#The Steppin Stones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnxmxngxrl · 6 days ago

Text

“Nude”

Harry Da Souza x f!Reader

Harry’s Masterlist here

Summary: You start to notice your husband drifting away. One lonely night, you send him a spicy photo to remind him of what he’s missing.

WC: 4.2k

Warnings/tags: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f!receiving), creampie, established relationship, reader is Harry’s wife.

A/N: This one goes to this person who asked me to write about Harry, I finally did it. (I hope it’s not a disappointment).

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Being married to Harry wasn’t the easiest thing on the planet. But you loved that man more than life itself.

Sure, you knew it before marrying him. Knew about his lack of availability. About the long nights where God only knew where he was. About the ambiguity of his job—one he never wanted to discuss, always saying it was better to keep you “on the line.” But you weren’t stupid. You’d seen the dried blood under his nails more than once.

And yet you married him, because even with all his flaws as a husband, he was the only man you’d ever loved. Because nobody had ever made you feel like he did.

Some nights, when it got too late, you couldn’t help but worry. You’d sit there, every muscle tense, checking the clock like it held some secret. The minutes ticked by, slow and sharp, each one slicing a little deeper. You’d imagine headlines. Accidents. Sirens. Or worse—just silence. Permanent silence.

And some nights, you couldn’t help but wonder if his job was just an excuse. Your mind went darker, quieter. It whispered things you didn’t want to believe. That maybe he wasn’t staying away because of danger. Maybe he was staying away because he didn’t want to come home. Because someone else—someone new—had captured his attention.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The rain hammered against the windows of the penthouse like it had something to prove. You sat curled up on the edge of the leather couch, knees tucked beneath you, your eyes fixed on the clock.

9:47 PM.

He was late. Again.

The candles you lit hours ago had burned low, their wax puddled into soft amber pools. The meal you cooked—his favorite, because you were trying—sat untouched on the table, cold. You’d taken the time to look pretty, to wear that silk camisole he once said drove him crazy. But now it felt foolish. Like you were playing house alone.

A sound at the door.

Keys. The heavy metal click of the deadbolt. You stood slowly, arms crossing over your chest, your heart pounding in a rhythm you couldn’t control.

Harry stepped inside. Black coat soaked. Jaw set like stone. His dark eyes scanned the room until they found you.

You didn’t move.

“Hi, love,” he said, like that word could fix everything. “Babe?”

“You’re late,” you replied softly. Controlled. Careful.

He closed the door behind him and shrugged off his coat. Rain dripped onto the floor. “Jesus, babe. Good night to you too, how have you been?”

“You’re late” you repeated.

“I know. I’m sorry, alright? Work ran over. You know how it is, don’t you?”

“You say that every night.” You met his eyes, refusing to break first. “Is that really where you’ve been, Harry?”

He blinked, slowly. A small shift in his stance. Guilt? Anger? Defense? You couldn’t tell.

“Of course it is,” he said. “Where else d’you think I’d be?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I never know where you are, what you’re doing… or who you’re with.”

He exhaled hard. “Alright, I reckon I know where this is going. This isn’t about work, is it?” He narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m steppin’ out on you.”

Your throat burned. “I don’t know, Harry. You tell me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, stepped forward, voice low and rough with something dangerous. “You think I’d fuck someone else behind your back?”

“I think you’re not here,” you whispered. “And that leaves space for a lot of doubt, Harry.”

Harry crossed the room in two strides and took your face in his hands—not rough, not hard, but with a desperation that made your knees weak. The way he gripped your jaw wasn’t about power. It was about fear. Fear that he was losing you. That you were slipping through his fingers.

“You listen to me, babe, yeah?” he said, his voice shaking. ““I’m out there doin’ shit I don’t even wanna talk about. But I do it for you. For us. I ain’t out messin’ about. I’m not even lookin’. I come home to you. I want you. Every second. Even when I’m not here. Especially then.”

You blinked back the tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling like he’d been running. But he hadn’t been running from work. He’d been running from this. From you. From what he knew you’d say the minute he walked through the door.

“Cause I’ve been a right shit husband lately,” he muttered. “But not a cheating one. Never have. Never will. I love you. I love you, babe. You think I’d ever let another woman in when I already have the only one I need?”

“You know you can talk to me, Harry. About anything.”

“I know, yeah?” he said. “I know. But I swear on everything—there’s no one else. Never has been. Never will be. I don’t give a toss about anyone else. I don’t even see ’em. Don’t want ’em.”

He shifted closer, hand resting on your thigh. The heat of his palm through the silk made you shiver. Not because you were cold. But because, for the first time in a long time, he felt real. Tangible. Like maybe he still wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“I’m your husband.”

“That stopped meaning something when I started sleeping alone five nights a week.”

You lay across the bed in nothing but a thin lace bra and matching black underwear, one leg bent lazily, the other stretched long against the sheets. A low storm rumbled outside—soft thunder somewhere in the distance, just enough to make the windows whisper. But inside, the air was hotter than it had any right to be.

Harry had been gone since morning. No call. No message. No clue when he’d walk back through the door.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the flicker of the bedside lamp. You looked like a dream. Like a sin. The kind of woman a man could ruin his whole life for.

It was pointless to wear such sexy lingerie when your husband wasn’t home to see it. It had been pointless for a long time. Lately with Harry, it was mostly rushed quickies in the shower before he left in the morning. Not long nights of worshipping your body. Not the kind of nights where he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

You missed how it used to be. How he’d strip you slow, kiss every inch like it mattered. How he’d growl when you pulled his hair, how he’d fuck you like the world might end in the next five minutes. You missed that version of him—the raw, greedy version.

You reached for your phone. Fingers trailing over your chest, arms pressed in to lift your breasts beneath the lace, squeezing them together. The cups lifted your breasts just enough that they swelled between your arms as you pressed them together, one nipple peeking out beneath, pushing them up, making them look even fuller—exactly how he liked.

You lifted your phone, aimed the camera, and snapped a photo.

You typed:

Maybe I should find someone who appreciates this.

And sent it.

It was a blunt lie. You didn’t want anyone else. Not even close. But you wanted to provoke a reaction.

Delivered.

Read.

You stretched out on the bed, expecting silence. Maybe a flirty, disinterested message back in an hour, something like "Looking good, babe” or a thumbs up emoji. Maybe nothing until morning.

A few minutes later, you heard it. A sound from inside the house. The front door slammed hard. Not careless—furious. Controlled fury. The kind Harry rarely showed unless someone had pissed him off. And this time, it was you. You knew it. You wanted it.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Fast. Determined. The floor creaked under the weight of him.

Your body responded before your brain could. Legs shifting open slightly, preparing to give him the full view of your covered cunt as soon as he walked through the door. Nipples tightening beneath the lace. Your breath hitched, just from the sound of him coming closer.

The door opened with a sharp swing—and there he was.

Harry stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes black with fury and want. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, looking at you.

Like he didn’t know whether to fuck you or strangle you.

Rainwater clung to his hair, plastering it to his forehead. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through, outlining every hard line of his body. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle ticking just beneath his skin. But his eyes—Christ, his eyes—were locked on your thighs, your breasts, your cunt, like he hadn’t eaten in days and you were the only meal he’d ever wanted.

“Feelin’ cheeky, are you?” he said, voice low and rough.

You arched a brow, stretching slowly like a cat. “Did you like it?”

He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him with a heavy click.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” His voice was hoarse, dangerous. “What was the plan, then? Wind me up?”

“Maybe. Did it work?”

He stalked toward you and his hand was around your ankle before you could blink, dragging you down to the edge of the mattress in one hard, fluid motion. The contact sparked straight up your spine.

His grip was rough—almost punishing—but you could feel the tremble in it. He wasn’t just angry. He was desperate. Desperate to show you that he still had you. That no one else ever would.

His other hand curled around the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, yanking your mouth up to his. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and mine. Possessive. Furious.

“I was gonna be back in half an hour,” he muttered against your lips. “Saw that fuckin’ picture and I near wrecked the car. Seriously, babe, you can’t send shit like that—I might’ve run someone over just to get home faster.”

You gasped into him, arms sliding around his shoulders, fingers clawing into the soaked fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to remind you of what you had waiting for you at home.”

He leaned back enough to look you in the eye, his chest still rising and falling with ragged breath.

“Yeah?” His voice was ragged. “That why you’re lyin’ here like a fuckin’ pin-up? Legs open, lace on, sendin’ me shit that makes my head go blank?”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “It worked.”

He let out a low, dangerous laugh that made your stomach clench.

“Oh, it fuckin’ worked, alright.”

He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands curling around your calves, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs.

“You wanted my attention, love?” His voice was gravel. “You’ve got it. Every last second of it.”

He dragged you toward him, hard, until your ass was nearly off the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulders, his mouth close to where you needed him.

“You know what that photo said to me?” he asked, voice like smoke and grit.

You shook your head, barely able to breathe.

“Said, ‘Get your arse home before someone else does.’”

“Then it served its purpose,” you whispered.

His beard scraped along the soft inside of your thigh as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up your leg, each one wetter, hungrier, than the last. His lips burned paths into your skin. Your muscles tensed under every press of his mouth.

“You tellin’ me someone else deserves this?” he asked darkly. “These thighs. This mouth. This cunt?”

“No,” you gasped.

“That’s right.” He bit your inner thigh just hard enough to leave a mark. “Because it’s fuckin’ mine. Tell me what you wanted, babe, when you took that picture.”

“Your cock,” you said bluntly. You knew how much Harry loved it when you spoke like that.

He muttered curses, something like fuck me, Jesus.

“Turn off your phone, Harry.”

“Babe… babe, you know I can’t do that.”

“I’m serious, Harry. I want my husband. And I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Let’s be reasonable here, yeah?”

“I said turn off the fucking phone.”

“Alright, alright. On it,” he said, digging for the device in his pocket. Once he found it, he turned it off in front of you and tossed it aside without another word.

“The burner phone too”

“Jesus, woman.” he muttered, his hands rushing to turn it off too. He wasn’t thinking straight now. He was thinking with his cock.

For once, it was just the two of you. No job. No secrets. No interruptions.

He dragged his nose up along the seam of your underwear, inhaling deeply like the scent of your arousal alone was going to make him lose his mind.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered. “Knew you’d be soaked for me.”

You whined, lifting your hips toward him, needy and shameless.

He hooked two fingers under the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your legs, rough and impatient. The fabric snagged slightly at your heel, but he didn’t stop—he wanted them off, wanted nothing between you and his mouth.

“Look at that. That is the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen in my life, innit?”

And then he dove in. Tongue flat and wide, dragging up your soaked folds with a groan so guttural it sounded like it ripped straight from his chest, like it physically pained him to have gone this long without you. Your thighs tried to clamp shut around his head, but he forced them open again, holding you down like a man starved.

He ate you like you were his last meal. Messy. Desperate. Like he was trying to undo every second he’d been away from you. His mouth moved with skill but no mercy—circling your clit, then flicking it with the tip of his tongue until your back arched off the bed.

“Fuck—Harry—”

It had been a long time. Too long since Harry had eaten you out like this—since he’d taken his time with you, laid you out across the mattress like a feast he’d starved himself for. And now that he had you here, bare and spread and trembling beneath his mouth, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

“You look proper fit like this,” he rasped. “Makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ face. Tastes so good, babe.”

He slid a finger into you—slow, then a second, the stretch making you moan out loud. The slick sounds of him fucking his fingers into you filled the room, obscene and wet, and he was smiling. Grinning like a man possessed. Like this was exactly what he needed to come back to life.

His tongue swirled and flicked, lapped and pressed, deliberate and greedy. His spit mixed with your arousal, running down to your ass in a glistening trail.

“Tell me you missed this,” he said, voice low and filthy.

You could barely breathe, let alone speak. But you nodded. “I did. I—I missed your mouth.”

Your legs started to shake. That knot in your belly—tightening with every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside you—threatened to snap.

“Harry, I’m—oh my god—”

“Don’t hold back,” he said roughly, licking up every drop of you. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.”

He flattened his tongue and licked you from hole to clit, again and again, moaning against you like he needed it as badly as you did. When he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, your vision went white. He was curling his fingers expertly, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl.

“That’s it,” he growled into your cunt, pulling away just long enough to spit on you and dive back in. “Give it to me. Cum on my fuckin’ face, babe. Show me how much you missed me.”

You came with a cry, loud and wild, clenching around his fingers while he licked you through it like he never wanted to stop tasting you. He groaned into you like he’d just won a fight. He didn’t pull away—he stayed buried between your legs, licking and sucking until your whole body went limp.

He pulled back finally, face slick with you, chest heaving.

“Good girl,” he growled through gritted teeth, voice rough and frayed with how close he was. “What a good girl you are—cumming for your husband like this…”

“Still think some other bloke could do that for you?” he asked darkly, voice shot to hell. “Still think some other cunt deserves what I just tasted?”

You shook your head, dazed and trembling.

“Didn’t think so,” he growled. “Now turn ‘round.”

You blinked up at him.

“Turn. The fuck. Around,” he repeated, unbuckling his belt with a slow, menacing clink of metal.

You rolled onto your stomach, body still quaking from your orgasm, and braced yourself on your elbows, you dragged your knees apart, arched your spine until your ass was up high in the air, flushed and glistening, shamelessly offered. Your elbows sunk into the mattress, spine dipped like a bowstring, cunt still fluttering from the aftershocks of his mouth. You gave yourself to him. Just like he wanted. Just like you needed.

You heard the sound of his zipper, the low curse under his breath when he freed himself from his jeans. And then the hot, heavy weight of his cock slap against your ass, against your thigh—thick, hard, leaking at the tip.

He gripped himself and dragged the blunt head through your soaked folds, spreading your slickness and his precum in messy, dripping trails. He circled your entrance with it, teasing, threatening, never pushing in. Just letting you feel how badly he wanted it.

“Beg me,” he said, voice like thunder.

You whimpered and pushed back, grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat. You’d never been so filthy, so desperate, so feral.

You pushed back against him. “Please. Harry.”

His palm cracked down against your ass in a sharp slap that made you yelp. Then again. And again. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to make your whole body burn.

“Not good enough. Try again.”

You glanced back over your shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“Please fuck me, Harry. I need it. I need you. I need my husband.”

That was all it took. He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, forcing a gasp from your throat. You cried out—high and sharp—your hands clawing at the sheets as he filled you to the hilt. The stretch of him was overwhelming, so deep, so delicious. Your walls fluttered around him instantly. Every thrust a claim. Every stroke saying mine, mine, mine.

He grabbed your hips, fingers bruising into your skin, and started to fuck you hard—no teasing, no mercy.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room, the mattress rocking beneath you, your moans, his grunts, the wet sound of him filling you over and over—obscene, frantic, addictive.

You could hear how soaked you were, how loudly your cunt welcomed him, how hungry your body was for every inch he gave.

He leaned over you, one hand curling around your throat from behind, pulling your back to his chest. His cock never stopped, spearing into you again and again with bruising force.

“Say it,” he snarled into your ear. “Say who this cunt belongs to.”

“You,” you whimpered. “You, Harry—only you.”

He snarled and bit down on your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin as his hips snapped forward harder, faster. Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, shoved your body forward, sent heat coiling tight in your gut.

He was pounding into you with brutal efficiency now—each thrust a hammer blow, his cock splitting you open with obscene wet sounds, your slick coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs. He was so deep it felt like he was in your belly, hitting something deep inside you.

“You feel that?” he grunted, his voice strained and raw. “That’s what you do to me. Turn me into a fuckin’ animal.”

Then he slowed—just enough to make your breath catch. Dragged his cock out to the very tip before slamming back in so hard your vision went white. Over and over. Deep, punishing thrusts meant to be felt for days. You could hear your own pussy sucking him back in every time he pulled out. You were drenched, utterly soaked for him, and he knew it.

“You love this cock, don’t you?” he hissed into your ear. “Say it. Say how much you need me to fill you.”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “God, yes, Harry—please, please cum inside me. I want it so bad. I want to feel you leaking out of me, want to be so full I can’t think.”

Suddenly, he pulled out, dragging his cock from your soaking wet cunt, and before you could protest, he manhandled you onto your back. His hands were rough, desperate, needy. Like he couldn’t bear to be out of you for even a second.

“I want to see your face when I cum. I want to see the face of my beautiful wife when I fill her up.”

Your legs spread for him automatically, trembling and slick, and he grabbed them—threw them over his shoulders and sank back into you with a filthy groan.

The angle now was different��devastating. He hit deeper, harder, his pelvis grinding into your clit with every thrust. His cock curved perfectly against your sweet spot, coaxing a fresh gush of arousal from you every time.

Even if Harry was in his mid-forties, you never would’ve known it when he was buried inside you. He moved like a man half his age, full of energy and stamina when it came to you—driven, tireless, fucking you like he had something to prove. Like he needed to remind you, over and over, that no one else could do what he did to your body.

And the way he moved inside you? That wasn’t youth—it was the experience his age gave him. It was knowing exactly how to angle his hips to hit that perfect spot that made you cry out. Knowing how long to tease before giving you what you needed. How to read the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs started to tremble, the way your fingers fisted the sheets when you were close.

And that mix—the stamina of someone younger, paired with the slow, brutal finesse of someone who knew exactly what he was doing—it wrecked you every time. There was no doubt. You were his. And he was still in his prime. A man built to ruin you.

“Touch yourself,” he growled. “Rub that pretty clit for me, babe. I want to feel you cum while I’m still inside you.”

Your hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding that aching, swollen bundle of nerves. You barely had to touch it—just a few tight circles—and you were gone.

You came with a scream, your whole body locking up, cunt clenching and spasming around his cock like it never wanted to let him go. You felt your release gush out around him, soaking the sheets, the slick, messy squelch of your orgasm driving him right to the edge.

He cursed loudly, hips stuttering.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

And then he slammed home one last time and spilled into you. hot, thick, endless. His cock twitching deep inside you, ropes of cum coating your walls. He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed there, cock still twitching, still seated inside you, as you both trembled and gasped for air. You could feel his cum dripping out already, warm and slow between your thighs, mixing with your own orgasm and soaking the sheets.

“It’s been so long since I’ve cum like that,” you said, voice hoarse, lips still parted from where he’d kissed you breathless.

You were sprawled beneath him, body flushed and slick, thighs still trembling from the intensity. Your chest rose and fell fast, skin sticky with sweat and sex. His weight lingered over you, one arm propped beside your head, the other resting possessively over your stomach, keeping you pinned, claimed.

He leaned down and kissed the hollow of your throat, slow and soft. You felt him sigh, the heat of his breath ghosting across your collarbone.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ve just… been so caught up in work. So fuckin’ distracted. And thinkin’ of another man gettin’ you—because I didn’t appreciate you enough—”

“Harry, it’s—”

“No. Wait.” He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes stopped you cold. “Let me finish.”

His hand slid from your belly to your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple almost absently, not in a filthy way, but as if he needed to be touching you while he said it. Something to anchor him.

“I don’t ever want anyone else seein’ you like that,” he said, voice thick. “Don’t want anyone else hearin’ you like that. Hearin’ how you sound when you cum. When you fall apart on my cock. That’s mine. It’s always been mine.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek. His scruff rasped against your palm, warm and damp with sweat. “No one else will,” you whispered. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

There was a pause, thick with everything unspoken—guilt, longing, relief. Then he dropped his forehead to yours and exhaled hard, like he’d been holding that tension for weeks.

“This was incredible , babe.” His voice cracked on it. “I—I really missed it. Missed us.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Instead, you slid your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss—slow, messy, wet with the taste of everything you’d just poured into each other.

When you pulled away, he looked like a man wrecked. Wrecked in the best way.

“Me too,” you said. “You have no idea how much.”

He smirked—small, tired, but genuine. His hand slid down your thigh, gripping the soft flesh just behind your knee, still nestled between your legs. You could feel him softening inside you, but not pulling out yet. He didn’t want to. You could tell.

“Sundays, yeah?” he said. “They’re all yours. Full day. Anything you want. No work. No bullshit. Just us.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And coming from him—the man who hadn’t slowed down in months, who never stopped checking his phone, who never made promises he didn’t plan to keep—it was everything.

You raised a brow. “And your phone stays off the entire day.”

He grunted. Rolled his hips a little inside you, like he couldn’t help it. The movement made you whimper.

“I’ll put it on silent,” he bargained, nuzzling into your neck. “That’ll do?”

You sighed—exhausted, blissed out, full of him and still faintly aching for more. “Deal.”

And you both lay there, tangled in the wreckage of each other. Sundays were a start. A good one.

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics‬

#harry da souza #harry da souza x reader #harry da souza imagine #harry da souza x y/n #harry da souza x you #mobland #harry da souza fanfic #smut #harry da souza smut #mobland fanfiction #harry da souza fanfiction #tom hardy #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy smut #tom hardy x oc #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fic #harry da souza mobland

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slippinninque · 20 days ago

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🎙️Wings and Two-Steppin'💐

Elias "Stack" Moore x supernatural!blackfemreader

warning: MINORS DNI, 18+, cursing, sensual themes, mentions of sex, mentions of desire, drinking/alcohol, supernatural!black!femreader!(Think earth/forest elemental) , long-fic, vibe fic didn't watch the movie but I have been moved 😅

The night was beautiful and you were finally able to find some good music.

You were somewhere between the moon and stars, the winds beneath your wings playful and thick as it carried you from state-wind to state-wind. When the sound of happy breathing, heavy shoes, and string picking got up to you–you looked for a place to land.

Feeling more and more solid as you traded your wings for paws, you searched amongst the warm little homes for what you needed. There were mothers and children gathered around rocking chairs, reading from a thick book made up of pages that reminded you of butterfly wings. In the yard with the tasty yams, you nipped at the clothes on the line for whichever felt like leaving with you.

Trotting with your prize, you tried to think of how to fit it again. It took a while since you’ve been anything but wild, but you knew some times were better had when you had thumbs. The dress fit good enough and you shook out the bramble shocking cloud and downpour that was your locs and coils.

The whole time that lively music followed you. You’d reckon you were a few miles off but now that you had feet–you couldn’t keep them from dancing either way. The only time you paused was when you caught sight of your skin, deep and brown as healthy soil and mahogany.

It wasn’t long before you saw the joint, standing and vibrating with all the good time that was going on inside. You lingered at the treeline, mostly behind the leaves as you watched folk flow in and out of its doors.

The excitement made your tongue tight, you whispered a few of the words you knew by heart to loosen your voice. You've speaking wild for so long, you weren't sure what words were People anymore.

There was a gleam that caught your eye followed by a smooth laugh that made your skin goose. You caught a sweet-husky scent of liquor and honey, caught the edge of maroon vanishing through the side door of the proud structure.

There. That’s where you wanted to be.

Peering around first, you shadowed yourself along the ground. Leaping and hopping to those who lingered outside to enjoy a smoke with the cool air. The last fella was a bit wobbly but luckily he used the wall to steady yourself so you could step off into the dark side of the juke joint.

It wasn’t very much seeing that got you around, but feeling. You felt along the edges until you were able to bleed beneath the same door your good time went through.

The only problem was that now you didn’t know where you were. Things were put up on shelves and boxes, jars and jars of some stuff made your nose twitch. Looking around, you wondered if there was anything tasty enough to tempt you but all you could find was more of that river-clear stuff in pretty bottles of glass.

You were running your fingers along the raised lettering, turning to find your prize when you knocked into the softest tree you’ve ever met.

“Whatchu doin’ in here, girl?”

An unsmiling man looked down at you, plumes blowing from his nose like an angry bull. HIs eyes were like twin obsidian as they skipped over your form. Watching him back, he reminded you of one of those smooth river stones with how pretty brown and blue he was.

You tilted your head and considered his exciting smell. Close, but not quite. Almost-right.

He raised his brows, waiting for an answer, “Where you comin’ from?”

“Above…”

The man reared back as if you shouted but you only smiled sheepishly at your garbled voice. So maybe you should have practiced a little longer before speaking to anyone.

The man’s head tilted back at you, he stepped closer to look down at you more closely. When his eyes got stuck on the mess of flowers and moss that was curling up your ankles from where you stood, you wiggled your toes.

Liking the attention, you preened as surely he was taking in the pretty flowers that had begun to bloom along your hairline.

“Move aside, Smoke.”

“Annie…”

“Move, go’on.”

A beautiful woman came from the corner shadows, eyes kind and fixed on you. The man lingered but stepped aside as she said, Annie. She glowed from her center, familiar in the way that the moon was. Turning to her and taking her offered hand, you no longer cared for the almost-right beside you.

This woman smelled like the almost-right but there was the ocean beneath her skin, the yawning night sky beneath her tongue. She reminded you of where you came from.

“What’s it that you need?” Annie asked warmly. Relief washed over you once you realized there was someone who understood. You buried yourself into her, Annie chuckling in surprise as you sighed at the warmth of her. She wrapped her arms around you in a solid hug and it felt like your hearts were doing the same in greeting.

You looked to the man who watched you more carefully now that you were in Annie’s arms and pointed to his face. Then you pointed out the door, blinking insistently.

“Ah, I see.” Annie looked over to the Smoke man, “Y’know who she wants.”

“What she gonna do to him?”

Annie gave your cheek a soft pinch, and raised her brows high as she looked in your eyes. She spoke in a tone that was both kind and stern.

“She’s gonna take it easy on ‘em and bring him back home like the lady she is.”

Laughing, you reached up and tapped her nose in agreement. Annie Ocean was right, of course, you only wanted to make good use of this form and chase this age old itch of yours.

There was a whoop of applause from the other side of the door you saw beyond Annie. Sounds like the music was changing from the jovial, upbeat twang to something that made your hips swim. Smoke Man and Annie Ocean exchanged a few more words you didn’t care to hear as you heard the beating hearts and lungs of the crowd on the other side. When you went to take a step, Smoke Man took one as well to block you.

“Hol’ on now.” He held up a hand then took away a pair of old boots that Annie Ocean found in the corner. She came to take your hands as Smoke Man knelt down to help your feet into the boots. Your nose wrinkled but it was clearly a stipulation, but when Annie wrinkled hers back in jest–you laughed.

Smoke Man muttered about something being fucking wild as he stood from doing up your laces.

“Should hold for now.” He tipped his hat to you then looked to his woman. Annie took your hand into her arm, like a sister in wings, and escorted you towards the door. Before she opened it, she leaned in to steal a bloom from your hair and say,

“Have a good time y’hear me?”

You gave her a wide grin, a kiss on the cheek, then set out into the joint.

In there, apparently it didn't matter that you weren't dressed so smartly or didn’t speak. You found yourself being held and spun, shot up and thrown over backwards. There were big wide hands that held onto your hips, full lips brushing against your ear. Slender, pretty hands holding onto your shoulders to show you how to watch their feet.

You had a sip of something from someone’s cup and it lit you up. Lightening water, you called it.

Inside the deep river of bodies that waved and lapped at each other, you lost yourself. Black and Brown, beautiful, so full of joy and of life. The scene settled like good supper in your stomach. It wasn’t long before blooms were bursting from between your toes and soles, stuffing until your boots were a perfect fit.

After being away from a body like this for so long, trading your wings for feet, dancing was like discovering how to laugh all over again. You felt the eyes you wanted on you from different corners of the room. Getting closer and closer still, remaining just out of reach just to admire you.

That gleam, though. Settled in between a winning crew of teeth, you couldn’t ever shake your interest in the things that shone. There he was, right there and all wrapped up in that want that you could smell from beneath the canopy of desire and lust blanket over the juke joint.

It’s funny how he looked just like the Smoke Man but in the way that the hot, clay sands meet cool blue waters. This man smiled like he didn’t care if you said his name or not, he walked towards you like he only wanted to know yours, this man was just right.

A hand took yours, leading you to the shore of the back wall. You still saw a kaleidoscope of smiles and felt the cascade of the crowd's previous caresses. A big hand took hold of your jaw. You gasped as you looked into familiar, smoldering eyes.

Finally...

“Now, I see every face that come up in here–why didn’t I see yours 'til now?”

Shrugging, you looked into his mouth at those pearly whites and gold caps. It was tantalizing to see, you’ve never seen a smile like that before. Mr. Just Right dipped his head to catch your gaze again, chuckling and offering his name as Stack.

“What can I call you, honey?”

You batted your eyes at him and looked down the fine line of him until you took that hand of his. He watched you, working the toothpick settled in the corner of his mouth, as you raised his hand to the column of your throat.

You sighed as your eyes closed briefly at the feeling of his stuttering heartbeat. When you opened your eyes again, you pouted slightly and whispered as softly as you could,

“Can’t…riGht…”

Stack’s expression straightened in understanding, “Can’t talk right?”

“Hm!”

Stack returned your affirming nod and stepped a little closer as he took a good look at you. He seemed to shrug himself, thumbing through the bits and pieces of buds “A’ight then, hone–shieet, or should I call ya’ flower?”

He could call you anything. Stack seemed to get that’s what the smile that dawned across your face meant. Unashamed, you leaned up to get a whiff from the source. Praise be. If it weren’t for Stack’s hands on you, surely you’d have melted around the soles of his fancy shoes.

Where Smoke man and Annie smelled like each other and ray-warmed clouds and deep underwater songs– this man smelled like something else.

Promises and butterscotch. Deep, hums and humid yearning.

You gave him a warm hug and then you found yourself being swept off your feet as he spun in a slow circle. The bristle of his beards scratched at your skin as he nuzzled and you had to bite your lip to keep from kissing him.

“We ever met befo’?” he whispered in your ear once he put you down.

Again, you gave him a shrug. It’s possible but you haven’t found all your memories yet. Stack swapped that toothpick to the other side of his mouth, tongue rolling it there real slow and taking your attention with it. Your fingers twitched.

Stack took one of your hands, his other kept on your waist as he led you in a lazy semi-circle. In the cradle of his arms, you made a noise you didn’t know he could hear beneath the music. While you had your land legs now, you still watched your feet.

“Why does it feel like you’re talkin’ to me?”

Because you wanted to so badly. You don’t know how well Stack man could smell, but he had to have a way of knowing you wanted him too…right?

You reached up with your free hand, to run the tip of your finger across Stack’s bottom lip. Shivering when the tip of his tongue brushed your skin as he carried the pick away from your touch–your eyes widened when he folded the pick into his mouth fully.

Stack chuckled, showing the pick again before reaching up to flick it away. Your eyes followed, tempted and amazed by the little magic trick, and Stack took the chance to glance over to where he knew his twin was watching.

Smoke was pouring something into Annie’s glass, sparing a single nod towards the door before turning back to his woman.

“Hey lil’ flower, I gotta say I’ma bit peckish,” Stack surprised you by pressing kisses to your cheek the spot beneath your ear, “You, uh, gonna share some nectar with me?”

“Hmm…”

You leaned up and returned a kiss to his cheek, the both of you nuzzling for a moment more before Stack cleared his throat and asked if you ever rode in a motorcar before.

It looked like morning time, Stack didn’t know from the strange way light came through his motor’s windows.

He went over to press a kiss to your cheek, wanting to wake you up with another sweet, when his lips met looseness..

Reality hit him fully as Stacks opened his eyes to the sea of flower petals and downy feathers he was submerged in. Digging through them in a stupor, Stacks could only find your dress and one of the too-big shoes that you wore the night before.

He brought the dress up to his nose, the dove-white fabric now a cascade of hues that matched what you left him.

Stacks looked out to the windshield of his motor, he was still parked outside. The two of you never made it inside? No, that’s right. He remembered your kisses and the strange, intoxicating noises you made when Stack had his hands on you. When he put the car into a standstill, you crooned his name and parted for him so eagerly…

In the back of his mind when Stack was still staring down at the crown of flowers bobbing in his lap, Stack thought he should have brought you to bed. You were the type that was too good for the back seat of the motorcar but holy did you make good due with what you had.

His eyes closed as heat seeped into his belly. You wrung him dry, all of that softness meaning anything but coyness as you rode him with a syrupy smile on your face. Stack got you back, giving it to you as kept a hold on your face to keep those pretty eyes on him as they rolled.

Pretty, peculiar noises spilled from your bitten lips and it really felt like you were seeping nectar into his lap. How you looked at him reverently and ran your fingertips and tongue over the gold and silver in his mouth.

Stack picked up handfuls of the petals and watched as they fluttered back into the mass. He…didn’t dream of peeling roses from your skin and the dewy sweat beneath. You must have really untangled a vine of the finest tasting green grapes from the curtain of locs from the nape of your neck.

Stack didn’t know what the fuck you were saying between his name but it felt like…promises. You were so sticky, so sweet–

What were you?

His vision focused some more and he saw who was sitting on the porch. Stack cursed, sitting back in the floral bath and tried to get his head together.

It didn’t sit well that he didn’t get to wake up with you, that he didn’t get to say goodbye, that he cared to…

The sun crawled a bit higher and the sudden company didn’t leave long enough aside to get some coffee. The second mug caught his attention and finally Stack got out of his motor. As best he could without letting the petals out, Stack closed the door up behind himself to be dealt with later. He fixed clothes up and ran a hand over his face to chase away the left-over sleep then set forward.

If she was here, then his brother was probably inside cooking up something and to tell Stack how thick his skull was. He grumbled a bit to himself at the thought of his brother and his wife just waltzing past him as he slumbered away as pretty as a princess.

Lord...

Annie sat on the last porch stair, setting that second mug down beside her in invitation. Smoke sat down, gingerly, once he felt the ache in his legs and lower back. He huffed a little at her knowing side-eye.

They sat in silence for a moment. Stack looking at the trailing and dancing petals, following a feather until it flew high enough up into the air to vanish into the awakening blue of the sky.

“She ever gonna come back?”

“I reckon she will.”

Stack gave Annie his own look and she only shrugged a shoulder, “I don’t know when but she will. I’ve seen her before, once or twice. Goes all over, I think, but she lives here.”

“You even know for sure? Met anythin’ like her befo’?”

“She's a joy. She’s in every part of life, every bit of the world.” Annie put a hand on his shoulder and used the other hand to gesture to the petals that had not blown away yet, “You’ll see her again soon. Knowing how you are, especially. You might end up being her favorite.”

Hope quickened his heart. Stack took a sip and before he could ask his next question, the call of a bird overhead caught his gaze.

The sound was familiar enough to loose the incredulousness feeling in his chest, shifting it to wonder and anticipation as he watched that bird settle high within the cover of a nearby willow tree.

-------------

✨ending notes✨: I....don't even know exactly what this is but I'm happy it's here! 🤣I haven't seen the movie yet but I've been seeing nothing but good things and this is what the vibes left me with. It's a bit long so thank you so much for reading until the end! 🥰This ended up sweeter than what I thought it would be though lmao! tell me what you think and give it a reblog! ✨💓✨💓✨💓

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#Sinners 2025 #Stack #Stack x blackfemreader #Stack x blackreader #Stack x black!fem!reader #Elias “Smoke” Moore x blackfemreader #x blackreader #x blackfemreader #x black!fem!reader #x supernatural!black!reader #this came out way sweeter than i thought #michael b. jordan sinners #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan

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semperamans · 10 months ago

Text

benny is back home n'he's missed you so much he may just have to fuck you over it!!!

warnings!!!!

benny is toxic! unprotected sex! benny is toxic! i didn't proof read it!!!! so there are probably so many mistakes!!!! n' this is LONG, so read at your own risk <3

despite its stillness, there is something deafening about the july air. there's nothing more to hear than night bird song as it falls over the slumbering city. gone are the rumbling engines on i-90 n'the chatter of women parading down the sidewalks. there are no babies gigglin', no ice cream trucks wailing, no sirens squwakin'. there's nothin' stirrin' in this humid night besides the rapid beat of your heart because, well, you shouldn't be here. you know that jus' as well as i do. you should be at home, sprawled beneath the ceiling fan, eyes closed, blissfully disconnected from the world, n'you're a good girl, so i'm sure that's what you would be doing had the shrill urgency of benny's call not woken you.

"hi baby," is what he breathed over the line, and despite the distance you could smell the jack daniels on his breath. "m'home." he had been home for a few days now. johnny had called you n'made you aware the second benny's wheels crossed the county line. and then you waited. and waited. and waited. and were your feelings hurt when benny didn't call? absolutely. by day three you were going insane. like mosquito-bitten legs, it was painfully hard to ignore the absence of his voice through the receiver. every purring engine had your head whipping 'round. every blonde head had your heart hammering, but it was never the right engine. never the right head. never benny. johnny'd tried to get you to come down to the clubhouse, but you didn't wanna look desperate (even though you were). it was just so hard to think about. all you could see in your mind's eye was benny splayed across a bar stool, lap empty, hand wrapped around a whiskey glass when it should've been around your throat.

"m'missin' you so much." you wouldn't have assumed he missed you much at all with how radio silent he'd been since leavin' over a month ago. your girls told you that if benny really cared he would make more of an effort - wouldn't run off whenever things other than his dick got hard - an' yeah, you knew this was likely true, but he was enigmatic and enticing and everything.

"wan' you to come see me."

you should've hung up the phone right then, but you didn't. and you definitely shouldn't've pulled a sleep shirt over your nightgown n'sneakers on your bare feet, but you did. now here you stand - peerin' up at benny's front door - tryin' to tell yourself it's all right. nothin' to be nervous over. but you were nervous, so you counted the steppin' stones - 14 - and then there he was.

he looked good, there was simply no denying it. when it was particularly hot, benny wore nothing beneath his colors n'tonight you could see his bare chest glistening with sweat from the glow of the porch light. moths and june bugs spun themselves dizzy 'round him, but he didn't flinch. his sights were set, smile wan and excited and focused on you.

"c'mere." benny's voice had a medicinal quality about it - you figured that out some time ago. his voice was a salve on sunburned skin. it was a cool mid-day rainstorm. it was enough to have your eyes flicking upward, your body moving forward, your mouth forming the shape of his name. "look at you," he practically purred. he seemed more coherent, which was great. you didn't like fuckin' benny when he was drunk - always fearin' it never meant the same as when he pressed himself into you sober. he held you at arms length, eyes traipsing the familiar paths his fingers and tongue had mapped repeatedly. "y'know, i could travel from here to fuckin' the ends of the universe n'never find a girl s'pretty as you."

"s'that what you're lookin' for when you leave?" the words escape your mouth before your brain can register the impact they will have, but benny doesn't seem all that deterred. he just shakes his head; half-hearted guilt tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lets ya go n'invites you inside. benny would never apologize for leavin'. that just wasn't his forte, but he'd make up for it. he always did.

the interior of benny's place is nicer than you'd expect n'it's all because johnny outright fuckin' refused to step foot in the place when benny'd first moved in. it was terrible, but now the trailer actually looks decent. s'not much: a small livin' space with a couch, a tiny kitchen, an even smaller bathroom, and a bedroom big enough for a few pieces of furniture, but it smells like benny: like motor oil and sandalwood and smoke and body wash and you wish they sold the scent in department stores because you'd buy up every bottle. it's the aroma you miss terribly when he runs. it's the scent you wish lasted just a bit longer on your bedsheets. it's now overwhelming as benny plods over, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. hands unoccupied, he has nothing better to do with them than wrap 'em 'round your waist, tuggin' you into his slick embrace. his chin fits so nicely atop your head n'he's always told you that you were meant to be. "fuck soulmates. i think god s'got a big ass puzzle n'he just, tears it up. throws the pieces here n'there. but me'n'you, baby? we're always gonna fit together. m'always gonna find you." he wouldn't need to find you if he didn't run but when you're pressed so snugly together like you are now - well - he could say anything and you'd agree.

"look at me, darlin'. wanna see those eyes again. missed 'em so much." n'when you do look at him, you wish you hadn't. he looks better (somehow) than the last time you saw him: skin so clear, eyes so bright, smile taken from a fuckin' toothpaste commercial. it's unfair how good god made such a bad boy look. "there's my girl." and damn if his voice doesn't sound even better.

a half-hearted hum rolls from the back of your throat. you want nothing more than to be his girl, but he'd never really allow that. never really allow you to get close enough and the hurt must register on your face because benny's takin' your cheeks between his palms, eyebrows furrowing.

"what's goin' on, baby?"

baby. the word sounds so good rolling off his tongue. you wanna be his baby more than anything, but you say "nothin'" cuz that's all this will ever be.

"doesn't seem like nothin'. tell me." you think about it. could you, rather, should you tell him? the words are there, right there. right on the tip of your tongue; i miss you. i've missed you. i so badly wanted to see you. i want to be more than the girl you call when you want to fuck. the words are so hot you want to spit them out, but you can't say those things n'likely will never be able to. the words are toxic. poison. those words would assassinate this arrangement n'as much as it hurts, you know deep down you'd rather have pieces of benny than none at all so instead of speaking you rise on your tip toes and press your lips against his.

kissing benny is something you could never tire of. it's the delicate bite of his perfect teeth on your pillowy lip that has you opening your mouth - inviting him in - begging him to take. it's the taste of mint and cigarettes and liquor that lingers on your tongue that makes you long for more. but benny pulls away first - always does - n'that's when you notice the wrinkle in his brow is gone because he is no longer concerned about what's racketing around your brain. no. he's had a sample, and now he wants the whole thing.

"c'mere." it's an impossible command. you're already so close - any closer and you would - benny dips slightly, circling your thighs with his arms, pushin' you atop the high-backed couch where you wobble and clutch onto him which makes him smile but then everything changes because "want another kiss. missed that mouth so much." and you collide in a spit-soaked show of affection sure to bruise the flesh now scraping so deliciously against his beard.

this is familiar to benny. he knows where to touch you. knows how to caress your skin as he peels the shirt from your flushed torso and pushes the thin straps of your nightgown down. you're soft. he's always loved that about you. your voice. your hair. your skin. so supple. and there are times benny's gotta stop himself. he's gotta repress that primal urge to take, to claim, to mark but it's hard so hard because you are so soft. his agile fingers float down your neck, relishing in the plume of perfume that billows out as your body contorts closer and closer and closer. you're so responsive: gasping in the right places, arching into his hands so perfectly. your dainty inhales fuel him. he wants to do more. wants to hear more.

"you're gonna let me fuck you right here, aren't ya?" benny asks, pulling back to gauge your reaction. "missed me so much you're gonna let me fuck you on this couch, eh?"

"you're the one who called me." you say, smile wide and knowing as you feel benny's cock twitch. his eyes turn molten lapis. he had called you. he had missed you. but he wouldn't say it. couldn't.

"awfully mouthy," he clucks, pressing his mouth into yours for another taste. "why don't y'use it for somethin' else?"

before you, benny'd never been a fan of oral sex. i mean, he'd come around to enjoyin' it thanks to johnny but, it wasn't high on his list 'til you started suckin' him off any and every chance you got. for a mouth belonging to such a precious gal, he never would have expected the sinful things you could make him feel. n'now, knelt before him, he can barely fight the urge to shove his dick in your mouth.

"s'pretty. always so pretty." you hum. you got him out of his jeans in record time and thank god because it's probably a million degrees in the goddamn trailer. now he's free; cock out, dripping precum and he can see the pride puffin' up your chest. no other girl could get 'em like this - could rile him up 'til his cock was thick and heavy and veiny and hot to the touch - no one but you n'at the first whisper of your fingers, his head rolls back. his precum is good lubrication, but you need more. could always use more, so up you come, crossing your cute little feet under your bum, and then - fuck - you lean forward and spit on his heated skin. yeah, benny thinks he may cum from that alone.

"touch me, doll. c'mon."

"shh," your fingers form a loose circle 'round the base of his cock. "i've got you."

"jesus christ," its the feel of your lips on his thighs and your fingers on his dick that makes him squeeze his eyes shut. he's got one fist balled at his side, the other tucks its way into your hair because he's gotta do something. anything.

"y've still got your christmas tree up, so, y'know, could be insensitive what with the holidays n'all. chirstimas in july." and despite the fact that you've got his pulsing length so wet and hard in your hand - benny fucking laughs.

"you're so -" but whatever adjective he had planned to use flies from his mind the moment your mouth covers him. all he can think about now is not cumming. you don't need to know that he hasn't fucked another woman since the last time he was balls deep in you. you don't need to know that he hasn't jerked off in god knows how long in preparation for this night. the only thing that you need to know is that he fuckin' loves this. he just lets you work. just relishes in the feeling of having you there. of having your mouth on him. it's so heavenly. cavernous yet tight. wet and warm and "fuck - oh fuck - stop."

and you do with no hesitation. you pull away so quickly that strands of saliva trickle down onto your tits. okay. maybe not jerking off wasn't the best idea, benny determines.

"did i do something wrong?" your voice is husky, eyes wide and slightly frightened and benny thinks he may love you.

"no." he shakes his head, grabs your arms, pulls you up. "no. fuck - i wanna fuck you." he brushes his palm across your cheek, wiping the spit and precum away. "want to fuck you right here. on the couch. c'mon," he maneuvers you around, makin' it to where his bare ass is on the couch and you're hoverin' above him, smiling so cutely at him he's sure he's gonna explode. you're so fucking cute that it nearly suffocates him.

"gimmie another kiss." he breathes, cupping your cheek once more. your lips meet in a cacophony of sighs. relief slackens your shoulders and now anticipation builds because you know what's coming.

"benny,"

"mm?"

"unless you have rubbers tucked in the cushions," you have to fight through his kisses. "you can't fuck me here."

the words marinate. the ceiling fan bats them around like a cat does to yarn and then benny finally responds.

"let me fuck you raw."

there are a hundred good reasons why it's a horrible idea, but you can't conjure a single fucking one as your head bobs in agreement.

"yeah?" perhaps christmas miracles are still valid in july because holy shit. "yeah?"

"please."

"come 'ere then."

you're obedient. benny loves that about you. seconds later you're spreading your legs, shimmering with sweat as you fight to maintain your balance n'you look so hungry - so eager to please - so pretty n'he can feel your wetness seeping onto his bare thigh as you pepper tender kisses along his chest. you want this. you want it just as badly as he does. he can tell. those preening noises comin' from the back of your throat and the bite of your nails into his shoulder are the only things grounding him to this moment. he feels so light - like he could fuckin' float if you weren't sat atop him - but there is work to do. a certain set of things that need to be done before he can spear you on his cock.

"gonna stretch you open first," he tells you, pushing your hip back but you don't budge. your head shakes, lower lip juts out. no.

"i wanna feel it." you say, voice almost a whine. you're tired of waiting. tired of playing this game so you propel yourself onto your feet, nearly toppling as the cushion gives under your weight, but you've got this. you sweet capable being. "wanna feel you now." your right hand circles his cock. "just want you to be in me benny. jus' you." it's a confession spoken like gospel. n'with your help, his gushing head probes your wetness and benny's thoughts spiral recklessly. "ready?"

it's cute. the way you ask him. the way your pretty little head cocks to the side. it's even cuter the way your pussy so greedily takes his cock once benny gives you an answer. yes. a singular nod. then everything is hot. he's too close to the sun, but the burn is delicious.

every bump. every vein. every groove on his cock awakens something within you. your eyes are closed so tightly - you may rupture a vessel - but you don't care. you're full. so full n'he's only halfway in. it's never felt like this before. you're in uncharted territory so the first roll of your hips is exploratory. the second is more confident. the third is a plunge and benny is drowning.

"god. fuck." words to form coherent sentences have long since vanished from benny's vocabulary. and you? usually so deft with language, you're somewhat embarrassed at the foolishness of your grunts, but benny loves it. he watches you move from squinted eyes. you're fascinating; body shifting with ease up and down up and down up and down. the muscles in your stomach tighten and wan as his cock disappears deep in your cunt only to reappear seconds later dripping and glistening with remnants of your wet. it's hypnotic n'benny thinks you're magic and sweet and good but dirty - oh so dirty. his balls and heart squeeze simultaneously n'it only gets worse when you toss your arms around his neck. benny can feel your cool breath on his throat - it adheres to the damp indications you lips left behind - and your tits, god your tits press against the material of his colors and rub and rub and rub. it's intimate. it's too much. too long like this and benny knows he'll be spillin' his secrets and his seed and that's not how he wants this to go, not yet anyway.

the change in position catches you by surprise, he can see it on your face. those puffy lips part in confusion, but he silences your questions with a shattering kiss. your teeth gnash and spit slips down your chin as he bites your inhibitions away. he's got you beneath him now. missionary. his favorite because he just likes lookin' at you. likes being close, so close. he's in his element; forehead pressed against yours, mouth open, grunting obscenities as he pushes harder and harder and harder into your sobbing pussy. you're slowly disintegrating. the way your ankles lock around his spine perfectly aligns your clit with his pelvic bone and my god nothing has ever felt quite so good.

"benny," your voice is a dark whisper that grows brighter brighter brighter as he thrusts into oblivion. you want more. want it harder. and benny is happy to oblige. the sound of his nuts slapping against your soaked center reminds him of a fuckin' metronome. your pitiful little moans could put pornstars to shame.

"you're so fuckin' tight." and it's true. he's said it to other girls before out of courtesy, but he means it with you. "when i cum you're gonna take every drop, mm?" benny's ability to say such delivish things so close to your face drives you insane. it's as though he's tellin' you what the weather is gonna be tomorrow, or sayin' his favorite color. "s'my favorite pussy to fuck. no one feels like you." he should stop, but he can't. it's too good. you're so good. "only girl i wanna fill. only girl i wanna give my cum to."

if pride were a flower you'd be a fuckin' garden. confidence flourishes like ivy as he keeps. going. it's in this moment you know it's worth it. the hours waiting for him. the lonely nights. it's all worth it. benny is worth it.

"are y'gonna cum in me?" at the sound of your voice, benny's forehead crashes down on yours. his eyelashes are so long they kiss the tops of his round cheeks.

"fuck - yeah."

"yeah?" you angle your pelvis, gasping at the new sensation. n'benny knows what to do. knows how to send you over. snaking a hand down, his index finger rubs circles around your clit, dipping down, pullin' your shared juices up. you're not gonna last much longer n'as much as he wishes he could keep you here forever his fucking nuts are so tight. he's so close.

"fuck - baby. shit."

"do it deep. wanna have you leakin' out of me for days. want somethin' to remember you by." you've never spoken like this before - his sweet darling - where did this mouth come from? one hand squeezes your jaw. something to remember him by? he'll give you something. he pushes your head to the side, latching his teeth into the side of your neck. the rough yet delicate suck and soothing stroke of his tongue add another element to the amalgamation of pleasure, and now you feel like you're drowning.

"m'gonna cum." benny’s choked voice rasps in your ear.

"cum in me."

"fuck im gonna cum in you."

he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. there's no willpower strong enough to allow him to extract his cock from your pussy. he's sure of it.

"need you to cum with me." his index finger circles around and around and around. "gotta cum when i tell you. yeah? gonna be a good girl n'listen to daddy?" your toes fuckin' curl, digging into the cushion. "use your words." he doesn't know - doesn't care - that your words have magically turned into alphabet soup; there are letters and sounds but no coherence, but it's no excuse. benny, devilishly, begins to slow. "use. your. words." each syllable is punctuated with a sharp thrust n'the head of his cock is wedging so deliciously against your spongy center that you nearly cum, but you don't. you're good. so good.

"m'gonna listen." you wail. "gonna be good." your reward is a kiss and the continuation of benny's deliriously fast pace.

"knew you would." it becomes hard to speak with you squeezing round him like that. his pleasure is melting into an unidentifiable mass. he knows nothing of isolation. his body no longer belongs to him. he can't tell where you start and he ends but he knows where you will finish. "gonna need you to cum, pretty baby." he's unable to do much more than whisper. "ready?" you nod. "ready?"

"please."

"now."

you couldn't hold back even if you tried. the first spurt of benny's cum is so warm you make a surprised little gasp. he's so deep, pumping his load so deep that the lower part of your abdomen has stretched in accommodation. your bodies flounder together; fingers pressing, lips melting, legs tangling. benny thrusts once, twice, three times more before he's spent. his body begins to still - his weight slowly pressing upon you before collapsing. your thundering heart could lull him to sleep if he'd allow it, but he can't allow it because unlike with other women; the lustful haze refuses to dissipate. post-nut clarity doesn't exist when the woman you fucked looks and feels the way you do and it scares benny so much that he collects you in his arms n'moves you off of him.

"i'll bring you somethin' to wipe off with." he doesn't look at you as he rises. instead he chooses to focus on how his legs don't feel like his legs. how the hot water won't warm up n'he can't give you a cold rag. his disappointment grows when he returns to find you already shrugging back into your nightgown. the pair of you tend to yourselves. you wipe benny's cum off your thighs and toss the rag into the dirty clothes pile on the floor. you try not to linger. you know it only makes things harder, but benny's gazin' at you with those eyes. he's fixin' your necklace and opening the door for you.

"gimmie a hug?" his bravado is gone. his voice is quiet, his arms are welcoming. you fool yourself into thinking he's gonna miss you too. you've got his cum dripping down your leg and he's got your heart in his hands but nothing has changed. things would never change. n'you wanna stay here - wanna stay with him for eternity - but if history repeats itself you will only have another minute in his embrace. he who holds your pieces together is the one responsible for their fractured state n'maybe you're a masochist. maybe you're in love with the wrong person. maybe none of it is supposed to make sense anyway.

when you part, you want to cry. benny kisses you. it's soft, a delicate kiss you wanna bottle and keep forever next to his scent. you worry that one day you will unknowingly have a last kiss with benny, but for now you allow yourself this moment. he won't promise to call n'you won't say goodbye. you'll just slip out into the night - probably call johnny usin' the payphone down the street and spend the rest of the night sobbin' into his neck.

but it's worth it. somehow even after it all, benny cross is still worth it.

#clo really doesn’t know how to write smut #i really ran with this #it's so long and it feels so bad because i have been staring at it all day #but enjoy!#nsfw!#benny cross smut #austin butler #benny cross #the bikeriders #austin butler x reader #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders x reader #the bikeriders smut #austin butler smut #benny boy :')#✍🏼#toxic!benny

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