#Inspired by how I get over stimulated

[alitteraladhdmess]

sometimes

hearing other people talk

is overstimulating

it’s ok to take a break

[fruittt-punchhh]

thinking abouuuuuut somno w needy! toji

but needy! toji specifically in the middle of the night and like he’s so tiiiired and desperate and ugh. I have a thing for needy, desperate, tired men pls lay off of me. Inspired by @theobsidianempress

needy! toji who wakes up hard behind you in your oh so tiny pajama shorts, warm legs tangled in his as you subconsciously push your hips further into him.

needy! toji who seemed to wake up most nights around this time, almost like his body was on an internal clock set to go off when you looked your best, all tired and a peaceful as you dream your night away.

needy! toji who never wore anything to bed besides a chain and his ring, which made your cute shuffling in the bed a problem for his now half-hard cock.

needy! toji who had fucked you once twice today, once in the morning before he left for work and once after dinner. but his appetite was never satiated when it came to you.

needy! toji who wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he grabs a handful of your tit, kneading it as he grinds into your ass.

needy! toji who was now going to take full advantage of this ‘free use’ bullshit you mentioned to him a few days back.

needy! toji who tries to be gentle, tries to keep you asleep as he satisfies you. his large, rough hands rub circles on your clit as you shift in bed, breathing heavy - unbeknownst to you.

needy! toji who dares to see how far he can take things before you wake, playfully biting your shoulder, sucking on the soft skin as he chuckles to himself when you let a quiet whine slip.

needy! toji who pulls your left leg up over his, up and out of the way so he can fish his big hands down the back of your shorts like the nasty bastard he was - shoving two of his thick fingers into your already soaked pussy from behind as soon as he finds your entrance.

needy! toji who debates finger fucking you until you wake up, deciding against it so he can hear your sweet, muffled noises when he finally pushes his throbbing cock inside of you.

needy! toji who lets a whine slip with the knowledge that you’re still asleep, so beautifully stimulated by your tight, gummy walls. needy! toji who doesn’t understand how you’re still so tight after being fucked twice already today. needy! toji who doesn’t understand how you’re still asleep.

needy! toji who didn’t realize you’ve been awake since his hands snuck under your waistband.

needy! toji who gets three full thrusts in before you’re pushing back into him with a giggle as he fills you sooo snug to the brim.

needy! toji who pushes you roughly onto your stomach once he realizes your little trick, trapping both of your legs tightly between his so he can fuck you mean like he’s wanted to all day.

needy! toji who had to be gentle this morning because you were ‘tiiiiired’ and needy! toji who let you ride him until he was spraying your insides white after dinner. needy! toji who hasn’t had the chance all day to take you like he needs, letting you get your way two too many times.

needy! toji who shoves your head into your pillow, ruffling your hair up purposefully because he’s such a meanie. “been waiting - hah.. for this, little girl” he says, the sharp jabs of his hips bringing you close to your orgasm already.

needy! toji who can’t believe how wrapped around your finger he is, can’t believe he let you fuck him how you wanted earlier today. needy! toji who can’t believe he even had any resolve to stop himself from fucking you how you deserved earlier. “been.. so.. fuckin’.. nice.. all.. goddamn.. day” he spits, each word punctuated by an aggressive, deep, slow thrust that left you breathless.

needy! toji who can’t believe how close he is already, thinking he’d be good to go for hours with how much he’s cum already today. “fuck you y/n.. your stupid.. perfect pussy’s gonna make me bust too quick,”

needy! toji who bucks into you faster now, staring at how the fat of your ass jiggles and bounces with each thrust as you yelp into your pillow. “yeah - that’s it. cum on me, squeeze me.. milk me, ma,” he begs, forcing the words out as he feels you clamp down on his length.

needy! toji who’s mad at how tight you get, mad at how dripping wet you are, mad at how incredible you look, mad at the cute noises you make, mad at how you have him so vulnerable in the moment.

needy! toji who’s mad because he knows - gun to his head, he couldn’t pull out. knife to his neck even, it’d take an act of god to pull him from your precious cunt.

needy! toji whose voice pitches up an octave or two as he cums, bearing his full body weight on your back, pumping so rough into you as you milk him dry.

needy! toji who tells you to use your shirt to clean up as he rolls back over, already snoring before you’ve got up to use the restroom.

[solxamber]

I wonder how would everyone in twst deal with shapeshifter!reader that shapeshifts according to the emotions they feel, kinda like penny from amazing world of gumball (mouse for fear, Medusa if they are angry, dragon when furious, etc.)

Shapeshifter! Reader shifts according to emotions

hi! thank you for the request, I'm not familiar with amazing world of gumball so if this is not what you wanted, you can let me know <3

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, he’s baffled by your transformations. When he catches you breaking a rule, and you suddenly shrink into a mouse out of fear, he goes redder than his own dorm’s color scheme. “This isn’t in the rule book!” he shouts, trying to keep a straight face while pointing at your tiny, squeaking form. "Get back here! I wasn’t that scary!"

Ace Trappola:

"This is hilarious!" Ace cackles when you transform into a chicken after a jump scare prank he pulls. "Every time you freak out, I’m gonna get free eggs!" He starts carrying around a list of emotions and their potential animal counterparts just to mess with you. He’s particularly fond of when you turn into something inconvenient at the worst moments.

Deuce Spade:

He panics when you become a snake after he accidentally insults you. "W-Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you! I swear I respect you!" Deuce waves his arms frantically, but the snake version of you doesn’t look impressed. Eventually, he ends up apologizing to a tree you slithered up, hoping for forgiveness.

Cater Diamond:

"Oh my Sevens, this is prime Magicam content!" Cater says, snapping pictures every time you transform. “You’re a walking meme factory!” He probably starts a hashtag dedicated to your transformations: #EmoshiftGoals. No matter the situation, he’s there to document your form, even if you’re a giant octopus stuck in a doorway.

Trey Clover:

Trey is unphased, which only makes it worse. "You’re a dragon, huh? Well, would you still like some pastries?" He offers you a cupcake while you’re snarling as a massive fire-breathing lizard. Somehow, his calm demeanor just makes you feel more ridiculous, and you shapeshift back out of sheer embarrassment.

Leona Kingscholar:

He’s absolutely done with it when you shapeshift into something large and ridiculous, like a lion that rivals him in size. "Seriously? That’s how you deal with anger?" he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes and turning away. “You’re going to destroy the dorm, herbivore. Quit roaring at me before I kick you out.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sees dollar signs whenever you transform. “Yo, if you turn into a rare animal, I can sell tickets!” He’s already plotting ways to exploit your shapeshifting for his own gain, offering to “protect” you in exchange for some madols. You’re too busy struggling not to turn into a weasel from frustration.

Jack Howl:

He respects your ability, but he’s mildly concerned when you shift into a rhino after a workout, clearly overwhelmed by how sore you are. "Hey, I get the effort, but don’t take down the gym equipment with your horns," Jack warns, not knowing how to help while you smash everything in sight. It’s all part of “getting swole,” right?

Azul Ashengrotto:

He’s actually kind of jealous of your ability. When you transform into something like a Medusa during a heated negotiation, Azul’s glasses slip down his nose. “Let’s keep calm, shall we?” he says nervously, trying to maintain his cool. He starts drafting up a contract for your transformation abilities, hoping to exploit your forms to boost the Monstro Lounge’s appeal.

Jade Leech:

Fascinated. When you shift into a giant squid out of excitement for finding a rare mushroom with him, Jade’s eyes gleam with interest. “How intriguing... I wonder if your emotions could inspire even rarer forms.” He offers you “stimulating” experiences to study your shapeshifting, but he’s just looking for an excuse to see your dragon form again.

Floyd Leech:

He’s your biggest fan. Every time you shift into something, Floyd is there, demanding to “see the big one” — aka your dragon form. “Come on, let me fight ya while you’re a dragon! It’ll be fun!” You’d think being a massive fire-breathing lizard would scare him, but nope. He’s more excited.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim finds your ability endlessly fun. “Whoa, you’re a parrot now! That’s amazing!” He just claps and laughs every time you transform, not even fazed when you accidentally turn into a giant elephant during a banquet. “This is the best party ever!” He starts planning parties around your emotions just to see what you turn into next.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil’s patience is tested when you shapeshift into an overly dramatic form every time you get slightly annoyed. You turn into a cobra when he criticizes your cooking, and he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I don’t have time to deal with this. Can’t you at least stay human for five minutes?" You hiss in reply.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s irritation reaches an all-time high when he realizes you can shapeshift into ethereal, otherworldly beings, making even him feel average. The moment you turn into an angelic being, radiating beauty, he stares in stunned silence before murmuring, "I’m not envious... but perhaps you could tone it down? You’re stealing the spotlight."

Rook Hunt:

Obsessed. Rook is utterly captivated by your ability and considers it a masterpiece of emotional expression. "Magnifique!" he exclaims every time you transform, sketchbook in hand. He spends hours praising your forms in flowery French, even when you’re just a tiny bunny hiding in a corner from Vil’s glare.

Epel Felmier:

Epel is torn between awe and jealousy when you become a giant bear in a fit of anger. “Dang it, I wanna be that big!” He tries to rile you up just to see your more fearsome forms, hoping to get some tips on how to be more intimidating. When you become a giant stag beetle, he’s both inspired and a little scared.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s both fascinated and terrified by your shapeshifting. “You’re basically a walking, talking MMORPG character with transformation hacks,” he mutters, eyes wide as you morph into a Cerberus when angry. He pulls out his tablet, muttering, "Okay, let’s not piss them off anymore, or it’s game over for me."

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho, on the other hand, is super excited about your ability. “Brother! They’ve turned into a griffin! How cool is that?” He scans you with his sensors and starts rattling off facts about your transformations like a walking encyclopedia. He keeps asking for data on each shift, even if you’re currently a three-headed dog chewing through a chair.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus is unsurprisingly unfazed. “Ah, you’ve become a dragon,” he muses when you turn into a fearsome beast out of fury. "How... nostalgic." He gives you pointers on how to properly roar and fly, treating your transformation as a normal Tuesday. “Let me know if you’d like some pointers on being a more regal dragon.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds it hilarious when you shapeshift uncontrollably. "Ah, such youthful vigor!" he says, clapping as you morph into a bat out of anxiety. He starts comparing your forms to his own transformations, occasionally pranking you just to see what you’ll turn into. When you become a spider, he dangles from the ceiling, poking fun at your eight legs.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek yells in disbelief whenever you turn into anything he deems less than “worthy.” “You turned into a sheep? Preposterous! That’s no form for someone in the presence of Lord Malleus!” But when you shift into a dragon, he practically throws himself at your feet. “At last! A proper transformation!”

Silver:

Silver just... naps through most of your transformations. You could be a raging tiger, and he’d probably sleep through it. When he wakes up and finds you in some new form, he just rubs his eyes and says, “Oh, you’re a phoenix now? That’s cool,” before falling asleep again.

Crowley: "This is a rare magical ability!" Crowley says, trying to use your talents to bolster the school's reputation. He wants you to shapeshift during big events, but every time you’re stressed, you turn into a giant tortoise and refuse to move. He’s not thrilled.

Trein: He lectures you on controlling your emotions to prevent transformations, but even he’s secretly amused when you turn into a kitten after falling asleep in his class. He just sighs and lets you nap on the desk.

Crewel: When you shift into a ferocious wolf during an argument, Crewel just nods approvingly. "Good, good. Use that tenacity!" He’s secretly proud of your feral forms but won’t admit it outright.

Vargas: “A shapeshifter, huh?” Vargas immediately makes you part of every athletic event, hoping you’ll turn into something big and fast. When you become a cheetah, he practically cheers. “That’s what I like to see! Speed and power! Keep it up!" He starts using your transformations as a benchmark for the rest of the class, causing you to shift into an armadillo out of sheer stress from his overenthusiasm.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo: He tries to maintain his usual calm and collected demeanor, but every time you shapeshift into something bizarre like a raven when you’re feeling anxious around him, he gets increasingly frustrated. “This is not an excuse for chaos,” he mutters through gritted teeth. But when you morph into a seraphim in a fit of anger, glowing and majestic, Rollo's attitude shifts to discomfort mixed with awe. “We need... order, not divine intervention.”

Masterlist

[bluemari23]

inspiration || min yoongi

summary: you had been called to your soulmates studio for "inspiration" and walked into an unexpected but not unwelcomed situation. pairing: yoongi x reader genre: smut warnings: mr tongue technology himself, pussy eating, clothes ripping, face sitting, overstimulation masterlist

To be honest, you're not exactly sure how you got into this position. You were just supposed to come to the studio to help your boyfriend with his mental block. You were just supposed to come and give him inspiration. That was it.

"C'mon baby girl." You looked at your boyfriend, laying down on the couch in his studio. He was motioning you toward him, his hand waving you in his direction.

"Hi baby. What do you need me for?" You can't help but ask him, not sure what inspiration you can be for him and his music. You didn't feel inspirational and was confused by his text message.

"Come here baby. Come sit." You slowly move forward, now noticing the smirk on Yoongi's lips, knowing he was up to something.

Once you make it close enough, Yoongi pulls you forward, towards his face until you have to catch yourself on the top of the couch. You were know kneeling over his chest and had a good idea of what your boyfriend wanted you to do.

"Yoongi, this is your studio. What if someone comes in?" You try to talk your way out of it, not exactly feeling comfortable knowing anyone with the code could come in.

"Don't worry baby." Yoongi groans out as he rips the bottom of your leggings, your underwear now on display. "I locked the door with my phone when you came in. No one will see my pretty baby while I pleasure her."

You don't even have a chance to say anything else before he rips your underwear as well and pulls you to his mouth.

You squeal at the feeling of his lips on you as he groans at the taste of you finally on his tongue.

Yoongi had been having an off day, really. He had a deadline for the song he was working on, and couldn't come up with anything worthy of having the stamp 'Produced by Suga" on it.

He couldn't help but to think of you, knowing his best songs that are beloved by Army were thought of when he was with you. So, he texted you, already coming up with a way to get the inspiration he needed.

Plus, he loved being with you and watching your face when you come on his tongue is his favorite thing.

"Yoongi" You whine out, moving one of your hands to grip at his hair, pulling it as you writhe on his tongue. He only moans at the feeling of you pulling his hair, moving his tongue up your slit to suck at your clit.

"Please please please" You plead, not even knowing what you were asking for, but Yoongi did. He knew exactly what you wanted and always knew how to caress your body to the tune of his inner song.

He moved back a little, giving you a little reprieve before diving back in, licking a long stipe up your slit before moving back down, pressing his tongue against your cunt, in and out while his nose nudged against your slit. He knew you loved when he did this, the stimulation helping you to orgasm.

He helped you move your hips, riding his lips as he tried to prolong your orgasm, loving the sounds you made. He could practically feel your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

This- this was the inspiration he needed.

Once the overstimulation kicked in, he pulled you back, your tired body now sitting and falling onto his chest from exhaustion.

"Thank you baby. That was just what I needed." Yoongi sighed out, helping you to actually lay on his chest and pulling the blanket he kept on the couch over you.

[satoruhour]

a/n: boss moved a few days ago and i got so much inspiration just from one of the movers calling her 美女 WOW !

warnings: perv!geto, mover!geto, reader has a deadbeat husband boooo, gojo listens in i guess? sex in a TRUCK, cheating, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, p -> v penetration, unprotected sex, doggy, chokehold, creampie / breeding kink, panty stealing, n*sfw under the cut

thinking about…

mover!geto who gets notified on a job to some suburban neighbourhood to assist in a move, known for his fast team of workers and efficient way of packing. he’s surprised when he’s connected to a woman’s voice, greeting him cheerfully before setting up a meeting.

mover!geto who finds his eyes flicking down to get a look at your tits when he reaches your place, accentuated by the low cleavage of the sundress you’re donning in this heat. you’re also sneaking glances at the other, eyes travelling over his inked arms and tied hair but geto doesn’t notice because your voice is even more hypnotic in person, bringing him into the house to show the various furniture that’s about to be packed up. by now he already would’ve mapped out the best way to transport everything out, but the way your hips sway and your ass looks makes him giddy.

mover!geto who lies and says he needs a few more visits to your house to finalise everything, noting down how your husband treats you like crap, bosses you around and does nothing but laze around all day. and so he slips in little hints, your husband should get into guiness from how much he sits in front of the tv, and initiates small brushes of his fingers on yours, a hand on your back as he passes.

mover!geto who calls you with a pretty girl! when he needs to know which furniture to bring and which to dispose of, making your heart skip a beat — because how else would you react when there’s an attractive man in a bun with arms decorated with tattoos calls you? all the while his jumps from how quickly you answer, scampering over to him to nod with your bright eyes and big smile, no matter how shitty your husband was being. you truly didn’t know what you did to him, mind wandering to wanting to see your breasts bounce in his face while he flipped up your dress to fuck you.

mover!geto who orders another truck to be brought to your old home, getting confused looks from his workers when everything could already fit except for a few small things and he doesn’t tell them it’s already on the way with his best friend in the front seat. and of course your husband is ready to make his way to the new home immediately to continue doing nothing, leaving the both of you.

“you got everything?” geto asks, prompting you to look around at the barren house, a place once filled with love which turned sour and stagnant, but now is no place for those memories, nodding with a soft smile towards geto who only guides you out the front door.

“yep, think so. thanks again, geto-san!” the move only shoots you a small grin, and asks you to call him suguru instead, helping you to carry the smaller chairs and items for the last truck, noticeably smaller than the others. he stretches out a hand for you to ride at the back of the truck, almost collapsing from how soft your hands felt. if only he could feel them around his cock. his best friend, gojo, who’s also from the moving company shoots a salute in greeting, predicting what’s coming with a knowing look in his eyes as he slides the partition close.

mover!geto who has you on your back a few minutes after the truck takes off for the new house, you clutching onto the cling wrap for some stability while the long-haired mover laps at your clit, large, rough hands spreading your legs further and further while your moans echo throughout the large truck. you’re getting wet so easily as your body shakes from the sensitivity, feeling the other grin between your legs.

“feeling good, pretty girl?” you manage a whimper, knuckles turning white from how tightly you were balling your fists and he simply grabs them, keeping his eyes on you as he places them on his hair, already all unkempt.

“use me, baby,” geto groans lowly when you pull just slightly to see his face better, barely seeing the glint in his eyes and the shine of your arousal on his face in the dark truck, “use me like you fuckin’ mean it.”

all suguru can do is groan out when you push him down onto your pussy, continuing his abuse on your puffy clit while you grind your hips into his face, clearly unsatisfied with your husband. your mover’s tongue just feels so damn good on your neglected core that you can’t care about consequences right at this moment, gasping in surprise at the finger that draws circles around your hole. 

“cleaned it earlier, don’t worry that pretty lil head of yours, okay?” geto reassures as you nod, obsessed with the way your cunt sucks his thick finger in so easily. it pulses around its tip, feeling your thigh shake beneath his hand while it’s pushed right to its hilt. you’ve never reached this deep with your own, body already craving more when it moves against him. 

“oh, needy baby. bet your husband doesn’t do shit, hm?” you pout and shake your head, hand closing around his wrist to get him to move and he chuckles, barely warning you before he inserts a second finger slowly. the stretch feels so good and you whine with a tug to his hair that’s already falling apart, breathless moans leaving your mouth.

“he’s shit,” you have to calm yourself before you mumble, a hand goes through his hair, eyes fluttering close when geto starts to move his fingers, “shit at everything.” geto coos at that, head dripping back down and the combination of his tongue and his fingers make your eyes roll back, lips finally muttering out a suguru and geto moans into your perfect little pussy, loving the way you tense and clench around him.

mover!geto who gets a knock on the partition, fifteen minutes, gojo says and geto has you on your hands and knees quicker than you can blink, easing into your warm, dripping pussy with his hard cock. he sighs in relief when he’s finally in you, willing himself not to cum like a virgin just from being in your cunt.

“s— suguru… s’big…” you moan out, head hanging low as you feel the pain morph into pleasure and you’re moving your hips back onto his. geto still has to catch his breath for a minute, but the way you turn behind to look at him with teary eyes and downturned eyebrows and with a desperate plea, “show me how much you’ve been wanting me, suguru,” geto snaps his hips into yours, a loud groan leaving his lips at how wet your cunt is, essence dripping right from your core onto the truck.

“i’ll show you, pretty baby,” he starts a pace, waist bruised from how tight he holds them while he fucks into you. you’re just as tight and warm as he imagined, and pliant, too, cock twitching in you when he sees how obediently you take it. “show you how fucking much i’ve been meaning to bury my cock in you.”

“c’mon, spread your cheeks for me, mama,” geto whispers, a whimper leaving him when you do just that and he has a front row seat to your wet cunt sucking him in so well while he slams into you like an animal, not caring at the way your face brushes up against the harsh bottom of the truck, mouth going limp with multiple mewls filling the space.

“oh— fuck yes!! right there, right t—there suguruuu…” a hand goes to rub at your clit and the sensation sends you reeling, along with the musky smell of sex in the air and the pap! pap! pap! of geto’s hips against yours. you can hear just how wet you are from the way geto rams into you, pre-cum and your juices mixing and squelching each time his length disappears into you. he yanks you up, looping an arm around your neck and another ’round your waist, the arch of your back allowing the other to go deeper.

“cumming, s’guru, i’m gonna cum—” everything is hazy and blurred from how good geto sinks into you paired with the irregular bumps of the truck on the road, lightheaded already from the chokehold he has you in. the truck goes over a bump suddenly and the thick cock inside you hits a spot that has your eyes reaching the skies, a loud, choked moan leaving your lips before it gets swallowed up by geto’s, his hand turning your head to meet his.

“good fuckin’ girl,” geto says breathlessly into your mouth, “give me all your cum, darlin’.”  

your whole body is on fire, breaking off the kiss momentarily to whine out profanities until geto’s asking, delirious, “where do you want me to cum, baby?”

and your primal need to be bred takes over, crying out now with tears lining your face as your body still jerks from the mindblowing orgasm. “inside suguru— i-inside, please—!”

suguru just grunts out at your plea, body also reaching his limit before he stills and he reaches his high, shivering behind you as he spurts hot cum deep into your cunt, spilling and overloading until your pussy’s full of his seed. he feels fulfilled, hissing when your hole clenches around him one last time, removing his cock from you slowly.

“keep it in ya, yeah?” geto grins just as the truck begins to slow down and you’re scrambling to appear decent while there’s the hot flow of your mover’s cum dripping out of your pussy, stifling a smile when you see your undies tucked at the back at his pocket and an instruction that if you want it back, you’re gonna have to find me in the toilet and let me fuck you full of my cum again.

mover!geto who finally gets you wrapped around his finger just like he’ll get you wrapped around his cock many, many more times after this.

[swaqcenix]

The Devil was an Angel First | N. Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x fem!stripper reader

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Summary: It was a risk and a job worth taking, simply use your ability to seduce to earn enough money to get you your university degree. Yet you didn't anticipate the owner of the strip-club to take a significant interest in you, but what can she do? As soon as Natasha saw you, you were hers.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x!fem stripper reader, employee x boss, forbidden romance

Warnings: 18+, slight dark!natasha romanoff, manipulation, strip-teasing, lap-dancing, pole-dancing, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (n to r), mommy kink, strap-on, choking,degrading, over-stimulation, handcuffs and toys, reader is easily manipulated!

Word Count: 9K

AN: This is heavily inspired by the song Pray by Xana, you could listen to it while reading this to get an extra bit of the atmosphere ;)) Also I wil be taking small requests or drabbles for this specific fic/pairing as I'm secretly addicted to this concept.. (not so secretly.)

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Slipping amongst the crowds, your eyes dart around the room as the sounds of the club itself echo through your body. The lighting was illuminating each corner of the room, but stopping in certain bleak shadow's contrasting well with those who put on a performance.

The smell of slick sweat and hot bodies mingling through the room made your nose twitch through instinct and it was around this time your mind was wondering whether this was the right call.

University had been always your major goal in life, pass through High-school get your qualifications and your grades, just don't fuck up. For most of your life you'd remained hidden in the shadows, contempt to live life remaining hidden away while the flashlight of beams hit the sky's ground touching everything but yourself.

Yet apparently life deemed it not apparent that this was the case for you. Instead when your family collided into debuts and the household becoming a simply standing memory of what once was and never could be's you knew the longing for snatching your degree's up in higher education was slipping like fog and air through your fingers.

Would that be a common knowledge concept and reality to turn towards darker paths? Well, darker in regards to your family's eye-line anyway. You simply saw it as an opportunity for people who enjoyed doing things their own way, their own style and didn't wish to follow into the lights of the sky like others we're unique.

Your family wouldn't be appreciating your actions but it didn't matter. It realistically couldn't no matter how much they perhaps frowned at the idea. You could perhaps go into depth of how it wasn't selling your body but allowing it to be seen, allowing others to get a taste of the salt and the the aroma of flavours their hearts desire, but never fully satisfied.

Pole-Dancing wasn't something you'd be opposed to doing by any means. Watching the way they drift through the air, holding onto the bar with such pristine confidence and high agility hit your stomach in all the right ways. Nimble and soft fingers holding onto the pole with such grace their body's dancing into the fire of the night, other's moving with grace and affirmation.

The men and women watching their every action their every step with such a wide eye their lustful thoughts screaming with such a power your own ears rang. Black stiletto's clinging to the poles with a strength that made you doubt your own abilities despite having the darkest of secrets lingering on thoughts.

Quiet girls always tend to have the deepest of desires, the fieriest of personality. The set determination on being quiet, being forgotten and not wanting to be seen always portrays just how difficult life could dance around in a sea of wonder and mystery.

The air smelt so much of blood sweat and tears, the smoke driving the fuel into everyone's body, an ignition lighting up. You turned towards the bar deciding to opt on a drink, probably a hardcore whiskey if you wanted to get through this alive and sane, the burning feeling would ground you heavily to reality.

Turning on your heels, your contrasting deep-blood heels clacked heavily on the floor, treading with a walk that helped you do the one thing you'd avoided doing. Being seen.

Eyes watched, heads tilted and words of whisper drifted across the room as you brought the attention away from the other worker's sensing some hard glares and other longing looks. It was no secret you had the looks, it was just never in your cards, not your line of sight, but the devil didn't always play with fire until pushed within the flames.

"Whiskey neat please," your voice was firm and held no conversation for an argument.

The barman glanced at you and you simply watched as his eyes glanced at you, looking you up and down. You could practically feel the budge in his pants grow from here and the self-refraining you were doing from rolling your eyes was repulsing.

You weren't about to start off your first time in this place by pissing off the men you could encounter more often in telling them you not into indulging in their acts. Explaining to men who couldn't understand the word no when it comes to simply not being interested in them was not a path you cared to go down for the time being, instead settling on biting your tongue.

Sure, it didn't mean you couldn't make some impressions around here though. You'd already made a rather splendid entrance by sauntering around capturing lingering eyes of the men and women which allowed your red tinted lips to tilt upwards.

The barman worked nimbly, his hands being heavy but not without meaning as he flipped bottles around like he was performing an act. Normally this would entice most women to jump for joy and use some ogle eyes towards him. However, you were in fact not most women, you simply walked through the world of shadows until you decided to finally allow the light to kiss your skin in all the right areas.

He slowly slid the drink down to you as you tossed him the dollar bills owed and sauntered off in means to find the owner of this establishment. The music moved above you like puppet's on a string as you did your best to try and move through the blinding strobe lights and bodies mingling into one.

Guessing that the owner would find you before you found them, your body decided to make it's way over to a table waiting for them to arrive with introductions, you crossed your legs simply playing with the bottom of the whiskey glass, swirling it around for play as you chucked it down your throat.

The feeling of the burn hit you instantly and you squinted for a moment before a heavy sigh escaped the opening of your lips leaning back in the chair once again becoming one with the shadows. Besides the demons in everyone else's heads seemed to be having their own rituals one of which you weren't enticed on indulging in such acts.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you. Doing well to not attract attention you glanced through your glass trying to picture who was approaching and a flash of red curls took through the reflection.

Your lips tilted upwards in a mischievous smirk as you leaned back in your seat, a feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. Your mind wandered as you presumed the mystery woman was approaching ready to allure you into sinful acts of seduction and dance through desire into the night.

Instead, what was not predicted was the black stiletto heels coming to a stand still right behind your table, a hot and heavy breath lingering in your ear. Your body tensed and you felt the smirk dripping from the woman behind you as you tilted your head turning around to be met with someone who should be the devil in disguise, one to lure you entirely out of the shadows and touch the fires to ignite you entirely.

"You must be Y/N. Y/LN. I am Natasha Romanoff, Miss Romanoff to you. Owner of Desiring ignition. I will interview you in the back rooms if you don't mind?" her voice asking a question but orders slipping from the sinful tongue.

Your body moved before your lips did and you found yourself following after the redhead like an obedient dog, for a minute forgetting yourself entirely and not thinking, just acting like a string was tugging you along.

Her red hair was distinctive even against the darkened tone of the room, the lights dimming in and out didn't affect it as it shone like fire and ash, the devil reincarnated you knew. Her hips swayed with an intent to drive a man wild but in a way she didn't wish for any of them, simply alluding to her own intoxicating beauty, poison and toxic.

The eyes followed you both and you scampered after her down a neon-purple hallway, the colour's almost blinding you within a trance. Finding your bearings you knew you'd need to pull yourself together if you wanted this job so decided to play in the same game, the same chess board. Play with the devil.

Her hands clasped tightly around the handle as Miss Romanoff lead you into what you presumed to be her office before shutting the door behind her. The noise seemed to almost be drowned out now, as though she'd installed noise cancellation into her office.

Your eyes scanned the room trying to analyse and get anything you could on this woman. You'd always liked to get to know someone through their surroundings and what that said person associates themselves with, especially if it works in your favour.

The office itself was dimly lit but well cleaned and decorated minimally. To your left there was a desk, mahogany coloured with 2 chairs on ether side, the desk holding files that your eyes couldn't capture from the distance you stood. A solemn picture held itself strongly on the desk of what you could make out to be a younger blonde woman, perhaps the same age as you or a couple years older.

The redhead nodded her head towards the chair on the other side of her desk, before sitting down on a black leather one herself. Even sat down in the dimly lit office you could tell she was a woman of business, not one to be meddled with nor to cross without paying the price which for yourself was bad given your track record of loving to stir the pot.

Her eyes lingered over your own for a while examining you, looking you up and down in a way your body almost jolted at the sheer intensity of her gaze. Not wanting to keep the older woman wanting any longer, your feet moved on the own accord sitting down on the chair opposite of her. Her posture was still up straight, impossibly held and elegant opposite of your own.

"So," she began by looking through your files as though you'd be arrested under a warrant issued for the most wanted criminal.

"You've got good grades from schools, a track record of not seeming to show herself within public eye and even held debates and meetings within clubs. Your jobs previously consist of coffee shops and waiting so what exactly is it you have to offer here," she stated her voice was laced with disdain and annoyance.

"Well that's correct yes, but I have goals in life and things I need to achieve. I can't get there without doing this first, trust me it's a last resort," you replied cringing inwardly at your response.

It was a stupid mistake you'd created by saying this job was a last resort. That would be the last thing this goddess of a pain was waiting to hear, especially when wanting to employ you. You'd fucked up royally but like she stated, you had a tendency for debate clubs and there was nothing better you were good at than worming you way into or out of situations.

Her eyebrows shot upwards at your response and you watched with fear as the redhead perused her lips together eyeing you once again with a look of utter irritation.

"So you see us as a last resort?" She asked stiffly.

"No, nothing like that-" you tried to reason but her hand waved in the air dismissing your comment before you'd began.

"Y/L/N. Do you know how many people come here asking for jobs hm?" Her head titled to the side lips twitching while watching you squirm.

"No..."

"Over 200. How many do you reckon we employ exactly?"

The venom and toxic poison in her voice almost sent you spiralling you couldn't help but feel entirely hooked on it. Yet the feeling in your mind told you to run, leave before you headed down the road of embarrassment and utter danger.

"I'm not sure, Miss Romanoff," you voice was surprisingly even for someone being scolded in a private office room.

"The answer is 4% out of those 200 get employed. Yet, a silly girl like you walks along struts in like she owns the fucking place and says it's a last resort," she taps her finger on the side of her face mockingly.

"No.. I can dance and I'm incredibly talented on a pole," you tried to reason but she once again shushed you in a dismissive tone.

"You're dismissed off you go," she shooed you off and your legs stood by themselves your mind no longer in control of your body.

As your body walked towards the door head daring not to look back your hands went towards the door handle, before lingering on the metal for a moment. Your mind danced away thinking of thoughts and how you couldn't give up so easily. You came in this bar, this strip-club looking for a job and you'd be damned to go without one. Sure the woman behind you was a stole cold bitch, but she came with fire. You had the gasoline to set this place alight.

Turning on your heels, you faced the older woman who went from looking down at her files with disinterest to whipping her head up. Miss Romanoff tilted her head to the side as you approached with a surge of confidence that you didn't know you had running through your veins setting your blood alight. Your body leaning over her desk you smirked as she watched and you could sense her tense beneath you.

"Let me show you what I can do," your voice was whispered with sultry and laced with such confidence that was missing moments ago.

The redhead thought for a moment, her lips twitching ever so slightly at the sides before tilting up. She removed herself from her chair carrying her composure elegantly as ever before entering your personal space.

"Be my guest, show me what you can do," she smirked.

Before you could even blink, Miss Romanoff snatched your hand and lead you out of her office towards one of the unoccupied rooms. The sparks you felt when her hand clasped your hand and rising towards your wrist jolted your stomach giving you somersault's.

She on the other hand, snatched her hand away as quickly as she took it and you weren't sure why that caused such a sting within you. The older woman wasn't required to touch you in any way, but her response was as though she'd been burnt in opposition to your own body's reaction wanting to feel her touch ignite you more.

Suddenly the vast realisation of reality crashed down on you and your stomach churned in thought. Your mindset couldn't be thinking this type of way in any shape or form towards someone who could perhaps be your boss. This wasn't about to become some cliche film style where you fuck your boss, you couldn't give her that style of power.

Yet, as you let your mind indulge further in thoughts, she wasn't your boss. Not yet and not now, besides if you wanted this job a thirst to prove yourself to the flames of hell as she was, you were going to have to join the game.

Heading further down the hall, Natasha stopped at the door to her left and you titled your head in anticipation. The feeling of not knowing what you could possibly find was always thrilling yet had an edge of dread that filled your lungs and ran through your veins.

Observing her silently, you watched the redhead slip out a singular key from her pocket before slipping it with ease into the lock and turning it. Her hand which you tried definitely too hard to not focus on wrapped around the handle turning it before standing to the side awaiting you to head inside.

Silently entering the room, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt at the sight that stood before you. A singular pole stood in the middle of the room, tall and with a bolden look about it almost calling to you begging you to dance upon it. Towards the corner of the room lay what you predicted to be a lot of BDSM toys ranging from handcuffs and blindfolds to nipple clamps and leg spreaders.

Your cheeks flushed heavily at the sight as heat ran through your body and you found yourself turning away from the toys, eyes instead landing on a chaise lounge. The furniture was a deep red, crimson in fact darkened like the blood flushing heavily through your veins, perhaps darker than Ms Romanoff's hair. Turning your head in her direction you realised she'd been watching your reaction as you absorbed and gawked at the room, causing you to flush even further.

The older woman simply smirked at you before making her way over to the chaise lounge, looking you up and down in what you originally thought was a judgmental look now seemed otherwise, before sitting with determination down onto the chair.

For a moment it was silence as she only stared at you examining you for a mere moments that felt like hours before rolling her eyes and scoffing. Her hand raised upwards as her index finger- that looked incredible you might add- came out and directed at the pole giving you a pointed look. Realisation hit your face and you realised what the redhead was asking of you, which caused all sorts of emotions to run through your head.

She was asking you to to give a full example of how you'd dance within her club, within her line of work and show yourself. Normally this wouldn't be a bother as you'd come to a damn strip-club for god sake, but it was the idea of dancing alone with her that sent your nerves spiralling and your body shaking beneath you.

Still, there was no point in arguments, you'd been the one to suggest showing her, but in hopes of a more lively atmosphere. Instead Miss. Romanoff had lead you to a secluded room one of which held what you predicted secrets hiding within the 4 walls for you to dance in.

Sucking in a tight breath you closed your eyes tightly shut counting to 3 before opening them once more. Getting your bearings around you, you strutted to the pole making sure to remove the jacket that clung tightly to your skin hugging you in all the right places. The jacket was placed to the side of Natasha and you tried not to smirk too much at the feeling of her eyes travelling over your form.

Her body stood up, walking over to a speaker in the corner causing you body to tense up slightly. If it was too loud it was sure to cause an uproar of attention that in this current moment you didn't want. Your mind was too focused on earning the approval and the full attention of the redhead selfishly to yourself despite wishing that you didn't indulge in such sinful acts.

You removed your pants, leaving yourself in only your polo shirt and underwear, trying your best not to make any sort of contact with her. You could have done pole-dancing in your pants but it wasn't a risk worth taking if you didn't want any slip ups and needed the grip. Instead you walked over to the pole closing your eyes tightly before opening them and glancing over at Miss Romanoff.

Her head was tilted to the side and you were almost convinced her eyes that you noticed earlier were the shade of emerald green like the piercing ground of earth were almost charcoal now, luring you into the mist of hazing sinful creatures and touching the igniting flame. Instead of contemplating thoughts any longer you let out a mere nod towards the older woman and she smirked turning on a song that widened your eyes as, girls girls girls by FLETCHER began to echo through the room.

Trying to once again ignore the intriguing implications behind the song you stepped forward flexing your hand back and forth continuously before gripping onto the pole tightly with your left hand. Your fingers curled instinctively around the metal bar and you cleared your mind. One of the first things you'd learnt about dancing and when understanding how to use the effective ways of pole-dancing was don't think just act.

You let your mind carry through the music eliciting the illusions of thoughts and song's as your body carried you through. You started off smoothly, swinging your way seductively around the pole keeping your outside leg straight before pivoting your inside foot at the same time.

Your mind carried through song as the beat's began to pick up, your outside foot worked through muscle memory hooking around the pole before your other joined gripping tightly.

As soon as you felt your body securely fitted on the pole your hips moved in ways of wonder as though art itself couldn't touch through paintings of masterpieces. Your back arched and your hip swayed in beat swinging yourself around the pole before your body flipped itself in ways of wonder, dancing and spinning with everything it had.

The song slowly began to draw to a close and it was then your eyes chose to linger from being shut as you made your distinctive signature move, swinging yourself around with a grace you didn't know was within you. Your body swung from the top to the bottom of the pole in the most seductive way possible as your fingers crossed over, before your eyes drifted to the red head.

It took everything within you not to let out a shit-eating grin when you noticed the gawking from Miss Romanoff who looked like she was ready to eat you up whole. Given any other circumstances you would have flushed or felt self-conscious, but instead you embraced the feeling of confidence as you gently slithered off the pole a laugh almost sliding past your lips.

You sauntered over to the older woman, teasing leaning over her body to grab your jacket only to be yanked down onto the couch. You felt the blood run course through your body you heart pounding so loudly you'd not be surprised if she could hear it herself. The room came to a heated silence, the tension thick and easily cut with a knife. Natasha's hand came up to cup your jaw tilting it to the side almost as though she wanted to judge that part of you too, or better yet distract herself from what she was initially going to do.

"Tomorrow, 8:30pm your shift will begin. I recommend not arriving late, or better yet arrive earlier to prepare yourself. You work hours will differ but tomorrow you'll be finishing at 3:30am. Understand sweetheart?" Her voice husked out and you were almost putty in her hands once more.

Your head nodded unconsciously, the primal instinct in you roaring to obey your now boss's instructions. The feeling of disgust ran through your body at the realisation of what you'd just performed despite it being your job area now. It wasn't the fact you'd pole-danced it was the secluded room and the song that made your body squirm.

The redhead seemed to thrive in amusement on that power and you weren't sure whether the heat that ran to your core was feelings you wished you didn't have or anger that turned into the feeling of lust, perhaps both. Her hand tightened on your chip ever so slightly to the point you thought her nails may cause intends within your skin, marking like a hot poker within it.

"Oh no, none of that. You use words to me okay? So do you understand dorogaya?" her tone showed no time from you for disagreement.

"Yes, I understand Miss. Romanoff," your voice was strong and assertive despite inside your body was a mess of sweat and utter chaos.

Natasha leaned back, stretching her arms across the couch staring at you for a moment before taking her lip between her teeth, clamping down hard. The sight was enough to send a hot gush of wetness between your legs and your mind screamed at you in retaliation, she was your boss. Her teeth gently let her lips go with a pop before standing up and walking up to the door, swinging it open with ease staring back at you with an expected look.

"Good girl," she whispered out her lips tilting up dangerously as your fixed your tousled hair that had become slightly damaged from dancing.

Your body reacted once more to the words almost jolting in response, but you did well to keep yourself refrained and intact. Instead you simply grabbed your belongings nodding towards the woman and headed straight for the main exit. Perhaps the acts you were prepared to partake in was deemed as sinful and immoral, you wouldn't give so much as a glance if they were. It felt like the devil was standing their glaring into your soul and you didn't care for anything else other than entering the gates and feeling the flames wrap around your body.

The next evening went as smooth as it could, the blasting of the music as your body danced in between of time to the tunes. Your personal favourite was the one's that went sensual before picking pace as it allowed you to do your signature moved before flaunting around people in a seductive manner. You'd thrived on how the men and women gawked at your, eyes popping out of their heads, drooling from the mouth like you were a treat they had to have.

Fellow colleague's had taken up on asking advice, specifically your new favourite Wanda who you added on further inspection was quite a looker. The way she'd bounce her brunette curls around her face as she danced into the night like nobody was watching always had you admiring her.

She herself had wanted tips from you, always seemingly interested by your dancing to the way you move on a pole, her eyes always lingering in sheer awe and amazement as though you personally had placed each star drifting through the sky. Yet, you always felt another pair of eyes, heavy and dark lingering in the shadows.

It was the type of shadow you'd spent your whole life hiding within but this aspect was dangerous. It felt cold mixed with fire alike, bonding in ways it shouldn't mix. The soul being ice and chilled to the bone with fire in the centre waiting to burn itself from the ground up. You constantly sensed the lingering eyes on your body but chose to ignore it, for you knew the consequences of the danger, you knew who those eyes belonged to you just couldn't face them to admit it.

It continued for the next week until Saturday came faster than anticipated. Your legs carried you through the building with ease and a sense of calm now almost as though you'd been there for years. In reality you'd become rather content with the building of Desiring ignition. You'd scarcely interacted with Natasha though, (thank god.)

It wasn't the exact concept of fearing the woman, no it wasn't that. It was the way she made you feel. It was like feeling towards the devil, it's forbidden you see red with anger, lust the picture painted of danger and intoxicating aroma.

You'd done well in avoiding the older woman but she did appear to be making it easer than anticipated, despite knowing the one hiding in the shadows, lingering not wishing to be seen but knowing you felt her presence seemed to enough for the older woman.

You had settled on something different this time, usually not opting for dresses preferring to dress loose but certainly stylish all the same. However this time, you'd decided to rock the boat and you weren't sure why.

Instead you'd settled on a deep emerald green, darkened than usual but curved around your body clinging in all the right ways. The anticipation and adrenaline of the reactions you'd receive left your mind racing, despite not wanting to show anything off entirely. Definitely not for her..

Directing yourself towards the bar, you walked over greeting who you'd now become accustomed to know as Bucky. He actually was opposing to what you expected after your encounter on the first night, he was just hesitant of newcomers. Instead now you'd become close to the man always offering a term of greeting.

"Same as usual?" He questioned winking as you both knew it was wrong to drink on the job.

Albeit it was hardly your fault, when it came to this job and work environment you'd hardly be faulted for having the odd drink to get by. Most days we're enjoyable, the women ogling over you and many wanting to touch what their desired hearts couldn't reach, like seeing a pebble in the ocean before the sea carries it out, perfectly sculpted but not yours to own.

Your lips curved up into a smirk filled with fire and mischief, the look of mystery plastered all over your face. Not a word spoken, your head nodded into his direction and Bucky nodded once in return. His body moved swiftly, preparing a small yet rather what the average person would deem an intoxicating strong drink for yourself as he slid it over.

Taking your drink you sipped away at it as you made your way onto the floor, seemingly into the sea of people. It was busy & you only knew it was going to get busier. Besides; you had an hour to kill before even remotely starting your shift so you might as well busy yourself.

It started simple, sitting down mingling with guests, eyeing up who was necessarily your desire for the night. All you needed was the money, even with the weighing guilt that sometimes poured over your head you needed to make your way into the world.

God only knows how you'd found yourself onto the dance floor, one moment you were sipping on your drink waiting for the beginning of your shift the next you were dragged onto the dance floor by a taller and seemingly older brunette. Her hands were dragging across your waist causing your face to flush.

Were you sure you were entirely within protocols here? Not at all, yet there was no rules you couldn't dance with the paying guests before your own night began. Though you were indeed certain Miss. Romanoff may cause some issues with this.

Alcohol wasn't even the reason for your confidence, it felt like something was drawing you to push boundaries that night to tempt yourself into desired that you shouldn't cross. You could say you don't bring your guests into the bedsheets like you do your demons but as the brunette's hands grazed across your stomach for a moment you short circuited.

You found your head tilting an angle towards Bucky's direction who was eyeing you with a concerned expression painted upon his face. His frown that narrowed through his forehead, eyes giving a dangerous tone, almost trying to warn you.

Still, you shrugged it off instead allowing the touch of another burn your skin though whether it was a burn of desire or the burn of hell you weren't sure. You were playing with the fires of lucifer here & partially enjoying yourself. Lips grazed slightly over your neck, almost allowing you to loose yourself instantly without a sudden care or thought.

People were silencing around you within beats of the music, like a chill had passed down from a frost bite. They were parting like royalty had arrived themselves, but you were completely unaware in your own mindset in your own thoughts.

Lips grazed your neck sloppily, yet it burnt like an ignition hell fire in your skin. Yet your mind was dancing somewhere else or better yet, someone else. It was like someone snapped a finger, as within a second like you'd blinked an eye and the warmth from behind you disappeared.

Widening your eyes, you opened them but a hand snatched you spinning you straight into a body. You stumbled forward legs like jelly, hands still shaking with adrenaline as their perfume invaded your senses. It was a sexy perfume smell no doubt, the aroma making it's way into your nose poisoning you. You'd almost breathed in, wanting more of the intoxicating taste of it, yet that wouldn't be ve-

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

If your suspicions were correct, which you were highly convinced they were then the perfume and the person you'd been dragged into was someone you dreaded finding you in that compromising position. A whisper drew you from the dread in the pit of your stomach and your stressing mindset as they leaned towards you.

"Enjoying yourself darling?" The voice carried the familiar edge you dreaded.

The feeling of bile rose in your throat from sheer anxiety and you gulped hard to keep yourself at bay. Slowly looking up, your eyes met the all too familiar green ones.. One's you could get lost in and fantasise about consi-

No, not to be thought of right now.

Her eyebrows were arched consistently and the familiar look of a stern facial expression was painted on your Boss's, Miss. Romanoff's face. Her lips were painted a blood deep red and the blush on her cheeks were making your legs like jelly, let alone your stomach's feeling of somersaults.

"I..." Stuttering voices was all you could muster right now.

A swift finger placed on your lips was all it took for your cheeks to hear up and you were certainly an embarrassing jumble of mess in front of her and everyone around you.

"Shh," her voice carried an authoritative tone but you were almost certain you could sense a lace of.. jealousy?

Surely that was an impossibility; she had nothing to be jealous about besides she was your boss, albeit a damn sexy one. Reality hitting back to you slowly you sensed the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and wanted in that moment for the ground to swallow you whole.

Gone was that confident attitude you easily found yourself mustering up to her, instead replaced with a timid jealous woman wanting nothing more but to run for your life. Your eyes didn't dare leave hers despite their sea of pure intensity and fire, though you didn't think you were capable of looking away even if you tried to.

A quick flick of her hand could be seen from your peripheral vision and as if someone had press play on a remote, the crowds resumed. Colleagues danced on laps, poles and bar stools while the noise resumed like they'd been frozen in time.

Before you even had the chance to speak, you were spun back around rather forcefully. However rather than letting you go, her hands yanked you flush against her chest, allowing you to feel her radiant body heat and the heat to come back to your cheeks once more.

Hands roamed over your body while her lips moved to your ear, a sultry almost lustful voice following suite.

"Well well, what was that little stunt hm? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for private shows not giving a full on public display of borderline sex," she snapped though her hands still cupped your hips.

"I.. I can explain..."

Her hands cupped your clothed cunt causing you to cut your sentence off and gasp out. Embarrassingly, your body jerked forward into her hand showing how putty you were, easily giving into your boss.

"No, no I don't think so. You wanted a public stunt like that hm? Who's breasts are these?"

Her hand moved up to cup them, needing them through your dress causing you to almost cry out. You couldn't lie, you were grateful for the atmosphere being so loud and disoriented otherwise you'd have cried out from sheer embarrassment.

"M-Mine," you whispered through a half gasp earning you to feel her knee rub you subtly once more in your lower region.

"Wrong answer, don't get it wrong again hm?" She said through semi-gritted teeth and your body melted back into her.

Unsure of the adrenaline you had coursing through your veins you spun around and found some form of confidence in you to cup her own lower region.

"Yours," you whisper-shouted back due to the strength of the music, though your voice partially wavered.

It was obvious she was caught off guard through the sheer surprise that danced like the force of nature the wind dancing with the trees on a stormy night. Miss.Romanoff's lips tilted upwards into a smirk and without a word or a warning her hand clasped onto yours and you were being pulled swiftly down corridors.

Everything seemed to pass you buy in a blur as you had no recollection of one door to the next, nor did you dare to look at any faces glancing and gawking your way. Simply you decided to be an obedient little thing and follow Miss. Romanoff towards wherever she was leading you.

Suddenly, you came to a halt in front of a locked door slowly coming to the realisation this was Miss.Romanoff's personal room; no one was ever allowed to enter. A surge of some sort of excitement flooded the course of your veins in some way as she led you through.

Locking it behind her she pointed to her own personal chaise lounge and you obediently followed her instructions like a lost puppy, almost falling over your own feet to get to it. A low chuckle left her lips sending chills upon chills down your spine and embarrassingly hitting your core (that was probably now soaked.)

"Miss Romanoff I don't know if this is-"

"Natasha," she cut you off instantly smirking at you.

You gawked at the older woman like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. However she brushed it off, slowly approaching you like an animal would it's prey. Lifting your chin up she grinned down at you like a cheshire cat before huskily speaking.

"Call me Natasha. Though I'd also prefer to be called a different name, can your pretty little brain think of what that is?" She asked lustfully.

Gulping you had a smart idea, but didn't want to ask a stupid question. So you kept your mouth shut but apparently Natasha had other idea's towards your 'misbehaviour.'

"Colour," her voice was softer for a moment only by a slight tone but you sensed it.

It almost made you crack for a moment and come to your senses. An employee couldn't- shouldn't sleep with their boss. Yet, as you believed earlier the devil was technically an angel first and you wanted to touch the fire, you wanted her to touch you. However, it was evidence you were taking too long as you'd received an arched eyebrow and she grabbed you firmly by the chin awaiting her answer.

"Green but.. this is wrong you're my.."

A gasp cut you off as she placed her lips instantly on your neck biting down hard before sucking. You felt Natasha's lips trail up and down biting an area she could, knowing instantly it was going to leave a mark. Moans elicited past your lips as you found your head slowly adjusting to give more access.

She sucked and nipped at your skin like her life depended on it, it was intoxicating. She was starting a fire within you no one else could ever ignite. Natasha kissed her way back up to your face before whispering sultry into your earlobe.

"Now you want to keep your job don't you, you want to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-Yes I do Natasha," you went to move your hands in her hair when you felt something restrict you.

A deep blood red-handcuffs the same shade as her hair was holding you back and your eyes widened in realisation. The demon's in your head were fighting with each other as you felt her clamber her way into your lap.

"Now.. you're going to behave for mommy aren't you?"

She grinned at you arching an eyebrow while her plump red lips glistened under the dim lights. You couldn't bring yourself to respond to Natasha, you felt your stomach twisting in knots at the word and your brain go fuzzy.

Restriction on your neck caused your airways to tighten slightly, not too much but the pressure sent a heat to your core you didn't know could happen. She frowned at you sternly, a small crease of annoyance in between her forehead that you found dangerously hot and cute at once.

"Don't make ask twice detka, you should know in the time you've worked for me I hate repeating myself. Now be a good slut and respond."

Not wanting to face the consequences of hell knows what she'd do you nodded instantly a feeling of nervousness that was fuelled by desire and lust rising within you.

"Yes mommy, I'll behave. I promise!"

Your response pleased her, yet your brain didn't have much time to respond as a loud groan escaped your lips. The buzzing sensation pressed against your panties sent you spiralling into oblivion. Natasha captured your lips with her own, red lipstick smearing your own with a kiss, sealing your fate. Signing your soul to the devil seemed like a fate that could send anyone into a panic, but when it was Natasha Romanoff, it was pure bliss.

"Your moans are a delight to my ear sweet girl," her whispers against your lips only spurred you on further.

You found your hips grinding down against the toy your bottom lip become broken and bruised from how hard you were biting it. A small slap to the thigh sent you jolting as you looked up to see Natasha's stern look.

"You move when I tell you to move slut," she slurred out high on lust and desire and you felt a spiral of wetness shoot down to your glistening pussy that was most definitely dripping with desire.

You felt the pressure of the toy increase levels and it took you everything not to cry out in absolute ecstasy but the overwhelming stimulation, it was so intense your toes could curl.

"You're already coming undone are you for your mommy?" Natasha bit down slightly on your ear lobe her fingers trailing up to your throat once more as she whispers into your ear.

"When you lay down on the chaise lounge you'll be screaming my name tonight darling. Yet, did you honestly think that you could get away with that game Y/N?" Her voice dragged down your body as quickly as possible.

Teeth sunk into your skin, nipping sucking and licking into the depths of every single area Natasha could reach. You hands tried to fling over your mouth to muffle your moans, yet your restraining handcuffs brought you back to reality.

"They'll hear Na- Mommy," Your slip-up didn't go unnoticed as a slap to your thigh and a hard bite on your chest caused a cry out from your lips.

"Let them hear you. You wanted a show, I have every intention of giving you one."

Before your thoughts could catch up to your lips a rip echoed through the room as a strength had come from the redhead herself. Gasping as she put some pressure on your clit the intense feeling driving your body into an overwhelming feeling.

As her fingers pressed against your puffy lips you knew instantly you were getting addicted to the feeling; the ignition pushing you towards Natasha's capture. She was easily trying to capture her pray within you and you'd stupidly let her.

"Please.. I need more," You pleaded your brain foggy with lust and utter craving for Natasha in every way possible.

With a single flick of a switch you felt her turn the toy to maximum levels before her fingers were swiftly replaced with a lapping tongue. The cuffs that felt like chains kept to a wall yanked down as you tried to touch.

She spat on your clit and you felt the shit eating grin pass her lips as Natasha heard the familiar sound of tugging from them. Instead she tutted and her eyes grazed up connecting with your own, purposely dragging her tongue up your slit making you cry out from the intensity.

"You're a good girl aren't you hm? Taking your boss so well. Imagine if I got to do a public show with you.. God the way the crowds would go wild as I fucked you over and over again," Natasha lulled against your pussy.

The images dancing through your brain was sinful, absolutely disgusting to others but for some reason like you were trapped in a cage of sex you didn't care. Magic was a dangerous power and a dangerous curse yet she wheeled it all within this room, your body and your mind, your essence and soul.

As she shoved her tongue into your entrance another cry of intense joy, you weren't sure lust most definitely past your lips. Her free hand moved up to your breasts massaging the buds between her tips, sending you without permission releasing your juices all over her tongue.

Ms. Romanoff pulled back and the look on her face was not one of an impressed look, though that didn't stop her tongue swirling around her mouth getting the remaining taste left. That action alone sent another wave to your core despite the overwhelming feeling and you felt your legs like jelly simply from one round.

"Did I say you could cum?" Her voice was stern, boomed against the contrasting atmosphere of what the stench danced with sex, and sweat, desire and fire.

"I.. I didn't me-"

"Did. I. Say. You. Could. Cum?" She repeated her voice was filled with such an authoritative tone sending your mind back to your original meeting.

Had it not been for the handcuffs and the familiar stern look and not wanting any more disapproval from Natasha, you'd have coward away from embarrassment. Instead you shook your head wondering what on earth you'd gotten yourself into it wasn't like you were bound together but.. part of you lived from the excitement; she was a devil, demon of angel and hell with the need to feel her touch.

"No.. No Miss.Romanoff, you did not." Your voice rasped out exhausted from screaming already.

She stood up no word uttered and she disappeared around the back, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment. It felt like you were fucking with the goddess herself, but was it sanity? Was it safe to be sharing sheets and secrets behind closed doors? Possibly not, but her blood-red lips and curves of her body made it impossible not to fall into. A trap of love or lust, it wasn't even known to you within that sight, just the devil herself you'd taste it every-time.

A song brought you from your dancing curious thoughts, one that sent your body ice-cold and your eyes widening instantly. A song called 'Pray' You'd become one to recognise. It was a favourite with your regulars at the club. Except you hadn't quite realised Natasha herself had noticed, but you'd been proven quite wrong.

On the contrary, Natasha walked in with a thick deep red strap-on, one that was already wet ether with her spit or something else it was unknown. But, she knew and had seen it caused a rage in her she hated herself for. Yet, she had to have her way with you.

"Sit back," she ordered pleased instantly you'd complied with no sudden refusals or hesitation.

Without a warning she flung one leg over your body joined by the other leg, until she was sat in your lap straddling you. Instantly, a gut feeling surged through your veins flying through every pulse point sending a fire and ice in one through your very skin. Your suspicions were confirmed when she slowly started to move her hips on you with the strap on.

A lap-dance. A lap dance by Natasha Romanoff, your boss the fucking owner of Desiring ignition. Better yet it was with a strap on.

Her hips moved in a motion not even the most poisonous temptations of the world could, but Natasha out-beat them all. Her hands moved down her body over her hips and you watched in amazement as she began to thrust onto your leg while dancing like a majestic queen. Her moans spilled past her throat, giving you everything you desired sipping her up.

Your hands begged to move and your pussy pulsated allowing some juices to spill out. Your eye's pleaded with her to undo the cuffs but all you'd received in return, was a tut and a small pressure to your throat.

"You can touch soon detka. I'd like to have my fun now. Do you know how long I've waited to have my way with you?" She whispered her hips shaking and thrusting to the beat of the music.

"N-No," you answered honestly to mesmerised by her movements to figure out an answer.

"Since you first walked into that door. I needed you away so I didn't tempt myself with the cup of sinfulness, one that I shouldn't lead by. Yet, when I saw you dance.. Oh my sweet little slut. You were perfect. I needed to ruin all of you," she husked out shaking her strap slightly.

You almost came right from the scene in front of you, gaining your own kind of friction from her strap. However while the music beat sped up one lyric spurred her over the edge and caused her to break the chains of control, fly up from hell and take her prize.

'When she lays down to pray at night.. She'll be screaming my name.'

Something about that song lyric sent Natasha spurring forward and her hips bucked against your lap causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Her hands reached up undoing the cuffs breaking the barrier as your hands finally touched her hips, her olive silky skin feeling beautiful under your finger tips.

Her fingers suddenly managed to make their way underneath her body with a precision that seemed impossible to you and slammed themselves into your now over-stimulated pussy. You cried out in part-pain and mainly bliss the coil in your stomach building up.

She worked you like wonders themselves couldn't work the song blaring in the background. Natasha still continued to give you a lap-dance of sorts but mainly focused on getting the two of you off and fingered you hard and fast, her hips meeting some sort of thrust.

"Scream my name," left her lips and that's all it took.

The coil in your stomach snapped and you came once more all over her fingers, legs shaking and your eyes pooled with tears of joy from how incredible it felt. Natasha followed suite from the sight and the friction cumming all down her strap and some spilling onto your lap causing yourself to groan.

However, she had an ungodly amount of adrenaline pounding through her system as she clambered of your body leaning over your lips and throat demanding one thing of you.

"Suck."

Her voice was raspy sending a pool of wetness shooting down once more and you felt yourself let out some dripping juices by accident. You instantly took the strap on gagging on it as she shoved it deeply in your throat. Looking down, the sight was enough for Natasha to cum right there and then but she held it.

She wanted you to gag on her strap, shut your pretty little mouth up as she took in the sight of what was hers. Her sinful prize, her desired need was sucking her cock so well it was a bliss to see. Hearing you gag she rubbed your pussy once again causing you to cry out the stimulation being too much, yet Natasha ignored you.

She ignored you until your hips jerked up once more being greedy and desperate for her fingers or strap-on and she smirked in sheer delight. She'd made you putty in her hands. You didn't care anymore the manipulation of her job had worked wonders in your mind making it hazed with fuel of her touch and knowing only she could make you like this.

Clambering down, no warning was given as her cock suddenly found your puffy and over-stimulated entrance and her eyes drifted down. Natasha groaned at the sight, how ruined and how messy you were, wetness seeping down your thighs.

Not wanting to waist another minute, her cock slammed into you thrusting hard not giving you any time to adjust. Her lips moved fast and at a ferocious pace causing animalistic like grunts to leave your lips. Your mind danced with her and only her, it was like she'd made her mark engraved her and only her within it and you'd take it all, drink all of her and whatever she'd give you.

Sloppy slapping sounds hit the four walls of the room and her lips slammed into yours as she bit on your bottom lip. Your now free hands, moved into her hair tugging lightly causing a growl fit from an animal that could kill within seconds. Natasha kissed harder, hips slamming down without a single care and you felt yourself becoming close.

"Please.."

She grinned against your lips and you knew what was going to happen then and there. Your boss had won the game of the life time, her prize possession and puppet.

"Cum on mommy's cock like a good little stripper hmm? Let me take all of you," she husked out giving a particular hard thrust.

With that your juices hit her strap-on hard, flowing out of you like a river itself your mouth screaming her name while your body shivered. Hands clawing at her back now the sight was enough to send her spiralling, leaving you just enough time to recover to see the sight.

Her back arched, releasing her own as she had her eyes closed lips partially opened and skin slick with sweat and cum mixed from both of your spots.

Your eyes shut themselves sheer exhaustion taking in and all that could be heard was panting breaths in the room. It was as she leaned down you'd known how badly caught in the trap of lust you were with your own boss, her whispers filling the room.

"I've caught my own trap now, the devil got her prize. And I am far from finished with you yet, mommy's little stripper slut."

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗬𝗣𝗦𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris takes care of Y/N after they make love.

WARNING: Mentions of sex, insecurities (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The room was immersed in a comfortable gloom, lit only by the soft light from the aromatic candle next to the bed. The air was filled with a post-orgasm stillness, and the soft sound of Y/N and Chris' panting breaths was the only thing that broke the silence. They were lying on their backs, side by side, their intertwined hands resting between them as tingles ran through the limbs of their bodies.

Chris turned his head slightly, taking in Y/N's profile. Her face was slightly flushed, and her body still exuded warmth and satisfaction. With a low sigh, Chris slowly turned onto his side, resting his head on his hand, the sound of cotton sheets moving echoing briefly. His blue eyes roamed Y/N's body, tracing every curve, every line, taking note of the way her breasts, still slightly reddened by stimulation, rose and fell with each breath.

The boy couldn't contain himself and extended his free hand, letting his fingertips slide gently over her exposed shoulder, feeling her skin slightly sweaty and warm under his touch, a trail of goosebumps following right behind.

He began to silently count the moles on Y/N's collarbone, a soft smile curving his lips, he already knew the exact quantity and locations by heart, but he would never get tired of recounting them. Each dot was a constellation on her skin, each a unique mark that he adored.

Chris remained like that for a few minutes, just caressing and bathing in the sensations that the moment gave him, enjoying every second of the intimacy they shared.

"You're so pretty." He muttered silently, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. Chris couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her by his side. "My pretty girl."

Chris can not seem to ever get enough of Y/N, no matter how many years they were in a relationship and how many times they had sex. The way her taste flooded his mouth when he got on his knees between her legs or the way her tight little pussy feels as she's wrapped around his cock always led him to feel new sensations.

Chris felt an almost obsessive fascination for her.

The boy leaned over and kissed Y/N's shoulder, a gesture of silent adoration, his still swollen and pink lips brushing her skin in a lingering caress.

"I'm so lucky." The brunette whispered again, feeling a shiver of pleasure run through his body when he felt her skin against his own. Every touch was a reminder of his love for her, a love that seemed to grow stronger every day.

Y/N finally turned her face towards him slowly, smiling a drunken smile, her eyes with dilated pupils and slightly reddened from the tears of pleasure shed minutes before observed him intently. She tilted her head down, sealing her lips over Chris's messy strands, breathing in the scent of sex and men's shampoo.

After long minutes, Chris slowly pulled away, touching the tip of his nose to his girl's, caressing the area in an eskimo kiss, before moving back and getting up from the bed carefully, not wanting to break the tender moment, smiling in amusement at the whine that escaped Y/N's throat with the lack of heat.

He headed to the bathroom and returned with a damp pink towel in hand. Sitting down next to Y/N, he used his free hand to snake the sensitive skin of her right leg, gripping her knee firmly - but carefully -, spreading her legs apart before beginning to gently clean the expanse of skin from her legs and between her thighs, with each movement an act of affection and devotion.

His eyes never left her face, watching her eyelashes caress her cheeks with each lazy blink.

A moan of complaint escaped Y/N's throat as the damp towel pressed against her sensitive core, her legs acting on automatically as they tried to close around Chris's wrist.

"Shh, I know, dove. It's almost over. 'Need to have you nice and clean, huh?" Chris murmured softly, his fingers sliding over the warm skin, pushing her legs apart again.

Y/N let out a small sigh, her body reacting to Chris's soft touch and words. He continued his work, his voice a tender whisper, muttering words of love.

Chris finished cleaning her and set the towel aside, leaning over her upper body between her still open legs, slowly lowering himself to place a soft kiss on her abdomen, his warm breath against the sensitive skin causing goosebumps to form in the area.

He stood up again, stroking the instep of her right foot with his thumb before walking slowly towards the bedside table, retrieving the bottle of water he always left there in case one of them woke up thirsty during the night.

"Come on, drink some, petal." Chris asked, turning back to Y/N and helping her sit up slightly, using his free hand to keep her in position. He brought the bottle to her lips, pressing the straw into her smooth, pink skin, watching her fondly as she took a few sips. "You need to hydrate."

Y/N looked up at him, her orbs shining with gratitude and love, innocently.

"Thank you, baby." Y/N spoke for the first time since her last orgasm, her voice soft and slightly hoarse from constant use. Chris smiled softly before turning around and placing the bottle back on the table.

"Can you walk?" He asked in a low tone, turning back to her and watching a small pout form on her lips, already knowing that she would fight against getting up from the bed at that moment. "I know you're tired, petal, but you have to pee. I'll carry you there, hm? It's gonna be quick, I promise."

"Okay."

Chris smiled satisfied, passing one arm under her straight knees and the other arm around the back of her shoulders, pulling her up, pressing their naked bodies together again.

His steps towards the bathroom were quick but careful, afraid of shaking Y/N's body too much and causing some discomfort. He raised his left arm, pressing his elbow awkwardly onto the light switch, illuminating the room before taking small steps to the toilet, carefully lowering Y/N onto the seat.

"D'you want me to get out, pretty?" The boy's soft, husky voice echoed through the bathroom, the echo making it sound louder than it should have been.

"No, stay here, please." Y/N shook her head, tilting her upper body tiredly so that she laid her head on Chris's exposed abdomen, resting her elbows at the base of her bent knees and resting the palms of her hands on her boyfriend's thighs, caressing the milky skin covered with small hairs with her fingers.

It didn't take long for her to finish, moving away from Chris momentarily so she could clean herself properly with the intimate wet wipe, watching from the corner of her eye as her boyfriend's arm reached for the toilet, the sound filling the room next to the running water in the bathroom faucet in the sink where Y/N washed her hands.

"C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you to bed." Chris whispered against the back of Y/N's head, sealing the area quickly before resting his right hand on the small of her back, guiding her back to the bedroom, making sure that she felt more comfortable walking, even though slowly.

Soon, the two found themselves lying on the double bed again. Chris adjusted his body on the mattress before gently pulling Y/N close, allowing her to snuggle into his chest, pressing her head against his bare chest and closing her hands in a gesture of prayer between her stomach and his.

The boy waited for her to stop moving and stabilize herself in a comfortable position before finally hugging her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his left hand where they shoulders met while his right one found home on her hair, his fingers stroking the strands calmly and tenderly.

"Was I good?" Y/N's voice sounded muffled against Chris's chest, her tone suddenly small and vulnerable.

"What?" Chris stopped his caresses on her hair abruptly, frowning and pulling back slightly, searching his girl's eyes.

"Was I good tonight?" The serenity of the moment seemed almost ethereal, but, inside Y/N's eyes, a storm of doubts was beginning to form. The feeling of vulnerability after such intimate moments always took her by surprise, making her question whether she had been as good to Chris as he had been to herself.

"Baby, what- Of course you were good, amazing actually! You make me feel loved and wanted in a way I never thought possible. It's no wonder that if you hadn't stopped me after the fourth orgasm I would have continued for hours on end." A smirk grew on Chris's lips as he saw a reddish tone take over Y/N's cheeks in seconds, her twinkling eyes shyly lowering and focusing on his neck, playing nervously with her fingers against his belly. "Hey, I love you, okay?" Chris murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can express."

Y/N lips formed a pout, an embarrassed laugh escaping her lips as she felt Chris's hand that was on her back snake around her shoulder, caressing her cheek before having her snuggle closer to him.

"I love you more, Chris." She replied, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. "Thank you. For taking care of me."

"Always."

They stayed like that, hugging each other, the heat of their intertwined bodies filling the space around them. Chris continued to stroke Y/N's hair, each touch filled with love and care. He couldn't imagine a more perfect moment, a fuller feeling.

Finally, Y/N closed her eyes, feeling safe and loved in Chris's arms. He watched her for a while, admiring the serenity on her face before closing his eyes as well, letting the darkness fill his mind.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @annamcdonalds67 @always-reading @slutsformatt

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[roanniom]

I always like to hope your little drabbles might be inspired by your sweetie podcast guy 👀

Oh they kinda are inspired by him these days 👀

One for the Road

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, a whole lot of oral (f receiving)

“I like this shirt,” Eddie mumbles against your jaw, his fingers playing at the hem of your massive thrifted t shirt. You’re standing in the dappled morning sunlight warming his shitty little apartment kitchen. His hands roam your body with an urgency that belies the way he’d fucked you onto his messy sheets just thirty minutes prior.

“The day I got it I also got a Hellraiser t shirt. Huge. With a big picture of Pinhead on the chest,” you say proudly, smoothing a hand over said chest to indicate where the horror icon’s face would be. Eddie hones in on that one detail, of course, and cups your breasts through your shirt with a groan.

“Oh yeah? If it was that big did you cut the shirt up?”

You shake your head.

“No. I left it big and oversized. You know. Sexy,” you joke. Eddie nods slowly, still focusing all his attention on your tits through this particular shirt.

“Sexy. Oh yeah,” he mutters, completely distracted. He lifts the shirt slightly to reveal the feminine pair of boxers you’ve put on for your drive home. “These are fucking cute.”

“You think?” you ask, wiggling your hips cheekily.

“Yeah, I think,” mumbles against your neck before sucking on your earlobe. You go to say something else but his hand is now sliding under the waistband of your boxers. Within seconds he’s inside your panties and playing with the slick that’s gathered there.

“Eddieeee, I have to go,” you try to argue, but it turns into a gasping whine. Eddie ignores you. Or at least, he ignores your argument. He latches onto one of your nipples through your shirt and looks up at you pointedly to watch your face while he slides two fingers deep inside you. “Oh fuck…”

You don’t know how it happens. You really don’t. One minute you’d had your bag on your shoulder and you were half out the door, and in the next minute Eddie was sliding down to his knees, pushing you up against the wall at the entrance to his apartment. He pulls down your boxers and underwear before you can protest about your lateness any further, and he hooks your leg up over his shoulder before you can do more than grasp at his hair.

“Are you serious? I - oh god.”

Eddie’s mouth is on you and you should be aware of the fact that you’re moaning wantonly right by the door that leads to an inner hallway where all of his neighbors can probably hear you as they set out on their day.

Your bag starts slipping off your shoulder and the lights start flickering - he’d pushed you against the wall where the light switch is, so each time you move you find yourself clicking it on and off with your back.

“Eddie - oh. Eddie!” you try to call his attention to the awkward placement through your laughs and gasps, but he only seems vaguely annoyed by the distraction. He manhandles you over the the kitchen island and you grip at the counter, unsure what he has planned until he gets on his knees from behind you, gripping your hips and pulling your legs back apart so he can get to you with his mouth again.

“Holy fuck…” you yelp, completely overwhelmed by the stimulation. Eddie shoves two fingers deep inside of you again, thrusting and building up momentum until you find yourself forced up onto tiptoes.

You clutch at the counter and do your best to take the force of his thrusting - it feels so fucking good when he curves his fingers just like that - but you’re so overwhelmed you finally have to say something.

“Eddie. You’re making my legs shake! I can’t…” you pant.

You’re not sure what you expected him to do, but either way you’re surprised when he clambers to his feet and grabs you into his arms. Insecure and completely unused to being lifted, you let out a scream, but you’re only in the air long enough for him to deposit you onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

“This better for your legs?” Eddie asks, kissing your thighs while he spreads them and settles back on his knees between them.

“Yeah, I guess - Eddie!” you cry out at the feeling of his mouth on you yet again. His lips suction around your clit and he sucks. Hard. Your leg hooks over his shoulder again and your fingers thread through his hair pulling tightly as you hold on for dear life.

You don’t even have time to warn him. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You spasm around the fingers he’d some how managed to get back deep inside you at one point, and he laps you up as you rock your hips into his face. Thighs press into his ears while you ride out the feeling.

By the time your breathing has finally returned to normal, Eddie has already gotten up from the floor and started assembling your clothes and bag from where they’d been strewn about.

“You’re gonna be late for work, huh baby?” he asks, with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A massive erection stands proud in his boxers and you laugh in spite of yourself, fully breathless.

“What the fuck was that, Munson?”

He leans forward to give you a kiss

“That was one for the road.”

~*~

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Thanks for reading, please comment and reblog to let me know what you think!

[austinbutlerslovers]

Benny Cross the Bikeriders Fantasy Part 6 Finale

Label Mature 18+

Chapter 6 For Keeps 🔗Chapter 1 🔗Chapter 2 🔗Chapter 3 🔗Chapter 4 🔗Chapter 5

🔗 Master List

Summary With every thing stripped from Benny he begins to understand what he really wants out of life and after a fateful turn of events putting your safety at risk finalizes his decision changing both of your lives forever.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Edging • claiming •oral on female• sexual teasing •mutual mastrubation • pinning •mating press •breeding kink• clit stimulation•nipple play •breast play • rough sex • multiple orgasms •multiple cream pies

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Inspired by the Bikeriders Movie Mentions of death ☠️ attempted violation of female💥

🏍️ Inspo: anonymous requests combined •The ‘red dress’ scene (but Bennys there) •Benny desperately wants to get you pregnant •Benny protective over you •The ‘fight scene’ with angry sex •Happy ending for Benny

For Keeps

The day of the Vandals picnic arrives and when you and Benny ride in the scene is a far cry from the gatherings you remember.

The atmosphere is pure chaos, loud music pulses through the air with everyone heavily intoxicated, the usual beers replaced by hard liquor and hooch. Scantily clad women mingle through the crowd, their presence heightening the already rowdy energy. The heavy scent of marijuana blends with the roar of motorcycles, amplifying the wild unruly ambiance.

As you and Benny pull up, the bikers erupt into cheers and chants, their voices ringing with excitement. “Benny’s back!” some shout, their enthusiasm undeniable “The legend lives on!” Cal yells enthusiastically, his voice cutting through the cheers of the group.

As Benny dismounts the motorcycle, he can’t help but smile, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. The warm reception from the Vandals fills him with a sense of belonging and joy.

After you dismount, Benny carefully retrieves his crutch from where he’s welded a custom piece to fit his bike. With you by his side, he steadies himself on the crutch and makes his way toward the group of Vandals gathered at a table, with Johnny and Brusy seated front and center.

Johnny’s eyes fall to Benny’s cast and crutch as he approaches. “You rode all the way in on that?” Johnny asks, a note of surprise and teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, I just strapped it to the bike,” Benny replies with a weary sigh, the strain of riding with a broken ankle evident in his expression.

You interject with a hint of frustration in your voice. “He needs all of this because his ankle is still healing, Johnny,” you say, your words edged with anger from your unresolved argument about Benny.

You side eye Johnny before spotting Betty, Donna, and Gail waving you down in the distance. Turning to Benny with a loving smile, you cup his jaw and press a big, lingering kiss to his cheek. “You need anything, you let me know,” you say sweetly and as you step back, you see the glimmer of appreciation in Benny’s eyes as he watches you depart, a dreamy smile on his lips.

You know how much Benny cherishes his time with the Vandals, and despite your unease of him remaining in the club, you leave him to reconnect with his friends.

As you sit with the old ladies, you watch in disbelief as the new chapters of Vandals revel in the chaos of drinking, fighting, and wild behavior.

The club scene has transformed into a display of menacing bikers. There are more fights, louder arguments, and public displays of fornication than you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The atmosphere is filled with the raw energy of unbridled menace, making the whole scene feel oppressive.

Benny finds you a short time later and sits down at the picnic table, resting his crutch beside him. He listens to you recount the tales of how he’s recovering and how much better he’s doing to the group of gathered ladies. He looks over at you fondly, enjoying your company and wanting to be by your side more than he does with the members of the club that he can no longer keep up with as they dance and drink and shout and run wild.

As nightfall descends, the groups spread out around various campfires, a long standing Vandal tradition. The main Vandals gather closely, with Zipco regaling the members with wild stories, his voice rising above the crackling flames.

The men settle into a variety of spots, some perched on weathered logs, others lounging in mismatched chairs, and a few simply sitting cross-legged on the ground.

The fire casts a warm, flickering glow over the scene, illuminating their faces as they listen and laugh, wrapped in the camaraderie of the night.

You and Benny sit on chairs leaning against each other as he absently runs his fingers over your hand and the tender gesture makes you smile. When he steals the occasional glances at you with his eyes filled with love, it deepens your smile even more.

Across the fire, Johnny watches the two of you from his seat. Betty perched comfortably on his lap. His gaze is on Benny, distracted from Zipco's animated storytelling, his mind drifting to a decision he made long ago that needs to be addressed tonight.

Johnny nudges Betty gently before rising abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention away from Zipco’s tale. He looks over the group, before nodding to Benny and gesturing for him to follow.

Benny rises slowly, gently squeezing your hand for reassurance as he balances on one foot. You hand him his crutch ensuring he’s steady with a tender touch before he heads off.

Johnny leads Benny a short distance away from the group, guiding him towards their bikes. Benny rests his crutch on a piece of fence, using it for support as he steadies himself. The night is dark with only a park lamp casting a soft, yellow glow over them.

“Means a lot you coming out here all banged up like that,” Johnny says pointing at his cast while Benny lights up his cigarette.

“I’ve been thinking,” Johnny continues, “I can’t run this club forever. I’m gonna have to find somebody to…” He pauses, his eyes meeting Benny’s, “to take it over.”

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke. “What about Brusy?” he asks.

Johnny shakes his head, placing a hand on his bike. “I love Brusy like a brother,” he says, his voice firm, “but it ain’t Brusy.”

Benny exhales his smoke again as Johnny adds, “Brusy will get eaten alive by these guys.”

Johnny trails his hand along his bike and looks Benny in the eyes. “It’s gotta be somebody that…” He searches Bennys eyes, “they respect. It’s gotta be somebody that ain’t gonna take no shit from ‘em.”

A silence falls as Johnny and Benny look toward the campfire where the bikers are gathered.

“It’s you,” Johnny finally says.

Benny looks at Johnny, chuckling softly as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“C’mon,” Benny says cracking a smile, thinking Johnny isn’t serious.

Johnny’s gaze is unwavering as he stands up from his bike, walking over so close to Benny that it’s intimidating. Johnny’s eyes bore into Benny with an intensity that is unsettling.

“Look, I built this club out of nothing,” Johnny says, stepping even closer gesturing with his hand. “I put more into this fucking club than my own family. This is my family,” he insists.

Benny looks at Johnny with newfound understanding, seeing the concern in Johnny’s eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t know how many fucking chapters we got now. We’ve got old guys, new guys, young guys—most of the new ones I don’t know. But the guys I do know, they ain’t gonna follow anybody except somebody who can hold their own.”

Johnny’s eyes are almost desperate as they lock onto Benny.

Benny quickly looks down, avoiding Johnny’s intense gaze.

“Look at me,” Johnny demands. Benny hesitates before finally meeting his eyes, a flicker of resignation showing.

After a tense moment Benny breaks the silence.

“I’m all fucked up,” Benny answers, gesturing to his cast. “And my girl is the one paying my fucking dues,” he confesses with vulnerability.

Johnny’s scoffs as Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette.

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke with a sigh, turning his head away as he speaks. “You’re a grown man,” he says, before meeting Johnny’s intense gaze.“You’ve got a house, you’ve got a job. I don’t want that. I never cared about any of that.”

Johnny’s face turns serious as he taps Benny’s vest, right on his Vandals biker patch.

“That’s why it’s you,” Johnny says. “All these guys in here, they’re all trying to be you. You see?” he asks, looking Benny deeply in the eyes.

Benny looks off into the distance, seeing you quietly by the campfire, the soft glow of the flames illuminating your beautiful face. His heart aches with the weight of the decision before him. “Johnny…” he begins with hesitation.

But Johnny gets in so close he’s inches from Benny’s face, and Benny can feel his breath as Johnny says, “It’s yours,” his voice low but firm, each word carrying a heavy significance. Benny meets Johnny’s intense gaze, the silence between them tense with unspoken words.

Seeing the extreme conflict in Benny’s eyes, Johnny softens his resolve slightly and finally turns away.

“Hey, you know, just think it over,” Johnny says in a lighter tone, trying to mask his desperation.

Benny can feel Johnny’s urgency as he takes a final drag from his cigarette and gathers his crutch, using it to return to the campfire. He takes one last look back at Johnny who remains rested against his bike, lost in thought.

When Benny returns to sit beside you, there’s a profound change in him. His eyes carry the weight of deep thought as he sinks into his seat next to you.

The ride home reflects his mood, cold and windy, with a chill that mirrors the silence between you. Benny is clearly lost in thought. By the time you both arrive home, it’s late. He’s sore, aching, and exhausted.

You head straight to warm up in a hot shower. As you stand behind him, washing his back with a washcloth, you gently ease his sore muscles as he stands under the warm water, letting the stress of the day slowly wash away.

After drying off, you settle into the fresh sheets of your soft bed, and turn off the light. Benny curls up against you, his breath warm and soft against your neck. As you begin to drift off in the comfort of his arms, he quietly reveals what’s been on his mind, “Johnny offered me the club.” Benny says his voice heavy with the gravity of his thoughts.

You turn slightly to look at him, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

“He said it’s mine if I want it,” Benny continues, looking into your eyes feeling undecided.

“Well, what did you say?” you ask gently.

“I didn’t say anything,” Benny replies, pulling you closer.

You rest your head on the pillow, thinking about the weight of the decision Benny will have to make. “Just rest now,” you say softly, your voice soothing as you gently stroke his hand, offering him comfort while he processes his thoughts.

Restored

The next week Benny finally gets his cast removed at the hospital. It’s a moment of triumph and relief. The doctor carefully uses a small, vibrating saw to cut through the hardened plaster, making quick, precise movements to ensure Benny’s skin remains untouched. As the cast comes off, he stretches his leg, testing its flexibility for the first time. The feeling of freedom is evident in his smile.

When Benny stands for the first time without the cast, he takes a tentative step, then another, gaining confidence with each movement. He turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude, and wraps you in a warm hug. “Thank you, baby. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, his voice filled with deep appreciation. He pulls you in for a heartfelt kiss, a gesture that speaks volumes about how much your support has meant to him.

Once home, Benny eagerly dives into his chores. He starts by de-weeding the garden, pulling out stubborn weeds with a determined look of satisfaction. Next, he tackles his list of tasks around the house: cleaning the drains in the sink, and repairing the sticking window in the living room. His enthusiasm is undeniable as he works, each completed task a testament to his regained strength and stamina.

After he finishes his work, Benny heads to the shower, stripping naked as he turns the water on, letting it warm up. The steam begins to fill the bathroom, softening the edges of the mirror.

He steps under the stream, letting the hot water cascade over his tired muscles, washing away the dirt and grime from his skin. As he lathers up, his eyes drift down to his foot, where the red, jagged scar stretches across his ankle, a constant reminder of what he’s been through.

By nightfall, Benny surprises you by preparing a home cooked meal. He playfully pushes you out of the kitchen when you enter , his hands firm yet gentle on your waist.

“Go on, get off your feet,” he insists with a smile. As you turn back to protest, he leans in and kisses you, long and lingering, his gratitude evident in the way his lips meet yours.

His smile widens as you part, and he can’t help but watch the way your hips sway as you head to the living room, a warmth spreading through him at the sight.

He serves up spaghetti with tomato sauce and a crisp salad with Italian dressing. It’s a humble, straightforward meal, but the care and effort he put in to prepare it make it extraordinary. You both enjoy dinner with satisfied grins, savoring the flavors and the comfort of the familiar routine.

After dinner, Benny leads you into the living room, where he selects a record from your collection, holding it gently as he slides it from its sleeve and placing the vinyl onto the turntable.

He lowers the needle, and the room fills with the warm, crackling sound of the song as the music starts to play, filling the space with a melodic tune.

Benny turns to you, his eyes lit with anticipation, and gently pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he brushes his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this with you?” he asks, his hand resting around your waist as you move to the music.

“Forever, Benny,” you reply, your smile mirroring his. You both bask in the joy of the moment, swaying together and savoring the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms.

He kisses you again, this time with greater need, his hands cupping your face.

“I love you,” he whispers. You look into his eyes, a playful glint in yours.

“Show me,” you say, pulling him by both hands toward the stairs.

Benny’s face lights up with a grin as he follows you up, step by step remembering when he was stuck on the ground floor with a cast.

“I missed this too,” he says in a playful tone his voice full of anticipation, making both of you laugh as you ascend the stairs together.

Once you reach the bedroom, Benny lifts you effortlessly into his strong arms. He holds you close, his eyes dark with desire and affection as your legs wrap around his waist.

“I’ve been wanting to hold you like this again for so long,” he says, his grin is infectious his eyes lock on to yours .

“Me too, Benny,” you reply, smiling as a thrill runs through you being carried in his strong arms. You look into his eyes, your heart pounding, and gently cup his face, lowering your lips to his in a soft, appreciative kiss.

Benny gently lays you on the bed, his touch tender as he settles you into the familiar comfort of the master bedroom.

His fingers caress your face with affectionate care, his eyes reflecting deep gratitude and longing. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this….how much I missed you… “ he says as his thumb gently brushes over your lips, “I thought about being healed and back in your arms everyday.” He smiles fondly.

His eyes soften giving way to something deeper. “You cared for me at my worst and …I just want to show you how much I appreciate you,” he says, his voice laced with emotion as he leans in and kisses you tenderly, full of his unspoken desire.

With a soft touch, he begins unbuttoning your top, his fingers lingering on your skin as he slowly removes it. His hands then trail to your jeans, sliding them down your legs with deliberate care. He stands to take off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled, muscular torso without a bruise in sight. His smooth skin showing all the contours of his muscles in the light.

You grin at him, taking in how handsome he looks, noticing the flex in his muscles seem even stronger than before. Your eyes drop to his hands as he begins unbuttoning his jeans, and your heart rate spikes with anticipation.

Benny lowers his jeans, standing before you, completely naked. His cock is long and hard, substantial in length, a clear sign of how much he desires you.

He gives you a commanding look as he grins his voice low and full of authority, “Show me how much you missed me baby” he says lowering his hand and running it along his cock. “Play with yourself until you begging for me” he orders.

Your breath quickens, a thrill coursing through you at his words. You seductively smile at him unhooking your bra and letting it slide down your arms, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Next, you slip your fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them off until you are completely bare before him.

You settle back against the bed, spreading your legs just enough to give him a tantalizing view.

Your fingers start to explore yourself with soft a deliberate touch, teasing your entrance gently at first, before pushing your fingers inside, causing a soft moan to escape your lips making Benny’s eyes darken with desire.

He climbs on top of you, his weight pressing down at your sides just enough to remind you of his presence, his breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

He hovers above you, his body close but not quite touching, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come.

“Keep going for me,” he commands wrapping his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself, the need between you building with each passing second.

You continue moving your fingers within yourself, your breathing becoming ragged as you surrender to the sensation. “Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need as he pants above you. His eyes locked on yours as he strokes his cock harder in a quick deliberate rhythm.

As your moans grow desperate for him he lowers his mouth to your neck, trailing kisses that send shivers down your spine, his lips warm and soft, lingering just long enough to make you crave more.

His hand slides to your breast, his touch teasing as he firmly pinches your nipple, eliciting a gasp that makes you arch into him, the pleasure sharp and exquisite.

Benny’s breath quickens as he watches you beneath him, your face a picture of pure bliss, your body responding eagerly to the dual sensations of your own touch and his. His breaths become more ragged, his hand moving faster, stroking his cock harder

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers his voice thick with desire, his words sending a thrill through you.

“Please,” you beg, your voice laced with need. “I want you Benny.” The intensity of your plea drives him wild.

Without a word, Benny takes your wrist, pulling your fingers from you and guiding them directly into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them, tasting you with a groan of satisfaction.

Then he places your hand back on your clit. “Tease it while I taste you,” he says as he lowers himself between your legs.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit with increasing pressure as his lips press against your soft folds, his tongue flicking and teasing, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

His mouth works expertly, licking and sucking with just the right amount of pressure, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He places his fingers over yours, making you press harder on your clit as he guides your hand in slow, deliberate circles. “Benny,” you moan, your voice trembling with need.

He grips your hips, pulling you closer to his face, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at you, each stroke of his tongue teasing and deliberate. His movements are unrelenting drawing out every sensation until your eyes flutter closed and a loud moan escapes your lips, the pleasure too much to bear.

Your fingers circle your clit faster and faster, the sharp jolts of pleasure amplifying every sensation as Benny’s eager lips and tongue work at a relentless pace. Your hips begin to buck against his mouth, and he holds you firmly in place, your thighs tightening around his head, trapping him. He buries his face between your legs, thrusting his tongue deep inside you, coaxing your orgasm with deliberate strokes.

Loud moans escape your lips, the sound a mix of desperation and pleasure as your release comes, your body trembling as you squirt directly into his mouth. Benny groans against you, the vibrations of his voice making you moan in pleasure with him.l

As you come down from your high, breathless and spent, Benny takes his hands to your thighs, gently pushing them up and wide, your legs bending easily under his touch.

“I’m not even close to being done with you yet,” he breathes, his voice heavy with passion as he gazes down at you.

His hands grasp beneath your knees, his grip firm holding you in a way that leaves you completely vulnerable to him.

“You’ve given me everything, and I’m going to make sure you feel every inch of how much appreciate you.” He says using one hand to guide his tip to your entrance as his other hand keeps your leg firmly in place.

He pushes his cock deep into to your soaked walls. The sensation of him stretching you wider as he pushes in makes your breath catch, the tight pressure building with each inch he claims.

He settles within you, his large cock filling you completely, pressing against you at an angle that has you moaning his name.

He shudders replacing his hand to hold your other leg, spreading you wide apart the position leaving you completely at his mercy. With a deep, groan, he presses hips against you, pushing his cock all the way inside you as he begins to thrust.

His eyes flicker between your face and body as he watches the way you take him in. Every moan every gasp, the way your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples hardening with every jolt of pleasure.

He shifts his angle slightly, hitting just the right spot to make you moan louder.

“You feel …so good,” he praises, his voice raw and full of desire. His large hand slides up your side, until it reaches your breast, he

squeezes firmly, brushing his thumbs over your nipple before pinching it firmly between his fingers.

The sensation sends a sharp wave of pleasure through you, making you gasp. Benny’s eyes darken as he watches your reaction, the way your body arches into his touch, craving more.

He lowers himself onto you, his chest pressing firmly against yours. The weight of him feels grounding, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

His breath comes in warm, ragged pants against your neck as he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands cup your breasts squeezing and teasing your nipples as his hips thrust in a relentless rhythm, driving his cock deeper into you making you moan in pleasure.

His hands slide to the backs of your thighs, gripping them again as he picks up the pace, his thrusts become deeper, more intense, his cock pushing against a place that has you moaning into his mouth with every firm stroke.

The pressure is euphoric his cock filling you completely, leaving no room for anything else. You can feel every inch of him, every pulse and throb, as he claims you over and over again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, holding you in place as he increases his pace, his hips slamming against you with a force that leaves you breathless.

The controlling position has your body arching and writhing beneath him as he drives you closer and closer to the point of no return.

“Benny,” you cry out your voice trembling with desperation as he watches you fall apart beneath him. Your abs tensing as your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel Benny as he takes you higher and higher, his pace relentless, his desire for you all consuming.

Your moans are unending as your body trembles, your heart racing as you teeter on the edge of oblivion,

“You’re gonna come“ he says breathlessly and reaches his hands between your bodies finding your clit. His fingers press firmly against it as he thrusts. Your body responds immediately, your hips bucking up to meet his touch as you moan desperately into the air.

He pulls you into a searing kiss his lips moving against yours with a fierce intensity, as if he’s pouring every ounce of emotion into the connection. His lips never leave yours, staying softly pressed together in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

The pleasure becomes so intense that you moan into each others mouths feeling the tension building into an unbearable peak.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender to the sensation.

“Come with me,” he urges , his voice rough with desire as he gently guides your legs back until you’re perfectly positioned beneath him in a mating press. His biceps flexing as he holds your legs in place.

“This one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice strained with effort, each word a promise as his hips thrust driving himself deeper. He pushes harder, his back arching with each powerful stroke that fills your completely.

“I’m gonna come!” He yells and you both cry out in unison as the intensity overtakes you, his body claiming you with an overwhelming force.

Your orgasm crashes through you your walls pulsing and clenching around his cock as he continues thrusting into you. Your muscles tensing and quivering uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you.

Benny lets out a deep, guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reaches his own climax. You can feel the rush of his release hot and thick, filling you completely as he comes deep inside you. His cock pulses with each throb of your core, the warmth of his cum spreading through you, mingling with the slickness of your own arousal.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, as you cling to him, the sensation filling you with a sense of completion, of being claimed by him in a way that words could never convey.

Benny’s chest is heaving with exertion as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel the sweat on his skin, the way his body trembles with the effort.

Benny groans as the intensity of his movements begins to subside. His cock softly pulses making him feel euphoric as a satisfied sigh escapes his lips. His hands, once so firm, now gently caress your skin, his touch tender, almost reverent, savoring every second of being connected to you in this moment.

He remains close, his body still pressed tightly against yours, his cock nestled deep within you, as the final waves of pleasure slowly fade away.

You’re left in the quiet silence of the night, your bodies still entangled, your breaths slowly synchronizing, as you both bask in the lingering warmth and connection that only the depth of your love can bring.

Devoted

Benny repeatedly misses meeting after meeting with the Vandals. Every time the phone rings with Johnny Brusy or Cal on the other end, he comes up with an excuse not to attend, choosing instead to stay with you.

He hugs you, kisses you, and showers you with affection at every opportunity. He can’t seem to keep his hands off you especially your stomach, where he’s convinced his baby is growing.

One afternoon, his curiosity finally gets the better of him. You’re both doing simple tasks around the living room, you’re dusting the shelves, humming softly to yourself, while he’s putting records back into their sleeves, the warm notes of a vinyl playing in the air.

You move with a lightness on your tiptoes as you dust the higher shelves, a bright smile never leaving your face. There’s something different about you today, more radiant.

As you reach for the next spot, you accidentally knock a book from the shelf and you smile as you bend down to pick it up. You kneel carefully, one hand resting on your waist as you stand back up, the movement gentle and deliberate.​

Benny pauses, watching you for a moment, mesmerized by how you seem to be glowing. It’s not just your mood or the way you move with a gentle grace it’s something deeper, something in the way you carry yourself.

“You’re like sunshine today baby,” Benny says, his voice soft with admiration.

You look back at him, your eyes sparkling. “Am I?” you ask with a grin, stretching up on your tip toes again, playfully dusting his shoulder.

He chuckles watching you, feeling a sense of wonder. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’re different. Something’s changed.”

As you walk around him, a soft giggle escaping your lips, he senses it. There’s a new softness to your movements, something gentle but undeniable, and he’s drawn to it.

He can’t help but be curious. “Let me get a look at you,” he says, stepping closer, gently resting his hands on your waist.

He kneels in front of you, bathed in the soft afternoon light of the living room and lifts the hem of your dress.

His fingers trace the skin of your stomach, his touch gentle but searching, trying to understand the change he’s sensing.

His eyes fixate on you navel with a burning curiosity. “How soon until we can tell?” he asks in a serious tone,

You smile at his earnestness. “It’ll be a few months until the doctors can tell, Benny,” you reveal, fully aware he won’t be too pleased with the wait.

He frowns slightly, his thumb lightly brushing across your belly button.

“I’ve been giving it my all, you know,” he says, his voice playful as he leans closer speaking softly to your belly. “Been working hard in there every day,” he adds with a teasing grin, making you giggle.

He then cautiously presses his finger into your swollen ovary. “Ow Benny!” You exclaim and he looks up at you his eyes worried “I’m sorry baby” he says quickly his eyes full of repentance.

“it’s alright Benny.” you say smiling at him warmly seeing how fascinated he is.

“I have to know.” He says having you hold your dress back.

He presses both of your ovaries with his thumbs at the same time making an odd sensation course through you as your face winces in pain.

“Hurts?” He asks glancing up at you before focusing back on your abdomen.

“Yea Benny it feels really sore“ you confirm your voice strained. He has a look of sudden realization as he immediately releases his hands standing taller than you.

He glances down at your abdomen then back into your eyes

“I’m a hundred percent sure my baby is growing in you right now.” He admits

“Benny what!” Your say smiling at his enthusiasm

“You’re having my baby.” he confirms and you gently laugh seeing the conviction in his eyes.

“Benny” you say sweetly wrapping your arms around his neck gazing into his blue eyes lovingly. “There’s no way you can tell this soon.”

Benny glances down between your bodies before looking back into your eyes his hands firmly on your waist. “I’m one hundred percent sure.” He says with unwavering certainty.

Better Off

With Benny avoiding time with the Vandals, it comes as a shock when you receive a call one afternoon, and it’s Betty on the line.

Her voice is trembling as she relays “I have some devastating news… Brusy… he died in a motorcycle accident.”

Your breath catches, and you grip the phone tightly as Betty explains. It was an early morning ride when someone backed out of their driveway without seeing him. His death was instant. You cover your mouth in shock, trying to process what she’s saying. “What about Gail?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s inconsolable,” Betty replies, her voice breaking with emotion.

In a daze, you bid her farewell and hang up the phone heading straight to the garage, where you find Benny working on a bike. You stand in the doorway, hesitating, unsure how to break the news. Benny finally looks up at you, his hands covered in oil, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“What is it?” he asks, noticing your distress.

You take a deep breath, deciding to just tell him plainly. “Benny… Brusy died in a motorcycle accident.”

His reaction is not what you expect. Without even looking up, he mutters, “He’s better off.”

You’re stunned. “What?” you ask, thinking you misheard him.

“I said, he’s better off,” Benny repeats, this time taking the cigarette out of his mouth to look at you, his tone detached.

“Benny, you can’t say that,” you try to reason with him, still in disbelief.

Benny shrugs, going back to work on his bike, his indifference unsettling you. “How can you not have feelings, Benny?” you ask becoming frustrated with his lack if concern.

“My dad made sure of that,” he says, not bothering to look up as he tightens a bolt on the bike’s engine

“What did you say?” you ask, stepping further into the garage, drawn in by the rare mention of his past.

“He’s better off too,” Benny adds, still unbothered, as if he were discussing something trivial

“Benny!” you exclaim, shocked. “Your father… passed away?” you ask, your concern rising.

“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly, wiping his hands clean of oil and tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It’s just as well.

The news hits you hard, but Benny’s stoic demeanor leaves you feeling helpless.

The next week you attend Brusy funeral with all of the Vandals to pay your respects. The family refused the floral arrangements from the club, so Johnny has the Vandals form a line at the entrance, a silent show of solidarity.

As Brusy’s family arrives, his mother and father are the only ones who attend. His father clutches his mother as they walk through the line of Vandals to the ceremony. Brusys mother recognizes Johnny, and her grief turns to anger. She looks him in the eyes with disgust and spits directly in his face.

“Get out of here, would ya?” Brusys father adds, leaning in after her with a serious tone. But Johnny and the Vandals remain, unmoved.

After Brusys death, the guilt weigha heavily on Benny. Seeing his brotherhood again in such sad times shifted something inside him

To your dismay, Benny throws himself wholeheartedly back into the Vandals. He’s running missions, going on weekly rides, and always at Johnny’s beck and call, eager to help at a moment’s notice.

He gets into more fights, racks up more speeding tickets, and makes more court appearances, as if he’d been desperate to make up for lost time.

Even though part of him wants to pull away, he cant seem to let go. The thrill, the loyalty to his brothers—he couldn’t resist, no matter how much he might have wanted to break free

Every time he comes home and sees you, there’s flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knows he should leave the club—he told you several times that he planned to walk away from the Vandals. “I’m just gonna leave,” he’d say, but you could always see the doubt behind his words deep down you knew he didnt meant it.​

Every time Johnny called, Benny was right back by his side. Even though Benny didn’t want to take over the club, he could see the emptiness Johnny felt after losing Brusy, and that’s what kept him tethered-what kept him coming back.

After Brusy died, things began to change in the club. More people from tougher walks of life wanted to join, seeking the comfort and strength in numbers that the brotherhood provided.

Johnny had to turn away dozens of them, questioning their loyalty or finding it lacking altogether. But as new sects sprang up with different styles of leadership he began to lose his control.

The parties and picnics grew wilder and more chaotic until Benny stopped inviting you altogether. He preferred you stay home, safe and comfortable, while he helped Johnny sort through the increasingly violent and unpredictable issues that came with managing so many new, unruly chapters.

She’s Fine

When, Benny does finally invite you it’s to one of the largest parties the Vandals have ever thrown, held in an old, abandoned manor in the middle of a field in Chicago. As you arrive, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. You only know Johnny, Cal, and Cockroach; none of the old ladies from the club are there. In fact, there are only the new, provocative and wild girls, which immediately puts you on edge.

You sit with Benny as he drinks his beer, listening to Sunny, a new recruit, recount his tales of being a ‘Dead Devil’ member in California. As Sunny proudly describes his thrill of being in a club of “proper fuck-ups” like himself, you notice that the new bikers have a common uniting theme from all corners of the country.

They seem like renegades, exuding the mentality of dangerous, cutthroat survivors who are banding together to carry out their dirty work, empowered by their strength in numbers.

You try to relax, seeing the edgier side of biker life with Benny, but there’s a rougher, more aggressive undercurrent tonight. The feeling is unsettling and hard to ignore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a biker grabbing a girl with a roughness that’s meant to be playful, but the way he handles her is terrifying. The girl laughs it off, but the danger lurking beneath the surface is unmistakable.

When Benny drinks the last of his beer you get up to fetch him another. As you pull a cold one from the cooler in the kitchen, you encounter a skinny young woman smoking a cigarette.

“Are you new?” she asks, her eyes scanning you up and down.

“No, well, I mean, I’m with a Vandal,” you reply, gesturing towards Benny.

She takes a drag of her cigarette and offers a weak smile. “He’s handsome,” she says, her gaze lingering on Benny before she turns back to the conversation.

“I don’t blame you for being claimed by one,” she says, eyeing a biker from across the room. “I’ve had my fair share of men, but bikers… there’s something about em…the roughness, the edge, the way they push you beyond your limits,” she adds, giving you a knowing look as she takes another drag from her cigarette. “I can’t get enough of ’em,” she mutters, slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingers in the air.

The biker she’s been eyeing gestures for her to come over, and without another word, she struts away, leaving you standing alone, her words hanging in the air.​

Feeling a bit uneasy, you make your way back to Benny, unable to shake the conversation. As you approach with the beer, you notice all the men are looking in the direction you just came from.

You glance back and see the girl you just spoke to is now seductively dancing for the biker in the other room, a crowd of men gathering around to watch.

It dawns on you that the new girls around the club seem different—more open, more seductive, almost like… but you shake the thought from your mind. As you sit back down next to Benny, he places his arm around you, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

Suddenly, Johnny bursts into the room, snapping his fingers, his eyes deadly serious.

“Hey, guys, I need you,” he says, and Benny, Cal, and two of the new recruits quickly jump up and rush outside.

“I’ll be right back,” Benny tells you, concern etched on his face as he follows Johnny out, leaving you alone on the couch.

As you sit there waiting, a creeping unease begins to settle in. You notice several bikers standing around, their eyes flicking toward you more often than you’d like. The longer you sit, the more uncomfortable you feel. The room feels heavy, the atmosphere shifting as the men’s gazes linger on you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

Deciding it’s safer outside, you get up, intending to wait for Benny on the porch. But as you head toward the front door, you notice several bikers watching your every move, their eyes following you like a pack of wolves eyeing prey.

A cold chill runs down your spine, and with a sinking feeling, you realize the girl who was dancing seductively in the next room is gone, along with several of the other girls leaving you in a room of men riled up without a distraction.

You clutch your body instinctively, feeling the weight of their stares, every instinct screaming that something’s not right.

Just as you reach for the front door, a large, menacing biker steps in front of you, blocking your way. “Where you going?” he demands, his voice filled with malice as he grabs your arm with a vice-like grip.

“Let me go!” you scream in shock, shoving him as hard as you can, but his grip only tightens. Panic floods your veins as another biker grabs your other arm, and a third seizes your leg. They lift you off the ground, your body fighting with everything you have, but their hold is relentless, overpowering your desperate struggle.​

“We’ll take good care of you, pretty thing,” one of them laughs, his grip like iron as he holds you.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” another one suggests, the words passing between them with a dark, unspoken understanding, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before, a silent agreement among predators who have found their prey.

Their faces are lit with excitement and thrill as they carry you to the stairwell, their eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure as their hands greedily roam over your body. “Stop it! stop it! let me go!” you panic, your voice trembling as their rough hands slide beneath your clothing, fingers brushing against your skin. “No, no!” you cry out, your voice rising in desperation.

They work together, ignoring your pleas, their grins widening as they tug at your clothing, reveling in the power they have over you. The more you resist, the more it fuels their twisted desires.

“Let’s see what else she’s hiding,” a third one grins, his fingers pushing into your waistband.

You begin to kick, punch, thrash with all your might, managing to break free of one’s grip just long enough to claw another biker across the face, leaving deep, angry red marks.

“Damn, girl you got some fight in you !” the biker yells, grabbing your wrist with force. Your screams begin to pierce the night air, each one more desperate than the last, filled with raw, frantic energy as they continue to carry you up the stairs.

“She’s never been broken in,” one of them says, a dark grin spreading across his face as he covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your screams as they drag you up toward the landing.

You begin to cry as the terrifying reality sets in, and a fist comes out of nowhere, smashing into the face of the biker covering your mouth. He stumbles back, releasing you in shock.

You see Johnny clawing his way through the men to get to you. He grabs you, pulling you out of their grasp with a fierceness that leaves no room for argument. “This is Benny’s girl!” Johnny shouts, his voice ringing with authority.

The bikers quickly realize their mistake, fear and regret flashing across their faces. “We thought she was working,” one of them stammers, panic rising in his voice as he tries to justify their actions. “We were just trying to get ours,” another says, but the words falter as he sees Johnny’s eyes burning with a need for retribution.

They begin to disperse, leaving you crumpled on the stairs, your head resting against the wall as you breathe heavily, trying to process the horror of what just happened.

Your clothes are in disarray, and you shiver uncontrollably, still feeling their hands on you, your skin crawling with fear and disgust. You try to cover yourself, but your hands are shaking too violently to close the remaining buttons. The sensation of their rough, unwanted touches lingers, burning into your mind, a memory you can’t shake.

Johnny crouches down beside you, his face serious, his attempt at reassurance doing little to comfort you. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice gentle, but the look you give him is one of pure, absolute hatred.

Hatred for Benny still being entangled in this life, and hatred for the negligence and wildness of these new members that nearly cost you everything.

Johnny meets your gaze, his eyes pleading, trying to convince you, and maybe even himself, that everything is under control. “Nothing happened, alright?” he says, nodding as if the repetition will somehow make it true, will somehow erase the trauma that’s etched into your soul.

You stare at him blankly, your mind slipping into a numb, distant place. “Where’s Benny?” you ask weakly, your voice cracking as you teeter on the edge of shock.

The thought of how close you came to being violated by several men at once crashes over you, leaving you drowning in despair as you retreat into your mind staring blankly ahead.

“Nothing happened. You’re fine,” Johnny repeats, but the words sound distorted, as if they’re coming from far away. His is voice hollow and meaningless, as if me keeps saying the words enough times it will somehow make them true.

Just then, Benny rushes into the door way of the stairwell, his eyes wild with concern, panic evident in every line of his face. “What the fuck happened? I was gone for a minute!” he exclaims, his gaze locking onto you, taking in your disheveled appearance, your vacant stare.

“Baby, are you alright?” he asks, dropping to his knees beside you, his voice trembling with fear.

Your eyes drop to meet his, but everything feels distant, like you’re disconnected. The world around you blurs, sounds muffled and distorted. You try to speak, but no words come out, your throat tightens, and your mind is blank, unable to process what just happened.

“Benny, she’s fine, some of the guys got the wrong idea,” Johnny says, trying to downplay the situation, but there’s a tension in his voice, a realization that things have gone far beyond what he can smooth over.

“What do you mean, they got wrong idea? She can’t even talk; she’s fucking shaking!” Benny shouts, his anger flaring into something dangerous.

“It’s all been handled, it’s okay,” Johnny tries to reassure him, but Benny isn’t buying it. He sees the truth in your eyes, the trauma that words can’t cover up.

“Johnny, she’s not right,” Benny says, his voice tight with a mix of fury and desperation. He quickly takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, his hands moving up and down your arms, trying to warm you, to bring you back from the place where you’ve retreated.

“They got a little handsy,” Johnny finally admits, his voice lacking the nonchalance he’s aiming for, knowing he’s failed to protect you.

“How handsy?” Benny demands, his voice dangerous with a promise of retribution.

“They just thought she was one of the girls, but she’s fine, Benny. Nothing happened. I took care of it,” Johnny insists and his words simmer Benny’s growing rage. He trusts Johnny with his life and that means yours too.

Benny helps you to your feet, your legs trembling so violently you can barely stand. He pulls you close, holding you tightly against him “What happened, baby?” He asks in a hushed tone his eyes searching yours, desperate for some sign that you’re okay, but you can’t give him that.

Your mind is lost somewhere dark, replaying the nightmare over and over again, the terror of what could have happened gripping your heart.

“I’m taking you home, baby,” Benny says, his voice soft but firm, the determination in his tone clear. He knows he needs to get you away from here, away from the chaos, away from whatever just happened.

He scoops you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. His grip is strong and protective, but beneath it is a layer of fear, of guilt, knowing that his world, his choices, brought you to this point.

As he carries you quickly to his motorcycle, you rest your head against his shoulder, still shaking, still trying to process the horror of what you just survived.

Johnny stands there, watching you both leave, scratching his head in frustration, stress etched into his features knowing this was a big fuck-up, one that might cost him to lose Benny for good.

Don’t Leave Me

As Benny rides home with you, his grip tightens around your hands, holding them firmly against his chest. You can feel the tension radiating off him, anger and fear battling for control in his mind. The roar of the engine, the wind whipping past, it all feels muted, overshadowed by the weight of what just happened. As you bury your face in his shoulder, you know deep down that things between you and the Vandals will never be the same again.

When you get home, Benny immediately takes you to the shower. He carefully helps you out of your clothing and adjusts the water temperature. As he holds you against his chest waiting for the water to warm up you finally realize you are home safe.

But it also brings a wave of emotions you’ve been holding back and tears well up in your eyes. You cling to Benny and when he looks down at you hearing your sobs, his expression softens with concern.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, holding your face in his hands. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He says his thumbs brushing away your tears, but you can’t find the words to tell him what really happened. The fear of what might come next—or maybe just the shock of it all—keeps the truth stuck in your throat.

“Shh shh it’s alright” He says seeing you struggle to find the words and calmly guides you under the hot water the warmth immediately embraces your stunned body.

You close your eyes, letting the water cleanse you and when you open them, Benny has stepped away to give you some privacy.

“Benny,” you call out, panic creeping into your voice feeling the vulnerability of being alone.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds, returning to the doorway shirtless preparing for bed.

“Don’t leave me,” you plead, your voice tinged with a sadness that cuts through him.

“Baby, I won’t,” he reassures you, reaching into the shower and turning off the water. “I’ll stay by you all night,” he says as he helps you out and dries you off wrapping the soft towel around your shoulders. “I’ll stay with you forever,” he says holding you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead to reassure you of your safety, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes.

Later that night, you lie awake. Benny’s arm is wrapped protectively around you, but despite his comforting presence, you can’t shake the fear of the chaos that unfolded. The new Vandals are ruthless without remorse and you’re terrified that this is just the beginning and that things will only spiral further out of control.

You wonder why Benny won’t leave the club and why he refuses to take over, and it dawns on you that he must hate what the club has become. What started as a brotherhood and a symbol of freedom has turned into chaos and mob mentality. Benny’s only reason for staying is to help Johnny enforce some semblance of order, but even that seems like a losing battle now.

You decide to tell Benny the truth in the morning. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding with a few members getting handsy; they were all going to violate you, and Johnny barely managed to save you in time.

As you lie there you understand the truth, Johnny lied because he knows the only reason Benny would ever leave the club is for you.

When you wake up the next morning, Benny is in the shower. Feeling famished, you decide to make breakfast for both of you, slipping into a short-sleeved dress before heading downstairs.

After preparing eggs and toast, you set the food on the counter and call up to Benny, determined to tell him everything. You know that once he hears the truth, he’ll finally have the reason he needs to walk away from the Vandals.

You hear his footsteps upstairs, the familiar creak of the dresser drawer opening, but he doesn’t come down. When he doesn’t respond to your second call, an uneasiness forms in your chest and you head upstairs to check on him.

“Benny?” you call softly as you step into the master bedroom. Benny turns to face you in the act of quickly throwing on his jacket. The tension in the air is undeniable as you take in the scene. Something’s off…something’s very wrong.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice tight, as though he’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your eyes narrowing, picking up on his unusual behavior.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but you can see that he’s fully dressed, ready to head out. There’s an urgency in his demeanor, a desperation he’s not quite managing to hide.

“I have something I need to say,” you begin, your heart heavy with the weight of what’s been on your mind.

“I gotta be someplace,” he interrupts, his eyes darting toward the door like he’s desperate to escape whatever’s coming next.

“We all have to be someplace, Benny,” you say, your tone serious, conveying that this is not something you’ll let slide.

“Alright, what is it?” he asks, leaning back against the dresser, his shoulders tense with the stress and that seems to be eating at him.

A long silence stretches between you as you search for the right words as your emotions swirl inside you, threatening to burst forth. Finally, you say it outright, the words heavy with finality.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Benny,” you say, your voice trembling with more emotion than you intended. “And I’m not gonna live like this anymore.” The finality in your words is clear. If he stays in the club, you can’t stay with him.

Benny’s eyes narrow as he processes what you’re saying.

“Last night, Benny, you weren’t there. You didn’t see it,” you reveal, the memory of what happened still raw and painful. “I..I don’t know what I would’ve done if they got me up those stairs and into that bedroom.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you push them back, fighting the disgust and humiliation that threatens to overwhelm you.

“What bedroom?” Benny asks, his concern deepening, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him as you try to hold back your tears.

“Johnny said he took care of it,” Benny says slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “He said when I was gone, nothing happened.”

“That’s not true, Benny!” you exclaim, your voice cracking as the anger and fear you’ve been holding back finally break free.

“They tried to take me up the stairs, a group of them, and you didn’t see it!” Your voice rises, the frustration of staying silent for too long making it impossible to hold back the torrent of pain and fury.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice low, full of regret. His mind reels, replaying Johnny’s words, the betrayal evident in every line of his face as he realizes the truth of what you’re telling him.

“You weren’t there!” you scream, the anguish of the night before breaking through in a wave of despair.

Benny stares at you, seeing you so broken cuts him deeply, and he hates that he’s the cause of it.

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling as you summon the strength to speak the most painful truth. “If they had done what they planned… I don’t think I could live with myself.” Your voice cracks as the weight of the situation crashes down on you, leaving you trembling with sadness.

“C’mon, don’t say that, baby,” Benny says, his eyes filling with hurt. He can see how deeply this has affected you, and it breaks his heart.

“Who would even want me after something like that?” you whisper, the fear and shame eating away at you needing him to understand the gravity of the situation, to see what the club has done to you—to both of you.

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he stares at you, the weight of what you’ve endured crashing down on him. Johnny lied. The Vandals are out of control. The club is spiraling, and he’s been blind to how deep it’s gone.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice low and tense filled with the weight of impossible choices.

“I want you to quit the club,” you say with certainty.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his face hardening. “Don’t ask that,” he says, his voice edged with steel.

He knows he can’t just leave the Vandals, it’s a brotherhood bound by blood, to cut ties, especially now, would mean being ‘out bad,’ a fate worse than death in his world.

“Let’s leave for a while then, maybe travel for a few months. We can go anywhere, Benny. Let’s just leave some place,” you plead, desperation lacing your words.

And there’s a silence as Benny looks down, rapidly processing everything you’ve just told him.

You stare at him, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest. The tension in the air is undeniable as you wait for his response, hoping this will be the moment he finally decides to walk away from the chaos.

“Benny,” you say tensely, waiting for his answer, hoping against hope that he’ll choose you. But he sits in silence, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the dresser’s edge, the internal battle evident in his tense posture.

“Benny!” you shout desperately, realizing he’s still not ready to leave the Vandals after everything.

“What?” he snaps, the frustration finally breaking through. His anger flares for a moment as he bites his lip, but then he calms, the fight draining out of him. His eyes fill with a heartbreaking sadness, and for a moment, it looks as if he might cry. The vulnerability in his expression is raw and unguarded, and it twists something deep inside you.

“What did you think this was hm?” he asks, his voice heart wrenching, as he remembers all the times you accepted him as he was. “What did you think this was ever gonna be?” he repeats, his voice trembling with conflict.

His words cut deep, a reminder that you married a full-blooded biker, with all the darkness and danger that comes with it, no questions asked.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice weak and trembling, not wanting to do what you know you have to. He looks away, his jaw clenched and tense as he waits, knowing what’s coming.

Silence falls between you as you look down, wiping the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sniffle, feeling your heart break with the realization that changing Benny was a fantasy, and it was naive to think otherwise.

Benny turns back to the dresser, opening a drawer and tucking something away, but you’re too heartbroken to care.

The realization that you need to prioritize your life without him hits you with a crushing finality, and the dream of a life together shatters in the quiet of the room.

Just as you gather the strength to speak the words, Benny suddenly surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His body presses against yours, his hands gripping your jaw as his lips crash against yours in a kiss more frantic than anything you’ve ever felt.

There’s an overwhelming urgency in the way his mouth moves against yours, his kiss rough and desperate like a man on the edge, as if he knows this is his last chance, and he’s trying to make up for every mistake in this one heated moment.

You barely have time to catch your breath as his hands grip you tightly, wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer, as his mouth devours yours.

His tongue pushes in, the kiss raw and unyielding, leaving you breathless. There’s no gentleness here, only a frantic need to claim you, to make you his again before everything falls apart.

You know what you need to do, the words you need to say, but Benny doesn’t give you the chance. He breaks the kiss just long enough to tear off his coat, tossing it aside in one swift motion. His grips your arm as if you’ll run away, holding you in place as his other hand moves to unfasten his jeans.

His lips return to yours with a feverish intensity, the kiss hard and demanding. He’s not giving you room to think, to protest, to do anything but feel the overwhelming power of his need.

Despite the turmoil raging within you melt into his embrace. His touch so familiar is powerful makes everything else fade away.

He’s holding onto you, to make you forget, to keep you here with him and the desperation in his touch is impossible to ignore.

Without breaking the kiss, Benny grips your arm and pulls you toward the dresser with sudden, forceful energy. His hold is firm, his need undeniable as he presses you against the unforgiving surface. There’s no room for words, no space for second thoughts his intentions are clear.

He yanks your dress up, the cold air hitting your skin, making you shiver. The tears you’ve been holding back prick at your eyes, but before they can spill, Benny’s hands are on you, pulling you back into the moment, pulling you back to him. His fingers are rough as they spread your legs wide, finding their place with a familiarity that’s charged with a new level of intensity.

He doesn’t hesitate and pulls your panties aside, finding you’re already slick from his touch, your body betraying the chaos in your mind. The moment he pushes his tip into you, a painful moan escapes your lips, vibrating through your entire body.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t even consider it. He thrusts in with one forceful, push his size filling you entirely causing an ache you can barely withstand.

“Benny,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you struggle to catch your breath, wanting to ask him to slow down, to give you a moment.

But Benny is beyond that now. His pace is brutal, relentless, his hips snapping against you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, your body caught between pleasure and pain. Each thrust sends a shockwave through you, the friction overwhelming as your walls tighten around him.

The harsh sound of slapping skin fills the room, mingling with the desperate moans that tear from your throat as your body presses against the dresser. There’s a rawness to his movements, a desperation in the way he’s taking you, like he’s trying to drown out his own pain, his own fear, with every thrust.

Benny’s grip on your waist tightens, his rhythm growing more frantic as he chases his release, as if can find solace in it, that he can somehow escape the reality of what’s happening between you.

You’re both lost in the intensity of the moment, but there’s no relief, no comfort only a desperate, chaotic need that threatens to tear you both apart.

And then, just as suddenly, he stops. He pulls out of you, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness, your body still trembling from the relentless assault. Without a word, Benny grabs your waist and hastily pulls you away from the dresser.

He practically lifts you onto the bed, his hands shaking as he positions you beneath him. You catch a glimpse of his face, and your heart tightens at the sight—his eyes are red-rimmed, filled with a torment he’s barely holding back. He’s fighting to keep control, but the tears are there, threatening to fall, the raw emotion in his gaze nearly breaking you all over again.

He hesitates for just a moment, his breath catching in his throat, before he pushes your panties aside once more, and thrusts back into you with force.

The way he fills you again so quickly sends shockwaves through your aching core as you arch from the bed.

His weight bears down on you, his hips grinding into yours with a ferocity. The pleasure builds, but it’s a dark, jagged thing, tearing through you as your body starts to surrender to the intensity.

The initial ache gives way to something deeper, more profound. Your moans are filled with a mix of pain and need, as he continues his relentless thrusts, refusing to let you go, refusing to give in.

His face buries into the crook of your neck his breaths hot and ragged against your skin, and you feel his tears mix with your sweat. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to you.

“Don’t leave me,” he chokes out, his voice thick with anguish, muffled against your skin but clear enough to cut through you like a knife.

“Benny,” you gasp, feeling the raw emotion in his voice, the way his need is almost suffocating. You hold him tighter, knowing you need to do something, say something to bring him back from the edge.

His thrusts slow, becoming deeper, more deliberate, like he’s trying to carve his presence into your very soul, to make sure you feel him long after this moment ends

You feel his anguish and torment as he groans, his voice filled with pain, his hands gripping your hips with an intensity that matches the depth of his thrusts. He’s making you his, pouring every ounce of his desperation into you. In that moment you understand you can’t leave him, not when he needs you so desperately.

“Benny,” you whisper in his ear, your voice soft but steady, trying to ground him, to pull him out of the spiral he’s caught in.

“I won’t leave you.” You confess. Your words cut through his heavy desperation, and he lifts his face to yours, his eyes brimming with an emotion so intense it steals the breath from your lungs. He kisses you, and it’s not gentle, it’s desperate, frantic, his lips filled with a hunger that’s all-consuming.

His body presses harder against yours, each thrust deep and powerful, driven by the turmoil raging inside him. He loses himself in the feeling of you, moaning against your mouth as his muscles tense, every inch of his body thrusting against yours with wild, unrestrained passion.

His hips drive forward with a force that leaves you breathless, every thrust a wordless plea, as if he’s trying to drown out everything else—the anger, the fear, the guilt—desperately holding onto you as his salvation.

Your hands slide up to cradle his face, and you kiss him back with everything you have, trying to pour all the reassurance you can into that kiss.

Your body responds to every thrust, your own pleasure building as he pours all the pent up emotions he’s been holding back into each movement.

You moan his name, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all, as you feel him tense against you, his cock pulsing as he nears his release. His thrusts become frantic, his desperation to hold onto you undeniable.

He cups your jaw, his fingers digging in just enough to make you focus on him, his eyes locking onto yours, the vulnerability in his gaze making your heart race. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I love you, Benny,” you say, and it’s the truth, even in this dark, twisted moment. You pour every ounce of yourself into the words, pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss. The connection between you grows stronger, more intense, as his body begins to shudder, his control slipping away.

He groans into your mouth, his muscles tensing as he finally reaches his peak, he presses as close to you as possible, holding you against him as he comes with a final desperate thrust. His hips push against you forcefully his cock pulsing his release into you.

He collapses against you, his breath coming in heavy gasps as your arms hold him close, feeling the weight of everything that’s passed between you and you hold him tighter, knowing you’re all he has in this moment.

His breaths are warm against your neck, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. You trail your hand down his back, your touch soothing, comforting, something that grounds him, even in the midst of all his chaos and as the room falls into a heavy silence, he basks in the comfort of your arms, finding peace in your embrace.

You thread your fingers through his hair, and the connection between you feels different now, deeper, more intimate than before.

The weight of his turmoil seems to lift as he realizes that he has you, and you are everything to him and he knows now he will never let you go.

For the first time Benny feels completely loved, wrapped in your warmth and security finding what he has always longed for.

After a moment in shared silence, he finally speaks from the heart.

“I’m going to leave the club,” he says, his voice steady with newfound resolve as he rests against your chest feeling your fingers affectionately weave through his hair.

“I have to take care of one more thing with Johnny today, and then I’m out,” he confirms, tilting his head up to look at you, his eyes filled with determination.

You nod, feeling a surge of emotion wash over you. For the first time, you truly believe that you and Benny will be free, that there’s a future for both of you beyond this life.

He wipes the tears from his face, grounding himself in the warmth of your body and you gently take his hand and place it on the side of your stomach, your heart pounding with what you’re about to say.

“Benny, you were right,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and be looks down at your hand as you place it over his, the significance of the gesture slowly dawning on him. “I am pregnant,” you reveal softly.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes widen with the realization, and you see the shock flood his expression all at once. In that instant, everything changes for him. It’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, and a new purpose has settled into his heart. This—this is what he’s always wanted, even if he never dared to hope for it.

His eyes search yours with an intensity that leaves you speechless. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispers, almost in disbelief, his voice heavy with emotion. The words hang in the air, filled with awe and reverence. You smile and nod, cupping his face gently, seeing a new side of Benny right in front of your eyes —one full of hope and tenderness.

“I’m going to take care of everything,” he promises, his voice firm with newfound determination. “We’re going to be free, and I’m going to give you and our baby the life you deserve.” He says with conviction.

The road ahead is now clear to him, more important than ever before. His resolve to protect you, to protect this new little life growing inside of you, deepens into an unshakable certainty.

The future he’s been so unsure of now holds a new and profound meaning, and he’s completely devoted to you and the family you’re about to create together.

Stay Gone

Benny gets on his bike, a faint smile forming on his lips. The thought of you, pregnant with his child, fills him with a warmth he’s never felt before. He loves you, and he’ll never leave you as long as he lives.

As he rides toward the Vandals’ bar, a surprising sense of relief washes over him. He’s ready to leave the club, something he’s never seen an original member do before. He wonders what Johnny will say. Benny knows he could’ve gotten out when he broke his leg, but he’s always been loyal, always honest with Johnny. After all, Johnny was the one who took him in when he was abandoned and alone, welcoming him with open arms and the rest is history.

The whole ordeal of Johnny’s meeting today stems from the night at the party when you were attacked by the newer Vandals.

Benny had left you to deal with the aftermath of another brutal incident when Cockroach, one of the original members, had been beaten to a bloody pulp by a group of new recruits.

He told the newer Vandals around a campfire that he planned to leave the club and become a police officer. But the new recruits, coming from different sects, had begun creating their own rules, transforming the brotherhood into something harsh and unforgiving. In their world, loyalty had taken on a brutal, unyielding edge, and in their eyes, pigs don’t fly with bikers.

When Cockroach left the campfire to relieve himself, three of the newer members exchanged a knowing look of agreement, disgusted by what they deemed his disloyalty. Without hesitation, they took turns beating him to within an inch of his life.

Johnny, Cal, Wahoo, and Benny saw the aftermath—concern flickering between them as they took in the severity of the beating on one of their own. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment that their brotherhood was being torn apart from the inside.

After Cockroach healed up, he arrived at the club with his head hung low. He wanted out; he wanted to start a new life. Benny and the other members listened to his tale in silence. Once he limped out of the bar, everyone felt unsettled he was an original member, and this would set the precedent for how anyone who wanted to leave would be treated.

Johnny turned to Benny, with a solemn knowing look. “You still got your pistol?” He asked

“Yeah, why?” Benny replied.

“Because we’re gonna go see Cockroach,” Johnny said with a dark glint in his eye.

Now, as Benny reaches the club in the afternoon, he dismounts his bike, pistol tucked securely in the back of his waistband.

During the argument with you, when he discreetly had to hide the fact that he was carrying a gun, he knew the club had indeed become corrupted.

The days of freedom and friendship are now, power shifts and territorial disputes favoring drugs and violence. He doesn’t know what Johnny has planned needing his pistol, but he’s almost certain they won’t kill Cockroach to set an example for leaving the Vandals.

He pushes the doors open to the low hum of blues playing in the background, the usual bar sounds mixing with the music. He spots Johnny and Cal drinking in the corner. He can already hear the sadness in Johnny’s voice as he finishes telling a story about Brusy, making all the guys nod, feeling the weight of Brusys recent passing. “Live a biker, die a biker,” Johnny says, downing a shot.

As soon as Johnny sets the glass down, he smiles, seeing Benny. “There he is!” Johnny says, chuckling as he gets up.

“Johnny, we need to talk,” Benny says, his tone serious.

“About our little mission to see Cockroach? We’ll discuss that later. Come have some drinks, join the guys,” Johnny says, gesturing him over.

But Benny doesn’t budge. “It’s about my wife,” he says with tension.

The room falls silent, and everyone turns to look at Benny, sensing the gravity of his words.

Johnny scratches the back of his head, a bit of apprehension creeping into his voice. “What about her?” he asks, glancing over with a knowing expression on his face.

“She won’t be coming around the club anymore,” Benny says, his voice firm.

Johnny nods slowly. “Good, good. You know, it’s different now. She really shouldn’t—this is a man’s world,” he says, prompting a round of chuckles from the bikers.

Benny knows Johnny won’t side with him on this. Even though the men touched you, Johnny dismissed it as a mistake, chalking it up to confusion with the prostitutes around. But the fact that they manhandled you so violently, despite knowing you screamed for your life, shows they have no shame. You were deliberately targeted.

Johnny senses the shift in Benny’s demeanor, hears the edge in his voice sees the fire in his eyes. He knows Benny’s planning something, and he’s determined to remind him tonight what happens when someone tries to leave on their own terms.

Benny doesn’t join Johnny’s table. Instead, he heads to the bar, sitting alone with his thoughts as he orders a drink.

As Benny downs his glass, his mind drifts to you, how you’ll spend your lives together, raising your child. He’s keeping this precious part of his life to himself, knowing it’s one less thing Johnny can use against him if it comes to that.

At nightfall, Johnny drives Benny to a quiet neighborhood on the lower east side near the tracks. With Benny as second in command, Johnny wants to enforce the new rule for leaving the club, using Cockroach as the example.

Johnny pops the trunk, and Benny’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees a shotgun inside. Johnny grabs the shotgun, slams the trunk shut, and gestures for Benny to follow.

Benny pulls his gun from his waistband as they creep through the neighborhood.

“Don’t do nothin’. Just follow me,” Johnny whispers.

They finally stop in front of a house on the back row.

Johnny cocks and aims the shotgun, blasting the door handle. The loud sound and flash take Benny aback.

They walk through the clearly abandoned house to the kitchen.

A solitary figure sits in the darkness on a chair. When he stands up and steps into the light, Benny recognizes Cockroach. He’s battered and bruised, looking up at Johnny with a glum expression. He knew this was coming; he got the call to stay put until Johnny arrived, allowing him the dishonor of leaving the Vandals.

“Give me your pistol,” Johnny says to Benny. Benny looks at Cockroach, then back to Johnny, and silently hands over his weapon.

Johnny takes Benny’s pistol and, without hesitation aims it at Cockroach’s knee, firing a shot. Cockroach wails in agony as Johnny wipes the blood around his wound

“You let it bleed,” Jonny says, locking eyes with Cockroach, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His voice is low, unyielding

“Go now and stay gone.” Johnny says with menace. It’s the final, brutal declaration of excommunication from the Vandals, and there’s no mistaking the seriousness in Jonny’s tone.

This isn’t just a warning it’s a death sentence to any ties Cockroach had with the club. The message is unmistakable: the brotherhood is severed from him forever.

Johnny hands Benny his pistol, and Benny feels the heavy weight of it in his hand—the weight of what the club has become.

Benny takes one last look at Cockroach, thinking of all the years and rides they’d shared, only for him to be shot in the leg, perhaps never to ride again and tucks his pistol into the waistband at his back following Johnny out into the night.

The drive back to the Vandals’ bar is silent, not a word spoken between them, both retreating into their thoughts, the weight of the situation hanging heavily on their minds. When the car parks on the familiar street in front of the club, Johnny cuts off the engine

“What the fuck was that?” Benny finally asks stunned by the brutality.

Johnny sighs. “That was taking care of Cockroach,” he emphasizes.

“Like you took care of my wife?” Benny glares at him, his eyes full of rage, still unsettled over what happened to you.

Johnny looks Benny in the eyes, recognizing the accusation, and simply nods.

“Is that what this club is now?” Benny asks. “Is that who we are?” His voice presses, challenging the violent turn the club has taken.

Johnny takes his time, lighting a cigarette. “That’s it,” he answers flatly.

Disgusted, Benny immediately gets out of the car.

Johnny stubs out his cigarette and quickly hops out after him, “Benny, wait!” He shouts.

Benny turns around, his face a mix of anger and dismissal.

“These new guys… these young guys, they don’t listen,” Johnny tries to explain, his tone pleading.

Benny just stares at Johnny, his expression hardening

Johnny’s eyes are almost begging. “I can’t run this club no more,” he admits, his voice heavy with defeat.

Benny looks at Johnny, seeing the desperation in his eyes. For a moment hesitates, torn between his loyalty to Johnny and the overwhelming need to be with you.

Johnny’s eyes plead. “I need you,” he says.

After a moment of thought, Benny finally speaks, making his decision to leave the Vandals clear.

“I don’t ask anyone for anything, and I don’t want anything from nobody,” he says firmly, his eyes locked on Johnny.

“It’s not me, and it’s never gonna be me.” His voice is firm with the weight of his decision, the rejection of Johnny’s offer to lead the Vandals is final.

The two men stare at each other for a moment longer—Benny leaving the club, and Johnny left with a club he no longer wants to lead.

Without another word, Benny turns, hops on his bike, and with a swift kick, roars the engine to life. The sound echoes through the night as he speeds off into the darkness, leaving the Vandals, and Johnny, behind for good.

Out Good

When Benny arrives home, he parks his bike in the driveway, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders he’s finally done with the Vandals. As he dismounts, his hand lingers on the handlebar, his heart heavy with memories of the guys—their adventures, the campfires, the meetings, and the endless rides with the club. Without his pack, he feels like a lone wolf, but now he knows he is creating a new wolf pack of his own with you. One that will last forever.

After Benny showers downstairs, he quietly enters the master bedroom, trying not to disturb you, but you’re already awake, having heard his bike. “Benny?” you call out softly, sitting up in the dark.

“Yeah baby,” he replies, sitting on the bed and climbing in close, pressing himself against you.

his presence soothes you instantly “Benny, I was so worried,” you say softly and he kisses your cheek, his lips lingering warmly against your skin. “You don’t have to worry baby,” he whispers gently.

He kisses you slowly, laying you down on your back, his heart filled with desire. You are the center of his world, the one who kept him from letting the club consume him entirely.

He pauses the kiss to look down at you, hesitating for a moment, almost reverent before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he gazes into your eyes. “For everything I put you through…you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Benny…” you begin, reaching up to affectionately touch his jaw, and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry too,” you say softly, and he looks at you, confused. “For what, baby?” he asks, placing your hand on his chest, holding it there.

“I actually thought of leaving you, Benny,” you admit, your voice heavy with emotion. His expression softens as he cups your face gently. “I know, baby…but after everything I put you through,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm in a comforting gesture. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice full of regret, knowing deep down that you are far better than he ever thought he deserved.

“You deserve more than you think,” you say with a soft smile, guiding his hand to your navel. His eyes follow, looking down at your hands together over your stomach, and he feels a wave of relief wash over him.

“I’ll never leave you Benny,” you promise as he presses his hand over yours, feeling the strength of your commitment, and for the first time he believes you.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, his hand gently trailing up to your jaw, holding it tenderly as he leans down to kiss you softly.

His lips move slowly over yours, full of love and longing, his emotions overflowing because he’s yours, completely. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, knowing that you’re both bonded together permanently, with a future full of endless possibilities to create the life you both want.

Bennys Decision

As the weeks turn into months, your belly grows bigger and rounder. The cute summer dresses you once wore have been replaced by long, flouncy dresses that comfortably fit your growing bump. Benny, fueled by his enthusiasm for repairing motorcycles, has enrolled in trade school, leaving you every day to work toward his degree and provide fulfilling purpose for your new lives.

You’ve both decided that once he graduates, he will open a shop in the heart of Chicago, where he can repair cars and motorcycles alike. It was always a dream of yours to open a business, inspired by the guidance of your father, and you are overjoyed that it will now be for Benny.

At trade school, Benny quickly makes friends with like minded enthusiasts, bonding over discussions of engine tuning, and custom builds. The friendship among them eases the transition from Benny old life to this new, more hopeful one.

Benny hasn’t seen the Vandals for months, and though he’s not out bad, all the members know to steer clear of him. The distance is both a relief and a lingering shadow in his heart.

One afternoon, as you water the plants in the kitchen, the faint sound of a motorcycle catches your ear. Smiling, you assume Benny is home and put on your housecoat to greet him. The fabric wraps around your bump, and you take a moment to button it up before stepping outside.

As you step into the crisp, cool air, you’re surprised to see Johnny instead of Benny at the curb. “ Hi Johnny” you greet him as the autumn breeze tugs at the hem of your coat, and you pull it tighter around yourself.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Johnny responds, though there’s a lingering sadness in his eyes for who he really wanted to see. “Benny around?” he asks, stepping forward but keeping a respectful distance.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling the cool breeze nip at your skin. The weight of your pregnancy makes standing in the cold tiring, so you ease yourself into the rocking chair on the front porch.

“You know Benny,” you say with a warm smile as you settle into the chair.

Johnny nods, his gaze drifting to the quiet street before returning to you. He hesitates, studying your demeanor, the wind rustling through the trees the only sound breaking the silence between you.

“You look good,” he finally says with a reluctant grin. “Cold weather’s got you glowing with the whole rosy cheeks thing,” he adds, pointing.

You smile, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes as you begin rocking in your chair. Johnny’s clueless comment makes you smirk to yourself. The warmth of the secret you’re carrying adds an extra layer of satisfaction as you bask in the quiet moment.

“What is it, Johnny?” you ask, noticing his eyes narrow as he studies you, a flicker of recognition in his glance.

He shifts his weight and gives you a small, almost knowing grin. “Yeah, do me a favor,” he says, the grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Sure,” you respond, curious.

“Don’t tell Benny I stopped by,” Johnny says and the words carry a weight that’s hard to miss.

You smile with a bit of resignation, remembering the times you had your own doubts about Benny, when you weren’t sure he’d ever change for you. But he did, and now you both stand on the other side of that decision.

Johnny takes one last glance back at you, something unreadable in his expression, before turning and getting on his new, expensive bike. The engine roars to life, and with a final look your way, he rides off down the street, disappearing into the distance.

As you watch him go, you feel the bittersweetness of the moment. Benny chose you over Johnny, and that choice brought you here, to this new chapter. The bond between them may have been strong, but Benny’s love for you was stronger.

You pull your coat a little tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly rise from the chair, ready to step back into the warmth of your home and the life you’ve built together with Benny.

Some Kid

Benny wakes up early with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. He has a final at trade school in the afternoon, so he decides to take advantage of the quiet hours of the morning to complete some tasks around the house.

Lying beside you, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before his hand slides down to rest on your swollen belly. With only a few more weeks to go, the anticipation fills the air in the quiet house. You stir slightly, rolling over a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “Mmmm,” you murmur as you stretch, and Benny’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of warmth as your eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, your smile widening as he strokes your hair lovingly.

“You want me to make you something to eat?” he asks, his tone gentle. You shake your head, stifling a yawn with your hand.

“Just rest then,” he says, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You nod in agreement, your eyes closing again as he carefully slips out of bed.

After a quick shower, Benny gets dressed for the day and heads down the hall to the nursery.

As he pushes the door open, he can’t help but smile. Everything inside has been handmade and painted by him in preparation for the impending arrival. He’s painted the walls, built a bookshelf, and constructed a changing table. Now, he sits down to put the finishing touches on the cribs, his heart swelling with pride and love. Unlike him his kin will want for nothing.

By the time Benny finishes, you’ve joined him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair he made. You’re engrossed in a book on business operations for opening a mechanic shop, your hand resting protectively on your belly. Benny comes over, leaning down to plant a loving kiss on your lips.

“I gotta go,” he says, knowing it’s time to head out.

You pull him back, kissing him in return and he rubs his hand along your belly kneeling down, pressing his lips to your bump. “Stay put until I get back,” he says softly to your womb, making you giggle.

“I’ll see you all later,” he says affectionately his hand lingering on yours before leaving.

Just before noon, Benny sets off for trade school. The class is routine and after finishing his exam, he shoots the breeze with his friends before everyone departs and he begins the ride home.

As Benny rides, a tug of sadness pulls at his heart. The familiar feel of the wind and the rumble of his bike brings back memories of riding in a pack, of belonging. Now, he’s solo, and the loneliness seeps in. At a red light, instead of turning toward home, he finds himself heading into a rougher neighborhood. He stops a few blocks short of the Vandals club and strides into a nearby bar with a practiced ease, sitting down and ordering a whiskey.

The bar is loud and rowdy filled with bikers murmuring about a recent shooting. “Yea some kid challenged him and instead of fighting like a man the kid shot the guy point blank in the chest. Guy died right on the spot in the parking lot, well known biker too.”

“Yeah, he ran the Vandals club,” one of the older bikers chimes in, then notices Benny at the bar . “Hey, didn’t you ride with that guy?”

Benny’s face goes ashen as the realization hits him. It’s Johnny who’s been shot. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. “His name was Johnny, right?” the biker asks, and without looking over, Benny nods. He slowly downs his shot with haunted sadness in his eyes, the turmoil inside him undeniable. After a moment, he pays his tab and exits the bar into the cold evening air.

Outside, the weight of the news crashes over him like a tidal wave and Benny feels the wind sucked out of him as memories of Johnny flood his mind—Johnny’s laughter, his words of encouragement, the way he never took anything too seriously. Johnny, his best man, his mentor in every way that mattered.

Benny’s heart shatters right there in the parking lot. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the emotion, but it’s too much. Quickly, he mounts his bike and drives home, the wind lashing at his face as he pushes the speed, the adrenaline barely masking the agony gnawing at his insides.

When he pulls up to the house, you’re already on the porch, hearing the loud roar of his motorcycle as he sped down the street.

Benny dismounts, and the sight of him breaks your heart. His eyes are red rimmed, his face a mask of anguish, as if he’s on the verge of tears but trying desperately to hold it together.

He walks toward you with slow, heavy steps, his breath catching as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. You can see it in his eyes, something terrible has happened.

As he reaches you, Benny collapses onto the porch steps, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. When you sit with him and he buries his head against your chest, and that’s when the dam finally breaks. He sobs uncontrollably, his cries raw and desperate, his breath hitching as he gasps for air. His handsome face is twisted in torment, his body shaking with the force of his grief.

“…Johnnys …dead…” he finally gasps out his voice trembling and you hold him close. You wrap your arms around him tightly as if you could shield him from the pain. Your fingers gently stroke his hair, your other hand rubbing soothing circles on his back as you press soft kisses to his head, though you know nothing can ease the ache in his heart.

Benny clings to you, his sobs unrelenting, the loss of Johnny cutting deep into his soul. He’s inconsolable, the grief overwhelming him, as if the very foundation of his world has been ripped away. The weight of Johnny’s death has broken him, and all you can do is hold him, letting him release the torrent of pain he’s been holding inside.

Time seems to stand still as you sit together on the porch, the evening air cool around you. Benny’s cries slowly begin to subside, his body exhausted from the intensity of his emotions. You continue to hold him, your presence a steady anchor in the storm of his grief, your love the only thing keeping him from being completely lost to the darkness.

When the Bow Breaks

When Benny prepares you dinner a few weeks later, he’s starting to return to some semblance of himself. His movements are still weighed down by grief, but he pushes through, focusing on taking the best care of you. The lingering sadness in his eyes is evident, but he channels all his energy into caring for you.

“C’mon, baby, you need to eat for us,” he urges gently, noticing you toying with the food on your plate again. “You haven’t eaten a thing today” he says noticing your expression unsettled.

“I cant…Benny, I don’t feel well,” you reply softly, a touch of sadness in your voice.

Concerned, he comes to your side, placing the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever. “You’re burning up, baby,” he says, worry creeping into his voice as he feels your clammy skin scorching his hand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he insists, his concern growing.

As you stand, a sharp pain grips your lower abdomen, and you wince, instinctively reaching holding his hand steadying yourself. The sensation intensifies, spreading through your body like a wave, and suddenly, you both realize what’s happening—your labor has begun.

Benny’s eyes light up, despite the terror flashing in them, as the reality of the moment sinks in. “Baby! It’s happening!” he exclaims, his breath catching in a mix of excitement and fear.

In that instant, all thoughts of the loss that has haunted him are pushed aside. His focus is entirely on you, the woman he loves more than anything and he’s prepared to welcome his offspring into the world.

He sets you gently on the couch, his every movement tender, though the pain intensifies with each passing second. “It hurts, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with worry seeing your face flushed as you breath sharply with your eyes closed.

“Yeah, Benny really bad,” you gasp, gripping the edge of the cushion as another wave of pain hits you.

“Wait right here,” he says, darting upstairs. He returns in a flash with his rucksack, packed with everything you’ll need for the hospital. Carefully, he helps you into the car, his hands steady but his heart racing with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Every bump, every turn of the car has you moaning in pain, and Benny does his best to drive softer, his heart pounding as he tries to keep you as comfortable as possible.

The tension is undeniable, the anticipation almost overwhelming as he finally parks the car under the hospital awning.

“Wait right here, don’t move,” he says, dashing inside. Moments later, he’s back with the medical staff, who quickly load you into a wheelchair. By now, the pain is agonizing, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your face flushed. Benny walks alongside you, his emotions a chaotic mix of panic and thrill as you’re wheeled into the hospital room where you will give birth.

An hour passes, filled with the struggle and strain of labor. Dozens of pushes later, Benny is right by your side, your hand clinging tightly to his, your body spent. “I can’t do it,” you relent, tears of exhaustion brimming in your eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle. “Just keep your eyes on me. you’re almost there. just one more push.”

His words give you the strength you didn’t know you had, and with one final, determined push, the sound of a baby’s cries fills the air. You look at Benny, your eyes shaking with disbelief and joy. Then, to your astonishment, another cry follows, and together, the sound of new life fills the room, echoing around you both.

The medical staff moves quickly, cleaning and wrapping the babies in soft blankets. They place a tiny, wriggling boy in Benny’s arms, and a precious little girl in yours. You both are ecstatic, your hearts swelling with a love so profound it brings tears to your eyes.

Benny is overcome with emotion, his eyes welling up as he gazes down at his son. He’s so filled with joy he can barely speak. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he chokes out, his voice thick with tears.

You’re exhausted, your body aching from the ordeal, but as you look down at the tiny bundles in your arms, your heart fills with a love you’ve never known before. Benny coos softly at his son, then reaches out to touch his daughter’s bundled up form, his hand trembling with joy.

He carefully places your son into your arms, so you’re holding both of your newborns together. Overwhelmed with happiness, Benny leans in and kisses all three of you, his lips lingering on your forehead, then brushing against each baby’s head. His body trembles with pure, unfiltered joy, and you can’t help but get wrapped up in his excitement.

As you cradle your babies, Benny’s eyes meet yours, and in that moment, you know that this is what you both have been waiting for this is the life you’ve fought for. He kisses you again, a deep, lingering kiss full of love and gratitude, and as you hold your family close, you realize that nothing else matters. This is your world, and it’s perfect.

Florida

After several years together Benny is now a full fledged mechanic and business owner, with his shops so renowned in Chicago, he’s even expanded to Florida where the two of you purchased a beautiful vacation home to escape the harsh winters.

Your Florida home is a stunning two story, three bedroom house that radiates warmth and comfort. The exterior is a blend of sandy beige and soft white, with large windows that allow the bright Florida sun to flood the interior with light. The front yard is warm and inviting, with a swing set for the twins surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

On the second floor, the spacious bedrooms each have their own balcony, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding area. The master bedroom’s balcony is your personal oasis, where you watch the sunrise over the ocean with Benny in the mornings.

Inside, the décor is a mix of modern elegance and cozy touches of plush furniture, hardwood floors, and soft, muted tones that create a sense of peace and relaxation.

The first floor is Bennys garage haven filled with his impressive collection of cars and motorcycles. Though he doesn’t ride as often anymore, you still see the flicker of excitement in his eyes when he hears the loud roar of a bike nearby.

Today is no different as you glance out from the second story large pane glass window of the kitchen. You catch Benny’s expression as he listens intently to the sound of a motorcycle that fills the air in the distance, a look of nostalgia and joy lighting up his face.

He’s sitting with his friends by the back yard pool beer in hand. The barbecue is going strong nearby with one of your neighbors tending to the hot dogs on the grill.

“Daddy’s looking at you,” Bella says, her voice full of innocent mischief. You turn away from your task of putting the finishing whisk on the potato salad, crouching down to your daughters level.

“Is he now?” you ask playfully, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she waves at her daddy.

You look up to see Benny gazing at you with that warm, affectionate smile that never fails to make your heart flutter. His hair is longer and a bit sandier blonde from the Florida sun, gently swept back. A handsome mustache now adorns his face, framing his full lips in a way that makes him even more striking.

Suddenly Benny’s eyes light up even more, and he begins to laugh. You follow his line of sight and see your son, Johnny, pressing his face against the glass window, licking it with all the enthusiasm a six year old can muster.

“Johnny!” you call out, half-chiding, half-laughing. He bursts into a fit of giggles, pulling back from the window with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, you two let’s go see Daddy,” you say, picking up the bowl of potato salad. Bella slips her small hand into yours, and little Johnny follows closely behind, his toy motorcycle clutched in his hand. He drives it along the wall as he walks, making the familiar “brrrrn brrrrr” sound with his little voice, lost in his imagination.

As you reach the landing and turn toward the pool, your neighbors over for the barbecue-b-que wave and smile, the sound of jazz floating through the air from the large outdoor speakers. The neighbors kids are all squealing and running around, their laughter blending with the music. Benny stands up to greet you all, his smile broadening as he kneels to hold Bella, hugging her tight. He ruffles little Johnnys hair before they both run off to join the other children at the party.

You place the potato salad with the rest of the dishes on the long table, looking over the array of delicious food with a satisfied grin. Benny makes his way over to you, his eyes never leaving you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t keep my eyes off you in this little dress,” he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and his tone full of affection.

You grin, a playful twinkle in your eye. “You’re insatiable, Benny Cross,” you tease, your voice soft and loving.

“You bring it out of me,” he murmurs back, his words filled with warmth and adoration. He turns you in his arms, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the strength and comfort of him as he holds you close. Benny leans in, his lips capturing yours in a long, loving kiss. It’s a kiss full of passion and tenderness, a kiss that speaks of the deep love and connection you share.

As his lips move against yours, you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His hand slides up your back, holding you gently yet securely, as if you’re the most precious thing in his world. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he gazes into your eyes with a look of pure, unfiltered love.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion.

“I love you too, Benny,” you reply, your heart swelling with happiness as you lean in to kiss him again, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his arms around you.

🏍️ THE END 🏍️

Special thanks: purejasmine, burnthheparaphilia & butdaddyilovehim99 I couldn’t have done it without you.

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories @fallout-girl219

🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @abswifey @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl

[xxsugarbones]

Lessons

It’s not that he doesn’t know how to give head. Sometimes he just likes a little encouragement in the form of a very.. Hands-on lesson.

-ft. poly!satosugu x fem!reader

cw - poly relationship, cunnilingus, teaching satoru how to eat pussy, satoru is lowkey filthy in one part, sugu pulls toru’s hair twice, pet names, praise

wc - 535

a/n - this is shamelessly inspired by a friend and I’s roleplay ideas and is very very self indulgent. When you see this, you’re welcome bb 🥰

NSFW BELOW THE CUT - MDNI

Don’t get him wrong. Satoru was already good at giving head. But sometimes a little lesson from Suguru wouldn’t hurt, right?

Surely not. Because with the way you’re spread out in front of the two of them now, one leg spread wide over each of their broad shoulders to keep you nice and open for them, while your pussy visibly throbbed in need and glistened in the soft lighting being cast over your three forms, Satoru saw this as nothing but a blessing from whatever Gods above.

“Fuck, princess, look at you.” Suguru crooned, leaning forward to give a slow, wide lick of your slit, letting his tongue rest over your clit. You gasped, jolting up into his mouth, but he quickly pulled back before you could give yourself any more stimulation. A thick string of saliva and slick connected your pussy and his chin, which Satoru quickly dipped his head down to catch in his own mouth before it hit the sheets. Who would he be to let such gold go to waste?

“See what I did there, Satoru?” Suguru muttered, taking one hand and yanking the white haired man up by his soft locks. Satoru whimpered at the stinging pleasure, before locking his eyes onto your quivering cunt. Fuck. You looked divine.

“Slow and teasing always gets her riled up more. Slow the fuck down.” He pushed the man’s head towards the apex of your thighs, Satoru’s hot breath hitting your soaking core, which made you buck up towards his soft lips. And he gave you exactly what you wanted, flattening his tongue and pressing it right against your pretty little hole, and licking a slow, fat stripe up your slit. Like Suguru his tongue lingered over your clit, making you whine. But he kept going. Slowly his tongue rolled around the sensitive bundle of nerves in circles, and your eyes were quick to snap into the back of your head.

“Oh fuck, Toru, look at her.” Suguru hissed, unable to stop his hand from shooting down to grab his painfully stiff cock through his boxer briefs. Satoru followed his other lover’s demand, looking up to your face. And he moaned into your pussy at the sight, hips suddenly bucking into the air.

“See? Good boy. I told you slow and steady. Look how fucking pretty she looks.” Suguru cooed, his free hand coming to thread his fingers into the back of Satoru’s hair, pushing his face further down into your cunt. The vibrations of the blue eyed man’s moans shook you to your core, your hole clenching around nothing and a borderline pornographic moan being torn from the pit of your chest.

Satoru always enjoyed these lessons. Though it was obvious that he always pretended to forget what he had learned, he didn’t mind being told what to do again by that deep gravelly voice of his boyfriend’s, while he drinks down his sweet girlfriend’s cum time and time again, along with her filthy moans. Suguru never seemed to mind “teaching” him again, either. Sometimes he would even join the fun and eat you out alongside his partner.

And holy fuck, you did not mind one bit. Not one bit at all.

[umemiyan]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨

𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧���𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (potential for nsfw continuations) / jjk manga spoilers / this is my version of "came back wrong" gojo inspired by recent events, but it turned out somewhat softer than i expected / what happens when satoru is brought back and suddenly finds himself deeply attached to you of all people?

yandere!gojo / he's also slightly higher-needs disabled coded… idk i tried to approach it as best as i could. it's an unfamiliar thing for reader and they're trying to process it / i very well may try to continue this because it is rotting my brain!! / 1.7k words

“Satoru… you need to eat.”

A full bowl of soup sits on the table before him untouched, his hands resting unoccupied in his lap and eyes trained on your figure as you circle around to stand near him. That piercing blue gaze is ridden with innocence, lips parted like those of a quizzical child, but they turn upwards into a pleased grin when you take a seat in the chair next to him.

You’d prepared a rather simple dish, something you figured might be easy for him to consume and digest given his… peculiar state, but Satoru apparently had yet to pay any interest to it. He instead sat obediently in his chair just as you had commanded several minutes ago, unable to initiate the task of feeding himself, for he was much more intrigued from afar by your every move as you tidied the kitchen. It was as though he couldn’t find the drive to function unless you were within an overwhelmingly short distance of him.

Satoru’s heart thumps now that you’re close, a burst of satisfaction rushing through his brain. Dopey yet stimulating chemicals. You are Pavlov’s ringing bell. 

He is reminiscent of a child picked up from school by their beloved parent, or a puppy being reunited with its owner after a day at the vet, overcome with joy and unable to properly contain it. He leans forward and presses his lips to your neck as though that is the appropriate response to his elation, the crossed wires in his brain telling him that this is the sort of affection that will please you and is therefore the sort of affection he most desperately wants to give.

His condition was difficult to understand, and you wouldn’t call yourself properly equipped to deal with it, but there was simply no other option but to try; Gojo wouldn’t let anyone else try, the horrible rattling in his skull consuming him when deprived of your presence for too long. Yuuta had described the look in his eyes as “frenzied and lost.” You were told that the infirmary still needed repairs.

Once he returned to this world, Satoru had been stripped down to his essence, bare bones, a creature of instinct, reduced to something quite simple yet difficult for the average person to understand. But you had to understand, or try at the very least. This was the new burden placed upon your shoulders; it was either soothe this new version of Satoru Gojo for the sake of the world, or find a way to send him back into the icy arms of death. You were often caught between which option sounded worse.

However, when met with the sweetest and most earnest of his smiles, your bones were frosted with guilt, and you regretted ever entertaining the idea of letting him go again.

You stumble over getting him to perform necessary tasks and be further than 5 feet away from you at any given time, because it seems that, upon his revival, Satoru equates you and only you with everything of importance in his life. It’s more than a little unnerving given the fact that you’d never so much as even kissed prior to the loss of him, and now his neurons only fire off every happy memory he’s ever had of you, every positive thing he’s ever felt, no matter how stifled. You are his entire world now, and he can’t even verbalize it, but as each day passes following his awakening, you’re starting to gather that much on your own. You can’t be frustrated for long, however, because his cheerfulness is contagious, his enthusiasm making you feel loved even if it is somewhat smothering.

Is this selfish of you? 

The man's lips travel slowly across your skin, pacified by your presence, your taste, and ignoring the grumble in his stomach. How does one differentiate the types of hunger? You don’t attempt to fight him off, but rather exhale a defeated sigh in response. It hasn’t been long since you’ve been tasked with this responsibility, but it feels as though you’re frequently fighting a losing battle and failing him all the same. It’s so peculiar, so very unnatural… but still, you have to try.

“Satoru, please…” you beg, voice light in his ear and a hand settling at his nape. His nerve endings come alive every time his name leaves your lips. The bell. “Just one bite? For me?”

That seems to do the trick, as you’ve gathered. Satoru pulls himself back, hyper-aware of the tone in your voice and suddenly willing to comply. He’s more than eager to accept the spoon into his mouth when you offer it, placing your fingers beneath his chin and carefully bringing the soup up to his lips. He swallows it with ease, the task literally more palatable now that you’ve reminded him of how badly you would like him to complete it. Anything for you.

“There,” you say, satisfied and offering a faint, exhausted smile. He grins widely in response and hums, no longer capable of words of his own, but his simple noise expresses his glee with efficacy. Satoru decides to punctuate it by pressing the tip of his nose to yours for good measure.

It feels wrong to enjoy these subtle moments of intimacy with someone who doesn’t appear to be in his right mind, but who are you to say whether he is or not? There’s still an agency he possesses, a heart full of emotions, and a mind teeming with thoughts that you wish you could be privy to. He might be different now, but part of you wants to say with certainty that the old Satoru is still here with you somehow—you can sense it. He chuckles at particular images that flash across the TV and still gets a kick out of teasing you to some degree. To diminish that seems like a disservice to him.

You’re unable to deprive him of the happiness your closeness provides nonetheless; in fact, it’s obviously rather dangerous for you to even try and do so. Satoru’s conscious recollections are filled primarily with you, but his body is still more or less the same as it always was—the vessel of his clan’s power, the strongest sorcerer on earth. You’re not sure to what extent he remembers how to control these abilities, but part of you doesn’t wish to find out. For now, you care for him, placate him, re-learn him. Nothing is certain about the situation other than the fact that he apparently needs you now more than ever.

Your eyes soften at the warmth he exudes, and you wonder if he really remembers who you even are—or were—to him. It’s not worth pondering over for now, however. He needs to eat.

“Another?” you ask, testing to see how willing he is to fulfill your wishes. Satoru often easily complies once you’ve expressed satisfaction in him doing so, but all of this is still so new and experimental; you never know when he might decide to switch gears.

However, still smiling, he nods, and you bring another spoonful of soup up to his lips for him to swallow. It pleases you to see him finally getting something into his stomach, and he can sense it, taking it upon himself to further your agenda and simultaneously realizing just how gratifying it is to fill his belly.

“Good,” you say, and he feels rewarded. He is crowned by your praise. Exalted. You take him to the greatest heights with the simplest of words.

You place the spoon back in the bowl and Satoru takes it in his grasp, feeding himself without quarrel while you observe. Most of his motor skills appear to be intact as far as you’ve seen despite the cognitive and behavioral changes, and if someone were to look upon him from afar, you’re fairly certain they would never know the difference. But you’re still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together little by little, deciphering each bit of information and also determining just how deep his severe attachment to you really goes.

Why did it end up being you? Why do you suddenly seem to be the only thing that makes sense to him in this entire universe?

You can’t answer that, he can’t answer that, it’s just the way it is. Satoru doesn’t need to know why you nearly consume his every thought, he just knows that you make him happy, and that’s truly all that counts in his version of the world. He’ll chase it on instinct until death decides to take him again; he’ll tear down anything that stands in his or your way, for you alone are all that he thinks he has left to cling to. Never matter the others that show concern for him—they’re nice enough, earning a small smile or even the privilege to touch before he shakes them off and seeks you out again. It’s nothing personal. It’s simply pathological.

Leaning an elbow on the table, you turn the possibilities over in your mind as you silently watch him eat. A life has been restored, but yours has been turned upside down, and you have to figure out just exactly what you’re going to do about it. You suppose that taking baby steps ought to be the best way to make progress, but how do you make space for someone like this out of the blue? You’ll have to give it your best shot.

Satoru finishes drinking down the remaining broth of his soup, and you pose a question. “Would you like to go for a walk with me today?”

He sits the bowl down and looks over at you, eyes assessing your features and mind processing what you’ve asked. He hasn’t been out much in the days following his return, but you don’t see any reason to keep him cooped up inside if he happens to respond well to a casual outing with you. Taking him for a stroll outside seems like a decent way to test the waters.

Satoru smiles and nods, recalling memories of how your hair looked when touched by the wind. He’d be glad to accompany you outside if it meant he could see you glow in the sun, radiant and warm. The center of his universe.

“I think it’ll be nice,” you remark with a grin, an ounce or two of weight being lifted from your shoulders at the positive shift in outlook. Baby steps.

Reaching out to take your hand, Satoru squeezes it in his own to convey his agreement. It’s as if he’s trying to say, “everything is nice when I’m with you.”

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

���Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[predestinatos]

CHALLENGERS — CL16 & MV1 🏓

summary: the line between rivals and friends was blurred. and then you came. MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem!reader x max verstappen, implied cheating, flirting, them being horny boys, 3some vibes, heavily inspired by challengers.

warnings: smut (no sex but... everything else) dirty talking, cheating, cursing.

note: yes i've been obsessed with challengers and i thought the dynamics would look rlly fun on a fic!!! am 100% invested on making this a series! also i'm aware those are padel things in tbe picture but this is just for the cover aesthetics okay!

12:52AM

“You know I can beat him, right?” Charles’ voice sounded rough as he stood against the doorframe, confident smile spread across his lips, arms crossed against his chest, making his muscles stand out. You looked at him then, from your lying position across the hotel bed – one you shouldn’t be on – and shrugged. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

The defiance in your tone registered like a cold breeze across his skin, causing him to shiver slightly yet not break his demeanour as he moved towards you silently, lowering himself towards you on the bed now, face inches away from yours. “I didn’t know you still needed convincing.” Charles noticed how you licked your lips as you stared at his, how for a quick second you almost forgot what you were talking about as your breaths melted into each other. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, both of you so silent it could’ve been a scene from a nature documentary: prey seducing predator, but which is which?

“You asked” you replied, refusing to break the distance first, wanting to prove that you were stronger than he thought, that he needed something from you which he couldn’t possibly get, not anymore at least. You looked at his eyes, its bright colour now so darkened by something close to thrill over what was going on in that moment, a thrill you wanted to suppress. “Just wanted to see how good of a liar you were” Charles bit his lip, smile now growing slightly. Maybe it wasn’t thrill. Maybe it was actual amusement.

“You’re unbearable” you said, now turning your face away from him, rolling your eyes at his sheer arrogance. “You want me” he got up from bed, taking off his t-shirt as he searched for his pyjamas. His back flexed with every movement, muscles stranding out in his glistening skin. He smiled knowingly, because although he could not see your face, he knew you were looking. He always knew.

“Brave of you to think so” you shot back, getting up as well, grabbing your bag from the small armchair placed in the corner of the room. Rushing towards the hotel door, his frame stood between you and it �� the ability to breathe, the absence of guilt, the absolution of uncommitted sins. “See, you’re still a bad liar” his bare chest rose and fell in front of you and Charles wished he could say he wasn’t about to crumble before you but that wouldn’t be true either. His confidence was only partially real, for he did not have the strength to do more than this, to test you and push you only this far – part of him knew you couldn’t resist, but he was never entirely sure.

YEARS EARLIER

The country club was boring. You didn’t know why your family insisted on going apart from trying to prove how rich they were, something which got exhausting too quickly. Sitting at the table, you played with the olive in your martini as your dad talked about “business” and your mom laughed about something.

The sun warmed your skin as your bare legs welcomed the heat gladly, the only source of some amusement in that place. It was tiring. Your brain felt like it could explode from lack of stimulation. Minutes passed at the speed of years. You had to do something, quick, or else- “I’m going for a walk” you said suddenly, or a voice said, part of your brain who was even more tired than you thought. Your family stood, staring at you briefly before nodding and continuing their tasks, like robots who were well instructed to continue their mission but not used to abnormalities.

Max was sweating. We would feel disgusting, unclean, even, were it not for how focused he was on the game, on his friend – rival, for a few minutes – in front of him. The tennis ball travelled from his racket to Charles in something near to slow motion for him.

Charles was amused. He always was, for he loved playing almost more than winning. He loved getting under his friend’s skin, seeing how hard he tried to beat him while his careless attitude ate him with each hit he took. There was something god-like about his commitment, his seriousness, that Charles admired, if not even envied. He couldn’t care as much about things the way his friend did – he was passion, Max was reason. That’s the way they always worked, and you could see it in the way they played, hear it in the way they grunted as they hit the ball with their utmost force.

“Okay let’s take a break” Charles said, throwing his racket carelessly on the floor as he walked towards the end of the field, towards his water bottle. Max stood in place, looking at his friend, wondering if he looked as disheveled as him – dark hair glued to his skin, cheeks red and a constant frown on his face from the sun’s insistence on affecting them. “It’s 30-all! You can’t just ask for a break when it’s 30-all!” his complaints were dismissed with a shrug of shoulders. “I just did”

Max inhaled heavily, used to this behaviour yet not immune to how much it annoyed him, and on his exhale, he felt his friend’s hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. “Relax, don’t be so tense all the time,” Charles whispered, slight irony laced in his tone as he buried his hands in his friend’s warm shoulders from the heat.

“Don't stop now, I was enjoying it” your voice broke through them unexpectedly, causing them to turn their eyes towards you simultaneously. Max stared at you, his eyes locked on your teasing ones. But it was Charles who spoke first, in an attempt to match your tone. “And who are you, exactly?” Though you answered his friend, your eyes remained on Max's green ones, on the shy smirk growing slowly across his lips. The hands previously on his shoulders fell across them, brushing his back and finally leaving him altogether, as if melting from the heat. He barely noticed. Maybe he didn’t notice it at all. “I'm Charles” he walked towards you confidently, leaning against the railing that separated the court from the bleachers, one eye closed in a permanent blink due to the sun. You got up, looking, for the first time, at the dark haired man closer to you. Moving slowly towards him as you climbed down the stairs, you felt his defiant gaze, so different from his friend’s yet equally as alluring to you. Now as close to him as you could, your hand on the railing, mere inches away from his arm, you spoke. “And your friend over there?” Charles looked back, as if trying to recall who you could be referring to, prolonging a moment unnecessarily, only to allow his arm to brush against your hand as he turned back towards you, head tilted. “Why do you want to know?” Max’s racket felt cold against his burning skin, the image of his friend's toned back and tanned neck directed towards you, with a short skirt and tight top, causing him to wonder if he was hallucinating, overheating, going crazy. “Charles, she wants us to play more.”

10:45PM

He liked watching you, how you moved so softly, hands caressing your legs as you applied mosturizer. It was almost religious, how your breath guided his unintentionally, how he forgot everything for a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours.

He leaned against the bathroom sink as you placed your foot on top of the toilet seat to better access some parts of your skin you could not otherwise reach. You felt his gaze, still so similar to the one he first used when he first layed his eyes on you – the same intensity, mind over matter debate circulating through his mind as he analyzed every inch of your skin.

“I’m going to win tomorrow” Max said from behind you; a certainty in his voice that made you chuckle with something close to frustration. You muttered an ‘okay’ as you continued your movements, your bracelets clinking against each other. “I’m serious. You know I’m serious” he repeated, frustrated at your nonchalantness, at your dismissal of his convictions.

“Don’t be patronizing” you finally said, turning around as you spread the remains of the cream on your arms and hands. Though you were in underwear and he was clothed, he felt vulnerable in front of you. The ring adorning both of your fingers didn’t make your presence any easier to bear over the years, despite his attempts at pretending it did.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows now raised, turning his head to follow your frame which walked towards the hotel bed. “You know what I mean, Max” your voice was stern, your head always high despite you being shorter, as if he was the one who had to look up to you, though he hadn’t, not really.

“You weren’t like this with him” he looked down now, his profile outlined by the bathroom lights. You admired his attractiveness, his intentional care to be clean, precise, as close to perfect as he could. You admired how his expressions never oscilated between extremes, or at least how he managed to hide it so well if they did.

“You don’t need me to tell you these things the way he does” you sighed. You had had this conversation, or something close to it too many times to count. “You have the girl, you have the championship, what else do you want, Max? You want me to constantly tell you you’re a winner, you’re a big fucking boy who’s so so good?” you continued, more aggressively than you perhaps intended, though it did not matter, not really, at least.

He looked back at you now, though he dare not move. His throat bobbed up and down now, and you noticed how his knuckles whitened slightly as he held the sink tightly. “Maybe I do” it was almost a whisper, the way he said it, trying to hide from the attention he so craved, his body manifesting more than he wanted to show.

You looked further down his body, to where your words seemed to affect him most, though he remained looking at you. You admired his silent boldness in contrast to Charles’ loud one. "I chose you, Max" your voice sounded velvety to him, almost driving him insane as he felt his cock hardening. He felt ridiculous. Maybe he was; his obsession with your approval was also an obsession with beating Charles' appeal to you. He might have won many battles but Max had won the war.

YEARS EARLIER

Charles was better - better looking, better skilled, and effortlessly so. Max thought all of this as he stared at the back of his friend's slightly burned neck, standing behind him in front of a bedroom door.

"Ok so, let's not fuck this up" Charles said, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a match. "She clearly wants us"

"Us?" Charles turned around at the question, incredulity written across his face. "Yes, us. Now which one she wants more... We'll find out"

Before he could protest at his friend's unapologetic confidence, the door opened. You stood there, oversized t-shirt being worn as a nightgown, smiling at the two boys.

Both of them frozen, lusting over you so obviously it was almost insulting, were you not turned on by the way their gaze explored your body. Charles had a signature smirk that did not care to hide where his imagination was roaming as he stared at your bare legs; Max, on the other hand, was overcome by a darkness that almost intimidated you, studying every inch of your body hungrily.

"You're just going to stand there?" you asked, half laughing, waking the boys up from their trance. They both rushed inside excitedly, causing you to giggle subtly. It was flattering, how much they seemed to crave your sheer attention.

“So…” you asked, moving to sit on the carpeted floor, trying to make them comfortable – which didn’t need much effort, as they seemed to make themselves at home promptly, Charles’ unbuttoned shirt exposing his chest to you, and Max’s own t-shirt was so tight it left little to the imagination.

“You liked to see us play” Max started, a newly found confidence reaching him, a smile matching it perfectly. Maybe you were the one to give it to him, your eyes landing on him as if daring him to speak, him specifically. Charles’ opened up a bottle of a cheap drink he found at the liquor store they had ran to just hours before, as they realized they might actually have a chance with you.

“I did” you answered with a nod, now looking at Charles, who offered you a glass, your fingers brushing his purposefully.

“So much that you wanted more” Max continued, so factual it could pass as arrogance – though it resulted in a blush from you. You admired his sudden calculated boldness, the way he brought the cup to his lips after saying those words, as if he had commented on the state of the weather.

“And you gave me more” you replied, trying to match his – maybe their – tone.

“Oh, we haven’t given you nearly enough” Charles now stepped in. He couldn’t help himself, not with you in front of him, not with the small room closing in on him as he felt your need grow along with his, along with Max’s, along with the cups and the drink and the sheets and the carpeted floor.

“You two do this a lot?” you asked, daringly, though the question had crossed your mind throughout the day. Was this enticing to them? Sharing a woman, pleasuring her together, driving her mad with their games, their touch and words?

They let out a soft laugh together, almost synchronized. They were both beautiful, though in opposite ways – Max’s features were hard despite his soft, quiet demeanor, while Charles’s were softer, more carefully sculpted despite his own careless behavior.

“What, go after the same girl?” Charles asked, looking at Max, who looked at him as well. They found it amusing and rather ironic, really. Everything was a competition to them, even if nothing got in the way of their friendship. What made you especially exciting was how they both wanted you, and how both of them were aware of that fact. They both know the game was on the minute you showed up, like a match they fought in the court.

Upon your nod, Max decided to speak up. He had to; it was somehow agreed and decided who would say what, an unspoken rule he seemed to have made with Charles but couldn’t quite remember. “No, not at all” he laughed, cup now empty as Charles grabbed the bottle and filled it some more.

“What he means is… You’re just that attractive” the brown-haired man spoke. Was he flirting with you, or were they both doing so, even if it came only from his voice? You couldn’t help but feel your whole body responding to how they looked at you, how they seemed to crave you with indescribable need.

“What about you two?” you asked now, blaming the alcohol – though you had barely drunk anything. Their eyes went from you to each other again, awkward and rapidly, as they blushed slightly.

“No, I mean… no we haven’t” Max said, causing a soft chuckle to come out of Charles, his friend’s shyness over the topic making amusing him. It’s not like they haven’t thought about it – not at all – but they hadn’t told each other this. This concept lived in their heads, and none of them dared to bring it up, though they had seen each other naked and crossed lines most so-called friends probably wouldn’t. But neither of them had the conversation about what it meant, or what it could mean, because they didn’t feel the need to. Not until now.

You shrugged it off, finishing your drink in a single gulp. Looking at those two men, you realized you couldn’t quite decide what to do next – you wanted to do so many things that felt too forbidden to speak.

You looked up at Max, his eyes so needy it made your blood pulsate in your veins, the certainty that he would do anything for your touch right in that moment causing you to shiver. Slowly, you moved towards him, his face so close to yours that he dared not move, not until your hands reached his neck and pulled him towards you, kissing him.

That seemed to shift something in him, his own arms holding you as if scared you’d leave, as if wanting to consume you all, taste all of you. His hand instinctively grabbed your waist, though you knelt on the ground and couldn’t – wouldn’t – go anywhere.

“Oh, fuck” Charles said, looking at the both of you. The sight should make him jealous, but it did quite the opposite. He felt aroused, more than he wanted to admit, watching Max controlling your body and movements, eyebrows furrowed from pleasure, as your own lips moved messily and erratic against his, not caring about how it looked. You were putting on a show for him as you savored all of Max – Max was simply savoring all of you, for he had forgotten his friend was even there.

You pulled away, however, now deciding you had to try the other man, who seemed to be in a state of pure bliss over you, your attitude, your movements. You barely moved towards him – you didn’t need to – as he rushed towards you his hand resting on your thigh and grabbing it tightly. He was more aggressive, more assertive and confident in his kiss. He didn’t let go of himself the way Max did, but then again he barely held himself back at all when it came to you.

Max was staring. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t look away. The sight was erotic, something out of his deepest, darkest fantasies – your hair being slightly pulled by Charles’ strong grip, your own hands on his cheeks as his tongue travelled across your mouth. Suddenly, his kissing went down to your neck, and you held him there as you looked directly at Max.

Just your look could have driven him insane, right there and then, but he wouldn’t let it happen. He was hungry for more of you, more of whatever was going on, wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. “Come here” you called for him, who obliged immediately.

At first, he mimicked Charles, but soon his mouth was on yours again and you felt both boys’ mouths on your body, the amount of sensations fogging your mind as you let them both consume you. You pulled Charles mouth to yours, joining the kiss you were sharing with Max. The three of you kissed – messily, sloppily, completely letting the primal, animalistic part of you loose.

You wanted to touch yourself. Wanted them to touch you, feel how wet you were, savoring all of you. You wanted them to touch each other for you – for your gaze, for your entertainment and fulfillment, the way they were doing so now, as you pulled away and watched their own mouths against each other.

Max was hard. He couldn’t think anymore, dizzy from the caresses he was feeling on his body, from the insanity of the moment, from everything and nothing. Charles was drunk – drunk on the intense rush flowing through him, from how hard he knew he was, from how fucking spectacular everything seemed in that moment.

You were in complete bliss. The two men before you were in absolute awe of you, yearning for you with fervent need, letting themselves go to the point where they even yearned for each other. It was time to stop it.

“Okay” you said, snapping both of them back to reality instantly. Both Max and Charles were shocked at how they felt nothing close to shame over the moment. In fact, they felt exhilarated, ready to keep going, to prolong the moment with each other, with you, forever. “It’s time to go” you continued, watching the glow disappear from their faces as they breathed hard, chests falling and rising rapidly. “What?” they asked in unison, something close to innocence returning to their faces.

“We’ll do this again, right?” Charles asked, getting up after you did, with Max following. He was aware that he was hard, his cock rubbing against the fabric of his boxers and shorts uncomfortably. And he was also aware that you were turned on, though he could only imagine how soaked you actually were – a picture that didn’t help his situation.

“Sure” you answered, seeing their gleeful faces one last time before adding, as you walked them to the door “one of you will. The one who wins tomorrow”, closing it on them before you could see the smile turn into a frown.

[miscling]

Edgeslut Loop

‘So if I cum, the day resets.’

‘And everyone forgets?’

‘Everyone except me and the person who made me… but only if they know about my ability…’

‘That explains… so much, actually…’

You were popular, successful, and religiously into denial. If all it took to have another go was to have a wank and orgasm, then you could go back and try again…

‘I’m… This is why you wouldn’t let me make you cum? But… Wait…?’ a thought occurred to me, as I glanced at the clock. It was early in the day, nothing lost if I reacted badly and you had to start over. ‘Have you told me about this before?’

‘Once,’ you admitted. ‘It didn’t go well, it was… too soon.’

‘Thank you for being honest, but why now?’

‘There’s something I really want to try…’ you said.

The first step was easy: lock you in chastity for the rest of the day. No chance of backing out, no chance of changing your mind. No chance of you cumming and resetting the day so that I wouldn’t remember.

When we came back together that evening, the second step could be put into action. Your reset point was 8am, and if you started the day gagged, blindfolded, and in bondage…

Just before midnight, the fun began. I tied you down and let you sleep tied up, though neither of us slept particularly well for the excitement planned for the day ahead.

I woke up at 8am, and watched you, still asleep. It was perfect. Moving as quietly as I could, I reached for your magic wand. I’d start your day with a bang, literally. Did you really think I’d believe such a far-fetched story just like that? I pushed the wand into your sweet spot and put it on maximum.

It didn’t take you long to wake up, or much longer to realise what I was going to do. Your body thrashed, forcing me to hold you down with my other hand so I could pull the hardest orgasm out of you I could. You exploded with pleasure, shaking with the vibrator until you collapsed.

I blinked. ‘So when does it h–’

My eyes opened, 8am. ‘–appen?’ I sat up in bed. You were asleep, bound. ‘Huh! It works!’

My exclamation woke you up.

‘Okay, let me try again…’ I said, and made you cum again in five minutes. You tried to resist, but I didn’t let you win. On the next loop, I waited to see when you would wake up naturally. That became my target.

After that, I started stimulating you before you woke up again, seeing how long I could stimulate you for before you woke up. When you did, I made you cum and started over. For at least a week, you knew nothing but constant stimulation.

When that grew old, I started testing things. We didn’t reset if I ruined your orgasm, so I started seeing how many ruins I could get out of you in a day. I’m certain you would have killed me if you hadn’t been tied up, but you didn’t give the safeword signal.

You didn’t give the safeword signal for a month, and I kept going. I could take breaks, some days setting up a vibe on you and going for a walk, calling a friend, or trying every take-out place in the area. I considered taking off your gag for a day or two just to check in, but I figured your mind is probably utterly gone, all in the space of a single endlessly looping day.

So I kept going. It has been… about a year now. I am still finding new ways to torment you, and like you asked, I'm not letting you go until 8am tomorrow.

Now, time for your next orgasm…

~~~

Inspired by this ask from @themiracleengine to write a smut story based in a time-loop.

Reblog if you enjoyed this story, and check out my others under the Miscling Writes tag!

[lavnderwonu]

first time | kim mingyu

pairing: bf!mingyu x virgin!fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

summary: your first time having sex with your boyfriend.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: contains smut (!!!), loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, experienced mingyu, fingering, clit stimulation, masturbation, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), mingyu is a sweetheart <3, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

author’s note!: inspired by this specific ask lol. i have been pondering this in my head for a minute, and i decided to just bring it to life. if this topic/genre isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it, go read some of my other works. feedback is always appreciated, enjoy! 💞

p.s. we're lucky this made it out of the drafts

to be added to my taglist, click here!

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mingyu gently asks, gazing down at you as his hands are at the hem of your t-shirt.

He’s stopped himself from pulling it off, patiently awaiting your permission.

Mingyu was always patient with you, more so than you thought you deserved. He never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, especially when you were open with him and told him you’d never had sex before.

All your friends thought it was a mistake to tell him that, and that he’d find any excuse to leave, especially since they couldn’t believe that a guy like him could want to be with an in-experienced girl like you, and that he’d want somebody who basically…knew what to do with him.

But he never did, and he patiently waited for you.

Now here you are, lying on his bed as he’s towering over you, his hands slowly sliding up your shirt.

“…I need to hear you say it.” Mingyu continues.

You brush his hair back off his forehead, kissing him gently. “Yes, Mingyu…” You can’t help but giggle as you can’t believe how sweet he’s being.

He undresses you carefully, kissing all over your body gently.

Mingyu gently trails kisses down your stomach, stopping when he reaches the waist of your underwear. He tugs on the waistband as you lift your hips for him to take them off.

He takes in the sight of you; already nearly dripping wet for him when all he did was kiss you.

“Do you touch yourself, baby?” Mingyu asks you, his gaze lifting up from your soaking core.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he’s now watching your every move.

“Show me, baby.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“Go ahead.”

You bring your fingers down to your clit, circling it a few times, the sense of relief making your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you dip your fingers between your folds to gather more wetness, bringing them back up to your clit.

Mingyu’s gaze fixates on your core, until it tears away when you call out his name.

“Mingyu…” You whine, as you shamelessly rock your hips against your hand.

“What, baby?” Mingyu licks his lips as he watches you. 

“Touch me,” You beg, leaning your head back against his pillow, while already feeling so eager to know what he feels like. “Please.”

Saving teasing you for another time, since you’re begging for him and he can’t resist, his fingers replace yours and holy shit is it so much better.

You moan against his lip as he kisses you fervently, before he’s climbing down your body until he’s settling himself between your parted thighs.

Your heart pounds in anticipation, his hands gentle as he pushes your thighs further apart for him. 

“So pretty…” He mumbles as he eyes your soaking wet core in front of him. “Can’t believe you’ve never done this before…”

You almost want to kick him as if to say get on with it already, but before you can even think, he’s nudging his face between your thighs. 

His tongue slides over your clit, and the feeling makes you throw your head back.

“Fuck…” You let out a shaky cry, as you reach out and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you’re desperate for something to hold.

Mingyu groans against your cunt as you let out the prettiest sounds, wanting to hear more from you, he slides two fingers inside you, feeling your walls stretch around his fingers.

“Shit… Mingyu,” You gasp, arching your back off the bed as your hips grind against his hand as his fingers slowly fuck you. His fingers stretching you open almost hurts, but it feels too good all at the same time.

In perfect timing he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit just as he curls his fingers, perfectly hitting a spot that nearly has you seeing stars. With a loud cry of his name, your legs lock as an orgasm suddenly overtakes you.

Mingyu pulls back just as your head falls back against his pillow, your neck lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re still catching your breath when Mingyu hovers over you again, kissing your forehead gently. 

“Ready, baby?” He asks, as he’s ridding himself of his Calvin Klein boxers, making your attention draw to his cock; the mere size nearly takes your breath away. 

“You can tell me to stop anytime… okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation, eager to finally know what he feels like.

Mingyu gently pushes your thighs apart, slowly running his cock through your folds to wet himself with your arousal. He inadvertently bumps your clit, making you whimper and grip the sheets in your fist. 

He lines himself up with your entrance, shuddering in pleasure when he finally sinks into you, making you gasp.

“Mingyu…” You whine as he’s stretching you open, making you grab onto his sturdy shoulders to ground yourself. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Mingyu leans down to gently kiss your jaw, leading down your neck to distract you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” He groans as he finally bottoms out.

His thrusts start off slow and shallow at first, letting you get used to him. You’re squeezing his cock so tight that Mingyu feels the need to ravage you, but he’d save that for another time.

He gradually picks up the pace, as he shifts his hips slightly, making his cock drive right into your sweet spot, making you arch your back and push your chest against him.

You moan loudly as your nails dig into his biceps, making Mingyu groan as your walls clench him.

“Gonna cum already, baby?” Mingyu smirks, breathing so heavily you can feel his hot breathe on your neck.

“Yeah…” You whine, nodding furiously. Your mind is far too clouded with the feeling of his cock inside you to put together any other words.

“Go on baby, come for me.” Mingyu grunts, his fingers moving to rub circles on your clit, making you whimper. “C’mon.”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, Mingyu keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

It’s amazing how quick his demeanor changes, he’s immediately peppering kisses gently on your face, his puppy-eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Was that okay?” He wonders. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” You reassure him, and he’s relieved as you throw your arms over his shoulders to gently play with his hair. “That was amazing.”

He gently rolls you over so he can pull you on top of him, basking in the feeling of your weight on top of him.

“We should do that again…” You hint, your fingers toying with his necklace.

“Do you want to?” Mingyu chuckles. You already can’t get enough of him.

“Maybe,” You snuggle into his chest, sighing contentedly. “I kind of wanna stay like this for a while.”

tags!: @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @dearlyjun

[sugarnspice630]

Blemished - Seonghwa

"Think you’d get away with wearing something like this? Y/N my love, your tits are practically bursting out of that top."

•pairing: dom!simp!seonghwa x sub!fem!reader

•word count: 1.6k

•tags: mdni, nonidol, praise kink, Hwa is a MASSIVE boob guy, reader has a big chest, sucking/marking/biting of the chest, clit stimulation orgasm, Simp Hwa Simp Hwa, motor-boating?...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Distracting Seonghwa during your dinner date was not your intention, however that's exactly what happened and Seonghwa made sure you knew how much he appreciated it by treating you to a special evening.

A/N: Inspired by my Thighs, Tits, or Ass guy Ateez edition post! Fun fact, I personally dislike boob play of any kind, but this was quite fun to write. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

You always wanted to look pretty for Seonghwa. He asked you out on a date at a nice restaurant to treat you to something special. Carefully choosing your outfit because you wanted to look sophisticated yet be comfortable. You chose a cute button-up blouse and an appropriate-length skirt. Shortly after, Seonghwa came to pick you up, kissing you softly on the cheek.

“You look beautiful, my star.” You can feel his smile against your skin and your face blushes. He opened the door for you and you carefully got in the car, waiting for the delicious dinner and amazing date you were about to have.

–

Throughout the dinner, you noticed Seonghwa’s attention was not 100% on you. There was something else on his mind that kept him from listening to your stories.

“Baby, are you alright? You’re not really paying attention to anything I’m saying.”

“Mm, n-no I'm listening! I just…have a lot going on in my brain.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked with a hint of concern.

“N-not right now. Let’s just finish our meal.” You nodded softly and finished the rest of your dinner. You didn’t talk much to each other, but you shared occasional glances. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes were never fully focused on you and were looking elsewhere. Finishing the meal in silence, Seonghwa asked for the bill, paid quickly, and before you knew it, he swiftly grabbed your wrist and was dragging you out the door. The car ride back to your place was even more awkward than the dinner. Every time you tried to speak to him, he silenced you and told you to save it. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. His knuckles were white and you could see the veins slightly popping up. Your brain was all over the place, wondering what happened between when he picked you up to about halfway through the dinner date. You finally got to your home and before you could get out of the car, Seonghwa’s voice stopped you.

“Set your things down and go to your bed.” His voice was stern and demanding. Oh fuck, you were in trouble, but what did you do?

When you got inside your apartment, you set your coat and purse down, took your shoes off, and waited for Seonghwa in your bedroom. His figure soon loomed in the doorway, and his eyes were fixated on one thing only: your breasts. You leaned back against your pillows as he came in and crawled on top of you, coming close to your neck.

“Think you’d get away with wearing something like this?” Seonghwa is carefully kissing and nipping at your neck, tracing his supple lips across your skin.

“L-like what Seonghwa? My outfit is perfectly modest!” He scoffs at your response.

“Y/N my love, your tits are practically bursting out of that top.” You felt your face warm up. You weren’t a small-chested girl by any means, but you thought the outfit was alright. “God… I could see just the slightest peak in between each of the buttons. Driving me crazy the entire time.”

“So that’s why you couldn't focus~?"

“Yes…but now that I have you alone, I can look and play with them all I want.” He says lowly before he’s reaching for your shirt and slowly unbuttoning the buttons. His fingers dancing to remove the fabric covering your chest. You lean back further, pushing your boobs towards him more, but trying to be discreet about it. He gets three of the buttons undone before he pushes the fabric to the sides and stares hard at the sight before him.

“Wearing a bra I got for you~? It looks so pretty on you. I just knew it would. Compliments you so well.” His praise was making you blush even more. Excitement started to take over Seonghwa, and he quickly undid the rest of the buttons and helped guide the blouse off of you. Tossing the piece of clothing to the side, his attention was directed back towards your boobs. The bra you were wearing had white lace across the top and around the band. The cup area had tiny silver and gold stars. The bra had an accent line that perfectly covered your nipples and the line led up to the straps. Seonghwa licked his lips while staring at how beautiful you looked in it. Your breasts are perfectly pushed together and filling the cup nicely.

“So beautiful…but what’s underneath is even more beautiful.” He reaches a hand around your back and snaps the clasps, carefully pulling the bra off of you and tossing it to the side. His actions were quick, but sensual. Truly taking his time but also in a hurry to see you in your pure form. You could only watch as his pupils were extremely dilated, just staring at you. He only took a few more seconds of staring at your boobs before he leans down and latches his mouth on your right breast. You gasped and arched your back slightly.

“S-Seonghwa.” You breathed out. His tongue was licking around your nipple in ways you’ve never felt before. You always knew Hwa was a boobs guy, but damn, he knew how to play with them. While sucking on your right tit, his left hand came up and started to grope and play with your left tit.

“Nngh, fuck!” You felt him growl against you.

“That’s my girl. Letting me play nicely with her.” He went back to kissing and licking over your breast. His tongue was warm, but the stimulation he was providing was making your nipples rock hard. Of course, he couldn’t forget his other favorite boob. He carefully pinched his fingers together around your nipple, causing you to cry out softly.

“Seonghwa!” You tilted your head back further into the pillows and closed your eyes. Seonghwa was having a field day just feeling and licking all over your beautiful chest.

“Mm, baby~. Wanna make you feel so good. Can I do that for you?”

“Y-yes please!” Ever since he was slowly stripping you, your pussy was aching and crying for attention.

“Good girl~. Fuck, you are so beautiful~.” Seonghwa whispers against your skin as he reaches his right hand down your skirt and begins to rub you through your panties. “You are soaked darling~. All of this from just kissing your beautiful tits?”

“Y-yes! Your tongue feels so good!” You couldn’t help but crave it all the time. He always knew exactly how to use it.

“Good good~ but what about this~?” Suddenly, you feel Seonghwa nip and pull at the skin covering your breasts. You cry out in pleasure. His fingers continue to rub you through your underwear, and the way he bites and marks up your skin makes you feel high. Seonghwa takes the tip of his tongue and licks into the teeth marks he’s leaving on your breasts. Continuous moans escaping your mouth. You grip onto his sides to steady yourself. Seonghwa eventually wraps a finger around the band of your panties and pulls them down, completely exposing your pussy to him. He latches his mouth back onto your boobs, leaving trails of saliva every time he picks his head up from your chest. You tilt your head down and open your eyes to look at the unholy sight in front of you. His face is flushed and you can only watch as his lips are pursed together to kiss your chest.

“Seonghwa~.” You are unable to say anything else. The pleasure he is providing you makes you feel like you are floating in heaven. The pure euphoria in this situation is enough to make your brain feel high. Seonghwa collects more of your wetness on his fingers and continues to rub your clit.

“Gonna make you cum so hard baby.” He growls. He really does not let up with sucking and kissing your chest. There are so many red and purple marks all over you; it’s truly a beautiful sight. You are marked up exactly how Seonghwa likes. 

“P-please!” Your grip on his sides tightens, and you get a fistful of his shirt. Your nails slightly dig into the skin underneath, and you hear him moan softly. Seonghwa pushes his face directly into your chest, and you can hear him panting heavily.

“Fuck baby I just wanna suffocate between your chest.” His voice vibrates through you, causing you to shudder.

“S-shit!” His fingers rapidly rubbing over your clit, you can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

“So fucking hot, fuck fuck fuck, your chest is so perfect.” He rubs his cheeks over your boobs as he says this. His eyes flutter open to take in the sight of the other boob in front of him. You feel his hips rut into your leg, and he whimpers. His erection is very noticeable against your thigh, and it drives you insane.

“I think I’m gonna- oh fuck-” Your breathing increases as you feel the knot in you getting tighter and tighter. Seonghwa worshiping your boobs makes you feel like a goddess.

“Cum for me sweetheart. Wanna hear your pretty sounds.”

Not too long after his command, you are crying out his name and cursing out loud and you feel the knot loosen. Seonghwa bites down on your breast as you cum, causing you to let out a shrill chirp from being overstimulated. His fingers are covered in you, and he loves the feeling. He rubs you through your high before leaving a couple more gentle kisses on your tits and then leaning back from your chest. Your eyes flutter open and closed, and you’re breathing heavily. Seonghwa’s chuckle rings through your ears, and you open your eyes to look at him. A soft, questioning, hum comes from your throat. There is a couple seconds of silence as you sit there, staring at Seonghwa smirking at your chest.

“Now your chest is even more beautiful with all my markings all over it~.”

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @sanipan @10nantscompanion @hrts4nohee @eleganzadellarosa @babyxhoiz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @10nantscompanion @hwastarsworld @bunnyluvr25 @resildatice