#>Wedding

[cruel-seduction]

Toji being Toji means the night before your wedding, he wasn’t reminiscing about the day he met you or practicing his vows. No, he was bending you over the vanity in your hotel room, growling filthy promises into your ear. “"This is just practice for the kind of things I'm going to do to you tomorrow." The clink of the ring he'd already slid on your finger felt heavier as his hips snapped forward, fucking into you like he had something to prove.

Toji being Toji means the rehearsal dinner didn’t end with toasts and fond words but with you pinned against the bathroom wall, desperately clamping your hand over your mouth as his calloused hands spread your thighs wider. His low chuckle vibrated against your collarbone. “What, scared they’ll hear how much you love this cock? Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make you scream plenty loud tomorrow.”

Toji being Toji means waking up on your wedding day sore, blissfully wrecked, and somehow still begging for more when he pushed you onto the bed, lazily stroking himself while smirking at your reflection in the mirror. “One more time, please,” he teased, pulling you onto his lap like you weren’t about to walk down the aisle in two hours.

Toji being Toji means your wedding makeup barely stayed intact during the ceremony because every glance he sent your way was laced with filthy intent. His eyes flicked down to where the fabric of your dress clung to your skin, like he could see the faint bruises he’d left the night before. The smirk that curved his lips told you he remembered exactly how you got them.

Toji being Toji means that when the reception finally ended, and he had you alone in your hotel room, he didn’t wait to undress you properly. His strong hands hoisted your skirts, pushing them up to reveal everything he claimed was his. “Didn’t even wear panties for me, huh? Good girl.” His cock was already throbbing against you as he pressed your back against the nearest wall. “Let’s give ‘em all something to really gossip about, yeah?”

Toji being Toji means the wedding wasn’t over until you were trembling beneath him in the middle of the night, your dress a forgotten pile on the floor, his voice gruff and possessive in your ear. “You’re mine. Always. Gonna put a baby in you tonight, so every part of you knows it.” And you believed him, your body arching under his, completely at his mercy.

Toji being Toji means no one in that chapel knew just how thoroughly you were ruined—but the pride in his lazy grin as he kissed you at the altar made you wonder if they might’ve guessed.

[bakuhve]

our love through the lives

reincarnated bakugou katsuki x reader

the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was steady but weak, a fragile hourglass marking the dwindling moments of his life. the evening light spilled through the blinds in soft, golden slants, illuminating the deep lines etched into his weathered face. his once wild blonde hair had thinned and turned silver with time, but his grip- though weak- was still warm in your hand.

a news broadcast played on the small television mounted in the corner, the words barely registering.

“retired pro hero dynamight has not been seen in public for weeks, sparking concern among-”

you barely heard the rest. it didn’t matter. the world could wait.

katsuki let out a slow exhale, his chest rising and falling beneath the thin hospital blanket. his crimson eyes, once blazing with untamed energy, now carried the weight of decades, softened by time but still sharp as they met yours. a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips- fainter than before, but still undeniably his.

“you’re starin’ at me like i’m already dead,” he muttered, his voice rough with age but tinged with dry amusement.

you huffed a quiet laugh, squeezing his hand, the cool metal of his wedding band felt beneath your fingers. “maybe i’m just admiring you, old man.”

his thumb brushed faintly over your knuckles. he sighed, eyes growing heavier. “never thought i’d get this far, y’know? always figured i’d go out with a bang.”

“you did,” you murmured, shifting closer. “you just took your time with it.”

his smirk widened, but only slightly. his hand tightened around yours, as if grounding himself in your presence. “guess i did…” his voice grew softer, barely above a whisper. “and i got to spend it with you. that’s all that ever mattered.”

his hand, once strong enough to tear through concrete, now rested in yours with a fragile kind of warmth. the years had stolen his strength but not his fire- not the stubborn, unyielding spirit that had burned so brightly through every battle, every hardship, every damn thing life threw at him.

he had survived it all. and now, here he was, at the very end of the road with you.

katsuki let out a slow breath, his eyes half-lidded but still gazing at you, as if afraid to blink. “you’re still here,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

your fingers tightened around his, anchoring him to the moment. “of course, always will be.”

“dumbass… ‘course you are.” his eyes drifted to the window, where the sun hung low, painting the sky in soft oranges and golds. “y’know… i always hated sunsets. meant the day was over. meant time was runnin’ out.”

your throat tightened. “katsuki-”

“but,” he cut in, his thumb once again brushing lazily over your skin, “you liked ‘em. so i started watching ‘em too.” his voice grew quieter, raspier. “guess they ain’t so bad.”

you blinked back the sting of tears. you wouldn’t cry. not yet. not when he was still here, still holding on.

“you always had to be difficult,” you murmured, forcing a small smile.

he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “yeah… but you loved me anyway.”

the words settled between you, warm and final.

the heart monitor beeped- steady, but slower. his fingers twitched in your grasp, his breaths growing shallow. his gaze softened, his body sinking further into the bed, into the pull of sleep that he wouldn’t wake from.

“katsuki,” you whispered, leaning in close, pressing your forehead to his. “i love you.”

his lips parted slightly, his next breath barely there. “love you too.” his voice was nothing but air, slipping through your fingers like the last rays of sunlight.

and then-

the monitor gave one last, drawn-out beep before falling silent.

the world outside kept moving. the news kept playing. the sun kept setting. but in this moment, in this room, time stood still.

you stayed there, holding his hand. as the sky faded to night.

because love like this- like yours- didn’t end.

not really.

it would find it’s way back again. it always did.

—

the sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the endless grassy plain. the wind rolled through the tall grass in gentle waves, carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers. you had been walking for hours, wandering. the weight of countless lifetimes pressed against your chest, when you spotted him.

a lone figure moved across the horizon, his silhouette cutting sharply across the distance.

even from a distance, you knew.

bakugou katsuki.

your breath caught. he was different in this life- wilder, untamed. his blonde hair was slightly longer, messily tousled by the wind. a crimson cloak was slung over his shoulders, multiple necklaces consisting of fangs hung from his neck. his furs and leathers were worn from battle, dusted with the remnants of his travels. a sword hung at his hip, his posture relaxed yet ready, like a predator always on edge.

he hadn’t seen you yet.

you should’ve kept walking. should’ve turned away before he noticed. but after waiting for so long, of remembering what he has forgotten- how could you?

and then his gaze snapped to you.

you barely had time to think before he was striding toward you, footsteps firm and unwavering. his crimson eyes burned with suspicion, scanning you like a threat.

“the hell are you doin’ out here?” his voice was rough, sandpaper and steel- just as you remembered.

you swallowed, steadying yourself. “i’m just a traveler.”

his scowl deepened. “tch. yeah? then you’re a dumbass traveler.” his gaze flicked over you, sharp and assessing. “ain’t safe out here. bandits, beasts- you’re either lost or stupid.”

you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

a dry, bitter laugh almost slipped from your lips. if only he knew how many lives you had spent trying to find him again.

but he didn’t. not yet.

you met his gaze, steady. “i can handle myself.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “that so?” a smirk ghosted over his lips, dangerous and intrigued. “doubt you can keep up.”

and just like that, you were whisked away into your next adventure with your beloved. the journey that followed was nothing short of relentless.

at first, bakugou had no intention of letting you travel with him. he was a warrior, a king, and he didn’t have time to babysit some wandering traveler who didn’t know better than to walk alone through dangerous lands. but you were persistent, keeping up with him despite the grueling pace he set. he tried to shake you off, throwing warnings over his shoulder about the beasts that lurked in the forests and the mercenaries who would gut you for a single gold piece. you didn’t waver.

and so, begrudgingly, he let you stay.

your journey took you across endless grasslands and through thick, mist-covered woods. you met many people, most of which resembled your friends from previous lifetimes. a short, green-haired boy who was devoted to his knightly training. a sweet mage who used her powers to heal and make things float, a prince who could control ice and fire.

you camped beneath starlit skies, listening to the distant howls of wolves while the fire crackled between you. bakugou was guarded at first- gruff and distant, keeping conversations short, always watching you like you were hiding something.

but with time, the walls between you began to crack.

there was the time when you fought side by side against a pack of beasts, creatures with blackened fangs and glowing eyes. he had been wary of your skill, but when he saw you hold your own, his usual scowl shifted- just slightly- into something like approval.

then there was the moment you caught him staring into the fire one night, lost in thought. he never spoke of his past, but there was something in that expression that was painfully familiar- the weight of expectations, the burden of leadership. even without his memories of your past lives, he was still the same katsuki.

and slowly, something changed.

he started waiting for you before setting off in the mornings. tossing you extra rations without a word. grumbling about how you were too soft-hearted when you insisted on helping a lost child in a ruined village, only to turn around and build the kid a fire himself.

and when you collapsed after days of travel without rest, he had cursed under his breath, scooping you up into his arms without hesitation.

“dumbass,” he muttered, adjusting his arm around you as he carried you, his grip firm and warm against your skin. “you don’t know when to quit, huh?” but his voice was softer now, no longer the harsh growl it used to be.

you found yourself looking at him differently. his gruff demeanor, the way he carried himself like a lone wolf had always intrigued you, but now it felt different- like the walls between you were slowly crumbling with every shared glance, every quiet night spent together.

one afternoon, as you traveled through the thick and dark forest at the edge of a kingdom, you were ambushed by a group of bandits. they came from the trees, their swords drawn, but bakugou was ready.

with a roar, he lunged into action, taking down the first two with brutal efficiency that you had come to expect from him. but then, one of the bandits turned toward you, his blade aimed at your chest. you barely had time to react, your own sword drawn, but before you could strike, bakugou was there- his fist slamming into the bandit’s face with a force that sent him flying into a tree.

“you okay?” his voice was low, the familiar scowl back on his face, but there was something else in his eyes- something deeper, protective.

“i’m fine, thank you,” you said, though your pulse still raced. “but you’re reckless.”

that night, as you sat beside the fire, you couldn’t help but notice how close he had gotten. not just physically, but emotionally. the long silences that had once stretched were now filled with casual teasing, shared laughter, and the occasional quiet conversation that stretched into the night.

he started to ask you more about your past, though never prying too deep. when you mentioned your travels, he listened intently, his usual bravado replaced by something softer, more curious.

one evening, you found yourselves at the edge of a cliff, watching the sunset paint the sky in streaks of orange and purple. bakugou stood next to you, arms crossed, but this time, he didn’t seem so distant.

“you ever stop to think about what you’re doing here?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you glanced to him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… why are you still here? with me, i mean. not everyone’s cut out for this kind of life. it’s not easy.” he shifted slightly, his gaze faraway.

you smiled softly, the memories of your past life flickering at the edges of your thoughts. “i think i’m exactly where i need to be.”

his eyes flickered to you, narrowing slightly as though trying to decipher your meaning. but then, without a word, he reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

you froze, feeling the connection between you stir once more, and you didn’t pull away. neither of you said anything, but in that quiet moment, it felt like the world had shifted.

and with every passing day, the distance between you- the one he had built, the one you had tried so hard to bridge- was slowly disappearing.

he had started to remember, in the smallest ways.

you were sitting by the fire, cleaning your sword after another skirmish with a band of raiders. bakugou was sharpening his blade beside you, his usual scowl etched across his face, but there was something different in his eyes- something far away.

“oi,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “you ever feel like… like this isn’t the first time we’ve done this?”

you paused mid-motion, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your sword. you glanced up at him, trying to hide the flutter of your heart.

“what do you mean?” you asked, though you already knew.

He shifted. “i dunno. it’s just… every time we fight together, or when we get quiet like this, it feels… familiar. like i’ve known ya longer than the past year.”

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “maybe you just got used to traveling with me.”

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it wasn’t just the time he had spent with you. it was something deeper- something he was starting to sense, like the lingering pull of a forgotten memory.

a few days passed, and the feeling seemed to grow stronger. every so often, you’d catch him staring at you, like he was seeing something more than just the person beside him. one evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, bakugou spoke, his voice unusually quiet. his eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line as if he were grappling with something just beyond his reach. “i’ve seen you before… but where?”

that night, as you both lay beneath the stars, the fire crackling softly, bakugou’s sleep was fitful. he tossed and turned, his brow furrowed in frustration.

when he woke the next morning, he didn’t immediately look at you. he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“i had a dream,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “a dream about… us. it felt real. like we’ve been through so many things together before.”

your heart raced. you remained still, waiting for him to continue.

“it wasn’t just some damn dream. it was real. i don’t remember everything, but i know… i know i’ve been with you before, haven’t i?”

you could feel the weight of his words, the hesitation, the confusion in his voice. and yet, despite the uncertainty, there was something else- something that made you know that he was starting to remember.

for the first time since meeting him in this life, you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. his muscles tensed at your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“yes,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “we’ve been together before. more times than either of us can count.”

bakugou turned to face you then, his eyes wide and the usual fire dimming in them for a moment. “why can’t i remember? why does it feel like i’m losing my mind?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “maybe it’s not time for you to remember completely yet. but it will be, eventually. i promise.”

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. he simply stared at you, as if searching for something in your eyes- something that would make sense of the chaos inside of him.

and then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative at first, unsure. but as you kissed him back, something shifted. the connection between you, long buried beneath layers of forgotten lives, began to resurface, like a flood of memories fighting to break free.

when he pulled back, his breath was uneven, and his hands trembled slightly as they hovered at your sides.

“i remember you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “i remember you… even if i can’t remember everything.”

you smiled, feeling the weight of years of love and loss that led to this moment. “it’s okay. you don’t have to remember everything right now. we have all the time we need.”

years passed, and the world around you both seemed to change, even though the battles and struggles never truly stopped. the two of you, side by side, had seen countless faces come and go, witnessed victories and losses alike.

the bond between you and bakugou had only deepened, but time, as it always did, wore on. you both had grown, in ways both subtle and grand, shaped by everything you’d endured together. bakugou was still the warrior he had always been, strong and fierce, but the fire that once burned so brightly within him was now tempered by the passing of the years.

one evening, as the sky painted itself in shades of pink and purple, you stood together at the edge of the very same cliff from years ago, overlooking a valley. the winds had settled, and there was nothing but the hum of the earth, as if everything had come full circle. bakugou stood beside you, his posture strong, but the weight of the years was beginning to show.

“do you ever think… that maybe we’re finally done with all of this?” he asked, his voice quiet but carrying the years of uncertainty and battles fought. his gaze was distant, looking at the horizon, but his words were for you alone.

you took a deep breath, feeling the wind sweep across your face, tasting the salt of the distant sea. “maybe. but i think we’ll always find something else. something worth fighting for.”

he chuckled softly, though it was laced with an edge of something unreadable. “always you, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

you smiled softly, turning to face him. “always you, too.”

and so, you and the barbarian king looked out across the vast horizon, and you knew that although this life might be winding down, the end of this era was just another beginning waiting to unfold.

—

the blaring sun in the sky casted it’s golden glow over the vast expanse of the ocean as your ship sliced through the waves. your crew worked in rhythm, their shouts and laughter carried by the salty breeze as they adjusted sails and checked the rigging. you stood at the helm, your fingers gripping the wheel with practiced ease, eyes scanning the horizon.

you’d been sailing for days now, the winds favorable and the sea calm. it wasn’t until the sun dipped lower that you saw it. a ripple in the water, far off in the distance but growing closer. at first, you thought it was perhaps some large fish breaching the surface. but then, you saw him.

a flash of pale golden hair broke through the waves, followed by the sleek and powerful form of a merman. he was a striking contrast to the dark water, with glistening crimson scales that shimmered like polished gemstones. his tail flicked in the sea, the sharp movement sending waves against the ship’s hull.

but it wasn’t the sheer power of the creature that caught your attention. it was the way he moved, the way he looked at you. his eyes locked onto yours, and your heart swelled knowing that you had finally come across your love yet again in this life. your katsuki.

the merman’s lips curled into a smirk as he swam closer, the water parting as if he owned the sea himself. his muscular form stopped just short of the ship, hovering in the water as he regarded you with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

“so you’re the captain of the crimson tempest, huh?” his voice was deep and rough, carrying the weight of the ocean itself. he eyed you with a critical gaze. “i’ve been hearing rumors about ya. thought i’d come see for myself.”

you felt the familiar rush of recognition, but you knew better than to show too much. he didn’t remember yet- as usual. the bond between you that transcended time, that only you knew, was still buried deep within him. but here, in this new life, you had to tread carefully.

you leaned against the ship’s wheel, matching his gaze with calm confidence, despite the racing pulse in your chest. “what’s it to you, merman?” you asked, keeping your voice steady despite the longing that you felt deep inside. “i don’t know what rumors you’ve heard, but they’re just that- rumors.”

he didn’t falter, though something flickered in his intense red eyes. it was there, something beneath the surface that he couldn’t quite grasp, but you could feel it. you could always feel it when he was near.

“you don’t look like the kind of captain i’d expect,” he said, his smirk widening into something dangerous. “but i guess you don’t need to look the part to be effective, right?”

you chuckled darkly, a small smirk of your own pulling at your lips. “i’m plenty effective, merman. you’d do well to remember that.”

you saw a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of something you both had shared before. but it vanished quickly, swallowed by the vastness of the sea between you.

“maybe i will,” he muttered, though the words seemed to hold a different meaning. his lips parted, as if to say more, but instead, he just gave you a short nod.

then, without another word, bakugou dove beneath the water, his powerful form disappearing into the depths, leaving only the gentle ripples of the sea in his wake.

a few days later, you steered the crimson tempest into a small, sheltered cove. the crew had already begun preparations to unload. the ship finally came to a halt against the dock, and after doing your part of the unloading you made your way off the ship and onto the sandy beach of the cove.

and then you heard the sound of water splashing, too rhythmic to be a simple wave. your instincts kicked in and you turned just in time to see a flash of pale blonde hair rising from the water’s surface.

his presence was commanding as usual, and for the briefest of moments, you forgot about all of your responsibilities as captain. all that mattered was him- the katsuki you had fallen in love with over and over again.

he pulled himself onto a nearby rock, water dripping off his body. his gaze never left you, intense and unreadable. the usual cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you could feel the pull of his presence like an invisible thread between you both.

“you seem to be everywhere i go, captain,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “figured i’d find you here too.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his words, but beneath the teasing tone, there was something more- an underlying tension, an unspoken understanding that had been brewing ever since your first meeting. it was as if he was beginning to recognize something too, even if he didn’t have the words for it yet. even if he didn’t remember.

“you’ve been following me,” you replied, your voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “what is it you want, merman?”

“what i want?” he let out a low chuckle, his voice like the rolling waves. “i’m not sure yet. maybe i just like seeing if i can catch your attention.”

“well,” you said, your tone steady but not without a trace of amusement, “it looks like you’ve caught it.” you will always have it.

you took a step closer, the air between you crackling with an undeniable tension, as if the universe itself were drawing you together again. the warmth of the sun on your skin and the distant sound of your crew working on the ship felt like a distant hum compared to the pulse of energy between you and the merman. it was magnetic, powerful, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

he studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he held your gaze that made your heart race. “you’re different,” he said finally, his voice almost quiet. “can’t put my finger on it.”

you almost laughed at the irony, knowing all too well what that something was. you weren’t just another face to him. you were the one he had always come back to, again and again, in every lifetime.

“i think we’ll figure it out,” you replied softly, the undertone of promise hanging in the air.

and then, as if he had just come to a silent conclusion, his smirk returned, but this time it wasn’t teasing. it was real. a promise.

“alright then, captain” he said, his voice low and steady. “i think i’ll stick around. for a while.”

and so, the tide carried on, as it always had, bringing you together once more, just as it always would.

—

the city stretched out before you like a jagged labyrinth of glowing neon signs and towering skyscrapers, the horizon obscured by the haze of pollution and constant movement. neo-musutafu, a city that never slept, pulsed with the rhythm of the future, its streets crawling with the lost, the desperate, and the dangerous. high above, the hum of drones filled the air, ensuring that no one forgot who controlled the night.

you stood at the edge of the rooftop, your gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the flashing lights. the winds howled, carrying the smells of the city- oil, rain, and something darker. below, the streets were alive with a mixture of humans and aliens, some here to live, some here to fight. your job? to ensure the latter didn’t survive.

you were a hunter, part of a covert division tasked with eradicating alien threats before they had a chance to invade. but unlike the other hunters, you didn’t follow the company line blindly. your methods were efficient, precise, and without mercy- traits that had earned you respect, but also enemies. the company you worked for was one of many, and all had their own way of dealing with the extraterrestrial threats. your company? a well-oiled machine, protecting humanity at all costs.

it wasn’t glamorous, but it was necessary.

as you adjusted the grip on your weapons, the sharp hiss of your comm device broke the silence. “hunter 19, we have a target. a class-4 alien near the central district. immediate extraction is required.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. in this line of work, hesitation was a luxury no one could afford. strapping your weapons securely, you made your way down the building to the streets below. your mind was already working through the logistics where the alien would strike, how to contain the threat, and the quickest route to the rendezvous point.

this life had worn down both your heart and mind. though the memories of your past lives with your beloved lingered, the countless alien lives you had taken- the blood spilled in the name of duty- had slowly suffocated your spirit, leaving a shadow over your thoughts that you couldn’t shake. for once, you did not go out of your way to find bakugou. he was a dear, but faraway memory. a memory that was too good for someone like you.

you arrived at the outskirts of the central district, the city’s neon lights flickering in the distance like the heartbeat of a restless giant. the alien was close now. the familiar thump of your combat boots on the cold asphalt was a stark contrast to the chaos that simmered just beyond the horizon. you didn’t have to be told twice. every instinct you had honed in your years as a hunter kicked into gear.

the silence stretched, heavy and thick. then, without warning, the alien struck, it’s massive form tearing through the shadows. a blur of movement, its skin slick and black as it lunged toward you. your reflexes took over, but as you dodged, something about the alien’s speed and strength unsettled you. this wasn’t a typical battle.

the alien wasn’t going to make this easy.

the alien roared as it stumbled back, its claws slicing through the air just inches from your skin. you had barely managed to evade its strike, your weapon raised, ready to retaliate when the sudden sound of footsteps broke through the silence.

a shadow darted into your peripheral vision. a figure, hooded and cloaked in dark attire, lunged toward the alien with lightning speed, and in a series of fluid movements, the creature was brought to the ground.

you froze for a moment, startled by the intruder’s sudden appearance. before you could react, the hooded figure twisted, driving a sharp blade straight through the alien’s chest. it let out one last guttural screech before its body went limp.

the hooded figure stood still, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, the alien’s blood dripping from his blade. the streetlights above flickered briefly as if even the city itself had taken a collective breath.

you snapped out of your shock, clenching your fists. your voice rang out, sharp and scathing as you strode toward him. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

the hooded man didn’t flinch at your approach, but his back remained to you, his posture tense. you could tell he wasn’t afraid, and that pissed you off even more. your tone was cold, but there was an edge of frustration you couldn’t hide.

“you think you can just waltz in and kill like that?” your voice grew louder, shaking with the weight of your own guilt. “you’ve got a life on your hands now, a soul you’ve taken. is that really what you want?”

the anger bubbled up inside you, a mix of protectiveness and the instinct to save others from the same burden you carried. your gaze narrowed at the man’s back. “you don’t know what it’s like to have blood stain your hands, do you? to have to live with it, knowing you’ve taken a life… i don’t want that for you. i don’t want you to feel the same damn thing i do.”

the hooded man stood motionless for a long moment, before he slowly lowered the blade and turned toward you, his posture stiff. you couldn’t see his face- just the dark outline beneath the hood- but there was something in his presence, something familiar. it made your stomach twist, a feeling you couldn’t place.

and then, he slowly removed his hood.

the world seemed to stop for a beat, the neon lights casting a glow as your eyes locked onto his face.

those same eyes.

“…(y/n).”

your name. he had said it.

he had never remembered you first before; it was always you who had to find him. but now, the man you had loved through countless lives, the one you had adored over and over again, stood before you.

and you were a monster. he had found you, but at what cost?

you did not reach out to hold him, you did not run into his embrace. instead, you averted your gaze, shielding your eyes from him.

“i’m sorry,” you said, fists clenching by your sides. “i’m not the one you once loved.”

bakugou’s expression twisted, his jaw tightening as if the words stung more than they should have. his eyes, fierce and unwavering, bore into yours as he took a step closer.

“don’t say that,” he growled, his voice low, almost dangerous. “i remember you. from the moment i was born in this life, i remembered all of our past lives. every damn moment of them. i’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

he paused, his chest rising with each breath as if trying to steady the storm building inside him. his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a force that made you flinch, pulling you toward him.

“i don’t give a shit about what you’ve done. none of that matters. it will always be you. it’s always been you, no matter how many lives we’ve lived.” his eyes softened, but the intensity remained. “you’re mine, and no way in hell am i letting you go.”

tears streamed down your face as you struggled in his grip, desperate to break free. “you don’t understand,” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “i have a trail of blood behind me, lives i’ve destroyed… everywhere i go, i carry their ghosts. i’ve hurt so many, katsuki! i’m not the same person!”

katsuki’s grip softened, but only for a moment before he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you felt the heat of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat, and for a second, it grounded you in a way nothing else could. his voice was low but firm, holding an edge of desperation.

“don’t tell me you’re not the same person,” he murmured into your hair. “i’ll fall in love with you every damn time, no matter what you’ve done or how many lives you’ve taken. you’re still the one i’m meant to be with. always have been.”

he pulled back slightly, enough to look you in the eyes. “you can carry your burdens all you want, but you don’t have to carry them alone. i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere.”

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them crashing down on you like a wave. the tears continued to fall, but this time, they weren’t just from pain- they were from a relief so deep, it left you breathless. you slowly lifted your gaze to his, meeting the intensity of his eyes, and for the first time in this life, the past ones, everything seemed to fall into place.

the countless lives, the struggles, the distance between you- it had all led you here, to this moment. and no matter what had happened before, no matter the paths you had walked, there was one undeniable truth that echoed through the core of your being: you were meant to be together.

you trembled as you cupped his face with shaking hands, your voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you’d felt across all lifetimes.

“katsuki,” you breathed, your heart pounding. “i… i love you. i always have, and i always will.”

his thumb traced the tear stains on your cheeks before lifting your chin, his gaze softening, but the passion in his eyes was unmistakable.

“i know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “i love you too, always. every lifetime, i find you. and i’ll keep finding you.”

in that moment, everything that had ever separated you- every pain, every fight, every lifetime- faded away. the world around you disappeared as you stood together, hearts in sync.

the universe had tried to pull you apart, had tried to erase the love you shared, but it had failed. you were soulmates- bound together in ways beyond time and death. no matter what came next, nothing would keep you apart.

you both leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in a kiss that sealed your fate. the kiss was not just a promise for this life, but for every life that had come before and every one that would follow.

and as the kiss deepened, as his arms tightened around you, you both knew- the story wasn’t over. it had never truly ended. it had only just begun.

—

this whole thing is based off the song would you fall in love with me again by jorge rivera-herrans, especially the last part of it. (no seriously. listened exactly 26 times while writing)

i’d love to write more about these universes! inbox is open.

[merakiui]

I know you love pathetic Azul.... So from his newest card:

There's this absolute nerd in your school. Glasses, reclusive, in the chess club, always complains to mommy and daddy when others are mean to him. You loose a bet and your friends put you up to asking him out on a date where you have to get him off at least once. Little do you know he's had a crush on you for the longest time and he almost chokes on his tounge saying "yes" to you.

He takes you to his parents resturaunt and pays for your (admittedly delicious) meal. You drive him to a secluded area and get down to businuss.

"Alright, take em off."

You roll your eyes as he fumbles around only for them to bug out of your head when you see what he's packing. One thing leads to another and your in the back of the car covered in cum but still going at it.

Between breaths he asks you if he's doing this right? Does this feel good? And tells you how long he's had a crush and how happy he is to have a girlfriend now... You're too fucked stupid to even care.

Pathetic Azul……. orz

OOOO THAT IS SO YUM!!!! And so mean. >:) Azul only getting asked out on a date because (unknowingly to him) you lost a bet with friends and now this is your punishment. But in his mind he’s just so excited to be noticed by his crush and even asked out!!!! He used to dream about moments just like this.

Of course he’s nervous and wants to impress you, so he dresses up for the occasion. A formal suit that makes you think he’s taking this too seriously because this isn’t a wedding! He even styled his hair! Even more so when he brings you to his parents’ very nice, very five-star restaurant and insists on paying for everything (because you only have the funds for low-budget fast food dates, which was what you were initially expecting until his directions led you to this amazing restaurant, but he’s just being polite). His mother is your personal server for the evening because she’s just so thrilled her baby Zuzu is finally bringing (more than) a friend to the restaurant, and it’s obvious he’s embarrassed with her fawning. You just smile, thinking it’s cute that he’s so flustered. Maybe getting him off will be easier than you thought.

You have to put in some sort of effort because it’s all useless if he doesn’t cum at least once later tonight, so you’ll listen to everything he’s saying, ask him questions about himself, take pictures with him to prove to your friends you’re actually doing it, etc etc. maybe he’s that trope of “secretly handsome beneath his glasses.” You’ll find that out later in the car when you remove them and find the prettiest blue eyes peering back at you. :)

Azul who can’t stop fidgeting with his hands in the passenger seat as you drive somewhere secluded after a very delicious and enjoyable dinner. He had so many questions to ask you, but he didn’t want to come off so strong or weird. He just wants to know you better. :< he’s certain these things only happen in movies because his shock is very visible when you’re parking the car and telling him to undress. He didn’t want to pressure you or come off as too forward by asking for something like this, but it seems you were on the same page after all!! He’s never done anything like this before, so he’s hurrying to slide his trousers down and ooohhhh the way you have to stop yourself from drooling over his delicious dick print. T_T

You can’t tease him through his boxers because he’ll cum, and a blowjob will probably last at most half a minute because you know this guy has never felt the warmth of another before. Your plan was to give him a blowjob and be done with it,, maybe work him up a little with teasing words, but now you’re in the back of the car and it’s rocking slightly from the lewd movements happening inside. You can’t get over how perfectly his dick fills you, and neither can he apparently LOL. Because he keeps babbling on and on about, “I’m inside you… I’m actually—this is real. I’m really… you’re really… we’re having sex. Raw sex…!”

All you can manage are sweet, little gasps and pants because he’s hitting that spot deep inside you and it’s melting all your other thoughts, and so of course he’s doing a good job with his mindless thrusting. You’d call him a good boy and wring yet another orgasm out of him if you could—if you weren’t fucked so boneless. >_< you don’t even have the energy to really protest when he confesses mid-fuck, rambling about how this is his happiest moment ever because he has a girlfriend for the first time in his life and he’s always loved you ever since he saw you and you helped pick up his books when the bullies would shove him to the floor. He wants to marry you and share his life with you. It’s a bit much, but who cares? You’re getting the best fuck ever from some virgin chess club nerd.

You’re not showing your friends the filthy photos of you half-naked and covered in his cum. They’re just going to have to believe your rendition of events: he came down your throat and that was it. But they can tell a lot more than that happened because since when was that loser nerd your boyfriend? >:)

[mysticpearl]

PREGNANCY CONFLICTS - boothill x reader

- boothill "passes" a few days after you announce your pregnancy. he's soon returned to you as a cyborg, and has a rough time with all of the realizations he discovers during your pregnancy.

- thank u guys sm for all the compliments im getting in my inbox about my idea and my writing i love every single one of u guysssss 💋 💋 and now the fic for my idea is finally here! i hope you guys enjoyyyyy

- mentions of insecurity, PREGNANCY, boothill is sad in this shdjfjsks so pretty much hurt no comfort in a very mild way, "M,d,y" means month, day, year, his way of death is not canon i made something up!!! wc 1.5k

Boothill has always talked about being a father. With how optimistic about your guys’ future he was, you could already tell he’d be a great, great father. So when you announced your pregnancy to him, he was ecstatic.

He spun you around in the air, putting you down to kiss you passionately. To him, all of his dreams have come true. As if you’ve given him a strong purpose in life, to not only protect you but to protect his little, and hopefully more to come.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he held you tightly. “Thank you for giving me such an opportunity.”

But then a few days after you announced it to him, he went missing. You spent day and night trying to contact people, get cops on the case, and go out there with someone yourself and try to find him. The cops brought a necklace, splotched in blood, with your initials on it. Saying they found his body and it was barely recognizable. They knew it was him because of the necklace around his neck and the wedding band that was stuck on a stray tree branch.

As both of those were returned back to you, you felt as if you couldn’t look at them without absolutely breaking down. You were set under the impression that he was gone forever. You felt horrible- not only for yourself, but the life you assumed your baby would have, being born into a world where they only have a mother who's trying her absolute best to provide and make sure their life goes as smoothly as possible.

On the 16th week of your pregnancy was when you heard a knock on the door late at night. Who could it be at this hour? You irritatingly got up and walked over to see who would be there.

It was who you were least expecting.

Boothill.

You stood there, unable to register what was happening. You had a hand on your stomach and the other was gripping the door handle. He stopped and stared at you back before beginning to speak.

“Y/n,” he said, nearly a whisper before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t step back, which was a good thing in his eyes.

“Boothill? What- how- huh?” You were absolutely speechless, unable to register the man standing in front of you. He’s dressed a lot differently then how you last saw him- he looked so western. He was western before he was pronounced dead, the accent is what got you in the first place. He’d always go to bars and all of that.

But he never looked so… out of place.

You’ve never seen the boots he had on before. You’ve never seen those pants (why do they look so slutty?) and his shirt was a whole other thing.

But the thing that intrigued you the most was that he was still standing, alive in front of you, but with a fully metal body.

“Come in and explain yourself,” you sighed, turning around and leading him into the all-too-familiar place. It still smelled the same way it used to, flowers and vanilla. He sat down on the white couch, leaning back into the same fabric he knew all that time ago.

But the difference was, he couldn’t feel it.

“How are you here? There's no way you’re real,” you shake your head, standing up and leaning into his face. You grab his chin lightly, turning his head both way before running your hands through his still silky hair. “Answer my questions.”

“Alright, shoot em.”

“When did you get me pregnant?” You ask, still looking into his now different eyes.

“Four months ago. You should be 16 weeks now.”

You nodded. “When's my birthday…?”

“M,d,y.”

You nodded. He was on it, and it’s convincing you even more that he was your Boothill.

“Lastly, why are you metal?”

“My body was destroyed. Y’ probably remember it,” he looked down at his hands before bringing them up to your cheek. You slightly flinched from the chill before nodding for him to continue his story. “I don’t remember th’ exact details, but jus’ say it was a failed mission.”

You looked at him up and down before sitting beside him.

“D’you still… love me?” He mumbled, almost soft enough that you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

You took a moment of silence before responding to his question. “Of course I do. You’re my husband, Boothill.”

To that he smiled and brought you into a strong kiss. One passionate and greedy- he’s been starved of you as you have of him for the past four months. Once he broke it off, you both connected your foreheads before going back into a full blown make out session.

Your pregnancy is incredibly taxing for the cyborg to handle. Instead of flesh and blood he has metal. He can’t feel you, and to him, it’s the worst feeling in the world. He truly wishes he could turn back time to right before the night of the accident.

He wishes he was able to return home safe, so he could be there for your whole pregnancy. He basically missed the entire first trimester!

At this point, you marked 32 weeks. Your pregnancy was very noticeable and Boothill took a lot of pride in being alongside you, shedding his insecurities as soon as he left the house.

He’s always been a very clingy man. He’s always wanted your touch and attention whenever he’d get home from whatever it was he’d do for work during the day, and he’d always receive it.

But now, he needs to use his head to feel you. He’s always found lying down on your stomach in his free time, so he can feel his child. He is unable to feel kicks with any other parts of his body, so he relies on that.

“‘Hill, I need to go to the bathroom. You might need to move in a second here-” you started, but he looked up at you and began to speak over you.

“Alright, alright… but’cha better come right back, please?”

You nodded before shuffling out of the bed, motioning for him to get up and help you off of the mattress and up on your feet. Once he easily pulls you up, he flops back down as he watches you close the door connected to your room.

He thought hard in those two minutes you were gone. Very hard. To the point he thought he was going to have a breakdown.

He regretted everything. He regretted engaging in the enemy's tricks. He regretted leaving you lonely for so long. And what he regrets most is returning to you like this.

A hunk of metal, who can be destroyed as many times as possible. He’ll always be able to have his body replaced. His head and hair were the only human thing about the man.

He believes you deserve so, so much better. You deserve a man who can live his life to the fullest and actually be able to be there for you during your vulnerable times, and not let grief get in the way. You deserve someone capable of giving you more children in the future, and he believes your baby deserves a dad who can be there for him and be normal.

He might even be worried about judgment. He’s not sure. He feels so emotional yet so dull at the same time.

“Boothill? Is everything alright? You’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for the past minute,” you said from next to him. How did he not even realize your presence?

“Hah? Yea, I’m fine. How’re ya’ feeling?” He says in his usual tone, trying to swiftly play off his thoughts not even ten seconds ago. “How’s baby doin’ in there?”

You let out a soft giggle before placing your hand on his cold knee. “We’re well. I’m concerned about what just happened with you though. Tell me, what is on your mind?”

The man sighs and shakes his head before resting it back on your belly. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty head off about.” He simply left it at that and nothing more.

When it came time for labor, he was truly nervous. Every attempt he made at trying to make physical contact with you in that time failed, because his hands were either too hard or too cold. He backed off and watched from the sidelines as you brought his little baby girl into the world.

He so desperately wanted to hold her, and you could see the urge in his eyes. She looked so much like him. She had his gorgeous silky black and white hair with your eyes. He thought she was an angel brought from heaven.

Once he finally got to hold her, he was told to keep her swaddled in the blanket she was wrapped in. All was well until she started crying due to the cold of his arms, and the baby was taken off into tests before he could even blink.

[gweelczz]

“Weight of gold”

Bo Chow x OC (Rosetta)

Genre: fluff with a hint of angst

Warnings: None

Summary: Bo is a green flag who is the only man that handle Rosetta Mae

The screen door slammed against the frame, shaking the house with the force of Rosetta Mae’s temper. Her cheeks burned hot, curls bouncing wild around her shoulders as she stormed into the parlor, breath short, eyes gleaming like storm clouds about to split the sky.

Bo stood near the table, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight.

“I done told you I ain’t gon’ let Smoke talk to me like I’m one of his boys,” Rosetta snapped, spinning ‘round to face him. “You just sat there, Bo. Sat there like I ain’t worth defendin’!”

Bo’s voice was low, but thick with warning. “It ain’t always about jumpin’ up and hollerin’, Rosetta. Sometimes it’s ‘bout lettin’ folks talk and show who they is.”

“Then maybe I oughta show you who I am,” she said, voice shaking.

She yanked off her wedding ring—the gold band she once looked at every morning with a smile soft as dew—and hurled it across the room. It bounced off the table, spun once on the floor, and landed near his boots with a hollow clang.

Bo stared down at it, like it was a piece of his soul lying there.

“Rosetta Mae!” he barked, his voice slicing through the air like a whip.

But she didn’t turn around.

She was already halfway out the door, skirt swishing, hands trembling.

He caught up to her before she reached the garden gate, long strides closing the space. His arms wrapped around her from behind, strong and warm, pressing her back to his chest. She fought a little—only a little—before her hands sank against his.

His breath fanned her ear, low and thick with something that cut deeper than the fight.

He held out the ring between two fingers, voice rough as gravel.

“I don’t care how mad you get at me, baby… you don’t ever take this off, ya hear?”

She stood there, her back still against him, her breath catching.

“That ring’s me, Rosetta. That’s us. You throwin’ it like it don’t mean nothin’—that damn near killed me.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she bit down on her bottom lip hard, tryin’ to hold ‘em in. His voice softened, melted almost.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say nothin’ when I should’ve. I ain’t always gon’ get it right. But I love you. I love you so much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

He turned her around gently, cupped her cheek with a hand that trembled just a little.

She looked up at him, tears finally spilling, but her eyes were softer now, the fury gone.

“I ain’t never gon’ stop wearin’ it again,” she whispered, and he slid the ring back on her finger slow, like it was the first time all over again.

Bo kissed her hand.

Then her cheek.

Then her lips, slow and deep and right.

And in that kiss, they folded the fight away—buried it under love and memory, beneath the weight of every vow they made and every storm they’d weather.

Because love like theirs didn’t break easy.

Not even when the ring came off.

———

Do y’all want their wedding???

[austinbutlerslovers]

Benny Cross The Bikeriders Fantasy Part 5

Label Mature 18+

One shot/ Story Continuation

Chapter 5 Broken Promises

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

Summary When Benny is beaten to near death you tend and care for him night and day. The confident and strong man you once knew now seems lost forever in the unsure and frail Benny leaving you to put all the pieces back together.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Benny injured kink •fingering you while he’s hurt •oral on Benny for ego• riding Benny while he’s in pain • size kink• clit play • nipple play •Benny pushing his limits with sex• Benny claiming you • breeding kink • multiple orgasms •multiple creampies • aftercare

📖 Proof reader @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Based on the Bikeriders Movie 🩸 Mentions of Blood (Benny beaten severely)

🏍️ Inspo: Anonymous Requests Combined • Benny injured weak & helpless • Benny needing constant care/ depending on you entirely •Benny whimpering and begging •Oral on Benny to make him feel better •Sex with Benny while he’s hurt to make him feel better •Benny pushing his limits during sex while while injured

Broken Promises

Benny drives his bike aimlessly, the roar of the engine and the rush of wind barely dulling the ache in his chest. There’s no plan, just the need to escape the storm of regret swirling inside him. He fucked up—like he always does. The thought gnaws at him, relentless and cruel. You’ll leave him, he’s sure of it, and he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting mistake in your otherwise perfect life.

He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself that you love him, that you have to be completely in love with him. But deep down, he knows he’s messed up in the worst possible way.

He exposed you to the side of him that’s driven others away, and what’s worse is the realization that you deserve better—someone with a respectable life, someone who could offer you stability, not a rough-edged fucked up biker like him.

Benny’s mind races, but he doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants to drink, to drown out the sorrows that threaten to swallow him whole. He’s been riding aimlessly for so long that he doesn’t even know where he is.

He finally pulls up to an unfamiliar bar and dismounts his bike, his legs heavy, the pain from the fight at the rally taking its toll.

He glances down at the bandage on his hand the pain of it dull compared to the hurt in his chest.

You would’ve taken him to the hospital gotten him fixed him up, cared for him tenderly. But he’s sure that’s over now. He looks at his wedding band, the images of you smiling radiantly in your wedding dress flash through his mind, the happiest day of his life. Tears almost well in his eyes but he blinks them back he doesn’t deserve you he knows it he has to let you go.

He slams the bar door open, the force of it matching the turmoil coursing inside him.

“Whiskey and a beer, and when I’m done, keep em coming,” he orders at the bartender, who nods silently.

Benny slumps down onto a stool, once settled, he quickly downs the whiskey, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction, and chases it with a cold beer that does little to quench the fire in his gut.

As the bartender goes to refill his drink, two men approach. The scent of sweat and stale beer hits Benny’s nose as one of them snarls, “Hey, shithead, you can’t wear that jacket in here.”

Benny barely glances at them, but the second man steps closer, his voice louder, more aggressive. “Hey, shithead, you hear my brother? You can’t wear that jacket.”

Benny’s eyes narrow as he looks at one, then the other. He’s itching for a fight, and if proving his loyalty to the club will numb the ache in his heart, he’s ready. Anything to take his mind off you. His blood pressure rises as he calmly sets his glass down. “You’d have to kill me to get this jacket off,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Without warning, Benny feels a sharp, heavy blow to his back, a cheap shot that knocks him forward, sending pain shooting through his spine as he sees the broken wood from the barstool that was used.

He stumbles from his seat with the breath forced from his lungs, kneeling on the floor. Before he can recover, another vicious kick slams into his stomach. The force of it bends him double, his insides twisting in agony.

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to suck in air, but there’s no time. A third kick lands hard against his ribs, a sickening crack reverberating through his body. The pain is blinding, his vision blurring as he goes down, his cheek scraping against the grimy floor. The scent of sweat, beer, and blood fills his nostrils, mingling with the sharp, metallic taste in his mouth.

He tries to crawl, his blood soaked palm slipping against the wooden floor, but the two brothers aren’t done. Benny feels a brutal kick connect with his side, the impact sending him sprawling against the barstools. His body spasms as he spits up blood, the taste of copper thick on his tongue.

The bar is spinning around him, the dim lights flickering as his head throbs in time with his heartbeat. The next thing he knows, rough hands are gripping his jacket, lifting him only to be thrown toward the front door. He crashes to the pavement outside with a bone jarring thud, the breath knocked out of him again.

“He won’t stay down!” one shouts in disbelief. Before he can even think to defend himself, another boot kicks into his face. The pain is explosive, a white hot flash that leaves his vision swimming. He knows they’ll kill him if this keeps up, they’ve gone too far.

Benny’s pushes himself up, only to collapse again under the crushing weight of his injuries. Blood drips from his mouth as he struggles once more, his body trembling with the effort. This time he manages to get one knee under him.

“He’s getting back up!” one of them shouts in frustration as he looms over Benny.

“I’ll keep him down“ the other snarls off to get something to maim him with. The taste of blood is sharp on Bennys tongue, his vision wavering with the strain to stay conscious.

Desperation surges through him, adrenaline cutting through the haze of pain. Bennys hand scrambles to his boot, fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife hidden there.

With a wild burst of energy, Benny pushes himself to his feet and slashes out, the blade slicing across the man’s face in front of him. The man screams in agony, clutching at his bloodied cheek.

“Oh shit, Henry!” the other man yells, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of his brothers mangled face.

But that horror quickly twists into fury. His gaze locks onto Benny with murderous intent, and he grabs a nearby shovel, his knuckles whitening around the handle as he barrels forward.

Benny finally feels a surge of triumph grinning as the man wails in agony clutching his blood streaked face. The small victory doesn’t last long. The second man crashes something heavy against the back of his skull.

The impact rings through Bennys head, disorienting him, and he drops to his knees, the world spinning violently as he slips to the ground clutching his head wet with fresh blood. “This’ll keep him down!,” he hears the man sneer.

Before Benny can react, the spade of a shovel sharply snaps through his ankle, the bones crunching beneath the weight. The pain is excruciating, a bright, searing agony that radiates up his leg as he groans seething through gritted teeth. it’s the final blow for his battered body as he begins losing consciousness.

The last thing he feels is the cold, hard pavement beneath him and the taste of blood in his mouth with all the pain of his injuries. Just before the darkness claims him, fleeting thoughts of you cross his mind, your smile, your touch, your voice but it’s all too late. The world fades to black, and his tormenting pain finally recedes into nothingness.

Decisions

You burst through the hospital doors, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. Fear gnawing at your insides, pushing you forward. Your eyes dart frantically across the lobby until they land on a group of bikers huddled together, faces grim. Spotting Corky you rush over, your voice cracking as you blurt out, “Where’s Benny!?!”

Corky exchanges a glance with Wahoo, who sighs heavily. “They won’t let us in, only family,” Corky says reluctantly.

Without a second thought, you practically sprint to the front desk, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. “I’m Mrs. Cross—I’m here for my husband, Benny Cross!” you almost shout, your voice trembling and rising, barely holding back the storm of panic threatening to overwhelm you.

The receptionist behind the desk gives you a sympathetic nod and quickly checks you in.

Within minutes, a nurse leads you down a long, sterile hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering above as you pass. Your hands instinctively cling to your arms, as if trying to physically hold yourself together.

The dread sits like a heavy weight in your chest, tightening with each step, but there’s also a fragile hint of relief—Benny is stable, he’s alive.

When you finally reach Benny’s hospital room, the nurse pulls his clipboard from the wall and begins reading his list of injuries, her voice low and clinical.

“Mrs. Cross, when your husband was brought in, he was severely attacked. He suffered fractured ribs, a fractured orbital socket, internal bleeding, blunt force trauma to the head resulting in a concussion, and the most pressing of his injuries—a severed Achilles tendon with a broken talus bone in his right ankle due to blunt force trauma. The injury is so severe that the surgeons are discussing the possibility of amputation.”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer. Your breath catches, and a sharp pain stabs through your chest as you clutch the wall for support. The hallway spins, nausea threatening to overwhelm you, but you force yourself to stay upright. You can’t afford to be weak, not now.

The nurse continues, her voice gentler as she sees the look of shock and devastation across your face, as you struggle to process the gravity of the situation.

“Your husband is on a heavy medication for the pain now and has been treated for his injuries. The surgeon will discuss the options with you both regarding how you would like to proceed with his amputation in the morning.”

You nod, barely registering her words, your focus solely on the door as she pushes it open for you. With a deep breath, you gather your strength and step inside.

The room is dimly lit, the only sounds the steady beeping of monitors and the soft hum of medial machinery. Your eyes fall on Benny, lying motionless in the hospital bed.

His once strong, commanding presence now looks so fragile, covered in bruises and bandages. His face, usually so ruggedly handsome, is almost unrecognizable swollen and discolored under his right eye. His right leg is encased in a heavy white cast, elevated slightly above the bed, and you can see the bulk of bandages peeking out from under the sheets.

He looks so vulnerable, so different from the man who always seemed indestructible. The sight of him like this breaks your heart all over again.

You approach him slowly, your footsteps silent on the cold, tiled floor. As you get closer, Benny stirs, his eyes fluttering open. When he sees you, a flicker of something crosses his face relief, happiness, maybe even disbelief. He weakly smiles, twisted by pain.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shivers, his battered body tensing as he tries to shift, to reach for you. But the pain is too much, and he winces, his breath hitching in his throat. Seeing him like this, struggling even to move, brings tears to your eyes, but you push them back. He needs your strength now, not your tears.

Carefully, you search for a place to touch him, a spot not covered by bruises or bandages. Finally, you find a small patch of uninjured skin on his arm and gently place your hand there, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin.

He closes his eyes in relief as he exhales shuddering a breath. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come,” he rasps, his voice hoarse from pain and medication.

“Of course I came,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion. “I’m here, Benny. I’m not going anywhere.”

Benny’s eyes open again, and he looks up at you with a mix of guilt and gratitude. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I fucked up….I let you down …and I left you.” He chokes out.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. “No, Benny. You didn’t let me down. You’ve never let me down, and Im still right here for you.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching, desperate to believe your words. Then, slowly, he reaches up with his good hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your own, and despite everything, it gives you comfort.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his eyes closing as exhaustion takes over.

“You deserve more than you think Benny,” you reply softly, your voice barely a whisper.

As the minutes pass, Benny drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain and medication pulling him under. You stay by his side, holding his hand, careful not to disturb the IV line or the bandages. You watch over him, your heart aching with love and worry.

Morning breaks with a muted glow through the hospital blinds, casting long shadows across the sterile room. You haven’t slept a wink, your eyes never leaving Benny as he lay beside you, his face pale and drawn with pain. You’ve spent the night doting on him and holding his hand, determined to be there for him, no matter what comes.

A gentle knock on the door draws your attention. You stiffen, knowing the doctor’s visit will bring the news he’s not ready to hear. Benny is sitting propped up with the help of pillows, his eyes closed as he rests against the headboard still groggy from the medication and pain. You squeeze his hand a little tighter to wake him as the doctor enters.

The doctor exchanges morning greetings as he walks over to Benny’s bedside, flipping through his medical chart in hand, his expression solemn. He takes a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking in a low, steady voice.

“Mr. Cross, I’m afraid the injury to your ankle is extremely severe. The spade of a shovel penetrated deeply, causing extensive damage to your Achilles tendon and the surrounding soft tissue fracturing your tibia and breaking the talus bone. The prognosis for functional recovery is poor, walking without significant assistance or support will be highly unlikely. After assessing all available options, the only viable course of action is to proceed with a below knee amputation.”

The words hit Benny like a physical blow. You feel his entire body tense beside you. His eyes widen in shock, disbelief washing over his face.

The doctor continues, explaining the necessity, the risks, the slim chances of saving the foot, but Benny’s face is frozen in that same look of shock.

Bennys lips part slightly, as if trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable and utterly devastated. This man, who has faced down danger more times than you can count, is now staring down a future he never imagined possible.

When the doctor finally finishes, he gives you both a moment, quietly excusing himself to let you process the news. The room falls into a heavy silence. You’re still holding Benny’s hand, but he’s not gripping back, his eyes distant, staring at a point far beyond the hospital walls.

You watch as the reality of what he just heard begins to sink in. His strong, handsome face starts to crumble. Tears well up in his eyes, and before you know it, they spill over, down his cheeks. The sight of Benny crying, breaks something inside you. He’s never cried, not in front of you, not ever and it’s as if the weight of the entire world has come crashing down on him in this single, moment.

He lowers his head, unable to look at you, his shoulders trembling as he begins to sob covering his face. Not just a tear or two, but deep, gut wrenching sobs that shake his entire body. You can’t bear it and move closer sitting beside him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you can.

You stroke his hair avoiding the bandage there and hold him close to your chest as his fingertips weakly cling to your dress.

Minutes pass before the sobs start to subside, leaving Benny breathless and shattered. His face is streaked with tears, his eyes red rimmed and haunted. Finally in a voice that’s barely a whisper,he looks you in the eyes as he pleads, “Please… don’t let them take my foot off”

You meet his gaze, your heart breaking all over again as you see the depth of despair in those blue eyes, the same eyes that have always been so strong. You gently caress his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as he struggles to say more. Finally, he chokes out what he’s really been dreading, “If they take my foot off I can’t ride any more,” he shudders, his words heavy with sorrow and fear.

His confession surprises you, the full weight of his words sinking in you as you hold him close. Benny’s loyalty to the club runs so deep that the thought of losing his brotherhood is more terrifying to him than the loss of his own limb. Above all else, Benny is a Vandal, and without that, he fears he will lose himself entirely.

Burn it down

Word spreads like wildfire through town, whispers and rumors reaching every corner until they finally land at the Vandals’ clubhouse where everyone gathered after the rally. The air inside is thick with smoke and tension, the usual hum of conversation hushed as the members sense something brewing beneath the surface.

Cal is the first to get the call. The landline phone on the wall rings sharply, cutting through the heavy silence. He picks it up, his expression growing darker as Corky’s voice crackles through the receiver from the hospital. The news hits him like a punch to the gut. Benny had been jumped by members of a rival gang at a bar in Lakeside. The beating was so severe that they nearly severed his foot, leaving him in a hospital bed, fighting to keep his leg.

Cal’s hand tightens around the phone, his knuckles going white as he listens to the details. His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering there as the full weight of the situation settles in. When the call ends, he slams the phone down, the sound echoing through the clubhouse, catching the attention of everyone around.

Without a word, Cal strides across the room to where Johnny is sitting, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Cal leans in close, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge as he whispers the confirmation.

Johnny’s face hardens immediately, his eyes darken, with a burning rage that simmers just beneath the surface his jaw tightening as he absorbs the full weight of the news. In his chest, he knows he’ll never let this go. One of his own was hurt, and someone was going to pay dearly for it.

Without a second thought, Johnny gathers the Vandals. There’s no need for words they can see the fury in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches, the barely restrained violence in his every movement. They mount their bikes, the roar of engines filling the air as they ride with purpose, their destination clear.

The bar comes into view, a building that now holds the weight of their wrath. The Vandals pull up in front, engines roaring as they line the street, the deafening sound echoing through the air. The bikers stay mounted, revving their engines menacingly, a warning to anyone inside that trouble has arrived.

Johnny dismounts first, his eyes narrowing as he strides toward the entrance, Cal and Brusy flanking him like shadows. The door swings open, and the atmosphere inside shifts immediately. The tension thickens, the air heavy with the unspoken threat as the patrons turn to see who just walked in. Everyone can feel the danger that now hangs over the room, knowing that the men standing in the doorway have come for retribution.

Johnny’s gaze sweeps the room before locking onto the bartender. His glare is enough to freeze the man in place. “I don’t want any trouble here,” the bartender stammers, fully aware of the reason for this unexpected visit.

Johnny pauses, already knowing exactly how he wants to exact revenge for Benny, as he steps closer to the bartender.

“Young kid got beat up in here real bad,” Johnny begins, his voice low and menacing, carrying the unmistakable promise of violence.

“I need you to tell me who did it. Write the names down, tell me where they live, and I’ll let you leave.”

The bartender, eyes wide with fear, doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a piece of paper and a pencil with shaking hands, scribbling down the names as quickly as he can. The presence of Johnny and the Vandals is overwhelming. When he finishes, he hands the paper over, his hand trembling.

Johnny takes it, glances at the names, then hands the paper to Cal. “Send a few guys, make sure they don’t walk again,” Johnny orders, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Cal exits the bar on his mission of retribution for Benny and gives the signal for the Vandals to head inside.

As the Vandals enter the bar and surround Johnny, their sheer presence amplifies the already building tension in the establishment. Sensing whats next the patrons begin to flee.

Johnny lights a cigarette, the flame flickering as he inhales deeply, the smoke curling around him.

“You can leave,” Johnny says to the bartender, his voice calm but filled with menace.

Desperate to save his livelihood, the bartender asks, “What about my bar?”

Johnny doesn’t even glance at the bartender, his gaze distant as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “Burn it down,” he orders to the Vandals coldly, flicking the lit match onto the floor.

The bartender barely has time to react before the Vandals spring into action. They trash the bar with ruthless efficiency, smashing tables, shattering glasses, and ripping bottles from the shelves. Liquor spills everywhere, creating a flammable torrent that they quickly ignite, setting the entire place ablaze.

Johnny, Cal, and the others step outside, lining the street as the flames take hold. The fire spreads quickly, its flickering light painting the night sky in ominous shades of orange and red. The heat intensifies, and the sound of crackling wood and shattering glass fills the air as the bar is consumed by the roaring blaze.

Johnny stands at the front, his expression unreadable as he watches the building burn. The flames dancing in his eyes, reflecting the rage that still simmers within him.

To his left, he notices the fire department arriving, their lights flashing. To his right, the police pull up, their cars blocking off the street. Yet, both the fire department and the police take no action as the building is consumed by the fire ignited by the Vandals.

Brusy, standing beside Johnny, glances nervously between the two groups. “Why aren’t they doing anything?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Johnny smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up as he watches the flames devour the building. He doesn’t take his eyes off the blaze as he replies, -“Because they’re scared.”

The fire rages on until the bar is reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoldering rubble. Johnny knows that the message has been sent. This is what happens when you mess with the Vandals. This is what happens when you hurt one of his own.

Long Road

When Benny is finally discharged from the hospital, he’s a shadow of the man you once knew. The powerful, confident presence he always carried has been stripped away, replaced by a hollow shell of uncertainty and pain.

His eyes, once so full of life and defiance, are now dim, the spark of confidence deadened by the trauma of his injuries. Benny struggles to navigate the world on crutches. His right leg remains, encased in a heavy cast with no promise that he’ll ever walk normally again. Each step up the stairs a painful reminder of how much life has changed for him.

You’ve already prepared the downstairs guest bedroom, anticipating that the stairs would be too much for him to handle. The room is decorated in deep, soothing shades of blue, with a large window offering a view of the garden.

All his clothing and medications are neatly arranged, and you’ve even brought a television into the space, knowing how much he loves to lose himself in movies and shows.

You wanted to create a space where Benny could feel comfortable, even if everything else in his life feels like it’s falling apart.

At first, Benny tries to hold onto some semblance of independence, but little by little, you watch as his dignity is stripped away. He can barely navigate the house without help, and you find yourself taking on the role of caregiver, administering his medications, changing his bandages, preparing his meals and changing the linens on his bed.

You help him every time he’s too weak to manage on his own, and each time you do, you see the shame flicker in his eyes.

When you dress him in the mornings he doesn’t even look you. With his body so tender and weak he does his best to pull his body through his clothing but always turns away in shame once you fully dress him, feeling unable to face you.

The hardest moments come when it’s time to bathe him. The once proud, strong man who could have easily overpowered you in the shower, now stands in silence, his foot propped on chair to keep his cast out. He watches you with a mixture of gratitude and deep, aching sadness as you carefully clean his body, avoiding the tender spots and bruises.

“You don’t have to do this,” Benny mutters one evening, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. His head hangs low, his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding your eyes.

“Benny, I want to,” you reply gently, wringing out a washcloth and carefully wiping down his arms. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”you warmly smile.

He swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Not like this… not like some goddamn invalid.”

You pause, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his words. “You’re still you, Benny,” you say softly, trying to meet his eyes. “This doesn’t change that. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes filled with a pain that’s deeper than any physical wound. “But what if I can’t?” he whispers, the fear and self-doubt he’s been hiding finally spilling out. “What if this is all that’s left of me?”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We’ll face it together, Benny you’re not alone.”

Benny closes his eyes, his jaw clenched feeling his emotions they are inescapable. The strong, invincible man he used to be seems like a distant memory now, replaced by someone who’s been forced to confront his own fragility. And yet, even in his weakness, you see the man you fell in love with, the one who’s willing to fight, even if he doesn’t believe in himself anymore.

When the shower is over your dry his hair and body, wrapping the towel snugly around his waist. You help him out offering your hand as he struggles to step. The flickering memory of how powerful he used to be, how he used to pull you close, lifting you off your feet, flashes through your mind. Now, he’s unsteady, relying on your strength to make it back to bed.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as you guide him to the bed, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

You smile at him feeling a sense of comfort knowing how much he needs you. “I’m going to take good care of you Benny.” you promise him.

He doesn’t respond, just nods weakly, his head hanging low. You gently remove his towel and his hands rest on your shoulders for support as he carefully lifts his good leg stepping into his pajama pants. His other leg, encased in cast remains stationary. You kneel lower and guide the fabric over his foot, maneuvering it gently around the cast, ensuring not to jar it.

Benny bears most of his weight on his good leg, trying to keep his balance as you inch the pants up, past his thighs, and finally over his hips. His muscles tense with the effort, and you can see the strain in his expression as he tries to suppress the discomfort.

As you reach for his white tee, your eyes linger on the bruises expanding across his chiseled physique. The once smooth, unblemished skin is now a patchwork of deep purples, sickly yellows, and angry reds, the marks of his brutal attack etched deeply into his flesh. The bruises that spread across his ribs and abs are the darkest and most menacing you’ve ever seen.

You pull the shirt over his head, and as he lifts his arms, he winces, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. The severe pain is evident in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that he tries to hide, but it’s there, unmistakable.

The simple task of bathing and dressing is exhausting, and he lowers himself onto the bed ready to rest. You pull the covers over him, smoothing them down gently, and sit beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re still my Benny,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Nothing’s going to change that.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, letting himself believe you, letting himself hope. But the road ahead is long, and you both know it.

Days turn into weeks and the independence Benny once cherished seems like a distant memory now replaced by the reality of his current limitations. But slowly, very slowly, there are small signs of progress.

As the bruises gradually fade, little by little he begins to regain strength in his movements. With each task he manages to do on his own, a flicker of determination returns to his eyes. The Benny you know is still there, fighting to reclaim his life, one small victory at a time.

One afternoon when he’s feeling able, you take him for a walk in the garden. The sun is warm on your skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the scent of blooming flowers fills the air. You hold his arm, guiding him carefully with his crutch along the stone path. His steps are cautious, but he’s moving, and that alone fills you with hope.

As you walk, Benny’s eyes scan the garden and his gaze falls on a patch of overgrown weeds, beginning to overtake the roses. You can see the frustration flash in his eyes. In the past, he would’ve bent down and yanked those weeds out without a second thought, his strong hands making quick work of the task. But now, he just stands there, his hand tightening on your arm.

You see the pain in his expression, the way his jaw tightens, and you reach up to lovingly touch his face, whispering softly, “Soon enough, Benny.” You smile, trying to reassure him, but his gaze remains fixed on the task he can no longer fulfill.

You gently pull him close, resting your head against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent comforting and uniquely him.

You run your hand softly down his arm, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. For a brief moment, he looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours and catching the warmth in your gaze. But then he quickly looks away, his eyes growing distant again.

Your heart sinks, aching for the intimacy you’ve lost. You miss the way he used to hold you, the way his hands would roam your body, claiming you with a passion that left you breathless. Now, his touches are faint and suppressed as if that piece of him is missing.

Still, you cling to the small signs of his returning strength, feeling a thrill each time he manages something on his own. But the distance between you remains, a silent barrier that grows with each passing day.

At night, he sleeps with his back to you, the warmth of his body just out of reach, and you lie there, staring at the ceiling as you have for weeks, yearning for the connection you once had.

Your mind often drifts to those intimate moments in the dark, when his body would press against yours, his breath warm and reassuring against your neck. You remember the way his hands would roam over your skin, tracing every curve of your body seeking you out with a need that matched his own. His kiss, once so erotic and all consuming, would leave you breathless.

Even now, with him only inches away, lying with his back to you, those memories stir something deep within. Your breathing becomes unsteady, your heart racing as the desire forms, the familiar ache building with every thought of how he used to take you.

Without thinking, you suddenly reach out toward him, your hand hovering just above the space between you. The temptation to touch him is almost overwhelming. But then you notice the unevenness in his breathing, labored as he sleeps in pain.

You know all too well how damaged he is, barely able to move without wincing, and the thought makes you pause. The urge to touch him is strong, but the memory of his pain holds you back.

You remind yourself that he needs rest, not another reminder of what he can’t fully engage in right now. With a deep breath, you pull your hand back, feeling the ache of unfulfilled desire settle in your chest.

Whimpers

The next evening, as you prepare to bathe him, Benny catches your hand. “I can do it,” he insists, his voice firmer and there’s a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a long time. You hesitate, unsure whether to push back or let him try.

You nod slowly, watching as he stands inside the tub, his knee bent to keep his casted foot elevated on the chair placed just beside it. He’s determined to prove something, to you, and to himself. You know you should leave him to it, give him the privacy he needs, but something keeps you there, lingering just out of sight and you slowly realize you want to do more than just care for him.

Benny begins to wash himself, his movements slow and deliberate, the warm water cascading over his body, highlighting every ridge and curve of his muscular frame.

His broad shoulders, marked by dark bruises of purple and yellow, glisten under the light, the water tracing the powerful lines of his torso.

As he runs the cloth over his chest, the defined ridges of his abs become more pronounced, slick and firm beneath the sparse bruising.

His strong arms, glisten with water, his biceps and triceps flexing slightly as he carefully cleans around the tender areas. The water flows over his skin, accentuating every hard line of his muscles, making his body look both powerful and vulnerable in its raw strength and beauty.

Your breath catches as you watch him, a rush of arousal flooding through you making you quickly turn away, trying to suppress the heat rising within.

The memories of how powerful he used to be in bed flood your mind, the way he would take control, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him. The feel of his mouth on you, the way his hands would explore every inch of your body. You squeeze your knees together, your breaths coming faster unable to suppress your overwhelming arousal.

“Hey,” Benny’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn back to see him struggling to reach the towel. “Can you…?”

You’re at his side in an instant, handing him the towel. Once he’s dried off he wraps the towel around his waist and you help him to the sink.

He stands on his own, bearing more weight on his good leg while holding the counter’s edge. You watch as he brushes his teeth, the mundane task somehow taking on a new significance.

You join him, the two of you side by side, as you spit and rinse. He leans down to wash his face and you reach out, placing your hand soothingly on his back. You can feel the muscles flexing beneath his skin, still strong despite everything else, and you trail your fingers along his spine, lingering longer than you should.

When he dries his face and stands up, you both look at each other in the mirror. Benny’s hair is slicked back, still damp from the shower, and though his tan skin has paled from weeks spent indoors, he’s still so handsome that takes your breath away. The sharp lines of his face are softened by exhaustion, but there’s a ruggedness to him that you’ve always loved.

“You look very handsome, Benny,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turns to you, and you stare at each other in the intimate space. The words he wants to say make his breath catch in his chest as if the thought of speaking them aloud is too much to bear.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty as he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly. He places it gently on your chest, his thumb lightly tracing over your skin in with a reverent touch, and before you can reach out to touch him, he lowers his eyes and pulls his hand away, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand.

The brief contact leaves you aching for him, a deep all consuming longing settles in your chest. When Benny reaches out to you again, your heart flutters, hope surging through you. But his voice soft and filled with hesitation as he breaks the silence. “Can you help me to bed?”

For a moment, dismay flickers through you, quickly replaced by a wave of guilt as you hear the tenderness in his request.

You push your physical thoughts of desire aside understanding how wounded he is and gently take his arm, guiding him with care toward the bed.

His weight bears heavily on you, the strain in his muscles evident as he struggles to maintain his balance.

He places one hand on the nightstand for balance as you hand him his soft pajama pants and a thin white undershirt. You watch for a moment as he pulls them on with slow, deliberate movements. A small smile tugs at your lips, seeing that he doesn’t need your help this time. Satisfied, you turn and head to the dresser, quickly slipping into your silk nightie.

You return to his side, carefully picking up each vial of his medications from the nightstand and dispensing the correct dosages into your palm.

Once he’s dressed, you bring him a glass of water, holding it steady as he takes his pills. You watch him swallow them down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drains the glass. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, a routine you’ve fallen into, yet an aching distance lingers between you, a gap you can’t quite bridge.

Once he’s finally settled on his side with the covers pulled up to his waist, you climb into bed beside him, reaching over to click off the light.

As you’ve done all month, you lie back, staring at the ceiling. The guest bedroom is directly next to the garden, so you can watch the shadows of the trees sway above you. Their branches move gently in the night breeze, creating a dance of light and darkness across the ceiling.

The room is filled with the soft swaying of leaves outside, a sound that usually calms you, but tonight it only amplifies your desire for Benny.

You glance over at him, his back turned to you, his body tense even in the darkness. Your heart aches as you reach out, and this time your hand hesitantly touches his shoulder. His skin is warm beneath your fingers tips, his muscles tight and tense.

He doesn’t turn to face you, but his voice breaks the silence, low and heavy with an emotion you can’t quite recognize. “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers, his words so soft they almost disappear into the air.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, feeling the conflict within him, the war between his pride and his vulnerability. You know what you’re about to do is impulsive, but you can’t stop yourself. The need to reconnect with him, to feel that intimacy again, the thought is overwhelming. Slowly, you slide closer, turning and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

You press a soft kiss to Bennys neck and his body tenses at your touch, his breath catching in his throat. “…Baby...” Benny whispers, his voice shaky, filled with uncertainty and apprehension.

“Shh,” you whisper softly, pressing your lips to the back of his neck again feeling the slight tremor that runs through him “Let me take care of you Benny.”

Your hand moves down, sliding beneath his waistband, your fingers brushing against his warm skin as you reach between his legs. You find his thick shaft, soft and unresponsive gently curling your hand around it. As you begin to stroke him softly, his hand suddenly rests on top of yours, stopping you.

“I can’t..” he whispers, his voice breaking, the words filled with so much pain and defeat that it tears at your heart. You can almost hear his pride shatter, the sound of it reverberating in the stillness of the room.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly feeling the depth of his anguish. You withdraw your hand, placing it instead on his back, rubbing soothing circles over his tight muscles, trying to comfort him the only way you can. “It’s alright, Benny. We don’t have to do anything. I’m here for you, no matter what.” You say reassuringly.

Benny doesn’t respond, but you can feel how he shakes slightly with each breath. The vulnerability he’s showing is both heartbreaking and precious, a side of him he’s never allowed anyone else to see.

You continue to rub his back, your touch gentle and soothing gradually feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease under your hand as his breathing starts to slow.

The warmth of his skin under your fingertips and the scent of him so close stir something deep within you, the familiar ache forming involuntarily between your legs.

You quickly lay back, squeezing your thighs together, a soft sigh escaping your lips trying to calm yourself. But in the heat of the moment, driven by impulse, your fingers slip over the silk of your nightie and reach into the lace of your panties.

You find your aching clit, swollen and sensitive, and begin to circle it with a feather light touch. Each gentle stroke sends waves of pleasure through you, blending with the soothing caress of Benny’s back.

Your breaths grow rapid, heart pounding as you chase the edge of release, your fingers dancing over your sensitive skin. The weight of your emotional turmoil heightening your desire, leaving you craving the sweet relief of climax.

You keep your movements soft and quiet, not wanting to disturb Benny but the need is all consuming.

Benny shifts slightly, and at first, he seems oblivious, lost in his own pain. But then, you feel him turn over, his eyes locking with yours as he notices the subtle movements beneath the sheet.

Your hand slows to a stop feeling the uncertainty creeping in. For a moment, the room falls into a hush, the tension undeniable as you take a breath. His gaze lingers, full of curiosity and something deeper, as he takes in the sight of your flushed cheeks and the delicate rise and fall of your chest.

Without a word, Benny slowly pulls the sheets down, exposing your body to the cool night air. His gaze dark and intense as his eyes fixate on your hand nestled between your legs.

He looks back into your eyes searching and understanding what you need. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above yours for a moment, the anticipation building between you.

Then, with a delicate touch, he guides his hand gently slipping it over yours within your lace panties.

The warmth of his touch sends a wave of arousal through you and your heart skips a beat as his fingers press lightly against yours, guiding your movements and urging you to continue.

You feel a sense of surprise and relief as his hand squeezes yours, intensifying the pressure on your clit.The room fills with the soft, slick sounds of your wetness, his fingers moving seamlessly over yours feeling the rhythmic thrust of your fingers into yourself as your arousal spreads across your inner thighs.

Your heart races, and your breath hitches as he begins to guide your hand faster, pressing your palm against your swollen clit harder. Soft moans begin to escapes your lips and the sound ignites something deep within Benny.

With a steady hand, he gently removes your fingers, and replaces them with his own. His fingers glide up and down your soaked folds until they are slick with wetness then he slowly eases them deep inside of you.

A desperate moan falls from your lips being deprived of his touch for so long, the feeling of his fingers is profound as they fill you with a satisfying depth that makes your breath catch.

Your wetness coats his thrusting fingers as he moves them expertly within you , his touch is steady despite his injuries and the sound of your slickness fills the room, mixing with your pleasurable soft moans.

Benny is fully focused on you and slowly moves closer pressing his body against yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, intensifying the connection between you even more.

His fingers glide in and out of you with deliberate firm strokes, expertly teasing, and coaxing you toward release. Your core throbs with need, tightening with each pass of his fingers, until you’re overwhelmed by the way he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink.

You moan loudly feeling your body quivering as the pressure builds inside you and Benny moves his fingers faster.

He is focused entirely on you and the way your body responds to him, driving him to push you even further, making you feel everything you’ve been missing.

He presses his thumb to your aching clit and circles it with relentless precision building the pleasure so high it’s almost unbearable.

Your legs tremble as your hands clutch the sheets, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you endure the overwhelming sensation. The pressure inside of you coils tighter and tighter, until you’re at the brink of inevitable release.

“..Come for me baby ” Benny finally says having a surge of confidence knowing he’ll be able to satisfy you. “Show me how much you need me” he says craving your pleasure to rebuild his own.

And with a final, expert thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your body convulses, your core tightening around his fingers as you cry out, the sound echoing through the room.

You pant heavily, your chest heaving as you come down from the high, your body trembling with aftershocks. The release is so powerful, you feel lightheaded, your mind spinning from the intense pleasure.

Benny withdraws his fingers slowly, his touch gentle as he pulls them from your throbbing core and he looks at you, his eyes dark with a desire you haven’t seen in a long time.

For a moment neither of you move, the silence only being broken by the sound of your labored breaths.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent plea lingering in their depths as he glances down at your lips. The intimacy undeniably as he leans in, closing the distance with a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving hesitantly at first, almost cautiously, as if he’s rediscovering something precious. His kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slide gently into your mouth, coaxing a moan from you as explores with a slow, deliberate rhythm making your heart race.

The taste of him, and the way his lips and tongue move against yours, send sparks of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your hands finally reach him, roaming over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin and you find yourself wanting to give him back the pleasure he’s just given you.

Your hand moves lower, slipping beneath his waistband, seeking out his cock. Your touch is gentle at first, your fingers wrapping around his thick shaft with a tender reverence. He’s only slightly hard, a stark contrast to how he used to be fully erect at the mere sight of you.

You can feel the hesitation in his body, the way he tenses, the lingering effects of pain and doubt clouding his response. You stroke him softly, trying to coax him to full arousal, but his cock remains the same, the weight of his injury hanging over him, holding him back.

Benny breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours, trying to find the right words, the right way to explain why he’s not quite ready. You meet his gaze, your voice soft and filled with understanding, “Teach me how to please you with my mouth, Benny,” you say with a blend of tenderness and desire.

His eyes darken with a mix of conflict and lust. For a moment, he hesitates, then slowly nods, the need in him beginning to overpower his reservations. “Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ll show you.”

Benny sits up, easing himself back to rest against the headboard. You gently slide your fingers to the hem of his undershirt, slowly lifting it over his head. As you pull the shirt off, your eyes trace the contours of his muscled body, each bruise telling a story of his pain, but also stirring something deeper inside you, a desire to make him feel good again.

The sight of him, strong yet vulnerable ignites a longing in your core. You place a pillow behind his back and with gentle hands, you begin to remove his pajama pants, easing them over his cast. Once fully naked Benny spreads his legs apart, making room for you as you settle between his thighs.

His body tenses with anticipation as you take in the sight of his cock, long and thick, though not yet fully hard, resting with an impressive weight between his legs. When you look up at him, there’s a mix of vulnerability and desire in his eyes, a silent plea for what’s to come.

You start slowly, kissing the sensitive skin along his inner thighs, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles as he reacts to your touch. Your lips trail closer to his cock, building the anticipation.

Benny watches you intently, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you finally kiss the head of his cock. Your warm tongue swirling around the tip, teasing him as you glance up at him through your lashes, silently asking him to guide you.

“That… feels good” he praises, his voice low and breathy. “Keep going…” he urges, his eyes filled with a raw intensity experiencing pleasure for the first time in what feels like forever.

You take his cock into your mouth feeling him harden against your tongue. His hips twitch involuntarily as you create a delicious suction, making him groan. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting a hint of saltiness that quickly dissipates, and he groans again, louder this time, the sound desperate and raw making your core throb with need.

“That’s it…” Benny mutters, his voice filled with satisfaction as his hand rests gently on your head lacing his fingers gently through your hair.

He lifts his hips slightly, wanting to push himself deeper into your mouth and you can feel the power shifting within him, his desire overtaking his initial hesitation.

“Take it …deeper” he urges, his hand tightening in your hair, guiding you as his cock fills your mouth completely causing an ache in your jaw.

You continue to glide your mouth along his heavy cock and it throbs against your tongue, growing harder with every suck.

“K-keep going, baby…” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, his need evident in every word as he savors the way you suck him off.

His tip brushes the back of your throat, and you slightly gag, the sensation causing your throat to tighten around him. The feel of it draws a deep groan from him, the pleasure undeniable.

Staring down at you, his eyes darken with lust as you try to take more of his cock and he groans in pleasure, savoring every gag of your inexperience as you keep going.

His grip on your hair tightens his breathes sharp as he begins to guide your head up and down on his throbbing cock.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, driven by the need to satisfy him, to give him everything he’s silently demanding.

His cock swells even harder and the pressure becomes too much, making it difficult for you to go on. A desperate whimper escapes your throat that vibrates his shaft and he groans in pleasure watching your body begin trembling with every effort.

His grip on your hair tightens as he fights the urge to take more from you realizing you’re giving him everything, pushing yourself to your limits and it makes his cock throb with an almost painful intensity.

His eyes go dark with a deep, simmering arousal craving more than just the pleasure of your mouth.

The thought of claiming you, of burying himself deep within you, overtakes him, and with a sudden, urgent need, he pulls your mouth all the way off his cock.

“I want all of you,” he confesses, his voice weaker and filled with urgency. You’re so desperate to feel him inside of you after pleasing his cock , that you don’t hesitate for a second.

His breath catches in his throat as you eagerly climb from between his legs, your excitement and longing undeniable as you straddle his lap feeling how wet you are as you position yourself on him.

He winces from the sudden movements and you see the pain you’ve caused, but your desire for him overtakes everything as you capture his mouth in a heated kiss.

He whimpers against your lips as your fingertips glide down his ribs over his bruises.

His body weakened from the beating he endured, makes every movement take more effort than usual, but having you like this, so eager and willing, makes him feel something special something powerful despite his condition.

It’s more than just desire, it’s the realization that even in his vulnerable state, you still want him, you still crave to have him.

You begin slowly grinding against his hardened cock, feeling the friction through the thin fabric of your panties and it makes Benny moan in your mouth.

He tries to continue kissing your lips, but the sensation of you moving on top of him is almost too much to bear and his body trembles slightly beneath you.

His hands slide up your sides, creeping under your nightie. He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the nightie over your head, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. His eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your breasts cupping each one with a tender squeeze. His fingers linger on your skin before they trail down, finding the waistband of your panties

Without a second thought, he digs his fingers into the lace and rips them apart. The sound of the fabric tearing makes you gasp, his lust for you intensified by his unrestrained need to take you.

He pulls you back into a searing kiss, wincing briefly as his battered ribs protest, but he doesn’t let it stop him. The intimacy between you is intense with the blend of vulnerability and raw desire making every touch, every kiss, feel profound and deeply intimate.

You break the kiss and rise slightly, allowing his hard cock to spring free and you both look down to watch it sway. Now painfully hard and thick it stands proudly. His shaft taunt and veiny, throbbing with need his tip red and swollen with arousal.

He shudders suddenly feeling his blood coursing so quickly, his breaths heavier, each one a mix of anticipation and the lingering pain from his injuries.

“I don’t want to hurt you Benny,” you say softly, your heart pounding with a mix of longing and regret.

You can hear his uneven breaths as his chest rises and falls, fighting to push past the discomfort. The strain in his eyes is evident, one still darkened by a bruise, revealing the toll his injuries are taking on him.

You reach up gently and lightly rub your thumb over the bruise, your touch tender as you try to soothe him, offering a silent comfort in the midst of his struggle.

“You won’t hurt me, baby,” he promises, and there’s a determination in his blue eyes that tells you he’s not backing down. He wants this as much as you do.

“Alright, Benny,” you whisper, surrendering to the pull of your desire. You cup his jaw, your touch gentle but filled with an urgent need as you bring your lips to his. The kiss is both tender and consuming, and you can feel the heavy breaths of exertion spilling into your mouth as his hands slide up to your waist.

Despite the pain radiating through his body, Benny’s resolve doesn’t waver. He’s determined to fulfill both your needs, to reclaim what you’ve both been missing.

His hands slide down your hips grasping firm, as he slowly begins guiding you down onto him.

His cock presses against your entrance and the resistance is immediate, your body sealed tight without him for so long. You can feel his breath hitch as he tries again, this time with force. His hands shake on your waist as he pushes into you with raw determination.

A shared moan tears from both of you, the sound raw, and desperate, as his cock finally penetrates, solid and unyielding, your walls gripping him with an unforgiving tightness.

You bury your face into his neck, moaning as his grip on you tightens, his hands steadying you as he pushes deeper, breaking himself into you, inch by inch.

“It’s alright, baby,” he breathes, his voice strained but reassuring, each exhale warm against your skin. His body trembles beneath you, his muscles tensing as he fights through the pain, but he refuses to stop. There’s something driving him, a need to claim you, to bury himself inside you until the pain is a distant memory.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes deeper. A loud moan spills from your lips as he finally fills you completely, holding you firmly in his lap, his control relenting as he waits, letting the initial discomfort melt into a wave of intense pleasure. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, every pulse sending jolts of sensation through your core

“I missed you baby,” Benny confesses, resting his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and uneven as he feels your walls pleasurably tighten around his cock.

“I missed you too, Benny,” you pant, your lips brushing soft kisses against his, enduring the throbbing ache and the intense fullness of having him deep inside you again.

His hands move down to your hips, his grip firm and steady as he guides you in a slow, deliberate rhythm pulling you against him pressing you deeper into his lap as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck ….you feel good,” he whispers, his words heavy with raw desire as his blue eyes meet yours, filled with a vulnerability and intense yearning.

You bring your hands to his jaw, cradling his face as you kiss him softly. Your lips brushing over his filled with longing and he guides your hips to roll down in his lap harder, making you take every inch of his cock deeper.

You both moan into each others mouths feeling the waves of ecstasy surge through your core and Benny feels every inch of him consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of gliding tightly inside your walls again.

His moans turn into soft whimpers as you increase the pace, riding him harder clinging to the back of his neck. You pull him closer, using him for leverage as you glide down faster and harder on his cock.

The sharp sting of his injuries and the soreness of his bruises intensify each time you settle on him, but he holds on to the overwhelming pleasure wanting more despite the pain.

His breaths come in short, shallow gasps as he looks at you with a mix of desire and vulnerability in his eyes, his body protesting, strained from each painful effort.

“Don’t stop,” he pants, his voice weak, almost pleading, as his hips push up against you, his body chasing the pleasure you’re giving him. His cock is rock hard and throbbing with need as he grabs your hips, pulling you deeper into his lap, making you take him fully.

“Yes, Benny!” you cry out, your body arching into him as he guides you to ride him harder, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully, driving his cock deeper, claiming you completely.

The sound of his light breathy and whimpers resonate within you, sending a thrill through your entire body as you watch him trying not to lose himself.

You lean in kissing him deeply and his whimpers are muffled against your mouth as you feel the pleasure of his thick cock gliding in and out of your walls.

His grasp tightens on your hips his fingers digging in desperately, determined to stay with you despite the pain, his need for you overriding everything else.

You grind down on him with force, feeling his cock push deeper inside you and a loud, desperate moan tears from his throat

His heart pounds wildly as he struggles to hold on, the pleasure of being inside you driving him to the very edge.

Every thrust, every touch, every gasp shared between you feels like a reclaiming of something lost. You feel the press of his chest against yours, the frantic beat of his heart, and the desperate way his hands grasp your body.

“I-I’m close… n-need to come…,” he pants, his voice trembling, each word filled with the sound of his struggle to hold on just a little longer.

You hold him closer, your breath warm and seductive against his ear. “Come for me Benny,” you whisper pressing your body closer, moving in perfect rhythm with him, intensifying his pleasure and urging him toward release.

His touch lightens momentarily, his hands guiding your movements to ride him slower, the weakness in his body clashing with the desire raging inside him.

But then, with a deep, guttural groan, he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fights to reclaim control.

“I wanna… feel you come for me,” he breathes, his voice rough with determination. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he places one hand on the bed for stability. He bends his un-injured leg for support and thrusts his cock into you such precision it sends shockwaves of pleasure surging through your core.

“Benny oh god!” you scream in pleasure your walls clenching with every thrust of his cock, driving him to push you further.

“Fuck!” he cries out, his hands gripping you tighter as he drives his cock even harder, reclaiming a depth that makes your eyes roll back in pleasure. “That’s it…” he says through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “Take it all,” he says with effort, his voice thick with intensity.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you moan loudly against him, pulling him closer as he fills you over and over again with a depth that has you seeing stars. His breaths are shallow and ragged against your neck filled with every effort it takes for him to keep going.

His eyes remain locked on you, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face, his own need to see you unravel consuming him, pushing him to hold on just a little longer, to push you over the edge.

You can hear the change in him, the way his voice catches with every thrust, his moans breaking into breathless pants. The deep, primal groans and the whimpers of pleasure that slip out when he can’t hold back.

“Let me feel it,” he pleads, his voice strained, his blue eyes locked on yours with a desperate intensity. “I need to feel you come.” He breathes, the need in his eyes is unmistakable he’s silently begging to be taken with you.

Your pleasure builds to a peak, and with one final thrust, he hits that perfect spot deep inside of you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm.

Your body tenses, your nails digging into his shoulders. You cry out his name, your muscles clenching rhythmically around his cock.

Benny can feel every pulse and shudder of your release, and his groans become louder, more uncontrolled against you, the pain that once held him back replaced by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

His cock throbs inside your walls, and you can feel his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight as he nears his release.

With a final, broken moan, Benny gasps, “I’m gonna—” his words are cut off by a strangled moan as his orgasm crashes over him. His hips jerk violently against you and he releases, his cock pulsing as he spills into you.

You moan loudly, feeling the warm rush of his cum flood your walls and his body trembles with the intensity of his climax, every ounce of pain gone, replaced by the addictive high of pleasure.

His breaths come out hot and ragged against your neck, each exhale trembling with the remnants of his pleasure. He buries his face there, nuzzling against your skin as he softly pants and whimpers next to your ear.

You stay there, still connected, as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies, entwined in a profound connection of intimacy. Every exhale of his breath against your skin a testament to his determination, a silent promise that he gave you everything he had left.

You gently trail your fingertips along his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly melt away as he rests into you, his body still trembling slightly from the exertion.

As he holds you in his lap, you can feel the rapid, wild beating of his heart against yours, his sharp breaths the only sound in the quiet room, echoing softly against your neck.

“I love you so much Benny,” you whisper, your voice tender and filled with emotion as you feel him relax even more, his grip on you softening as he sinks deeper into the comfort of your embrace.

“I love you too, baby,” he murmurs softly against your skin, his voice warm and affectionate, his breaths weak uneven. With a gentle exhale against your skin he places a soft, lingering kiss on your shoulder.

His body rests heavily against yours as his breaths become softer and the weight of him begins pressing down on you as he struggles to stay awake.

“Benny, you need to rest,” you whisper gently, trying to rouse him from exhaustion.

“Alright,” he relents and his voice barely audible as every muscle in his body seems to weaken, the weight of fatigue pressing down on him.

Carefully you sit up, feeling the lingering warmth of his embrace as you place your hands gently over his chest. You slowly lift your hips up sliding his large cock from deep within your walls, hearing a faint slick sound as the tip finally slips out making both of you moan softly from loss of contact.

He gazes up at you affectionately, and you notice a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes one you haven’t seen in a long time.

“You feel good, Benny?” you ask with an affectionate smile. His blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, his full lips parting as he pants for breath.

“Yeah” he breathes with a smile. You grin gently threading your fingers through his hair cradling the back of his head in your hands. You lean in and place a kiss on his forehead filled with pride and deep satisfaction.

The warmth of your touch and the gentle press of your lips make his eyes flutter closed as a soft sigh escapes his lips relaxing completely.

His arms hold you close as he presses his face against your chest, savoring the safety and comfort you bring him. The connection between you feels deeper than ever, a silent understanding that speaks volumes of your love for each other.

As Benny slowly releases you from his embrace, his arms tremble slightly with exhaustion. He shifts his body lower, his movements slow and unsteady as he places his palms on the bed for support.

You give him space as he lowers himself down, the effort leaving him almost too weak to move as he settles on the bed next to you.

With his final moments of strength, Benny pulls you into his strong arms, wrapping them around you in a protective embrace. You can feel the strain on his muscles, the way they tremble slightly, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels through the simple act of holding you close.

His chest still rises and falls with soft breaths, a reminder of how much he’s given, how deeply he’s pushed past his own limits just to be with you.

“It’s okay, Benny,” you whisper softly, your thumb tracing comforting patterns along his cheek. “Just rest now… I’m not going anywhere.” You say softly, hoping to soothe the lingering tension in his body.

A soft sigh escapes his lips as he relaxes against you, his body slowly giving in to the exhaustion. His eyes flutter closed as sleep finally overtakes him. His grip on you loosens but his hands still hold you close, even in sleep.

The tension and pain that had been etched on his face gradually turn into peaceful serenity, and the faintest hint of a smile forms on his lips, a quiet sign that tonight a part of Benny has been reclaimed.

His Resolve

You and Benny are fully aware of Johnny’s fiery retribution with the Vandals after the injuries Benny sustained, it was impossible to miss.

The news had been plastered all over the papers and television, detailing how the Lakeside bar had been burned to the ground while Benny recovered in the hospital.

As Benny lay in bed, fresh out of surgery, it was the first time you heard him laugh since his injuries. The sound was weak and raspy, filled with a mix of satisfaction and respect for what his brotherhood had done on his behalf. It was a glimpse of the old Benny shining through.

Now, with Benny slowly regaining his strength over the past few weeks, it’s no surprise when you hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle in the distance as you wash the dishes.

You quickly go to collect Benny’s plate from lunch in the living room. He’s resting back on the couch, his leg propped up comfortably on an ottoman as he watches I Dream of Jeanie.

As you reach for his empty plate, you pause to observe him. The moment Benny hears the familiar rumble of a motorcycle approaching the house, he sits up, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable excitement.

“That has to be Johnny,” Benny says, a grin spreading across his face. You manage a weak smile, but inside, you can’t shake the resentment that’s formed, knowing Benny’s injuries were caused because he was beaten for wearing his colors.

Benny quickly tries to get up, grabbing the couch for support, but he struggles to gain his footing, his heart racing with too much excitement. In his haste, he knocks his crutch to the floor, reaching for it in futility, unable to pick it up.

“Benny, sit,” you say warmly, guiding him back down onto the couch. “I’ll bring him here. You’ll have plenty of time to run around once you’re fully healed,” you add, placing his crutch to rest on the arm of the couch.

“Alright, baby,” he says, and you look into his eager blue eyes as he tries to contain his excitement.

You reach the front door just as Johnny knocks. He grins as soon as he sees you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, his voice carrying that familiar teasing tone. “Where��s the crippled old man?” he adds playfully.

“He’s in the living room,” you gesture with a warm smile. Johnny follows you inside, his boots echoing softly against the floor as he makes his way down the hall.

As you both enter the living room, Benny is relaxed with his arms spread across the back of the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. He’s trying to play it cool, but you can see how much he’s been looking forward to this moment.

“Look at you, all propped up like the queen,” Johnny teases, his eyes flicking to Benny’s casted foot resting on the ottoman.

“Who you calling Queen?” Benny shoots back, grinning broadly, his tone playful but carrying a hint of the old fire that’s been missing.

Johnny grins as he plops down next to Benny, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He hands one to Benny and places another between his own lips. With a flick of his lighter, they’re both soon smoking together, the air quickly filling with the familiar haze.

“You look good, Benny. You look alright,” Johnny compliments, but then he notices you still standing in the entryway.

“Oh, you mind if we smoke in here, seeing as Benny’s all fucked up?” he asks, glancing at you.

“That’s fine, Johnny,” you reply, feeling a bit out of place. You walk over to the television and turn the volume down, trying to make yourself useful.

Johnny quickly turns his attention back to Benny. “The guys thought you might be really out of it,” he says, nodding toward Benny’s cast.

“He is out of it. He can’t walk, Johnny,” you interject, crossing your arms.

“What did the surgeon say?” Johnny asks, completely ignoring your comment.

Benny takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up as he exhales. “They cut through a tendon,” he says, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“Jesus,” Johnny exclaims. “They tie it back together or what?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Benny replies, exhaling a stream of smoke.

The tension of feeling unwanted in the room makes you uncomfortable, especially as you see them both deep in conversation. With Benny clearly not needing you for anything you quickly excuse yourself, heading to the kitchen to make them drinks and give them space to talk.

The banter between Benny and Johnny flows easily and naturally, you hear Benny laugh loudly several times the sound echoing through the house as he has a fit.

You smile hearing him so happy and then feel a bitterness rising that you’ve never made him laugh that way.

The thought gnaws at you, and before you realize it, you’re squeezing the lemons more aggressively, the juice splattering as you make the lemonade.

When you enter the living room with the two glasses, the air is now thick with smoke. Johnny and Benny are just finishing their conversation as you hand Benny his fresh lemonade.

“We’d sure love to see you out there. It’s gonna be a big one, maybe the biggest one yet!” Johnny says enthusiastically.

“Biggest what?” you ask, curious, as you offer the other glass of lemonade to Johnny.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, waving it off, still engrossed in their discussion.

“It’s a picnic,” Benny explains to you. “Johnny says they’re going all out for the Daytona one,” he continues, before turning to Johnny. “How long is that, eight weeks away?”

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms.

“I mean, I’ll still be in a cast by then, but—”

“A cast?!” Johnny interrupts. “Nah, nah, you can shift with your left foot. You can always use your front brake if ya can’t put no pressure on it,” he says, gesturing to Benny’s cast.

Benny thinks it over as he takes a drag from his cigarette and Johnny seeing his hesitation uses the brotherhood to lure his decision.

“You know the guys..the guys would love to see ya out there. They’re all really worried about you.”he says earnestly

Feeling irritated by the smoke and being ignored, you place Johnny’s untouched lemonade down on the mantle harder than you intended, the glass clinking sharply.

You walk to the window, sliding it up forcefully and hitting it into place with several loud whacks as the fresh air immediately rushes in.

Hearing their conversation halt mid-sentence, you turn to see both Johnny and Benny looking at you with their brows raised in concern.

The weight of their gaze makes you feel exposed, as if they’ve noticed the frustration you’ve been trying to hide all along.

Benny then turn to Johnny and makes his decision without you. “I’ll be there,” he says with certainty, his tone final.

“Alright” Johnny says with a wide grins clearly pleased with Bennys decision. “ I’ll get out of here,” Johnny says as he gets up. “You rest,” he adds, pointing at the cast. Benny smirk as he takes another long drag from cigarette.

Johnny gives you a brief nod, “sweetheart” he says his eyes barely meeting yours before he turns and heads for the door. He leaves without another word, his abruptness toward you making you feel slighted.

The front door slams shut, the sound grating on your nerves, amplifying the irritation that’s already boiling inside of you.

You stand there for a moment, piecing together the conversation and the choice Benny made without consulting you. The tension in the room thickens, your earlier discomfort now edged with frustration.

You walk closer to Benny, crossing your arms as you look over him relaxed against the couch smoking his cigarette with a careless ease.

“You wouldn’t really ride your motorcycle injured with a cast would Benny?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

“I dunno,” he replies, waving his cigarette hand through the air dismissively. “Turn up the TV, would you?” He says in irritation hating that his injury prevents him from doing the simplest things himself.

But you stand firm, unmoving. “I don’t want you riding, Benny,” you say sternly.

He slowly glances over at you, raising an eyebrow at your firmness.

“Yeah, it scares me especially this soon after surgery. I don’t like it,” you continue, doubling down on your resolve.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly. “You don’t like it?” he repeats, his voice carrying an edge as he squints at you.

“I get worried!” you say louder, the thought of him permanently injuring himself just to prove something to Johnny and the Vandals making your heart pound with anxiety.

The silence that follows your words is heavy with tension, and you can feel the growing distance between you and Benny with each passing second.

Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring off into the distance, lost in thought as he weighs his options. His jaw tightening as you watch the internal struggle playing out in his mind.

“I should just go,” he finally says, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, his voice steady tinged with an underlying sadness.

His eyes flicker with a cold, distant determination, as he nods slightly. “I should just leave,” he repeats, the words heavy with finality.

His words hang in the air, and you feel your heart drop, the realization hitting you hard that he’s considering genuinely leaving again.

“What?” you respond, your voice rising in pitch as your resolve begins to soften.

He nods his head, a look of realization crossing his face as he stares off blankly into the distance.

“It’s better this way. You’d be better off,” he finally says, his voice low and steady. He raises the cigarette to his lips with a deliberate slowness, taking a long, drawn out drag, the smoke lingering as he exhales, solidifying the weight of his words.

“Stop it! Stop it!” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as the fear creeps in gripping your heart.

The memory of the last time he abandoned you abruptly flashing through your mind, he left you without a second thought once his mind was set, leaving you shattered and utterly alone. The panic begins to set in, a cold, suffocating sensation that makes it hard to breathe.

Benny continues, the hurt in his voice becoming more evident, “You wouldn’t have to take care of me, worry about me…”he says revealing the truth he’s been harboring.

You shake your head frantically, tears welling up in your eyes as you tremble at the implications of what he’s saying.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, letting his words sink in before exhaling slowly.

“When I heal up, I’ll leave,” he says with cold finality, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if the words are a sentence he’s already decided on.

The statement hits you hard, knocking the breath out of you, and you take a moment to gather your resolve.

Benny doesn’t say anything more and leans forward to stub out his cigarette, the action slow and deliberate, like he’s putting the final seal on a decision that’s been weighing on him for far too long.

He leans back, arms outstretched, a look of painful acceptance on his saddened face, torn between what he feels is right and what he desires.

In a moment of quiet understanding, you slowly sit on the couch beside Benny, finally able to see what he has always needed most of all. Your acceptance of his resolve, the need to do what he feels he must even when you don’t agree with the decision.

As you look up at him, your eyes are filled with a mix of sorrow and reluctant understanding, fully grasping that he’s been struggling with.

Benny meets your eyes with a look of determination and coldness, his emotions buried deep behind a wall of detachment.

Knowing exactly what he needs in this moment you lean against him and wrap your arms gently around his torso holding him closely and providing him the love and comfort he so desperately needs.

You nestle into him and press your face gently against his chest as he looks down at you with a sternness and confusion in his gaze but then, gradually, his expression softens and he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you close with a grip that is both possessive and protective.

His face buries into your hair, and you can feel the tension in his body slowly begin to ease, knowing that even though you don’t agree with his decision, you still accept him for who he is.

His hands thread through your hair, cradling your head as he holds you against his chest. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words until you finally break it.

“Benny, I don’t want you to go,” you relent, your voice soft, filled with a final act of surrender, understanding that he will do what he feels he must.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering as he deeply inhales your scent, something so beautiful and sweet, something that anchors him when he feels lost.

His thumbs gently trace reassuring circles on your back as he rests his head against yours, no longer torn between his loyalty to the brotherhood and his love for you.

In this moment, the conflict within him fades away,and he feels completely at peace in your embrace more grounded and connected than he has ever felt before in his life.

Just you

At night, as Benny stands in the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired muscles, he has only one thing on his mind…you. The steam fills the small bathroom, clouding the mirror as he steps out, dries off, and brushes his teeth.

He uses the door frame to steady himself as he makes his way to the nightstand, his movements slower as he balances on his uninjured leg but he’s determined to do everything himself to prove himself to you.

He quickly takes his medications, and climbs into bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against his warm skin.

When you enter the bedroom, Benny’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. You’re wearing a silk robe, which you slowly slip off to reveal a delicate nightie underneath. The fabric clings to your curves in a way that stirs something deep within him, awakening a longing to create something passionately between you.

As you glance around the room, you notice that Benny has already taken care of himself. He’s brushed his teeth, taken his medications, and is already tucked in, waiting for you.

“Do you need help with anything, Benny?” you ask softly, your voice tinged with pride, knowing he managed to take care of everything on his own.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours from where he’s resting in bed. For a moment, you see a flicker of something …lust, perhaps, but then it’s gone, replaced by a steady, confident gaze. “Just you,” he says, his voice low, the words laced with an undertone that sends a thrill through you.

A smile plays on your lips as you nod feeling a sudden blush creeps up your cheeks from his words. “Alright, Benny, I won’t be long,” you say sweetly, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face for the night.

Benny watches you go, a spark of desire igniting in his chest, seeing the soft sway of your hips, the gentle curves of your body. He aches with longing, his eyes following your every step, craving the closeness that’s just out of reach.

He lays back against his pillow, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to show you how much he needs you, how deeply he loves you. His cock is already swelling with desire, hardening at the mere thought of you.

When you return and climb into bed with him you reach over and click off the light, plunging the room into the darkness of moonlight. With a small, sigh, you settle in, your body turned from Benny as you prepare for the usual nights sleep.

But Benny shifts in bed moving closer, his hand reaching out gently brushing against your hip. His touch soft and tender, a silent request for intimacy as he waits for your response.

You feel the eagerness in his touch and feeling a bit slighted from your argument earlier you teasingly ignore him.

He grows bolder, his fingers gripping your hip with a firm but gentle pressure, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles along the curve. Despite his advances, you stay unyielding.

“Baby,” he finally says softly, his voice low and pleading with desire. “I need you…”

His hand lingers poised on your hip awaiting for your response and you cover your mouth unable to stifle the soft unmistakable sound of a giggle that escapes.

Benny smiles understanding your playful challenge.

“You gonna make me work for it tonight, hm?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as his hand trails slowly along your side, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through you.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you nod, feeling the spark of anticipation growing between you. You bite your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. “Mm-hm,” you confirm with a nod.

Benny’s smiles slowly trailing his finger tips down your shoulder, his touch tantalizing and deliberate, sending a warm shiver through your body.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. “Seeing you in your little nightie and now you teasing me like this..,” he says, pulling gently at the silk strap, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“Now I need you, more than anything,” he confirms, his voice thick with desire as he leans in closer. His breath is soft against your neck. His chest presses firmly against your back as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you intimately against him. “Don’t tease me like this baby,” he breathes into your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

You close your eyes, trying to hold onto your resolve, but the heat of his body and the intensity in his voice start to warm you up to his touch as you slowly give in. “Benny…,” you begin, your voice soft and breathless, but he shushes you with a quiet “shhh,” his breath warm against your ear as his hand slides down your side, the silk of your nightie gliding smoothly under his fingers as he teasing the edges of your panties with a feather-light touch.

“Mm Mmn, you wanted to tease me remember?” he says, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. “Now it’s my turn,” he continues, his tone deepening as his fingers widen their grasp, exploring your body with a possessive touch keeping you on edge. He draws out your anticipation with every firm deliberate squeeze. “Let’s see how much you can take,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine

His words break through, and you can feel the wetness increasing between your legs. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, the heat in his eyes making your heart race. “You’re not playing fair Benny,” you whisper, your voice breathless.

Benny’s lips curve into a knowing smile as his hand continues its slow exploration, sliding under the silk of your nightie. “Who said I was playing?” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. The look in his eyes is one of pure, unrestrained lust, and it sends a wave of heat through your body, making you ache to give in to him completely.

“Benny…” you begin softly, your voice tinged with need, but he silences you with a kiss on your lips, slow and deliberate. The tip of his tongue teasing yours, sending waves of heat through your body. You moan into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure building inside you.

His hand slowly slips under your nightie, gliding over your heated skin. He finds the edge of your lace panties, his fingers slipping inside to explore the slickness of your arousal. His touch is teasing and slow, his fingers glide through your wetness, each stroke making you crave him even more.

Benny’s lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers continue their exploration as he slips them deep inside of you, finding that sensitive spot within and stroking it with a rhythm that makes your body tremble. Your whimpers mix with your gasps, each sound growing more desperate as the pleasure builds inside you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers against your neck, his voice low with desire. “I love feeling you like this baby,” he praises.

As his fingers curl inside you, he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit in time with his strokes. The sensation is overwhelming, every touch sending you closer to the edge. Your hips begin to move against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction, your breath coming in short, heated pants.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice filled with encouragement. “Let go for me baby. I want to feel you come.”

The combination of his skilled fingers and his his words send you spiraling closer to the edge, the pleasure mounting with each passing second. Your body quivers in anticipation, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.​

Benny’s kisses travel down your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse point as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm.

You feel every nerve in your body lighting up with desire, your whimpers turning into needy moans as you get closer and closer to release.

Your breathing quickens, your body tightening around his fingers as you teeter on the edge of release. His other hand moves to your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending even more sparks of pleasure through you. The intensity is almost too much to bear, and you can’t help but moan loudly as the tension coils its tightest within your core.

“Benny-!” you cry out, your voice breaking with pleasure as your walls clench around his fingers as you moan feeling the intensity so powerful it makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Come for me… soak my fingers, just like that.”

His words push you over the edge, and with a final stroke, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever.

Your moans are unending, filling the room as Benny holds you close, his fingers continuing to coax every last tremor from your body. Your panting and whimpers become breathless gasps, your entire being lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that courses through you.

He presses his lips to your neck, whispering softly, “That’s it, baby… so good for me ” his voice full of satisfaction knowing he’s given you exactly what you needed.

You come down from your high, your body trembling and weak and Benny withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips with a satisfied smile. He licks your arousal from his fingers, savoring the taste with a look of deep satisfaction.

Then, with a gentle yet insistent touch he guides your lips to his for a soft, lingering kiss.

The taste of pleasure on your lips sends a thrill through Benny as you struggle to catch your breath, feeling completely spent and utterly fulfilled. But the lingering intensity in his gaze tells you he’s far from done.

His hand slips under your nightie, his fingers tracing slow, sensual patterns around your navel. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “I want to fill you up baby,” his voice heavy with desire, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

“I want to create something lasting with you,” he reveals, his voice laced with intent. He lets the gravity of his words linger between you, his breath warm against your neck as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles just below your belly button, lingering there with purpose.

His lips graze your ear as he leans in closer, “I want to have a baby with you,” he confesses, his voice tinged with longing, a deep need to create something permanent, something that binds you both in a way that nothing else can.

His touch feels different now, more intimate, as his hand moves gently across your stomach. The thought of carrying his child, of creating something lasting and beautiful with Benny, fills you with a deep profound sense of connection and love.

You turn your head slightly, your lips barely brushing his as you whisper, “I want that too, Benny.” Your voice is breathless, filled with anticipation and desire. You place your hand over his, pressing it more firmly against your stomach, silently encouraging him, letting him know you’re ready.

Benny’s eyes darken with intensity at your response, his fingers tightening their hold on you. “It’s all I want now,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with raw emotion. He leans in, kissing you softly at first, savoring the warmth of your lips. Then, his kiss deepens, growing urgent and passionate, making your heart race.

He pulls back just enough to say, “I’ll show you how much I want you,” his breath hot against your lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulls you closer pressing his hard insistent cock firmly against your thighs. The sudden, powerful contact makes you moan, revealing in the strength of his desire that he’s been holding back, waiting until this very moment to let you feel just how much he needs you.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with longing.

His hand glides up your side, fingers tracing lightly over the silk of your nightie and he hooks his finger under the strap, slipping it off your shoulder.

You help him with the other strap, feeling his breath warm against your neck as he guides the fabric lower. He presses soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, each one more tender than the last, as he pulls the nightie down as far as he can.

You lift your hips, allowing him to hook his thumb into your panties, sliding them down along with the delicate nightie. He glides the fabric over your legs slipping everything off completely, leaving you naked and exposed beneath his gaze.

His hand finds your arm guiding you from your side onto your back and the away his hands move with such reverence and desire, makes your heart race.

“I know we can’t have a baby yet,” Benny says, his voice tense with lust, his eyes roaming over your body.

“But I’m going to practice tonight like it’s for keeps,” he promises.

Benny lifts himself over you, his movements controlled and steady. His body hovers above yours, the intensity in his eyes never wavering as he positions himself to take you completely

You reach up, trailing your hands along his broad shoulders holding them for support.

“Benny, I’m going to make sure we have that baby,” you promise him, your voice filled with resolve. “I’m stopping my pills tonight.”

His eyes gaze into yours with a strong sense of fulfillment and a slow satisfied smile forms at the corners of his lips.

With his strong arms braced on either side of your head, he lowers himself down, his lips capturing yours in a deep, sensual kiss, savoring every second, every touch, as if he’s determined to make you melt beneath him.

He settles between your thighs and his body is a delicious weight on yours. The sensation of his firm chest pressing against yours sends a thrill through you as the heat of his skin and the hard planes of his abs fit perfectly against your soft curves. It’s intoxicating, the strength of him surrounding you, making you feel both protected and utterly desired.

His hardened cock teasingly presses against your wetness,and the sensation makes you moan into his mouth which he captures in his heated kiss.

Your hands instinctively slide down his back, trailing over the firm muscles that tense beneath your fingertips. You reach down to the curve of your own hips, grasping the hem of your panties, desperate to remove the final barrier between you.

Benny’s lips trail down your neck, his kisses hot and lingering, and he helps you, his fingers brushing against yours as you tug at the delicate lace.

He grips the fabric firmly and there’s a brief pause, just enough time for you to feel the anticipation build, and then, with a sharp, satisfying tear, he rips the delicate lace apart. The sound of threads snapping fills the air, mingling with your soft gasp.

Benny slips the lace from your body and flings it aside, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss that is both raw and possessive. His body presses harder against you, his cock throbbing with need as he nudges it insistently against you.

His hands slide up your sides cupping your breasts as he circles your nipples with his thumbs, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You moan softly into his mouth, arching your back, pressing your chest against his hands, craving more of his touch, more of him.

Benny pulls back, breaking the kiss his breaths heavy and uneven as he presses harder against your sensitive nipples, rolling them slowly under his thumbs. He watches you intently, savoring every cry, every moan that escapes your lips, taking his time to draw out your pleasure.

“I want to hear more of those sweet sounds,” he rasps, lowering his mouth to take one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue flicks teasingly over the sensitive peak before he sucks gently, working his lips and tongue in unison as your moans turn into soft, breathless cries.

His free hand continues to knead and tease your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Your walls clench around nothing in response to the sensations he’s pulling from you.

Every lick, every pinch is planned, deliberate, keeping you teetering on the edge as he takes his time, savoring the way your body responds to him.

He shifts his body against yours, his hardened cock sliding through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness across your thighs. The slick heat between you only amplifying your physical need for each other.

“Baby, you’re so wet for me,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he feels the slickness coating his length. He nudges his tip against your entrance, making you cry out, your hips lifting in response, seeking more of him.

His hands slide down from your breasts, gliding over your waist and settling firmly on your hips. His grip is possessive as he spreads your legs into the perfect position.

His cock is hard, throbbing with an almost painful need as the tip presses against your entrance. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust as he slowly pushes his hips forward.

His large cock eases into your slick tight walls sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body, your moans blending with his low, guttural groans as he pushes you to take it deeper.

He moves with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch as he fills you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pressure that has you arching into him, craving him as he continues to push. Benny groans, the sound deep and primal, as he buries himself into you completely his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with his ragged breaths as he begins to move, each thrust measured, designed to push you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tight, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts , the rhythm between you building, intensifying with each passing second.

“Baby.. you feel so good,” Benny pants, his voice rough with desire. His lips find yours again, capturing your moans as his pace quickens, the pleasure coursing through you both. You can feel the tension building, the sweet, unbearable pressure signaling your impending release. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

He breaks the kiss, his breath warm and uneven against your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up soon,” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. “Gonna make you big and round, carrying our baby.” His hand slides possessively to rest on your stomach, his touch lingering and firm. “Everyone will know… how much I wanted this, how much I wanted you,” he breathes, his lips grazing your ear with each word

Benny’s other hand moves down, slipping between your legs his fingers brushing over your clit with deliberate, teasing strokes.

His fingers circle your clit, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his words sink in, heightening the intensity of the moment. “You want that, don’t you?” he breathes, his voice deepening with desire.

You moan in response, your breath hitching as you manage to say, “Y-yes!…Yes I want that Benny.”

“Good “ he says grinding his hips harder and pushing his cock deeper, as his hand continues its relentless assault on your clit. “I want you to come baby,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, “come knowing what we’re going to make together… knowing how much I wanted to get you pregnant tonight.”

His words, his touch, and the deep, steady rhythm of his thrusts drives you to the edge. Your orgasm builds coiling the tension tighter and tighter until you can’t hold back any longer, it crashes through you, a tidal wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your body convulsing around him as you cry out his name.

“Take it deep for me” he groans with exertion feeling your walls tightening around his cock and a final, powerful thrust, Benny follows you into oblivion, his groans are guttural and raw, as he comes inside of you, his cock pulsing as his body trembles with the force of his release.

His breath comes in short, ragged pants as his hips gently grind against you, savoring every last moment of pleasure. Each spasm of his cock sending waves of warmth through your body.

He softly collapses against you, his breaths hot and ragged “The next one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice filled with exhaustion and excitement making a shared grin spread across both of your faces, knowing your mutual desire for the real thing.

He plants a tender kiss on your forehead, both of you spent but utterly satisfied, lost in the afterglow of a moment that feels like a new exciting path on your life adventure.

He’s Mine

After making sure Benny is settled in the morning, his breakfast finished and his medications taken, you sweetly kiss him on the forehead and tell him you’re going to make a quick dash to the grocery store.

As you get behind the wheel of your Mustang, you decisively head toward the Vandals’ club the grocery run was a rouse you had planned. The roar of the engine beneath you revs in the background of your focused thoughts. Your mind is set on a single goal: getting Benny out of the Vandals and claiming him all for yourself.

Once you arrive at the club you park the Mustang with precision, ensuring it’s securely locked before striding across the street. Dressed in a fitted crop top and high-waisted jeans, with a purse casually draped over your shoulder, you project confidence and determination. Each click of your heels against the pavement resonates with purpose as you approach the Vandal club.

With a deep breath, you push open the front door, your resolve unwavering.

The interior is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and stale beer. Only a few members are scattered around, some lounging, others staggering with drunkenness. Their eyes follow you as you enter, faint whistles being heard some looking you over with curiosity and others something darker.

One of them, a long haired man with tattoos creeping up his neck, steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he gets a closer look. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your skin crawl. “You lost, little lady? Or maybe you’re just looking for some company?” he adds with a sly grin.

You don’t hesitate, your voice cutting through his sleazy haze like a knife. “Where’s Johnny?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, your stance firm and unyielding.

The man holds up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. “Easy pretty lady. Johnny’s in the back. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Within minutes, you find yourself sitting face-to-face with Johnny in his office. The tension in the room is thick. You are leaned back in your chair, arms and legs crossed, barely concealing your irritation. Johnny, with his elbows resting on the table and fingers interlaced, has a look of avoidance on his face as he tries to gauge your mood.

You lock eyes with Johnny, your gaze unwavering as his eyes dart around, deliberately avoiding yours.

Beneath the surface, your anger simmers, but you keep it in check, your voice firm and resolute.

“You can’t have him, the club can’t have him,” you state, each word carrying the weight of your decision, leaving no room for argument.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Who?”

Your voice sharpens, cutting through the tense air. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Benny!” you snap, sitting up straighter as your arms cross tighter against your chest.

Johnny’s smirk fades, replaced by a cold, calculating look as he finally grasps your intent. Before he can respond, you press on, your voice steady but charged with emotion.

“He’s mine,” you declare with a possessive edge staking your claim on Benny with every ounce of determination you have.

Johnny’s eyes lock onto yours, recognition dawning that you’re not to be taken lightly. Benny was right you are tougher than you look.

Johnny remains silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of your words. A flicker of respect crosses his face as he realizes you’re not backing down.

You lean in further, frustration and fear making your voice rise.

“If he keeps riding his motorcycle for the club, he’s going to die one way or another. It’ll kill him, and you know it!”

Johnny meets your eyes with mock concern, his voice dismissive. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

You don’t back down, your eyes brimming with the intensity of your emotions.

Johnny looks away from you, thinking it over, trying to convey the nature of Benny’s independence.

“I don’t own Benny, just like you don’t own Benny,” Johnny says, his tone hardening to emphasize the point.

“Ain’t nobody can tell that kid nothin’,” he continues, as if the matter is settled but your eyes still lock onto his undeterred.

“He’s grown,” Johnny adds, his tone firm as if that finalizes everything.

As you continue to stare him down Johnny makes Bennys independence clear.

“If he wants to ride a bike, he’s gonna ride a bike,” Johnny says with a shrug, the finality in his voice knowing Benny’s choices have always been for himself.

You lean forward, your voice firm and pleading. “Not if you tell him not to. Not if you tell him he’s out of the club.”

Johnny scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “C’mon,” he mutters.

Your anger flares, your eyes locking onto his.

“I’m his wife, NOT you,” you snap, each word sharp and pointed.

Johnny’s eyes narrow. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he quips

You meet his gaze, unwavering and full of raw emotion. “Oh, I know you love him, I love him too,” you confess, your words hanging in the air. “That’s why you’ve got to help me.”​

For a brief moment, something flickers in Johnny’s eyes, something like hesitation or guilt, but it’s quickly replaced by his hardened expression. “Are you done?” he asks, his voice cold, his brows easing as if trying to brush off the weight of your words.

You shake your head, the tension still thick between you. “I don’t know, am I?” you retort, challenging him with your defiance.

Johnny leans back in his chair, his patience wearing thin, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something he won’t name. “You got anything more to say?” he asks, his voice tight with barely contained annoyance.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “No. I said it,” you confirm, your voice final.

The silence that follows is heavy, an unspoken showdown as you both stare at each other. Finally, Johnny looks away, his expression twisted with annoyance . You stand abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you push it back, your heels echoing in the small office as you head for the door.

Before you leave, you turn back one last time, your voice sharp and definitive. “You can’t have him. The club can’t have him. he’s mine”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Johnny alone with the truth he doesn’t want to face: you’re determined to separate Benny from his life, as a Vandal and he can’t allow that to happen.

🏍️ To be continued 🏍️

➡️Part 6: For Keeps

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 life at risk, his decision is finalized changing both of your lives forever.

🔗 Master List

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @butdaddyilovehim99 @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories @fallout-girl219

🏷️Always Tags Me List 💌

@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

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[w2soneshots]

Wife material -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cowgirl, established relationship.

summary: you and your soon to be husband spend a romantic night together before you tie the knot.

notes: hello loves! I haven’t been getting any Harry requests recently (send em in) so I thought I’d just write a smut😭. I hope you enjoy!!❤️‍🔥🫶🏼

In a week's time I'm going to be marrying my best friend, the love of my life. Me and Harry have been together for over seven years. He proposed last year and we've been planning our small and intimate wedding for six months.

It's been quite stressful getting everything sorted, from the dress, to the venue, food, the guests and everything else that comes along with weddings. We're only having around forty people so that takes the weight off a little bit.

I spent all of my day running around London to get the last few things done. When I returned home I opened the front door to see that the lights were dimmed and that there was a trail of rose petals leading to the kitchen. I was surprised to say the least. Me and Harry aren't a really romantic, soppy couple so things like this never really happen.

I dropped the bags in my hands and followed the red petals. Harry stood by our dining table with a sheepish smile. I walked up to him and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He instinctively placed his hands on my waist. I pecked him quickly on the lips as I pulled away to look at him.

"All this for me?" I smiled. "You deserve it. You've been so busy I thought it'd be nice to spend some time together. So I made dinner." He looked slightly embarrassed. "Ugh, I love you." I kissed him once more and then moved away to look at the food.

I sat down. "My favourite." I smiled as he sat opposite me. We started eating and he asked me about my day. I told him all about the nightmare I had trying to pick up the bridesmaids dresses along with my review of the new restaurant that just opened down the street, which is where I stopped off for lunch. He listened with an amused look on his face.

After eating dinner I was quick to offer to do the dishes. Harry protested for a few minutes before he gave up, but he still helped. As I placed the last dish on the drying rack I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my torso.

Harry peppered soft kisses along my shoulder. I leaned back into him, humming happily. His grip tightened slightly. We stood there in a comfortable silence for a few moments before I turned around in his arms.

I stared up at him. His hands moved down to the back of my thighs, he lifted me onto the counter in one swift motion. My fingers gently raked through his hair. "Mmm." He hummed quietly, then pulled me into a strong kiss. We weren't rushing anything, it was slow and passionate.

After a few minutes Harry lifted me again and walked us both into our bedroom. He placed me down on the bed, quickly crawling on top of me. My hands moved down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. He quickly did the same with my tank top, leaving me in just a small, lacy bra.

He glanced down at my exposed torso. "Can't wait to marry you. 'm so lucky." He whispered. I smiled, pulling him back into the kiss. I hummed as his hand grabbed my breast, gently massaging it. "Pants, take them off." I breathed into his mouth.

Harry quickly moved off of me, leaning against the headboard, so he could shuffle his sweatpants and boxers off in one go, I did the same. Once I was finished and completely naked -other than my bra- I hiked my leg over Harry's lap and straddled his legs.

He placed a hand on the back of my neck to pull me into him, connecting our lips once again. His other hand traveled down to my dripping cunt. He swiped a finger through my folds making me gasp, he quickly slipped his tongue into my mouth. Then he began circling my clit, I let out a quiet whine.

I shifted my hips. "Harry..." I trailed off. "You ready love?" He asked, voice low. "Mhm." I managed to mumble. He removed his hand for a second while he lined his painfully hard cock up with my entrance. A deep groan escaped his lips and his eyes momentarily shut as I slowly sank down.

"Christ- y/n..." he placed his hands on my hips, gripping tightly. I began moving and he helped to keep a steady rhythm. He buried his head into the crook of my neck. I threw my head back and gripped his hair tight as his dick perfectly touched my g-spot.

"Fuck, Harry- I'm close!" I moaned. Tears streamed down my face. "So am I. Come baby, come on my cock." He muttered. For the first time ever we came at the exact same time. It felt unbelievable. We both breathed heavily as we caught our breaths, my head fell to his chest. "That was-" Harry mumbled into my hair. "yeah, that was..." words couldn't even describe the feeling.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Japan is here to save the slump

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2025 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 20 of 24 - Santa is really good at comedy, I gotta say. Wine is so cute 'cause he's so frank and earnest. It's adorable! (Inquiring minds would like to know if people in Thailand put perfume on their cheeks?) Lots of linguistic negotiation of pronouns in this episode so that made me really happy.

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 10 end - OMG they made them act and SING at the same time. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (Raise your proverbial hand if you could actually hear me writhing in pain as that scene aired? Because my whole body was cringing so hard I swear I fractured my own cartilage.) I’m sorry but this show was doing really well for a Mame but that singing was sphincter-shrinking bad. And seemingly endless…

Okay the second half: The running of the gays, how very Japanese of you. So about 1/2 of the final ep was utterly unbearable, but the rest was fine.

Let's talk?

This show had an excellent premise about two fated mates, Cir & Phu, destined to be lovers in multiple parallel worlds. It is the curse of A Cir Who Knows Better to ensure that they manage to always end up together. This effectively explained all Cir’s weird creepy stalker behavior (pièce de résistance of a MAME seme) with the bonafide excuse of that tugging red thread. Turns out I forgive a lot for a strong premise, especially when combined with truly stellar chemistry. *But* there was also some bad chewing of the scenery and really terrible singing at key moments that screwed the landing (yes that too, but). The sex scenes were some of the best we’ve ever had, unfortunately even they weren’t good enough to mitigate that damn singing. 8/10

A solid showing from MAME, I was shocked, there was a point there when I thought this was gonna get a 9/10 from me! 

My Golden Blood (Weds YouTube iQIYI) Ep 1 of 12 - Trailer. GMMTV taking on Weds nights and midweek discourse (they hope) with this hotly anticipated vampire series. Is Thailand finally giving us the trashy gay vampires we richly deserve? Just keep in mind us sh*theads don't deserve much.

And it looks like that's exactly what we are getting.

I'm sorry ya'll: I don't like it. But not in a "witty trash watch" kinda way. So it's going here instead: You ready?

Classic main character = orphan with a mysterious past and bad dreams plus people around are weird about his certain traits. I wonder the thing I always wonder, why not give him martial arts training if he has known enemies? I've done various forms for years and never once cut myself. Of course Joss has a shirtless coming out if a pool intro. I can hear the dev team... "Hear me out now, baywatch just... vampires." I see we have new competition in the Advanced Bravely school of muscled thirst. As it should be. Been a while since we’ve had anyone on the scene who could give Jason Xu a run for his money. Joss is just the man to flex it. Is it just me or does this pair have negative chemistry? Yes we can all tell this is directed GAY! but Joss + Gawin do not seem even the slightest bit gay. The camera on the other (em) hand...

I asked for gay twilight, I’m getting gay twilight. Same lack of chemistry, bad special effects, and everything.

(Theory: Mark was the one who killed/drained all of Tong's fam of their golden blood and that is how he got his healing power.)

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 8 or 10 - all I care about is the side couple. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 10 of 12 - I do like EarthMix. I just really wish this were a better show. I kinda feel bad for them. That said, l love the host club + live gay boys reaction. Snicker 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Secret Relationships (Korea iQIYI) ep 3 of 8 - I continue to enjoy this a lot. I like how creepy and sinister pretty much everybody is (except for our puppy hero). Who is dog paddling through the filth of his crush's love triangle of past relationships. I like the fact that in the theater an unofficial pass was made. It was totally adorable. Every one is a mess and it's sustaining all of BL right now.

Checkered Shirt (Korea YT) ep 6 of 8 - Baby boy do not flirt with a closet case! Have you learned nothing?

Fight for Love (Vietnam YT) ep 6 of 8 - didn't drop or I somehow missed it. Caught it! It was lovely, nice kiss, I like where the plot is going although... no singing please.

Exclusive Love (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Our poor little gay boy is being v tested. And testing himself. Side couple = tiny idiots. In other news, one of them is wearing a shirt I actually own! I feel like peek BL stan. (Also I may shop too much in Taipei.) Does I qualify for the shared BL communal wardrobe?

The main trope to rule all BL tropes has returned= he is never asleep.

It's airing but......

Gelboys (Thai iQIYI) 7 eps - I’m giving this show a pass. It’s just too far out of my wheelhouse. I don’t have patience right now. Ends next week.

The Last Time (Thai WeTV) 8 eps - Has this ended? Anyone watch it?

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) 13 eps - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. Doesn't interst me, not sure if it's BL.

Last Meal Universe (Thai ????) 8 eps - An alien who has come to destroy earth instead falls in love with Thai food and then the Thai boy who cooks it - realistic, actually. I got a link to watch but it still wouldn't work for me, so I guess I'm waiting to see what happens.

In case you missed it:

CUTEST little JBL short drop on YT. No idea it's real title. About 2 students secretly dating trying to decide to come out. It's popular guy + nerd! Absolutely not sure how long this will last on YT but adorable and worth 17 minutes of your time. Do it ASAP! I don't want a repeat of everyone asking me for Wimpy Corporate Drone again. There seems to be a pervious installment in the series, but no subs.

Don't say I never bring you any prezzies.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming March 2025

3/19? Lost in the Woods (Weds Gaga) Ep 1 of 7 - Announced for 2023, adapted from a novel of the same name. Fifa just graduated high school and travels to a remote province to take care of his grandma, before starting uni. There he meets Chief Hem, a forest ranger.

3/20 Top Form (Thailand Thurs WeTV) 10 eps - Trailer. Adaptation of a Japanese manga starring Boom (Chains of Heart) opposite Smart (Don't Say No). Actor recognized as the "The Sexiest Man of the Year" has his first-place position usurped by newcomer. But while he sees them as rivals, turns out the new kid has other ideas. I'm super excited for this but hate watching on WeTV so gonna be a challenge.

3/21 Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Thailand Fri GMMTV & iQIYI) 12 eps - Trailer. Finally Mark is leading a BL! This one based on a Jittirain novel about a weird sunshine student dentist and his sugar-addicted patient, described as a romcom meets romantic therapy. Also, Jimmy is there, primarily to give me second lead syndrome. It looks silly but earnest, I'm looking forward to it actually.

3/28 Heesu in Class 2 (Korea Fri ????) 10 eps - Trailer. Adaption of the comic by Lily, about a shy unpopular boy with a secret crush on best friend who somehow also ends up his school's relationship counselor. Supposed to have completed filming in 2022, the fact this has been in dev hell since then somewhat mitigates this being my most anticipated BL of it's original year.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Drive by phone repair for the win. I love them both so much.

That is the jock saying it to the nerd. Yes our nerd is the top in this dynamic. When I tell you to watch a thing, I'm not joking around!

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[ak319]

a nice request because we all deserve it, sadie and reader being besties/soulmates/sisters and even if people try to separate them, they somehow always come back together

When Sadie joined the gang, you were thrilled to have another woman you could truly call a sister. But when Arthur told you what she’d been through, you felt a shock settle over you and an urge to make her feel as comfortable in the gang as possible.

You didn’t do much work around camp yourself, likely second only to Molly in doing almost nothing, but Arthur’s hard work covered both of your shares. Even so, you could feel lazy at times. So when Sadie arrived and Ms. Grimshaw started scolding her for being a burden, you stepped in, doing more of the work so that Sadie could rest and cope with her trauma.

Your care and company helped her eventually open up to you, and you came to see what a remarkably strong woman she truly was. You couldn’t be prouder.

"Hey, (Y/N)." You turned to see Sadie striding over, her new gear and black jacket catching the late sun, an excited gleam in her eyes. Setting aside the dish you’d been scrubbing, you smiled. "Well, don’t you look dashing."

She winked, leaning against the basin with a smirk. "Wasn’t I always?" She tossed you a playful look, then tilted her head. "So…you know how to shoot a gun, right?"

You felt a little heat in your cheeks as you chuckled nervously. "Uh, gun? Not exactly."

Sadie blinked in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "What?! You’ve been living with outlaws all your life, and neither of ‘em thought to teach you?"

"Well…” you shrugged, glancing away. “I was young when Dad was around, and after he passed, I just never felt the need, I guess. And once we were with the gang--” You trailed off, only for Sadie to scoff and seize your arm, tugging you toward the woods without a second thought.

“HEY! Hey! Where are we going?!”

“Where do you think? I’m gonna teach you, girly!"

“Teach what?” Arthur’s shadow fell across both of you as he stepped into your path.

Sadie glanced up at him, not an ounce of her spark fading. “I’m gonna teach her to shoot, Arthur.”

“And why’s that, Ms. Adler?”

Sadie met his gaze, unflinching. “Because she’s my friend, and don’t you think the sister of the ‘best gunslinger in the West’ oughta know how to handle a weapon? She oughta learn, right, (Y/N)?” She looked at you with a fierce grin, her confidence contagious. You gave a firm nod. “Yeah…I do want to learn.” Arthur’s gaze shifted to you, a small scoff escaping him.

"Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "But don’t be gettin’ reckless. Be back soon. Don't got too far."

Sadie smirked, unfazed. “Can you stop orderin’ us around for one damn second, Morgan?” She nudged his shoulder as she marched you past, puffing up with satisfaction.

“Damn…” You chuckled as you walked beside her. “That was fun to watch, do that every day, please.”

She laughed with you, her stride bold as you both reached a clearing deep in the woods. There, with patient resolve, she taught you how to handle the gun, steady your aim, and shoot straight, her guiding presence turning each attempt into a small triumph.

Shooting wasn’t the only thrill that had become a staple in your friendship with Sadie. At least once a week, you both made it a point to slip into town, getting up to whatever mischief caught your fancy. It didn’t matter if it was something as innocent as shopping, where Sadie often barked down the shopkeepers during bargaining, or something as wild as crashing a wedding. You couldn’t help but smirk, you could officially check that one off your list.

When you both returned to camp, it wasn’t long before Susan caught sight of you, her face pinched in that familiar disapproving way. “Where did you two run off to today, hmm? Having fun while others do the work?”

Sadie shot back without missing a beat, her tone dripping with defiance. “Of course, we had fun. By the look of you, I’d say it’s been a while since you’ve had any.”

You nudged Sadie, stifling a laugh, though the humor didn’t last long. Susan’s voice cut through with a sharper edge. “Well, some of us do actual work around here instead of frolicking around all day in town.”

You took a deep breath, deciding to keep it civil. “I went after finishing what I could for the day, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Oh? And by that, you mean what? Washing two pieces of clothing?” Her scoff stung, and your smile faded. That was it.

“Now, first of all, I don’t have to do any of it,” you replied, voice steady but firm, “seeing as this whole camp practically thrives off what my brother does. But I still help out, from the goodness of my heart. C’mon, Sadie.”

You grabbed Sadie’s arm, and she looked at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before breaking into a grin. “Well, look at that. My company’s finally having an effect on you, in a good way, I’d say.”

“I’m just sick of all the chore talk. Can’t a girl relax once in a while?”

Once you’d left Susan fuming in your wake, you and Sadie joined Abigail and the others, handing out the little gifts you’d picked up in town. The warm smiles from Abigail, Jack, and the rest made it worth it, a small reminder of what life outside the gang could feel like.

Soon enough, sneaking out became something of a habit. You and Sadie would slip out at night when Arthur was away on a job, sometimes taking the other women along. No Ms Grimshaw scolding or nagging to keep you tied down, just the freedom to be a little reckless, to feel like you had some control. And Charles? When he patrolled, he was easily convinced to keep it all a secret.

But Ms Grimshaw did have her ways of finding things...

"Well, if it isn’t our very own troublemakers," she snapped, her gaze fixed on you and Sadie, who were both just returning from a night out with the others. You’d barely managed to set down your packs when she stormed over, hands on her hips. “Thought you could sneak out and cause a ruckus without anyone noticing, did you? It’s dangerous enough out there as it is, but dragging others into your little escapades is a step too far.”

Sadie rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, and you braced yourself, knowing the real storm hadn’t even hit yet. Grimshaw shot both of you a withering look, muttering something about going straight to Dutch.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Dutch himself found you both by the campfire, his face a blend of frustration and disappointment. He folded his arms, giving you both a hard look. “Now, I heard some interesting things from Ms. Grimshaw this morning. You two think it’s wise to be sneaking around, taking half the camp along for a joyride? With Pinkertons and O’Driscolls sniffing around every corner?!”

Sadie stayed silent, her jaw set as Dutch’s gaze landed on her. "Sadie, I understand you’re your own woman, but this here’s a family. And we look out for each other’s safety. Taking the others out at night like that, it puts everyone at risk.”

You felt the weight of Dutch’s words, but Sadie huffed, arms crossed defiantly. “You call us family, Dutch, but don’t expect us to live like caged animals. We’re careful, we weren’t out in the open.”

Dutch’s frown deepened as he turned to you. “And you, (Y/N), you should know better than this. You might not be one of my gunslingers, but you still have a role to play. What if something had happened to you? Or one of the others? Arthur won't be happy if he found out...do you want that?”

Swallowing, you looked down, the reality of his worry sinking in, but not enough to make you feel you’d done something wrong. “NO! I mean--don't tell him please Dutch, and I’m sorry. But… it was just some time away from the camp, just a way to feel normal for a bit. No one got hurt. We’re still careful.”

He shook his head, looking both of you over before sighing. “Careful or not, you keep this up, and it’ll bring nothing but trouble. Next time, you both think long and hard about what’s at stake here!”

Once Dutch walked away, you looked at Sadie, both of you sharing a silent understanding. The scolding might have left a sting, but it wouldn’t change what you’d built together. She nudged your shoulder with a smirk.

“Well, at least he didn’t send us packing.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Ain’t nothing gonna change, is it? Not Dutch, not Grimshaw, and certainly not us.”

Sadie grinned. “Nope. Not one bit.”

⋆⋆⋆

Word had gotten around the camp that Dutch’s scolding hadn’t done much to break up your mischief with Sadie. The next time you found yourself alone by the fire, Charles approached, looking a little uneasy as he settled next to you.

“You know, (Y/N),” he began carefully, “I’m not trying to get in your way, but a lot of folks are worried about you and Sadie going off so often. It’s... reckless, especially with all the dangers around.”

You shot him a look, half-amused and half-defensive. “Charles, you know Sadie and I aren’t careless. And you know better than anyone that the camp needs a little... escape.”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, as if he wanted to say something more but hesitated. “Look, maybe for a bit, you should keep a low profile. Sadie’s got her hands full around here already. You know Grimshaw’s not about to let this go.”

The gentle nudge was clear, Charles was subtly trying to steer you away from Sadie, hoping it might keep the peace. You gave him a smile that you hoped would reassure him.

“I’ll think about it, Charles,” you replied, even though you had no real intention of distancing yourself from Sadie.

But the subtle hints didn’t end there. The next morning, Grimshaw handed you a mountain of chores, insisting you stay busy while Sadie got sent on an errand with Arthur, as if the camp were conspiring to keep you apart. The day felt like it dragged on forever, and by the time you were done, Sadie still hadn’t returned. You wandered back to your tent feeling restless, the quiet gnawing at you.

Finally, near dusk, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Sadie had returned, looking as annoyed as you felt, her gaze scanning the camp until it landed on you.

She sauntered over, her usual confidence edged with a slight smirk. “Heard they kept you real busy today.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You, too. They sent you out with Arthur?”

“Sure did,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Probably thought he’d keep me ‘in line.’ But if they think a few chores and errands are gonna split us up, they’re wasting their time.”

You both shared a grin, the unspoken understanding strengthening whatever they’d tried to weaken.

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to be a little smarter about sneakin’ off,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Sadie chuckled, crossing her arms. “Reckon we will. Besides, it’ll be fun to keep ‘em guessing.”

⋆⋆⋆

Life at the ranch was a new kind of quiet you hadn’t known before. After everything, this normalcy, the steady rhythm of days spent under a roof, sharing meals with Abigail, John, Arthur and little Jack, felt almost surreal. You’d never imagined feeling the weight of peace settle like this. Thank God, that blindfold of loyalty is finally off your brother. Yet, even with a good life beginning to take root, you couldn’t shake the ache from how it had all ended...or how, despite everything, you and Sadie had been separated, each of you pulled in different directions as the dust settled.

Charles had told you she was safe somewhere out there, making a name for herself in whatever way only Sadie Adler could. But there was a hint of betrayal you couldn’t shake, an edge to the thought of her that made you wonder if she’d left you behind as part of that rough world you’d survived together.

On this particular morning, you were sitting on the porch with Jack, who was excitedly yapping away about a new book he’d found. It had become your morning ritual, letting him share every detail of the story while you sip your coffee, the soft morning light casting a gentle calm over the two of you.

But the peace was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hooves in the distance. When you looked up, your heart skipped a beat. A lone rider, the silhouette familiar even from a distance. She rode into view, her hat tipped low, and you knew before she’d even slowed her horse.

“Sadie!” you shouted, the disbelief almost louder than your voice. You jumped up and ran to her, barely giving her time to dismount before you threw yourself into her arms. She wrapped you up tight, the both of you laughing, giddy with that same energy you’d shared back in camp.

But then, as the reality of her long absence hit, you started punching her, soft jabs that held more meaning than harm. "You absolute snake! BITCH!” you muttered, hitting her shoulder, her arm, anywhere you could reach. “You just left! No word, no letter...nothing! Do you know how long I waited?”

Sadie took it, grinning like she was actually enjoying the punishment, her laughter spilling out as she grabbed your hands to stop you from flailing. “Alright, alright! I deserve that, probably more. But I didn’t forget you, y’know.” She held your shoulders firmly, her face softening as she looked you in the eyes. “I never could dumbass.”

“Then why’d you stay gone so damn long?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Her expression turned serious, the reality of it all weighing on her. “Some things I had to settle on my own. And I knew you’d be safe here, with Arthur, John and Abigail. With family.” She squeezed your shoulder. "So now, you're talkin' to a real gold-ass bounty hunter," she said, throwing her arms out like a magician who’d just pulled off the trick of a lifetime. "But I’m here now, and I’m not plannin’ on disappearing again anytime soon.”

You let out a long breath, feeling the hurt ease a bit. “You better not,” you replied, hugging her tight again.

Soon enough, the others came out, drawn by the commotion and Jack's excited voice as he kept chatting with Sadie. The day rolled on with laughter and good company, and later, you and Sadie found yourselves sitting on the porch, enjoying the quiet night as she smoked.

“(Y/N), you’re mostly free, right?” Sadie asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“Um… no, I do work around here… and all,” you replied, caught a bit off guard.

“What if you didn’t for a few days?” Her eyes sparked with mischief, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself.

“You mean…”

“Yep! It’s time you learned a bit of bounty hunting,” she said, voice full of excitement. “Imagine it: two women, both traumatized by men, turning into man-hunting machines. Don’t you want that?”

“But Arthur… he won’t, and we left all this life behind-”

“Shh!” Sadie swatted at your face with dramatic flair. “Excuses are the root of failure. Enjoy a little , c'mon, just like the old times.”

“But we have a ranch-”

“FUCK THE RANCH!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Look (Y/N)...I wanna a home of my own and for that...I gotta remain in this field for a while so I can get somethin' to call my own, y'know.”

"This ranch is big enough for us all, Sadie. Of course we all will welcome you with open arms if you wanna stay here."

"I know, I know, and thanks, but no. I just want something of my own, even if it’s small. I mean, I can do it alone, y'know, but I want you by my side. And seeing that everyone else has left this lifestyle behind, I know they're definitely not gonna be joining me, not even Arthur. Now that we're free from all the gang shit, I thought we could roam and enjoy the rest of this life as much as we can." Her voice softened with each word as she stared down at her lap.

You looked down, thinking about it. She did deserve that after losing everything she had. And who wouldn't want to explore with their friend endlessly? You put your arm around her shoulders and gave a firm shake. “Say less.”

⋆⋆⋆

“No. Absolutely the hell not. Are you insane?!” Arthur snapped, finally turning around from his spot.

“Arthur, please! Be a good brother right now and just say, ‘Of course, (Y/N), you can go and have a good time with your pal.’ Come on, say it.”

He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “If you think I’m just gonna say yes to you running around out there, then you are DUMB!”

Abigail, standing nearby, came to the rescue. “Arthur, they’re just going for a trip. It’s nothing big, and Sadie can more than handle it. So can (Y/N). They’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, Arthur’s right,” John chimed in.

“Shut up, John. Please,” you replied, giving him a gentle nudge as you turned back to Arthur, your voice softening. “Pleaseee, Arthur! If you don’t let me go, I’ll… I’ll seriously do something drastic--t-to to myself!” You gave him your best pleading look.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes at your childish blackmailing. “You’re laying it on real thick,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave Sadie a look. “And you, I know this whole thing was your idea!”

Sadie shrugged leaning against the chair. "It's just something we both need."

“Like hell you do! My decision is final. And you-” Arthur turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Think twice before even stepping foot off this ranch.” With that, he stormed off, leaving you both in tense silence.

But you were having none of it. He still thought of you as a child, someone who couldn’t defend herself, who couldn’t even swat a fly, let alone fend off danger. You glanced over at Sadie, who was staring off into the distance, a flicker of guilt settling into her expression, as though she regretted bringing it up and getting you tangled in her plans. And you didn’t like that one bit.

This was the woman who had taught you to be confident, to speak up, to stand your ground when the world tried to tell you otherwise. She was more like a sister than a friend, the person you’d count on to get through even the worst of times. You were each other’s rocks, through every fight and every high. Sadie would bring you gifts to cheer you up when things felt bleak. And now she was just trying to carve a space for herself, a house of her own, where she could finally feel free.

A spark of determination lit inside you. If she wanted a place to call her own, then by God, you were going to make sure she got it.

That night, as everyone else drifted off to sleep, you packed a small bag with essentials, just enough to keep you going for a couple of days. You knew Arthur would be furious, but you also knew he’d forgive you eventually. He had to understand that some choices were yours to make.

Carefully, you slipped out of the house and made your way across the moonlit yard, avoiding the creaky spots on the floorboards that might wake someone. Outside, the night air was cool and still, and the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle creaking of the barn as it settled. You made your way toward the stables, saddling your horse as quickly and quietly as you could. You took a steadying breath before mounting up, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and fear. This was your choice, and you were ready to see it through.

With a gentle nudge, you rode into the night, following the faint trail that would lead you to Sadie. You knew exactly where she was camping, she’d mentioned it enough times, and you’d memorized her directions. You just hoped she hadn’t moved.

After a few hours of riding, you spotted her fire in the distance, flickering like a beacon. You dismounted and walked up, and as you drew closer, you saw her sitting by the fire, eyes widening in surprise as she looked up.

“What in hell’s name, (Y/N)! What’re you doing here?” Sadie gasped, scrambling to her feet. Her surprise turned into a grin as she realized what you’d done.

“Arthur or no Arthur, I’m not letting you go on this adventure alone,” you replied, determination in your voice. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. Always.” Sadie’s face broke into a mischievous smile and pulled you into a quick, tight hug.

“I knew there was a reason I kept ya around.”

[jyoongim]

I'm sorry to add to your likely ever growing list of requests but may I pitch an idea:

Alastor absolutely head over heals for a married reader, but since his mama raised him right he'd never make a real move. He's sure he can show you he's sooo much better anyway, and you'd leave your husband for him eventually.

BUT then his rut hits and the chivalry goes out the window no matter how hard he tries to stay sane and he just NEEDS reader right NOW, wedding ring be damned.

Title: UNWILLINGLY YOURS❤️‍🔥

Part 2!

warning: Reader is married! Non-con sex (I DIDNT EVEN KNOW I COULD WRITE THIS????) possessive, jealous, obsessive behaviors, one-sided pining, breeding kink/impregnantion, Al is a homewrecker!!!, husband is a sweet bean!, rough sex, creampie, marriage guilt

Let me know if I’m missing something!!

———————————————————————

You were a constant face in Cannibal Town. You often helped Rosie at her Emporium, helping her sell her goodies, have a good chat, and help those who come to see the female Overlord.

You could often be found in an apron splattered in blood with a sharp grin on your face.

Alastor found you adoring. He thought you were the sweetest thing that ever graced Hell.

So imagine the way his shadow simmered when he saw a wedding ring shining on your finger…

The Overlord’s eyes narrowed when he saw your husband would come in, greeting Rosie and before the sinner could locate you, you were chirping happily as you jumped into his arms, dragging the man to taste what you had been cooking.

He knew it wasn’t right.

To lust after a taken woman.

But seven hells were you beautiful.

You considered Alastor a friend. You were oblivious to his flirting and often thought he was just teasing.

He was a well-mannered demon and the two of you had a lot in common.

He deemed himself the better man.

Your husband was average. Alastor couldnt understand why you married him.

You needed someone strong and powerful. 

Someone who would worship the ground you walked on.

Someone who would worship you like you deserved.

You deserved to be spoiled, having things at your disposal at just a glance.

Alastor could give you all of those things if you just said the word.

If you would just leave your husband…..the world could be yours.

But all the gifts, flowers, and dates didnt seem to get through your head.

You kindly reminded the deer that you were married and you adored your spouse, but you gave him your appreciation in his efforts.

So like a gentleman, Alastor backed down. If you truly loved your husband than who was he to mess up a happy home?

But that desire to have you all to himself never went away.

You suited Alastor.

Your manners,personality, interests…

You were his perfect standard.

But you were already someone else’s.

But Alastor could wait…

————————————————————————

“Rosie I haven’t seen Alastor around, he hasn’t fall ill has he?” You asked the tall woman worriedly.

Rosie waved a dismissive hand “Oh he’s fine dear. he always goes into hiding every now and again. Probably just busy at that hotel of his”

You tugged your lips, the treat you had been making was one of the red demon’s favorite.

Maybe you should go and check on him?

After all…He was your friend.

”Im gonna take him some treats. I just want to check up on him.”

You knocked on the double doors of the hotel and waited.

You knocked again.

You heard some shuffling and then the door opened.

”What are you doing this way darlin?” 

You smiled softly seeing Alastor, holding up the goodies

”Hadn’t seen you in a while and was just worried that’s all. I was making these and know how much you love em”

The overlord let you in and you took in the hotel lobby.

It certainly had character.

You noticed Alastor hadn’t moved from the door and instead was staring at you. You tilted your head “You look like you wanna eat me Al” You wiggled your tail at him, smirking playfully

“But I doubt ill taste as good as these goodies I worked so hard on”

That seemed to snap him out of it as he cleared his throat, he escorted you to the radio tower.

Alastor was losing it.

His rut had came sooner than he anticipated and he has locked himself away until he had control over himself.

All he could think about was you.

And how you would look covered in his cum.

Covered? No that would be a waste…but if you were filled that was a different story.

Everyone had went out on some activity Charlie had planned so Alastor was holding the fort.

He had been stroking his cock, fisting the raging organ until it was pulsing and leaking. He had been thinking of you, the object of his affections and desires.

On your knees and begging to suck him.

He could feel an orgasm readying to erupt when a knock at the door interrupted his fantasy.

He growled and stomped to the front door when a familiar scent caught his nose.

You.

You were here.

Making sure he was okay.

You had been worried about him and even made him a snack.

Oh what a sweet thing you were.

If only you were his wife.

Alastor let you in, eyes raking over your figure as you looked around the hotel.

Eyes settling on the sway of your hips, before he heard your voice breakthrough the fog of desire.

”You look like you wanna eat me” you giggled.

 You were being playful. 

He knew that. 

But when you wiggled your backside, flickering your tail that set him off.

He was on you faster than you could blink, hands settling on your plush hips. His lips skimmed your ear “You would be even sweeter than these treats you’ve made.”

You shivered, trying to shrug him off “You’re just saying that”

Alastor chuckled as he nuzzled you, teeth nipping at your shoulder

”Oh I’d never lie about you darlin”

Your cheeks flushed and you went to move away from him when he pressed his hips against yours.

”A-Al?”

He growled against your ear, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

”You dont understand the effect you have on me my dear. It is taking everything in me to not have my way with you” 

You tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, a soft frown showing on your face.

”Alastor… t-this i-is inappropriate Im..you know I’m married”

The second the word slipped from your lips Alastor let out a feral growl, twirling you around to face him.

His eyes were black and pupils narrowed as he bared his teeth at you.

”That is irrelevant to me dear. You think I care of your bond to that pathetic excuse of a man?”

You went to hiss at him. 

Bared your fangs and defended your marriage.

But Alastor found your anger to be his tipping point as he slammed his lips onto yours, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened and you gasped subconsciously, making the red demon lean into you, swallowing the soft protests and whines you let out.

”A-Alastor..N-No I can’t…” you pulled away pushing against him, but the male didnt let you get away.

He sought after your lips, wanting to have his tongue down your throat. Sweet poisoned words spilled from his lips as he pressed you into his chest. 

“You’ll have to indulge me my dear. Youve been plaguing my mind for a while now and while I despise your husband, I respected you to give you space…”

A large hand wrapped around your neck, tightening. He tilted his head at you “However…you have approached me while I’m in season and reason have been slipping.”

In season? Your head was reeling. The fuck was he talking about… Oh!

Alastor had deer features… he…he was…

”What will your dear husband think when I send you back to him filled with my cum?” Alastor purred snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back, but he followed you.

You were pressed into a wall before you melted into the wall and found your back on a soft surface.

Alastor was on top of you, claws digging in your clothing; a rip met your ears and the cool air had you covering yourself.

“Alastor!” You yelped. The red demon grabbed at your hands, revealing your bare body to him.

Skin smooth like butter and free of marks. Your ample breasts were full and round, rising and falling with your rapid breathing.

His large hands kneaded the mounds, pinching and tweaking the soft peaks. His eyes roamed your soft stomach that was littered in stretch marks and slightly rounded, filtering into wide hips.

Satan you would look lovely carry his spawns.

“Al please! Let me go. I-Ill forget all about this incident and we can just pretend it never happened.” You placed your hands over his to slowly move them off your chest, he didnt protest.

 You knew Alastor. 

He wouldnt hurt you

His brain was just all twisted from hormones, he'll gain some sense.

Your breath caught when he pressed his nose against your heat.

Your thighs vibrated as a purr radiated through his chest.

”Such a sweet cunt” he mused, inhaling your scent.

“A-Al dont…i-I’m…I’m pregnant” you pleaded, trying to close your legs around his head and softly pushing him away from your intimate region.

Alastor stiffened at your words.

His eyes snapped to yours and then to your stomach.

Anger boiled inside him.

Pregnant? How dare someone-

“I-I wont tell my husband. We can just pretend this didnt happen. Just stop now and ill go” you tried to reason with the demon.

His eyes narrowed as a vicious growl ripped through his throat

Your husband…that’s right you weren’t his. You were married.

But he could fix that problem.

Alastor’s cock twitched at the thought.

”Oooh my dear that’s alright” he grinned up at you as he teased your slit. He lowered his head back between your legs

”Afterall…I would love to see you carrying my fawns”

Your eyes widened and before you could question him, Alastor sucked your clit into his mouth.

A ragged cry tore from your lips as the red demon lapped at your cunt. ”A-Al-lastor!”

Alastor swallowed the nectar that began to flow. 

You tasted better than he imagined.

Sweeter than honey.

He groaned as he pushed his tongue into your velvet walls, twirling and swirling to lap every drop your cunt produced.

You were trying to wiggle your hips away from him, but Alastor held your hips steady, nipping at your clit in warning.

Oh your husband had no idea of the treasure he had Alastor thought flicking your clit with his tongue. 

Such a perfect cunt.

Your soft groans of protests were music to his ears.

Suck. Lick. Flick. Repeat

Alastor tortured your poor puffy clit until your hips shuddered and rolling against his tongue. He moaned latching onto your cunt as you cried out, your nectar exploding into his mouth.

You panted as your heart thumped in your chest, feeling your body buzz as you floated.You took a deep breath maybe this was enough. Maybe he would let you go home.

You felt his kiss around your inner thighs and lick one final stripe up your slit, before moving his head from between your thighs.

Hes satisfied now…go-good…now to-

A heavy weight slapped against your thigh making you tense as you looked up at Alastor with horror in your eyes.

Tears welled in your eyes as a sob bubbled in your throat “N-no…no no no no no no!” Alastor’s hands cupped your cheeks as he tried to comfort your pleas, using his knees to widen your thighs.

”Its okay darling” he licked your wet cheek “You were such a good girl for me such a good girl” you felt him pepper your face in soft kisses. You pushed at his broad chest, hands pushing at anything you could shove, you shook your head in denial as he trapped you underneath him “Im pregnant! Y-You can’t! Please dont” You sobbed.

Alastor hissed, that jealous feeling rearing  “yeesss pregnant your husband must be so happy” you gasped as he pushed both your thighs to your chest, keeping them spread to expose your cunt and no pressure on your soft bump.

His cock stroked your cunt, angry red tip leaking as he rubbed against you.

“Your husband dont deserve you. You should be with a man who is feared and respected. Will worship you and the ground you walk…” He purred when his mushroom tip caught your clit

“Who can bring you to the peak of pleasure easily” 

Using his weight to hold your legs, he wiped the tears that streaked down your face, before slipping a hand between you.

“Al…N-no! AH!” The cry didnt even fully leave your lips when Alastor slotted his lips on yours as his hips slammed against yours, cock breaching your gummy walls, stretching.

Alastor’s antlers grew when he felt your cunt squeeze around him, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, groaning into your mouth when your walls gave way to him.

He chuckled against your lips.

Oh you were divine…

No way was he letting you go…

————————————————————————

“Oh that’s my good girl yeeesss I knew you’ll be good for me”

Alastor rasped as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, hips ramming into yours.

You couldnt even acknowledge his praise as he fucked you.

You felt numb.

dirty.

You had broken your wedding vows to your husband.

”You take my cock so well, knew you would. Such a sweet cunt.”

Alastor fucked your pussy like it was his.

Your body covered in love bites, sweat, and cum.

so much cum.

Alastor had emptied rope after rope of creamy cum inside you, filling you up til it pooled under your ass.

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my spawns doll. You take my cum well…fuck! Baby that’s right milk this cock take my cum take it fuck!”

Your back arched and a soft mewl left your lips.

He let out a low hiss as he slotted his hips against yours, cock twitching as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him, releasing another load of cum inside your womb.

Your thighs shook as he thrusted against you softly.

Alastor whispered sweet praises and affections against your skin.

”you take me so well”

”sweet cunt and its all mine”

He pulled out of you with a wet pop and yours flopped, a steady stream of cream dripping from your abused hole.

He licked from your neck to your hair, purring 

”that’s my girl”

Your body finally had enough and your vision went dark.

—————————————————————————————

“Honey you had me so worried! Thanks for bringing her home Alastor” your husband said appreciatively to the red demon, who smiled at the man. Your husband kissed your cheek as you walked through the door, he looked you over “Why dont you head to bed hmmm? You seem tired”

Alastor smiled wickedly “Yes do get your rest dear. Wouldnt want to faint again”

Your husband thanked the Overlord for bringing you home and as you turned to head upstairs, you heard him say to your husband

”Congratulations to you both by the way. Shell make a fine mother” you paused slightly before heading continuing up the stairs. Your husband laughed and thanked him again.

But before the door closed, Alastor watched as your husband ran behind you, you offered him a small smile that didnt meet your lips. As the man pulled you into a kiss, not seeing the tear that ran down your cheek. Your husband tried to palm your ass, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

His eyes followed the two of you going upstairs.

Alastor smirked watching a stream of cum run down your leg.

Yes congratulations indeed.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 is linked and posted!

[ragingbookdragon]

She feels the warmth flooding down the front of her gear as the frigidness seems to crawl up from her fingers and toes. Her breathing labors as the man pulls her inside the crumbling building under the veil of night and cradles her against his body, her back pressed against his chest. His fingers find their way underneath her vest, and she knows she should feel pain where his fingers press against, but all she feels is a numbness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters.

“Ghost,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’m scar—I’m scared, Ghost.”

He shakes his head a single time. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t wanna die,” she says more to herself than to him, panic setting in. “God, I don’t wanna die now. I don’t wanna—”

“You’re not dying,” Ghost growls. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Ghost—”

“You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna fix this. I’ll fucking fix—”

“Simon,” she stresses, shifting enough to see his face from the corner of her eye. “I’m dying.”

He swallows thickly and gazes at her for a moment before the lump returns. “Fuck, I—I’m not ready.”

“Neither am I,” she smiles, blood staining her teeth, and leans back, her temple to his chin. “Will you…will you stay with me?”

Simon presses harder against her, cursing the tears that sting his eyes. “Yeah, love, I’ll stay.”

She settles then, flightiness stilling in her veins as she relaxes against him. “This isn’t how I imagined going.”

He doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to hear all the fanciful bullshit she’s about to spew about how they grow old and gray, but Simon also knows he’d rather hear her voice all he can before he can never hear it again unless it’s through a speaker.

“How’d you imagine it?” he forces his throat to open.

Her smile is like the stars in the night sky. “Old. In bed together. In our sleep.” She shuffles a bit. “Our kids find us, cuddled close, safe.”

Simon grits his teeth, cracking them under the strain, his jaw aches. “How many kids?”

“Two boys. One girl. Simon Junior, we’d call him SJ. Jonathan Kyle, after Price, Soap, and Gaz.”

“And the girl?”

“Aphra Emeline.”

He nods. “Good name. Strong. Built for a fancy lady.”

“She’d run everyone over.”

“With your looks and my attitude?” he jokes. “Of course. She’d strike ‘em dead with one withering look.”

Her lungs are starting to fail her, and she shivers. “Simon, marry me.”

He can’t stop the tears this time and they drop down his cheeks onto her head. “Who’s gonna officiate?”

“Me. All power vested in me.” She sucks in a breath. “Do you take me as your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, through sickness and health, until death do us part?”

“I do,” he promises. “And even after life, I will.”

“I take the same. I now pronounce us husband and wife.” She turns with the last bit of failing strength she has, pulls his mask down, and says, “Kiss me.”

Simon’s calloused hands are gentle as he cups her face, brushes his thumb over her cool skin and presses his lips to hers, tears mixing on each other’s faces as he kisses her with everything, he has in him. All the things Ghost is not, he gives in this moment to her. All his hopes, all his dreams, all his love for a better ending. He gives it up in this moment as he burns it into his mind that Simon Riley will never live after—only Ghost.

“I love you, Simon,” she whispers against his lips, and he shakes his head.

“I love you too,” he manages between hers. “I’ll stay,” he promises, pulling away to press his forehead to hers, staring at her. “I will stay.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you will.”

He memorizes the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the feel of her skin beneath his hands, every detail he can about her, and it’s only when her head tilts forward, forehead bumping his lips that he knows.

Simon inhales and exhales one time, a single, agonizing howl.

[gardenofedenedenp]

♡Moon Throughout The 12 Houses From God's Eyes♡

Moon in the First House👑

Very happy people with a youthful disposition, would benefit from a career in therapy, counseling, or massage therapy.

Big, bright pretty eyes and a vigorous heart, this is the person you want by your side in a fight. In peace. In clarity and in joy.

The perfect example of "God's favorite."

♡♡

Moon in the Second House🙌🏾

It is a requirement to be mindful when it comes to spending finances, solely based on the need to "feel good."

A reminder to the moon in the 2nd House person, is "Use STRONG discernment when is comes to differentiating what is EMOTIONS VS A DOWNLOAD."

♡♡

Moon in the 3rd House💍

Bright personality, with a smart mouth. And attitude that is both endearing and sassy.

Most people can't stand a know-it-all with a consistent smug look of understanding and amusement on their face. But Moon in the 3rd house person just makes it look so Damm good.

♡♡

Moon in the 4th House🤣

A very scary mommy who always has a very full belly. This person has quite the appetite. For love, food, and attire from places like Marshall's and TJMaxx.

They truly enjoy the comfort of it all.

Can be very dangerous when upset. Proceed with caution.

♡♡

Moon in the Fifth House🩷

Ice cream, and billy goats. Ice cream and Billy goats.

Seems random? That's Because the moon in the 5th house IS RANDOM.

Always seems to have some money in their pocket. Veey lucrative people because their heart is always in the right place.

Finance advice for yall: BE HAPPY . if your at work and miserable, you will be broke. I will accept your "Thanks In Advance."

♡♡

Moon in the Sixth House😎

"The mom friend." "The work bestie." Who will ghost your a$$. If you so much AS DARE TO CROSS THEIR BOUNDARIES.

Similar to moon in 4th, this pookie has temper.

Except they will verbally decimate you, immediately to your face, because they can't miss their yoga class at 3:15pm because they wasted it on ENDING your reputation.

(Moon in 4th has alot of time on their hands, because they mastered time management at age 12 and will kill you. Slowly. Deliberately. And will celebrate with their elevated ancestors before the plans morph into 3d motion😳)

♡♡

Moon in the Seventh House💸

Omg. So many girlfriends. Or boyfriends. Depending on your gender.

Be careful with your boundaries. Too many soul ties makes for a unfit belly, and g3nitalia.

Mostly very polite and sociable, but has a detached air to them that they can sometimes be unaware of. Which can lead to heartbreak. TO either themselves or the 3rd party.

♡♡

Moon in the Eighth House🎇

BIG GOD. BIG BAG. GOTT A BIG GOD

, WHO GAVE EM A BIG, BIG, BIG BAG

They are not sharing their money. Unless you are Jesus or their future spouse. Current boyfriend or girlfriend does not count. Neither does mama.

♡♡

Moon in the Ninth House💖

Probably is married with their husband or wife abroad somewhere.

Oh. You were their friend of 10 years and didn't know that they have already been married for 12 of those years WITH a baby on the way in Zimbabwe?

Oh..

♡♡

Moon in the Tenth House🚘

Money bags. Money bags with tears. Mr or Mrs Money bags with tears that TURN INTO gold.

And no, you can't come for their wedding. You bullied them in 8th grade.

♡♡

Moon in the Eleventh House💌

Oh my gosh, best friend of the MILLENNIUM AWARD. also they cook really well. And tend to have gorgeous feet. (This is coming from a goddess who does not care for rhe feet of others.

But I respect it.)

♡♡

Moon in the Twelfth House💋

Oh Em Gee. Super intimidating. In a Care-Bear kind of way.

No. I Will not elaborate on that.

♡♡♡♡♡

[zablife]

Can I pick this one for your gif celebration?

Hi Liv! Sorry it's taken me some time to get to this lovely GIF, but I was distracted by the memory of Tommy growling, "My property"🤭 This fic is a continuation of Just a Peek, a few years after you and Tommy are wed. @thomashelbyswife 's enthusiasm for the first blurb encouraged me to pen this spicy addition! I hope you enjoy it!

18+ MDNI

Playing Games

"Where were you all night, Tom? I barely saw you," you pouted, depositing a pair of hefty diamond earrings into your jewelry box with a thud.

"I had business to attend to, Y/n," he sighed, shrugging off his dinner jacket and tossing it over a chair.

"I recall a time you had your nose pressed against the glass, hoping for a glimpse of me. What must I do for a bit of interest now?," you inquired, allowing your dressing gown to fall past your shoulders to reveal freshly powdered skin. You locked eyes with your husband in the mirror and your lips twitched with the hint of a smirk, knowing then that you had his full attention.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you sauntered toward the window and reached for the curtains while secretly untying the bow at your waist. Eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise, you allowed the robe to slip off your shoulders and pool at your feet in a puddle of pink silk. "Oops, I hope no one was watching," you feigned, one hand to your mouth in exaggerated innocence.

You heard Tommy's swift steps behind you before you felt his strong hand clamp down upon your wrist, his hot breath at the back of your neck. "Playing games, Mrs. Shelby?" his low voice rumbled, causing a delicious shiver to run down your spine.

Spinning around in his arms, you raised an eyebrow seductively asking, "Did you have one in mind?" Raking a hand through his hair, you searched his face, but found his gaze had drifted past you, toward the last of your guests spilling out onto the drive. "Come on, Tom, I think I deserve a little attention after being so patient all night," you cooed, running a finger along his chiseled jawline.

Tommy could only clench his back teeth together tightly as he spotted the unmistakable gait of a pompous earl who'd been flirting with you earlier. Pupils darkening with an impending storm of jealousy mixed with lust, Tommy's hands slid to your waist, his grip on you tightening like a vice.

You yelped in delight, returning his passion by dipping into the crook of his neck to leave a love bite.

Tommy hissed, hand capturing your jaw to bring your ravenous eyes back to his. "Whose attention?" he demanded.

"I don't know that game," you teased, brushing your nose against his as you guided his hand to your soaking core. "But I think you know this is all for you."

You felt the tension in his forearm slacken, but the scoff which came next told you he was anything but relaxed. "And you're stood at the window because...?" he asked accusingly.

"Because I want you to show these posh cunts how a real man fucks his wife," you whispered, nibbling softly at his earlobe.

It was a suggestion Tommy found difficult to resist when your skilled hand began stroking him to hardness. He couldn't deny the appeal as he watched your tits bouncing in the reflection of the glass, huffs of breath steaming the window pane. The shocked expressions of society wives being shoved into their waiting cars by their impotent husbands was a high he'd never forget.

Zablife Sleepover

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

Tag List:

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@lovemissyhoneybee

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@already-broken144

@toms-cherry-trees

[eliotwaughdeservesbetter]

I really want to see this idea turn into a big beautiful work but writing it myself scares me. So i just give it to the world and will be hoping someone can write it.

It's the 31st of December and an hour before the new year. Tommy is inside of the burning building watching into the eyes of the man he left two months ago while the floor under them is collapsing. And minutes later he's trapped under the tons of concrete with the love of his life without any chance of being saved.

They both are conscious and they both understand they're gonna die in here. But they have a little amount of time to talk. Evan asks him why he left and Tommy tells him about his fears, insecurities. Evan tells him he is an idiot and they should have talked about it earlier. Before closing his eyes for the last time Evan tells him he loves him. Tommy's watch shows 00:00 when he kisses Evan's temple and closes his eyes too whispering "love you too".

He wakes up to the sound of his phone. It takes him a minute to understand why he's lying on something soft when seconds ago he was dying with Evan in his arms. He never ever had a dream that realistic he thinks. He takes his phone and answers the call without looking who it is.

"Oh, thank god, Tommy, you finally answered. I need a favour from you please"

"Howie? What? Something happened?"

"Yeah, look. We need a helicopter and a pilot to fly it. And you're the best pilot i know"

"Helicopter? Again?"

"Now i need something more than the dumping you did last time. Remember , Bobby Nash? He and his wife went for a cruise and their ship stopped responding. And there is a storm so we are worried for them and want to find them in case they need help" This..this can't be right. Tommy already had this conversation with Howie ten months ago.

"What the hell?" He didn't mean to say it aloud but his confusion was too strong

"Em, I'm sorry, Tommy, i do understand you don't want to risk it, I'm sorry i asked, we'll try to think of something else"

"Wait, no, Howie, that's not... I'm not saying no. It's just strange you know. But I'll do it, of course. Only I'm at home now, i need maybe an hout to get to harbour"

"Great! Thanks, Tommy! See you there then"

"Yeah, see you"

Tommy disconnects the call and lyes back at the bed. "What the hell?" he says again in silence. He couldn't have dreamed about 10 months, right? He couldn't get this perfect relationship and then the most heartbreaking break up and all of this just in a dream? But if it was a dream then how he could dreamed this crazy thing about flying in the storm to save Bobby and now it's really happening? He looks at the screen of his phone 17:35 10 March 2024. Yeah, he definitely lost his mind.

He makes it to the harbour a bit later than he did last time but he remembers 118 is going to be here half an hour later. So he has time to sign a helicopter for a flight and make a pre-flight check.

"Hey, Tommy, man! It's so good to see you again!" Howie hugs him. And Tommy really doesn't know was it 2 months or 2 years he last saw him. But behind Howie there are Eddie and Evan. Just like in his dream. But something is different in Evan's expression. Last time he was exited and was looking around eyeing everything, now he's looking at Tommy and there is the same confusion in his eyes. Tommy can't help but hope it wasn't a dream and even if it was Evan had the same one too.

After the rescue they talk and yeah Evan remembers everything what's gonna happen to them too. They go together to Tommy's house and now talk about their relationship again and they kiss. This time they gonna make them work together, they've got a second chance and they won't lose it.

I really want more of it but i can't write it. I want to see reaction of the 118 to bucktommy dating and being so close together so fast. I want to see Buck saving Chimney before the wedding. This time Madney have the beautiful wedding they wanted. Buck finally is having this dance he waited. I want to see Buck and Tommy taking down Ortiz and doing everything against Bobby's leaving the firehouse and Gerrard's coming back. And just boys being in love.

[gweelczz]

“Til Death”

Bo Chow x OC (Rosetta)

Genre: tooth rotting fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Bo reminisces about his wedding with Rosetta

Bo Chow stood in the stillness of the early evening, leanin’ against the back door of the Smokestack, a half-finished cigarette burnin’ slow between his fingers. He wasn’t smokin’ it—just lettin’ it burn while the sky above Clarksdale turned the color of old brass and cotton candy.

The wind carried faint music from inside, folks laughin’, glasses clinkin’. But Bo wasn’t really hearin’ it.

His mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere soft.

Somewhere golden.

Their wedding.

The memory came like a warm front after a cold rain—slow and full, fillin’ every corner of his chest.

It had been right here. The back of the juke joint. They cleared out the tables and swept the floors till they shined like molasses. Hung wildflowers from the rafters, twisted ribbons of yellow and green ’round the banisters, let the honeysuckle and magnolia do the rest.

Preacher Boy had stood near the back door, leanin’ against the wall with that beat-up guitar strapped across his chest, hummin’ a love song before his fingers ever touched the strings. The guests sat on mismatched chairs brought in from the neighborhood—folks wearin’ their Sunday best, sweatin’ through silk and linen just to see the moment happen.

And then the music started.

And everything else stopped.

Bo remembered the way the door opened—how Stack stepped out first, his big arm linked gently with Rosetta’s.

And Lord, Lord, when Bo saw her…

That woman stepped out wearin’ gold light and God’s own glory.

A silk yellow qipao hugged her curves like it’d been sewn by the ancestors themselves. The mandarin collar high and proud, the jade buttons glintin’ in the sunlight. Green and yellow flowers weaved through the bouquet she held tight to her chest, but it was her hair that near brought Bo to his knees—her afro piled high, full and soft, golden hair jewelry catchin’ the light like little halos.

And her eyes.

Those gold eyes.

He’d seen ‘em angry, sleepy, laughin’, cryin’, dancin’ in candlelight and dimmed in grief—but never like that.

Never filled with that kind of still, strong love.

Bo remembered how his breath caught. How Smoke gave him a little nudge from behind like, “Stand tall, brother.” But he couldn’t.

Tears rushed his eyes before he could stop them. He was cryin’ and smilin’, heart thunderin’ so loud he didn’t even hear the rest of the music. All he could see was her.

Annie had stood behind Rosetta, fussin’ over her train and beammin’ like a proud sister. Smoke was beside Bo, hands folded, grinnin’ with that crooked smile of his, like he’d known all along Bo didn’t stand a chance once Rosetta came into his life.

Rosetta reached the altar—if you could call the patch of sunlit wood between two flower barrels an altar—and looked up at him.

“Why you cryin’, Bo?” she’d whispered, soft enough that only he could hear.

He chuckled through tears, eyes locked on hers. “’Cause I just fell in love with you all over again.”

She bit her lip, tryin’ not to cry too. Stack kissed her cheek before steppin’ back, and Preacher Boy’s guitar rose up behind them, blessin’ them with melody.

They hadn’t needed a preacher. Rosetta had said the earth and the air and the ancestors would hear their vows just fine.

Bo took her hands and told her what he meant. That he was hers now, in this life and the next. That he’d protect her, honor her, carry her burdens when they got too heavy. That her love made him whole.

And she told him she chose him. That his heart was a safe place she never thought she’d find. That he was hers, too—no matter the storms.

When they kissed, the whole juke joint erupted. Whistles, applause, somebody shouted “Glory!” like it was church. And it was, in a way.

They danced ’til the moon rose. Ate catfish and sweet bread and drank muscadine wine ’til their cheeks hurt from smilin’. Folks were sayin’ it was the finest weddin’ they ever saw.

But Bo didn’t remember all that.

He just remembered her fingers laced with his.

The weight of her ring on his hand.

The scent of her skin—lavender, gold oil, and somethin’ only she carried.

And her voice when she pulled him close that night, pressin’ her forehead to his.

“I’m gon’ be your wife for real now.”

“You been my wife since the first time I looked at you,” he’d told her.

He remembered them heading out back holding each other underneath that old oak tree as they said their vows to each other in private

The sun had dropped low behind the cypress trees, turnin’ the Delta sky a warm honey gold. The wedding was over—folks were inside celebratin’, drinkin’, dancin’ to Preacher Boy’s guitar. But out back, behind the Smokestack, it was quiet.

Just the cicadas. Just the trees swayin’. Just Bo and Rosetta.

He took her by the hand, still wearin’ her yellow qipao that shimmered like a second sun. Her gold eyes were soft and wet, cheeks warm with love and somethin’ older than time. Her bouquet lay forgotten on the step behind her. The flowers didn’t matter now.

This did.

“You sure you wanna do this part out here, Rose?” Bo asked, his voice low, Southern drawl catchin’ on every word like a slow blues song.

Rosetta nodded once, her hands never leavin’ his. “The folks got to hear us promise. But now I want the earth to hear. The sky. Our people.”

Bo smiled. “Alright then.”

He stepped in close. “I ain’t never had nothin’ in my life feel like peace till you came into it. You hear me? Nothin’. Just noise and anger and heat. But you—you like cool water on the worst day. You see me when I don’t even wanna be seen, and you love me even when I ain’t sure I deserve it. I promise to protect you, with every breath I got. I promise to never speak over your spirit, to never let this world make you feel small. I’ll carry what you can’t. I’ll build you a home wherever we stand.”

She let out a small breath, like she’d been holdin’ it in.

“I love you,” he said, voice breakin’ just a little. “You’re the truth I been searchin’ for. And I’m yours, now and always.”

Rosetta squeezed his hands, then placed them over her heart.

“My Bo…” she began, voice thick with emotion. “I used to pray every night for a love that wouldn’t disappear in the light. I used to ask the ancestors to send me a man who’d see my spirit before he saw my skin. Who’d hold me without breakin’ me. And then you came.” Her breath trembled. “You honor me. You let me love you with no shame. You let me protect you without question. And I promise, before the stars and the dust, before our people and the soil, that I will never stop. I’ll pray over you even when you ain’t near. I’ll love you even when you’re silent. I’ll keep our names safe. I’ll walk beside you, not behind.”

Bo’s eyes shimmered with tears.

“I give you everything I am. My hands, my voice, my body, my soul. You’re my husband now,” she whispered, smile tremblin’ but bright. “And I’ll never let this world take you from me.”

They stood there a moment, just lookin’ at one another—like they were seein’ the whole future in the other’s face.

Bo leaned forward, pressin’ his forehead to hers. “You mine, Rose.”

“And you mine, Bo.”

No crowd. No music. No preacher.

Just vows tied up in stardust and soil.

And that was holy enough.

———

The warm hum of laughter and music met Bo and Rosetta as they stepped back into the Smokestack, their hands still loosely laced together like they hadn’t quite come back down from their own little heaven.

Bo leaned over, pressed a kiss to Rosetta’s temple, and whispered, “Gon’ sit with the fellas for a bit. That alright, Mrs. Chow?”

Rosetta smiled, golden eyes shining in the lamplight. “That’s alright, Mr. Chow. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

Bo sauntered through the crowd with that easy, smooth gait of his, cigarette hangin’ lazy from the corner of his mouth, green silk zhongshan suit still sharp as a blade. He pulled up a chair at the poker table in the back corner, where Stack, Sammie, and Delta Slim were already dealin’ out cards and talkin’ trash.

(Act like it’s green y’all)

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Stack grinned, shufflin’ the deck slow. “Mr. Married Man himself.”

Bo just smirked, slidin’ into the seat. “Y’all better hope I’m too love-drunk to clean this table.”

“Too late for that,” said Slim, puffin’ on his cigar. “We all seen you cry when she came down that aisle. Ain’t no way you got focus left after that.”

“Shut up,” Bo muttered with a grin, leanin’ back, one arm slung over the chair like he owned the place.

Cards slapped against wood, laughter rumbled low and steady, the juke joint buzzin’ with life.

Rosetta watched him from across the room, tucked in her chair near Annie and Pearline, her fingers absently twistin’ one of her earrings. Something in her chest stirred—soft, electric, undeniable. A tug.

She rose without a word.

Crossed the floor slow and sure, hips swayin’ like she was walkin’ to a song only she could hear.

Bo clocked her out the corner of his eye, that smile tugging at the corner of his lips just before she reached him. Without askin’, Rosetta slipped down into his lap, slidin’ one arm around his shoulders like it was made for restin’ there. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t miss a beat.

His hand came up to settle on her waist, thumb drawin’ slow, lazy circles on the silk of her dress. His head dipped, and he kissed the curve of her neck, warm and slow, lips lingerin’ like he was still vowin’ somethin’ sacred.

Then he turned back to the game like nothin’ was unusual.

“Your woman got you real comfortable, huh?” Sammie chuckled, slappin’ his cards down.

Stack raised his brows. “Ain’t never seen a man go from altar to poker table with his wife in his lap like it’s Sunday supper.”

Bo shrugged, flickin’ ash from his cigarette. “Ain’t no rule say I can’t love my woman and take y’all’s money at the same time.”

Delta Slim hooted. “That’s a married man right there!”

Rosetta just smiled and leaned into his chest, eyes low, lips curved with the satisfaction of bein’ close.

And Bo? He kept one arm wrapped firm around her waist, cards in the other hand, cigarette burnin’ slow, every bit the man who had everything he ever wanted—right there in his lap.

———

Bo blinked back to the present, the cigarette now just ash between his fingers. He dropped it, crushed it under his boot.

Inside, laughter rose up again—Smoke yellin’ about somethin’, Preacher Boy tunin’ up his guitar.

Bo stepped back through the door, his chest a little fuller.

His wife was somewhere in there.

And just the thought of her still made his knees weak.

———

This Bo and Rosetta LMAO

Tags: @pinkpantheris @fresalana @ironsaladwitch