countless days analyzing numbers on a screen, building cases and then fighting for the rich to get richer. My mother lived the life of a socialite; spending her days shopping and gossiping with other socialites while planning large charity galas that had less to do with charity and more to do with flashing around how much money they had while soaked in the latest designer garb. My mother was obsessed with my looks as an extension of herself from the time I was born; making it a popularity contest between herself and her friends on who had the most beautiful or successful children. She only complimented me when my long blonde hair was perfectly styled, my makeup flawlessly applied, and outfits expertly compiled. She pushed me into beauty pageants before I could even walk, literally toting me across the stage, in hopes that I would become the next hometown beauty queen just like she had been. It worked for a while until I realized at fourteen that no number of crowns would satisfy my mother and refused to continue. Those pageants were the most amount of time I ever spent with my mother growing up, so I can’t complain too much. Suzy, my nanny, was my pseudo mom and the person I attribute to raising me and teaching me right from wrong. My mom fired her shortly after I turned fifteen and I was devastated. I believe she began working for a new family with several small kids so I know she was taken care of, but I lost a piece of my family that day.

If my parents even had an inkling of me sleeping in a rental car in the middle of nowhere, they’d probably disown me before the embarrassment could reach them. I blink my eyes repeatedly in an attempt to wash the exhaustion from them before I coast to a single Shell station to fill up the tank. I push my hair to the side to cover the left side of my face as much as possible before going into the gas station. I can’t use any cards because they would immediately figure out where I am and what direction I am heading, so I dig through my designer bag and fish out some of the cash I stashed for the gas, an energy drink and a snack. Looking around the town, I notice how quaint it is. There is a small restaurant, a diner, by the looks of it; a gym, a gun store, boutique, and small grocery store right on the main road. There is a church at the end of the street that seems to frame the entire town. I also notice a large sign on a building called, SandCastle, but can’t see from here what exactly that establishment is. Sitting in the car, I slowly eat my snack and think about what I’m going to do. This is the exact type of town my parents and Spencer would never look for me in. In fact, they wouldn’t get out of the car in a place like this, deeming it too unappealing to bother with. I decide to look around and slowly drive down main street where I find a motel. The entire town reminds me of a southern Schitt’s Creek and I chuckle to myself, mostly in delirium, for the first time in days as I imagine myself as Alexis, wandering into this dilapidated town and sticking out like a sore thumb. I pull up to Mattis Motel and feel a relief rolling over me at the thought of a shower and a good night’s sleep in an actual bed. This will do for tonight.

I wake up the next morning feeling completely renewed. The motel had a slight musty smell, but I could’ve cared less when I showered and laid down on the creaky bed and slept for almost 14 hours straight. My stomach began singing the song of its people which resembled a whale call and woke me up. I decided that I was going in search of a real meal. My first one I about 3 days. I wanted to take a better look at the town anyway, so I decide to attempt to eat at the diner, fittingly called “Diner”. This was the first time I’d really be out in public since everything happened, so I apply some makeup and tried to style my hair in a way to help cover the bruises. Luckily, the swelling had lessened and now I just was left with bruises in all different shades of color to attempt to cover. I took a deep breath and entered.

“Welcome Hun, find you a seat and we’ll be right with you!” I was greeted by a lovely older African American woman and I liked her immediately. I found an empty booth near the very back facing the wall so that I didn’t have to see anyone, and tried to quiet the wails of my stomach for another moment when Annie, the lady who spoke to me earlier, came by with a mug and a pot of coffee.

“Coffee?”

“God yes.” I muttered.

“You must be new. I’m Annie.”

“Hi, um. I’m Allie” I mumble whilst still attempting to keep my face partially covered.

“What brings you to Gruene? Here to stay, or are you just passing through?”

“Green? I thought it was pronounced Groo-nee.” I mutter like an idiot.

“Oh we get that all the time. It was named after a German family who established the town.”

“Got it. Well, I’m just passing through.” I offer quietly before ordering a stack of pancakes and a water to go with my coffee.

“We’re sure glad to have you. It’s not very often that we get visitors so you just holler if you need anything.” She spoke kindly and I nodded while imparting a quick hushed, “thank you.”

Spencer would’ve told me to lay off the carbs so that I don’t get fat. I push that thought from my brain and drown the pancakes in syrup when they arrive simply in spite for Spencer and my errant thoughts.

The noises of the diner all get pushed to the back of my head as I contemplate my next steps. I guess I’ll continue driving without a location in mind until I can find an apartment to rent. I need to cancel my credit cards since I can’t use them without being tracked by my parents anyway. I fully intend on moving forward completely on my own two feet and I feel grateful that I have a job that was willing to allow me to take two weeks off of work and then transition to working fully remote. Alyssa, my boss, was really understanding. That was the only light at the end of the tunnel for me.

As I eat, my mind wanders back to the catalyst that led me to leave in the first place. Spencer and my parents staged an intervention after I told a friend at a dinner function that I wasn’t ready to get married. I came home from work to find my parents in my home, with the housekeeper scurrying around in a panic.

“Sweetheart, come sit down.” In shock, I stayed standing across the coffee table from them.

“We are willing to overlook your momentary lapse in sanity. Spencer is a wealthy man who will provide everything you could ever want. He is a good fit for you. You two will get married and you will even be able to quit your job. If you’re worried about children ruining your body, we could always hire a surrogate.” My mother states indifferently like she’s ordering her ridiculously over-priced coffee. In her mind, this conversation is set in stone. I’ve always done exactly what my parents have told me to do, never bucking back at their authority. They have given me the freedom of wealth which has allowed me to go to the finest university, live in a beautiful home, drive new cars, and have all the designer clothing my mother could get her hands on. I always felt that I should obey my parents as a way to show my appreciation for being raised with such privilege. That’s the least I could do, right? The problem is that they were never actually there for me. They didn’t care about the path in life that I wanted to take, only what would make them look good. They didn’t attend dance recitals or art shows at school. I remember when I was a child and told my father that I wanted to be a teacher, he scoffed and told me it was beneath me. It took me years to realize that I only wanted to be a teacher because my teachers were the only adults other than Suzy who paid attention to me.

“You know that Spencer is set to take over his father’s banking business. He will be good match for the family and good for you. This union will be beneficial for both of our families.” My father states. Marriage is clearly only a business transaction to him. That’s why he married my mother years ago, because she came from affluence.

I find the nerve to finally speak my mind, and my parents look as though I have slapped them. “I don’t want to marry Spencer. I don’t love him.”

“What does that matter?” My mother replies starchily.

“I want to marry someone that I love. Preferably someone who loves me too and treats me well.” My voice is shaking but this conversation has been a long time coming.

“You’ll learn to love each other.” My father chides.

“I won’t. He hurt me.” My voice is small remembering when he left bruises on my arms and slapped me across the face, busting my lip, for embarrassing him at a corporate event.

“A few bruises are nothing. If you hadn’t of been such a brat at that event and embarrassed him, it wouldn’t have happened. You’d think you would know by now how to behave and network at these events. You’ve been at them since you were a teenager. His job and his reputation are most important. Sullenly sitting alone at a table and not speaking to his colleagues was no one’s fault but your own, Allison.” My mother scolds. My chin is trembling as I try to think of anything to say, when the front door opens and Spencer comes strolling in.

“Ah, it looks like I’m late to the party! I’m guessing you’re here to tell Allison the good news! We’re getting married, sweetheart.” Spencer flourishes as he makes his way in dramatically and kisses my temple. My mother preens as he places his arm over my shoulder and I can’t help but cringe. He pulls a ring box out of his pocket and places it on the coffee table nonchalantly, as if it were his car keys.

“Guess we’ll need this. Our mothers picked it out.” Spencer says as he walks to the bar cart and pours himself a drink. My mother bounces in her seat excitedly and reaches for the ring box. She opens the box and there it was. A massively gaudy ring that resembled more of an ice-skating rink than a diamond. As I still process my shock, my mother grabs my hand and shoves the ring onto my left ring finger. I looked down at it and it seemed that I was the only one who felt like this was all out of place. My dad shook hands with Spencer as they began pouring champagne that someone, likely Maria, had placed on ice. My mother began speaking a mile a minute about wedding coordinators and venues as well as potential dress ateliers.

“I’m sorry, did I miss the part where you asked me to marry you?”

My mother nervously chuckled while side eyeing me like I was a child who just made a foolish comment.

“Well, sweetheart, we’ve been together almost two years now. I think it’s more than time for you to become Mrs. Spencer Elliott. We’ll have a big grand wedding with everyone there. It’ll be great.” He chuckles.

“No.” I breathe. Spencer tilts his head with a smirk.

“I don’t want to get married.” I try to find the conviction to stand up for myself but my voice shakes.

“Don’t be silly!” My mom chides. “Of course, you do. You always dreamed of getting married as a little girl.”

“I don’t want to marry you, Spencer.” I say a bit louder.

“Lillie, James, if you don’t mind giving us some time to talk this over. I’m sure she’s just in shock. We’ll call you first thing in the morning. I think Allison and I just need to get on the same page. Weddings and engagements can be a lot of stress on a bride. Looks like we might have a bridezilla on our hands.” Spencer charms. My eyes are wide and rimmed with tears as my parents gather their belongings and pull me towards them for a brief goodbye hug.

“Don’t ruin this, Allison. We will cut you off for good if you make the wrong choice here.” My dad threatens in my ear. Spencer still stands coolly with a glass of champagne in his hand a cocky smirk on his face.

The silence was loud as he finished off the rest of the champagne in his glass. The weight of the ring on my left hand felt as if it was made of boulder instead of diamond and I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that. I realize that was harsh. I just, I don’t think I’m the right fit for you. You would be better off with someone who could conform to the perfect trophy wife and blindly follow you around at all of your work functions. I think we both know we haven’t been happy for a while. I’m so sorry.” I flinch at the sound of glass shattering as the crystal champagne flute splinters into shards when it contacts the living room wall. Spencer marches up to me and I instinctively back up until I hit the wall. I’m grateful that I didn’t have the opportunity to remove my shoes when I arrived home as the glass crunches under my heels.

“It’s cute that you think you have a choice. I’m the best you’re ever going to get, sweetheart. You are lucky to be with a man like me. I don’t know why you suddenly think you have control here but let me make it simple for you. We are going to get married in six months. Your parents will pay for an extravagant wedding and honeymoon, while my parents have offered to buy us a mansion down the street from them. You will quit your job and have at least two children. My dad will retire in the next five years and hand the business over to me.”

“But that’s not what either of us want, Spencer.” I say as tears spill over my eyelids and streak down my face.

“No shit, but my dad chose you because your dad is the best corporate lawyer in the business and for some reason he likes you. He says you’re a cute little thing who will make pretty babies and age well if you take after your mom. Dad will only hand me the business if I am married and present myself as a “family man.” It makes me more appealing to the board or some shit.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively while towering over me and pressing me further against the wall. I swear, he gets off on making me feel small.

“Your parents have agreed to this arrangement, so it’s time to get on board. My dad and I got the most expensive ring that they had so I don’t know what more you want from me. I’m giving you the dream life and you’re just an ungrateful bitch. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place?” He says as he grows angrier.

“This isn’t my dream. I am not going to marry you, Spencer. I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I want for my life.” I felt the first hit across my face before realizing my face was suddenly on the cold hardwood floor. I knew he was yelling but my auditory senses seemed to shut down as I attempted to protect myself. I remember curling in on myself in the fetal position as each blow came until I gratefully passed out when my head was lifted by my hair and slammed back down into the hard floor. When I woke, Maria was crying as she gently wiped the blood from my face. Spencer was nowhere in sight. The glass shards were all over the floor and some were embedded into my arms and legs beneath my skirt from where I lay. My own blood stained my white blouse and drenched the floor. That was the moment I knew. The life I knew had to end, and I had to get out of here, right now. In doing so, I had to leave everything and everyone behind.

#captain syverson

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