A Little Sneak Peek At What's In Development For A Future James Sunderland Smut.......

Random NSFW stuff I feel like James would say (dom and sub version)

18+ mentions of a mommy and daddy kink.

Dom:

"You look so beautiful/handsome like that... stretch yourself a little more"

"You're so good for me. You make me so proud, baby."

"No, don't worry, I'll handle it."

"Think you could give me a hand?" (He says this at some point in game and all I could think of was him palming himself🤭)

"You can handle a few more minutes, dear..."

"Be patient."

"We can stop whenever you want, honey."

"I love the way you taste...."

"Can you take me a little deeper? Just do your best, my love."

"You're too good for me, baby."

"Keep moving like that.... good girl/boy/good job"

"Your mouth feels so good..."

Sub:

"Can I play with the toy? Y'know...the...the one that... that you have the controller for....don't make me say it... please... please let me use it... at least for 3 minutes?"

"Am I a good boy when I take it like that...?"

"I want to be your handsome, boy.... adorable just for you..."

"Can you put your fingers in my mouth.....in the back?"

"Mommy/daddy! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to talk back!"

"It's so embarrassing....but don't stop, please."

"Please, I'll do anything to cum, anything!"

"I can't cum unless you give me permission!"

"Thank you, mommy/daddy!"

"Put it on my face, please!"

"Can I watch you, mommy/daddy?"

"Fuck me deeper, please....right there....please make me cum....I'm your good boy! Your little toy... please? I'll be so good!"

Off-topic (I guess it's off-topic???) But wholesome smut where the reader and their lover lose their virginity together>>>>>>>>>>>

you and mark grayson being both virgins is something angels sing about in their heavenly chorus.

he's learned things from pornhub and twitter porn links that wildly over exageratte how to make your girl squirt for the first time. magic mike has taught mark how painful it feels to smack your dick on hardwood flooring just to try and grind on some sexy beat. he gets made fun of by Rex for even asking what correct hole does his dick get put into, and if it'll snap off if you bounce too hard on him when you want to ride.

he's pulled out all the stops, rather shitty mind you. Debbie and Nolan are on a date in Italy, and he's got exactly thirty minutes to make you wet enough so it doesn't hurt when he slips in for the first time.

unfortunately for him, he doesn't get far enough to get you naked before he's cumming in his boxers.

he blames friction and how a victoria secret thong can really emphasize a plump mound and camel toe when its covered in your slick. rose petals are bleeding on your skin that he's sprinkled upon his duvet earlier. the bed springs creaking way too annoyingly loud when he attempts to press boxer covered cockhead in between your clothed pussy lips. you two have been dry grinding and humping eachother for the last ten minutes.

something about you almost naked, sweaty breasts rolling up and down in rolling waves; and sticky clear strings of cum stringing his softened dick and your quivering cunt together . it really puts worms into his brain and lets him settle on your panties trapping your clit down and making you twitch under his body. your head pressed against his pillows while you two watch his bulge grow back to life when you whine for more.

mark's a virgin, but he says its by choice, and not because he's scared about hurting you for the first time.

I need more metaphorical fanfics like ong this got my English literature nerd ass squealing with joy. You convey James' guilt and desire for human connection and euphoria so beautifully like I swearrrr I could annotate this bitch!

bliss

pairing: james sunderland x maria

cws/tags: p in v, oral, dubcon? (james is not into it), excessive metaphors

summary: if james and maria fucked or something??

a/n: idk even know how to describe this bc it's silent hill? like what is really happening here is subjective tbh

wc: 1k

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

Despite being held captive by Maria’s heat, James is thinking of Mary the entire time. She’s hot on the surface, warm on the inside, cold in her organs, freezing in her bones, and empty of a soul. Her pink acrylics are like fire when she digs them into his skin. She can’t keep him forever, but he’ll be covered in scratch marks for days. 

Beauty is pain, pain is beauty, or however the old saying goes. 

Maria looks more like Mary when she’s naked. When the choker is off. It looks like a dog collar, he once told her. And how appropriate it is for someone who sat pretty on the side of his bed and begged for this – for scraps. That’s what this is. The leftovers of love that no one else will have – like rotten fruit, it was once good. All of this is bitter, but everyone needs to eat something, at least once in a while, right? It’s not a feast, but it’ll do.

Maria isn’t the kind of dog that barks, she whimpers, and it tugs at his heartstrings until they snap and his willpower unravels. She sheds leopard print like snakeskin, hues of violet, magenta, cranberry, fall to the floor all at once. 

Her skin is soft, breasts perky, pink-nippled, the kind you see in magazines. James plays with them like he does keys on a piano – not well-practiced, yet eliciting sound nonetheless. She’s quiet now – a rarity – likely because Laura is down the hall, asleep, unaware, as she should be. More often than not, she is loud. Her heels click-clack down the hallway towards his bedroom like a warning siren, coming closer, speeding up with every step like his heartbeat.

Even with her shoes on, Maria doesn’t reach James in stature. Neither did Mary, but she never tried to, never needed to — she was above him in every other way. She was ephemeral. Quiet and angelic in ballet flats, she could slip into bed without waking him up. Realistically, she took up a third of this bed at most, maybe a quarter at her sickest, but with her absence the entirety of it feels empty, hollow, like the stuffing’s been removed from the mattress too, though two people lay upon it. 

His name floats from Maria’s lips to his ear, breathless, asking for more than he can give. He wonders if this is what Mary sounded like when they did this sort of thing all those years ago. James remembers her voice, her singing in the passenger seat to the mixtape he made for their first Valentine’s Day together, her yelling at him in the hospital. But he doesn’t remember her moaning, not like this, not on the edge of bliss. Those weren’t the memories he held onto the tightest. 

Not with the same grip that he has on Maria’s hips, maintaining the most control he can while she’s the one on top. Not with the same grip Maria’s cunt has around his dick. She’s squeezing the life out of him, but it feels good, undeniably. Unfairly. Penance is a woman. 

She’s so wet he slipped right in, so wet he slipped up and told her, “goddamn, you’re wet”, caught by surprise because what had he done? His mouth hasn’t touched either pair of lips, and he plans to keep it that way. 

When she gets up, removing the warmth that surrounded him, he groans in frustration. It’s a noise that must be familiar to her. His immense vexation is the only thing larger than her infatuation with him. 

James looks down – something he’s avoided doing until now – and sees her crawling downwards, pressing kisses down his stomach. 

“What are you doing?” he says with zero amusement.

Staining him with dark red lipstick. Like wine or blood. Like before and after.

“Has no one ever done this to you?” she asks, and she takes hold of his cock, making him take in a sharp breath before he answers.

It’s like a stab right through the chest, knocking the wind out of him with the force of something unspoken.  

“No, I– I mean, yes, I’ve had this done to me before. I’m asking you why you’re doing this.”

“Why not? You won’t even have to look at me, I can be under the covers, and you won’t have to hear me talking. You can even pretend I’m someone–”

“Shut up,” he says with a force he’d forgotten he could muster as he shoves his cock down her throat. 

He could pretend it’s someone else – the same way he’s been pretending Maria is Mary for the past 30 minutes or so, but he’d never hurt Mary. He hated hearing the sound of her gagging. He always kept her from going too far. Who is it if not Mary? 

It doesn’t matter who I am. 

Could she be his psychiatrist who’s 60 years old and annoys him to the point that it makes him miss Maria? The woman at the dry cleaners or the cashier at the grocery store? Maybe he needs to get back into watching porn. His mind runs faster than his feet ever have to get to the answer. There is only disappointment at the end of that road, only white sheets covering the another illusion.                       

It's Maria's mouth that sputters, her throat that chokes around his cock even though it's not that big.

When she first caught a glimpse of it, she gave him that classic bullshit line, telling him how big it is, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, well, it’s not small.”

“Just be normal, or as normal as you can be. I don’t want whatever this weird porn thing is that you’re doing.”

It makes it all seem fake. 

See, I’m real. 

Maybe, but not like Mary. 

Then again, maybe it's better if this is all fake so James and Maria are just marionette dolls in someone else’s fantasy, caught in a videotape. 

Maria doesn't need to be Mary, James doesn't need to be James. Instead, he pretends they’re both other people. She’s a nurse, he’s the doctor, she’s a mother, he’s the father.

James looks into her eyes when he’s on top of her, searching for something he’ll never find, until he gives up and flips her over and fucks her flat into the mattress. 

Maria is quiet only because she screams into the pillow. 

James is quiet because that’s how all tapes end. 

A click, static, then silence. 

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

The way I started squealing and whisper shouting to nobody "WE ARE SO BACK!!!!" When I saw this. Dear god, lemme follow you😭💗

Hiya!🎶

I noticed you liked my post, and I saw ur x reader and I just wanna request a James Sunderland x fem!reader where they're cuddlefucking on a rainy day with Heavenly by Cigarettes After Sex playing? Super specific, I know, just do the best you can. So much angsty smut of him and I just want some wholesome, fluffy smut, please. If you can :3 thank you!!!!

JAMES SUNDERLAND X fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; cuddle fucking w james :)

warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, spooning & from the back

nsfw content below!!

late nights with james were always the same. boring, just like your loser, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. your television would play in the background as white noise while the two of you huddled close, bathing in each other's body warmth. quiet whispers as long as little caresses would travel between the two of you.

his hold on you was always gentle, like he was scared to accidentally hurt you. his warm arms would wrap around you lovingly, your bodies interlocked, legs tangled with each other. tonight was no different. the moon was out, and your television played an old sitcom, filling the rooms silence. all else that was heard was both of your low breaths, small whimpers, and gasps.

he would press small, praising kisses along your shoulder from behind, intently sliding his cock in and out of your warmth. this was his favorite way to spend time with you, to feel intimate while also being lazy, which he was excellent at. his ears stayed open to your small moans, drinking in your noises. every little whimper that would leave your throat, he’d swallow it whole with a small moan in response, burying himself deeper into you.

“shhhh,” he hushes gently, slowly rocking himself behind you, holding you snug against his chest. he hugs the blanket tighter around the two of you, keeping you locked in his arms and unable to go anywhere. you both wouldn’t want it any other way. his body heat was always high in comparison to your low heat, so you always huddled close to stay warm, especially now.

he tucks your shoulder under his chin, fluttering his eyes shut to enjoy your body and how comfortable you were to hold. your soft skin, the addicting scent of your hair, the way you cooled him down. he wouldn’t trade times like this for a million bucks. the sitcom was long forgotten.

a small whimper leaves you as he brushes against a spot that's overly sensitive. his eyes brighten subtly, and he hugs you tighter, whimpering gently into your skin as he begins to buck his hips into you, smushing his tip against your gummy insides. your noises grow more consistent as he picks up his pace, now focused on making you cum over his cock. his hands grab at you, his intentions turning more greedy. he wanted to hear you cry out his name as he pushes you over the edge, to praise you through it.

“you’re okay,” he hushes, squeezing your breast, thrusting deeply into your soaking hole. “you’re almost there.” it was a miracle he wasn’t whining and whimpering himself, that he wasn’t the one who needed to get talked through this. “you feel me?”

you nod, gasping softly as his thrusts grow more firm. you feel your body get turned onto your tummy, your face smushed into one of your couch pillows. the couch was a frequent spot you and james would make love, the nights where you’d be waiting for him to return home late, and when he finally did, the two of you would be too lazy to move off the cushions into the bedroom. he always ended up making love to you on the pull-out bed, holding you tight against him and savoring your pretty moans.

the tension in your tummy forms a knot, one that tenses your whole body. you gently beg against the couch, feeling his hands hold yours down gently, your fingers intertwining. your sweet moans are muffled, the soft plap plap plap echoing in the room. after a minute, his thrusts grow more slick, his cock now lubricated by your cock. he groans at the sight of your milky cream forming around his base as he fucks it back into you, which slowly starts to push him over the edge. your tightness, your sweet noises, the sight of your pretty butt in the air— its enough to finally make him cum.

he releases himself deep in you, groaning at the sensation. he goes still, the nights deafening silence washing over. he pants lowly, no energy to pull out. your body goes slack, flat agains the couch, so he simply lays on top of you, his cock still sheathed. his arms wrap around you lovingly, spooning your now warm body.

“you okay?” he whispers softly. you smile weakly and nod, turning your head over your shoulder to press a kiss against his lips. he melts against you, cuddling as close as possible. he always became needy after orgasms. “you made me feel so good, you know that?” you praise. it was your turn to pamper the male.

gentle whispers and praises go back and forth before you both eventually fall asleep, huddled close and tucked under the blanket.

Whoa this gave me an idea based on the Transmasc James headcanon someone online made. What if Pyramid Head symbolized internalized homophobia? Like, James is in the 90s (I think that's when Silent Hill 2 takes place???), he had a beautiful wife like he was "supposed to have," he loved her, he murdered her, and while the Bubble headed nurses symbolize sexual frustration, what if the beefy Pyramid Head, the hyper masculine humanoid who's aggressive and is a polar opposite to James's more passive nature symbolizes guilt for his murder and guilt for being bisexual, desire to be a "real man," while also having some frusturation with his sexuality?

Hey man, why did the deepest level of your subconscious thoughts manifest that?

Benatar NSFW Alphabet

You got Puff Puff. Now it's Benatar edition! >:)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's the sweetest. He'll run you a bath or a shower and massage you. Whether he was the top or you, acts of service is one or his love languages. He'll also make you tea and help you stretch after all of those positions.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He loves his hands. He likes watching his fingers pleasure you, pin you down, pull you up, he just loves all of the things his fingers can do. On you? He likes your chest. He likes listening to your heartbeat, and if you have boobs, then of course he likes that. Pretty sure it was obvious in "Real Girl" what he likes....

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to keep things as minimal as possible with mess. So he'll gladly cum inside of you. Whether it's your mouth or your pussy, if you have one.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This guy seems like a polite, respectful, innocent gentleman in public, but he's genuinely a pervert in private with his lover. In private, he'll grope his lover and fondle them. He also has a stash of NSFW sketches he's made of characters he likes and writes erotic poetry. He's secretly a dacryphilliac (someone who gets sexual arousal from crying or watching someone cry.) He likes to feel needed, and he finds it adorable when you cry because he keeps edging you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had sex a few times during his college days and in past relationships. He knows about the female and the male anatomy. He's had sex with someone who was intersex, and he understands the ways to pleasure a human regardless of their genitals. He's also very responsible with safe sex. He stays consensual and communicative, he uses condoms, lubricant, dental dams, and finger cotts, and even after that, he still gets tested regularly for STIs. He's honestly the most responsible out of the four when it comes to sex.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He likes intimate positions. He loves missionary, mating press, and cuddlefucking. It's worth noting that Benatar loves these positions as both the giver and reciever. He loves being pounded in these positions or pounding you in these positions.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He's very serious during sex and poetic. He'll mutter sweet nothings as if they were prayers to you and only you.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's fully shaved and makes sure everything is in order there with no razor burns or nicks.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

He's not the type to do friends with benefits or one night stands. He wants to have sex with someone he loves, and he is utterly devoted to you. He's extremely sweet, romantic, and gentle in bed.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He does it every now and then. Most of the porn he occasionally watches is all softcore or romantic porn with plot.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He adores art, so he loves shibari. He prefers to be the rigger, but he'll be the rope bunny if you want him to. He's also a bit of a voyeurist. He loves to draw erotic images of you, paint them, and he makes erotic poetry based on you. He also has a daddy kink. Not to the extent of being into DDLG/DDLB, but to the extent of getting turned on by the name. This goes without saying, he loves to feel needed by you and he loves taking care of you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

The bed. Always the bed. It feels more intimate that way. He would never do it anywhere else except his car one time.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you naked, seeing you pose for him, and wearing dainty fabrics such as lace. This isn't limited to just women, though. He likes lace on anyone.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Namecalling, slapping, choking, blood, spitting, raceplay, and harsh degradation (the most degrading he'd ever do would be speaking in a condescending tone or patronize you.) He also doesn't want to recieve that treatment either. He can be condescending and patronizing, but he can't take that himself. Very sensitive as a sub. Also, Benatar REFUSES to have sex anywhere that isn't the bed. He will never do shower sex because it's a safety hazard. He will never do it in hotels or motels (Imagine all the people that did that. Did they even wash those sheets?) And he won't do it in the kitchen (have some decency, we eat here!)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man treats oral sex like an art form. Whether it's sucking your or eating you out, he will take his time and savor it. 100% certified munch and prefers to give more than recieve.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sometimes he's fast and a little rough if he's worked up. But for the most part, he's slow and deep. His thrusts are slow, but they're hard.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He HATES them. He doesn't want to do it anywhere except the bed and under no circumstances expect when you guys have all the time in the world.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He's willing to try a little. He's still the more conservative one in the group. He doesn't really like public play or displaying you or himself to anyone. He wants to keep things between you two behind closed doors.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

2 rounds at most. He gets really tired by the time he's done. He lasts about 7-13 minutes. He does try to last as long as possible, but there's only so much he can do.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't really use toys on himself. He prefers to use his hand and a condom since it's minimal clean-up and because of how low maintenance it is. Cleaning up his hand is better than cleaning up a toy. But if you want to use toys, he'd be willing to try them on himself or on you.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

This man hates to deny you of any pleasure.... but he also loves it. It depends, really. How good were you for him? If you were being a brat, he'll be teasing verbally and physically.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very vocal. He moans loudly when he's dominant and whimpering when he's submissive.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He makes audioporn and sends it to you. He has a private account of Soundgasm where he makes audios just for you. These audios range from his masturbating, to him counting down for you to cum with his permission. Benatar is also trying to learn how to do erotic hypnosis.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average size of 5 inches when he's hard with a bit of a curve and circumcised. He's fairly girthy and knows how to angle himself right.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high. Ideally, he'd want to have sex 3-4 nights a week. But he's fine with 1-2 nights. He's horny like the rest of the gang, but not as mellow as Deejay and nowhere near as high as Puff Puff.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It depends. If he was the dominant one, he won't fall asleep until he knows that you're alright. If he was the submissive one, he'd fall asleep after 20 minutes.

Canon.

He's silly, he didn't understand flashmob original:

Biker!Benatar x G/N!Reader

18+ Minors DNI! Yall, I have been thinking thoughts that should NOT have been thunk! Hence, the post. I had no idea where I was going with this. I ended up making my first smut fic.😭

Warnings/Tags: Blowjob, public sex, mutual orgasm, praise, leather.

He may not look like the type, but Benatar's been a biker since he got his license back in college

Rides a chopper motorcycle at night after dealing with the guys all day.

He's got diamond studs in his ear from post-high school graduation era that he still wears. They twinkle in the night from the city lights.

He'll let you ride the back of the motorcycle.... he might floor it just so you could get scared and cling onto him.

He listens to a variety of artists on his late-night rides. TV Girl, Cigarettes After Sex, Joji, Lana Del Rey, just to name a few.

He'll stop along his trips to jot down whatever is on his mind. He has a scrapbook of songs he likes and his favorite lyrics.... some of which include:

"I dreamt I was standing in your doorstep

Licking sweat off of your forehead

With your finger in my mouth

And the sound when leather jackets hit the ground

You should hear when you're not around

When it's just us horny poets

Who can't wait to write it down

Swear we were only being honest

Do you like these little sonnets?

'Cause I wrote them just for you"

Despite the meaning of the song itself.... that verse reminds him a lot about you. Specifically, that one night...

Remember the detail that Benatar doesn't like to have sex anywhere that isn't his bed?

Well, there was one exception....

So it was a breezy Saturday night. 12:45 AM, clear night skies with twinkly stars that went on forever with the moon. Clinging onto Benatar's jacket... he was playing the music as the pipes of the chopper rumbled. Wrapping your hands around Benatar's waist, hands getting lower and lower until they were right where you two wanted them. Benatar's breath catches in his throat and looks at the next exit on the highway.

He took it.

He went all the way to an empty parking lot that was hidden behind a bundle of trees. He turns the ignition off and said to you that night: "We ought to be quick.... I don't like being out in the open..."

You were stunned. Benatar was the more conservative person in the group. He was shy at the mention of sex.... let alone having it in a parking lot. There was a silence.... you both wanted it. You wanted each other. Right then, right there. But no one was making the first move.... until Benatar said to you in his polite British accent: "Get on your knees, love."

That was how it started....

The parking lot was quiet with the trees whispering into the night. The moon shined upon your eyes as you gaze up at Benatar. He clutches your hair, trying so hard not to moan, not to pull your hair too hard, not to get caught, but it was just too good...

He slowly thrusts into your mouth. Your tongue flicks at his tip, tasting his precum and moaning at the feeling of it twitch. Benatar groans, petting your head and saying: "Go on, love... touch yourself... I can't be the only one enjoying myself... let me watch you. Let me watch you cum..."

You were, once again, shocked by how lewd the man was. But, you complied, and your hand slipped into your pants. The parking lot had the trees whispering as the scandal unfolded before them. Your knees pressed against the concrete, making you wince at the pain only for the feeling to be replaced by your arousal at the sight of Benatar. His blonde locks were disheveled, his shirt was sticking to his chest, and his leather jacket.... was rattling and tightening against him.

You took out your hand, the fingers glazed with your precum. Sweat rolling down your forehead from the intensity of the situation, the visuals, the taste, everything.... his cock in your mouth twitching making you moan with pleasure. He looks down at you... completely different from the usual Benatar.

His eyes were glossy from the moonlight with a lustful haze looming over them. His lips were parted, and his eyes kept staring at you.... at your lips. He thrusts into your mouth more, picking up the pace a little. Then, he leaned over you, getting closer until his head was against yours. There was silence once more. The sexual tension is getting to its peak as he licks the droplet of sweat off of your forehead. You then dipped your fingers back into your pants to collect more of yourself, and bring it up to his lips.

He continued to lick the sweat off of your forehead and let your finger slip into his lips. He engulfs them with his warm, wet tongue, greeting them with a moan. You push your head further, trying to suck him more. He bucks his hips and said: "Love, I can't do this anymore.... I need to get rid of this..."

And the sound when leather jackets hit the ground...

He pulled up his indigo shirt, trying to cool off and have something to muffle him. His teeth tugged the cloth, a small tear heard as he thrusts faster. Your hand remained in your pants and you went faster and faster. Benatar struggles to hold in a moan in the process of holding your head and telling you: "You're doing so good, love. Oh, your mouth is so good..."

That was what did it... your body felt warm all over as it began to spasm. Your mind goes blank with pure pleasure, and this visual made Benatar lose his grip. The sudden hot rush of his cum coated your mouth. He bellowed a loud moan and gently pulled out, pulling up his pants and buckling them.

He helped you up, letting you sit on the bike as he rubbed your knees and swept away the gravel and pebbles. He picked up his leather jacket from the ground and slid it over your shoulders. He kissed your forehead and whispered to you that night: "You did such a good job, love. So good for me... too good for me."

He slid his thumb across the corner of your lip, wiping off the remains of your adventure before licking his fingertip and smiling. He gets on the bike and waits for you to wrap your arms around him when he turns on the ignition and says: "Shall we go?"

The following night, Benatar got inspired from the previous encounter and he looked at his paper, and he couldn't wait to write it down, swear he's only being honest...

Then... the next late-night ride, he handed you a book of poems with the question...

"Do you like these little sonnets?

'Cause I wrote them just for you."

By The Ring

Rex Sloan x G/N Reader

18+ Minors begone! I have been rotting away for far too long and need to come back. So have my first angsty smut ever.

Summary: Rex always thought you and him were together, but to you, you guys were just a couple. Despite how awful of a partner you were, Rex always has the doubt in his mind that you do care, and you are his.

Warnings/Tags: Cheating from Rex's end, penetration but reader's genitals are kept vague. The reader is genuinely a p.o.s. reader is using Rex for sex, actively objectifies him, and doesn't care about anything else, and this isn't meant to romanticize objectification at all. I'm just practicing a new way of writing. Sex is dry af, dead bedroom, lots of angst, plastic love, literary devices cuz I'm a nerd💀, shattered relationship, hurt but no comfort yall, I'm sorry, it's 12:20 AM and I had a thought😭

You laid there bare while he slipped his way in. Your body is as hot as his charged molecules, but your moans are as loud as a dying kindle. His rough palm clutching your jaw to pepper kisses while you half-heartedly whimper. Moaning was a courtesy, not a requirement. Neither was cumming.

Moaning, begging, sucking, cumming.... it was never a requirement or a need... just formalities.

You knew from the start what kind of person Rex Sloan....or Splode.... was. A firecracker made in an assembly line designed to fizzle, flicker, explode, wow, and then tarnish to leave behind its tattered pieces. Its smell embedded into the ground and your clothes that stank of gunpowder. If there was one thing you loved about Rex.... it was his big personality. He was an ass, but he was always entertaining even in the more distasteful circumstances. He was the definition of fun and adventure.

Sometimes all you ever want is a little fun.

But too much of one's sweet indulgences will always leave a bitter taste in their mouths. Rex was a firework you loved to watch explode, fizzle, and flash vibrantly with all of his true colors. But what happens when the fireworks are too loud? What happens when the fireworks are too bold? What happens when the fireworks burst too close to your home? What happens when the fireworks are simply.... too much?

You dispose of them. Tuck them away into a closet until you get board and long to see their violent bursts again.

Rex was a skeleton in your closet. You didn't bring him up to family or friends--not because you were ashamed, moreso you didn't find it necessary. He was just a firework to watch until he fizzled away from your mind. His ambers always remained in your gyri for his body, for his face, and occassionally his personality.

But sometimes, you really wished he'd just stay in his place.

He thrusts faster into you, pounding, needy, desperate and depraved. What once felt so thrilling, so desirable, so irresistible, has become so.... so.... monotonous. It wasn't the sex that ruined things, it was him.

Assembly lines have changed the world forever. People gained jobs, capitalistic societies thrived, and consumers ate up every new appliance and car and cosmetic that released. But assembly lines were exploitative, coldly formatted to prioritize profit over people, and greedy.

Rex gained respect, Rex thrived in action-packed environments, Rex ate up every ounce of attention, and Rex.... was just a faulty firecracker designed to maximize your gratification until you decide to recall because he oversupplied, and you wanted more of him in ways that did not correspond to his ideas. Rex changed your world forever.

You couldn't care less about his job, his life, or his friends, not when he was inside of you. But now, that wasn't even enough because of course it wasn't. Rex could work in his place in line, tending to your conveyor belt for hours upon hours in a day, and you'll only ever pay him with half-hearted honeyed affirmations and the occassional peck on the cheek. Yet you'll still command more from him. You were as affectionate as Tyson Foods, or Apple, or Google, or Amazon, or whatever big wig corporation had a CEO with a warm smile and a cold way of life.

There was better than Rex. There always was and always will be.

If you desired, you could get a replacement by next evening.

Rex massaged your spot, whimpering and muttering: "Why.... why are you so quiet, baby? Is it not good enough?"

He sounded.... different from his usual cocky demeanor... scared. It was as though the entirety of his worth as a person, as a man, as Rex Splode, as Rex Sloan... rested between his thighs.

....

The fear that filled his body fueled his fiery passion further as he hoisted you up and pounded. This time, you moaned. An authentic, genuine moan that filled the room and gave Rex the validation he needed to gain that sense of machismo. The kind of masculinity that was as secure as the neglected mechanical cogs on a calculated conveyor belt. Rex was monotonous and loud, but by god did he have a use.

He slides out before slapping himself back in with a clap of flesh while he whispered....

"My baby.... my baby..." He huffs between steamy kisses and loud claps. His words synchronized with the sounds of his thrusts as he continued.... "You're my baby, say it to me...."

You bite your lip, not from pleasure--no, no, no, that candle put itself out long ago--but rather resistance, rebellion, apathy, reluctance, everything that Rex would define as "shitty." But you humored him, striking the match to light his fuse as you pant out, "I'm your baby, Rex. I'm your baby."

Rex was a firecracker you always set off when you wanted a show and you always made sure to set him off into a lake when he was too much. To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. But Rex places his stamp down and pays the price every time. He knows. He knows that what he's doing is wrong, seeing Kate behind your back, talking to Eve, touching other people, only to bury himself deep into you. He didn't deserve you. He knew that. But he loved you so, so much. You were perfect, affectionate enough to keep him coming, but distant enough that he could never worry about genuinely losing a bet. That was until he heard you laugh with him, not at him, or when you were so forgiving, and loving.... where did you go? You don't even look him in the eyes during sex.

But that night.... you did.

And it gave Rex the foreign feeling of butterfly houses populating with heat insulated.... he couldn't help but hiss at you through clenched teeth, "I wanna feel it.... you looking in my eyes when I come..."

To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. Deep beneath the depths of his hearth through the cracked stonework and sooted walls of his personhood, lied the burned letter he always sought to ignore.

You don't love him. He can tell by the way you always gaze at his body and dismiss his words, how you craved him for his looks and not his jokes, and how even after you drained him, you still commanded more. You never asked how he was doing, you just always focused on "making him feel better." Except he never did. But he loves you so.... for whatever reason, he does.

He loves you so much that he'll cry to himself over his infidelity even though you couldn't care less if he left you today. He hates himself for it but christ, he needs someone that's you but.... isn't like you. He stopped going after Rae, Kate, and Eve. He started seeking people who looked as close to you as possible. Some nights, he'd even pay a prostitute extra to let him call them by your name, or to dye their hair like yours, and so on. Or when he watches porn.... he always tries to find one where the bodies, the actors, and the sounds were as close to you as possible because he knows it will never truly happen. For once, sex was something that made Rex miserable.... how can he possibly enjoy you when he has to sleep knowing that if it weren't for his anatomy, you would leave?

If he can't make you stay with his jokes, or his meals, or his fireworks from charged coins, he only had one last thing.... his body.

He loves you so much that he actively bets on his losing dog. He sees you and he knows that you are bound to fail him everytime without trying because that's exactly your problem. You don't try.

You don't even care.

He could sit there in his car and scream how he loves you, but whether he screamed in the car alone, or screamed right there in your home you still left him alone. As long as he came back to bed bare, only then would you truly acknowledge him and hold him.

Finally, Rex reached his peak and lets go, only to make sure you reached yours, too. As you cum, it wasn't a powerful crash of waves, it was a poltergeist of pleasure that throbbed throughout your body. But Rex knew this was all he could do. He knows you're bored of him now.

........

In the middle of cuddling you, Rex finally snaps bitterly:

"Why don't you ever say my name when we fuck? You don't even look at me!"

But when he said that, he looked to see you scrolling away on your phone. Inattentive, careless, and inconsiderate as always. He bets on losing dogs.

Then he decided to tell you the truth....

"I've been seeing other people. Kate, Rae, Eve, and others." He confessed whilst firmly looking at you with those green eyes lit with determination; a faulty firework ready to blow up into the lake once more.

He sat there in silence, expecting you to get angry, cry, scream, or do something indicating that you do care about him.

When he is met with silence, he instigated further.

"You tasted her. Every time you went down on me, you tasted them, 'cause I ain't washing my sins, baby!" He exclaimed with bravado, he knew everything. He knew you were just putting on a front.... you do love him, you care for him, that you were worth losing every bet, that you were worth placing every bet down like a deranged gambler, that you weren't his losing dog, that you were his, that he'll break your heart, that he'll make you cry, and then it'll all be okay. He knew---no, he knows, everything. Even if you are dry and you can't keep up, he knows it'll hurt.

But it didn't hurt like he thought it would.

After he confessed his infidelty and clutched his plastic pride, all you did was roll over and tiredly mutter to him,

"Make sure you get tested tomorrow. I don't wanna have to take antibiotics 'cause of you."

And just like that.... you set him off and briefly witnessed his burst into the lake. He gets up, agitated and shouting at you, but you have long fell asleep. Realizing he was losing on your side, he went to the bathroom and wrapped his lips around the faucet before turning it on to the highest setting.

Through gargles, choked sobs, fizzled sorrows, and longing ambers being flooded by metallic water, he coughs up remains before pulling out the diamond ring in his pocket. It wasn't flashy, it was cheap, but it was a promise. The promise to be better, the promise to stay by your side, the promise.... to bet on another losing dog.

With a somber gaze that pawned off his emerald eyes, Rex places the ring onto the sink; ready to place down yet another stamp that's long dried after so many bets. The diamond was starting to yellow. He didn't hurt like he thought it would.... he told you the truth with the hopes of having your love at last, and all you did was reduce him to a urine sample. All Rex is left with a quiet place to scream how he loves you. He knows that the promise to stay by your side is a guarantee lose, but he's become nothing but a poor gambler.

So he fizzles into the bowl of the sink, and bursts into the lake... ready to work another shift in the assembly line that was your manufactured love. He'd bet on losing dogs anyday. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Because to bet on losing dogs, to fail by your side, to be stuck in your assembly line, was to know everything.