"Banging Selena" with Selena Gomez

[TheLW]

Banging Selena
With Selena Gomez
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Blowjob, Cheating
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in Beverly Hills. I was out for a walk, nothing out of the ordinary, just enjoying the day, minding my own business. The sidewalks were buzzing, as usual, a mix of tourists, shoppers, and locals. Everything felt normal… until it wasn’t.

Up ahead, I noticed a couple walking toward me. At first, I didn’t pay much attention. But as they got closer, I recognized them. Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco. Not just out for a stroll either, they were clearly in the middle of an argument. And not a quiet, subtle disagreement. This was heated. You could hear the tension before you even registered what was being said. Selena looked visibly upset, her face tense, her pace quick and erratic. She kept trying to move away from him, to put space between them. But Benny wasn’t letting that happen.

He kept grabbing her arm, pulling her back toward him every time she stepped ahead. It was subtle enough to avoid causing a scene if you weren’t paying attention, but I was. And so was everyone else in the immediate vicinity. It was obvious something wasn’t right. You don’t yank someone’s arm like that unless you’re trying to control the situation, and not in a good way.

As they closed the distance, I adjusted slightly to one side of the sidewalk to let them pass, basic decency. But then, out of nowhere, Benny deliberately changed his trajectory and shoulder-checked me as he passed. Not an accident. Not a casual brush in a crowded space. It was calculated, he saw me there and made a choice. A choice to make contact. A choice to assert dominance.

I stopped in my tracks, turned, and said, calmly but firmly, “Hey, how about an apology?”

But instead of backing off, this guy turned to face me, eyes blazing with entitlement and anger, and shoved me. Not a tap. A full, aggressive push that knocked me back a step.

“Watch it,” he snarled, getting right up in my face like he was trying to pick a fight in the middle of the damn sidewalk.

Like I had done something wrong. Like he was the victim here.

Let me be clear, I don’t care who you are, celebrity, artist, whatever. You don’t get to walk through the world like you own it. You don’t get to try and manhandle your partner on the street and then pick fights with strangers for calling out your aggression. That’s not fame. That’s fragility wrapped in arrogance.

Selena didn’t say anything in that moment, she looked mortified. Not just by the argument, not just by him grabbing her, but now by the scene he was starting with me. You could tell she wanted to be anywhere else. And honestly, I don’t blame her. It was uncomfortable, tense, and borderline dangerous.

Now, up to that point, I was still trying to keep things cool. I wasn’t looking to escalate, wasn’t trying to make a scene. But he was. And unfortunately, he made a decision in that moment, a stupid one.

He threw a punch.

Out of nowhere, he cocked back and swung at me, like this was some barroom brawl he thought he could win. But he telegraphed it. I saw it coming. I sidestepped just in time, and in one fluid motion, I drove my knee right into his stomach. You could hear the air rush out of him. He doubled over slightly, and I followed it up with a solid right hook straight to his jaw. Clean. Precise. And it dropped him. Benny Blanco hit the pavement like a sack of trash that had finally been taken out.

Out. Cold.

He didn’t groan. He didn’t twitch. He just lay there, sprawled out, mouth half-open, completely unconscious. The man looked like he had just been unplugged from reality. I stood there, ready for anything. Adrenaline still pumping, fists half-clenched, heart pounding in my chest.

I mean, let’s be real, she just watched me drop her boyfriend. I half-braced myself for the verbal smackdown, some fiery rage, maybe even a slap across the face. That classic “What the hell is wrong with you?” moment. Especially with the stereotype of that infamous Latina fire, I thought I was about to get lit up right there on the sidewalk.

But then… she caught me completely off guard.

She stared at Benny’s unconscious body for a moment, then looked at me and said, voice steady… “Honestly? Thank you.”

She folded her arms, exhaled through her nose, and added, “This isn’t new. He does this all the time. Tries to start fights with other guys, always acting like he’s got something to prove. It’s exhausting. I’ve been covering for him, apologizing for him, and I’m kind of done with making excuses for him.”

As Benny continued his impromptu nap on the pavement, I turned toward Selena, still half-expecting some kind of emotional whiplash. But she didn’t waver. She looked me right in the eye and said, calm but firm.

“I know you were just defending yourself.”

There was no hesitation in her voice. No second-guessing. Just the tone of someone who had seen this exact kind of scene play out before, minus the part where someone finally fought back.

Then she glanced down at Benny’s crumpled form with zero sympathy and muttered, “He’s such a douchebag sometimes.”

Sometimes? I didn’t say it out loud, but the thought hit me hard.

She sighed and rubbed her temples like the headache was only just beginning. “We were parked just around the corner, black Mercedes GLA250. I can’t carry his dead weight by myself, and calling an ambulance is just gonna make this a bigger mess than it already is.”

Then she looked at me again. “Think you could help me get him to the car? Just back to the house in the Hills.”

I stared at her, trying to wrap my head around the request. I had literally just knocked out her boyfriend, her celebrity boyfriend, no less, and now she wanted me to help haul his unconscious ass into a luxury SUV like this was some casual Sunday cleanup?

It was absurd. It was surreal. But somehow, it also made complete sense.

“Yeah… alright,” I said, half-chuckling as I walked over to Benny’s motionless body. “But I’m not buckling his seatbelt.”

Selena actually laughed. Laughed. Not a big one, but just enough to break the weird, post-knockout tension in the air.

Between the two of us, we managed to get Benny off the pavement, me doing the heavy lifting while she awkwardly tried to stabilize his legs. He groaned a bit but stayed out cold, head lolling like a puppet with its strings cut.

We made our way to the GLA250, tucked neatly around the corner like she said. The Beverly Hills gloss was still alive and well in that car, even as we dumped a passed-out pseudo-celebrity into the back seat like he was luggage after a red-eye.

She hesitated, then added, “You might’ve done what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

After she muttered, “You might’ve done what I should’ve done a long time ago,” there was a pause, one of those heavy silences where everything hangs in the air, unspoken but screaming.

I looked at her, then at the open passenger door.

“…Screw it,” I muttered, and climbed in.

Selena didn’t say anything, just nodded once and shifted the Mercedes into drive. The engine purred like nothing was wrong, like there wasn’t an unconscious D-list loudmouth sprawled across the back seat with a bruised jaw and a shattered ego.

We pulled away from the curb in silence. Beverly Hills blurred past the windows, all white walls, palm trees, and manicured lies. It was strange, after all that noise, the shouting, the hit, the bystanders whispering and filming, suddenly, everything was quiet. Not awkward. Not tense. Just… calm. Like the eye of a storm.

She glanced over at me while we were stopped at a light.

“Thanks for not making it worse,” she said. “I mean, besides dropping him like a sack of crap.”

I cracked a small grin. “He earned it. I just handed out what he ordered.”

That actually got a smirk out of her, genuine, if a little tired.

“Yeah,” she said softly, eyes forward again. “He always does.”

The ride to her place in the Hills didn’t take long. Winding roads, insane houses behind locked gates, the kind of neighborhood where everyone’s got a publicist on speed dial and bad behavior is just called eccentric. When we pulled into the driveway, the gate closed behind us with a cold, metallic finality.

She parked in the garage, cut the engine, and exhaled hard like she’d been holding that breath since we left the street.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said, eyes on the steering wheel. “But… I appreciate you coming along. I just didn’t wanna deal with this alone.”

I nodded, glancing back at the lump of dead weight in the back seat. “Need help dragging him inside?”

“Yeah,” she said, without hesitation. “One last time.”

Dragging Benny out of the backseat was like wrestling a drunk crash-test dummy. Limp, heavy, completely useless. Selena opened the door to the garage that led straight into the house, giving directions as we moved, cool, focused, all that fire she held back before now burning behind her words.

“Straight ahead, left at the kitchen, down the hall, last door on the right,” she said, walking ahead to flick on lights like this was just another Tuesday night.

I followed, lugging his dead weight, one arm slung over my shoulder, his feet half-dragging behind. The place was beautiful, of course, every surface sleek, every corner polished, like it was staged for Architectural Digest. And yet the air inside? Cold. Hollow. A showpiece with no soul.

When we finally reached the bedroom, I didn’t waste time.

I dropped him.

Hard.

Right onto the floor.

Thud.

I’d barely stepped back after dumping Benny onto the bedroom floor, his body landing with a thud that echoed through the slick, sterile quiet of that overpriced house, when Selena was suddenly in front of me.

Fast. Close.

Too close.

There wasn’t even a beat between me straightening up and her pressing against me. Eyes burning, breath shallow. Whatever weight she’d been carrying, whatever frustration, rage, humiliation, had cracked wide open, and now all that heat was pouring out, aimed right at me.

Her hands hit my chest. Not hard. Just enough to push, feel, test.

“You have no idea,” she muttered, voice low, trembling with adrenaline, “how hot it was watching you lay him the hell out.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

But she didn’t wait.

She grabbed my shirt, pulled me in, and kissed me like she had nothing left to lose.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask, it took. That bottled-up fury she’d been living with, that sick cycle of pretending everything was fine, all of it came spilling out. There was no hesitation in the way her fingers clenched the fabric at my chest.

I pulled back, just an inch. “Selena, your boyfriend’s on the floor.”

She didn’t even glance at him. “Ex. He’s been an ex in my head for months. You just made it official.”

Then she kissed me again, harder this time.

I didn’t fight it. Hell, I couldn’t. Not after the day we’d just had. Not with the heat radiating off her like a damn furnace. The kiss turned to motion, her hands moving up, mine following the curve of her hips, every second escalating like a match dropped on gasoline.

She backed me against the edge of the bed, their bed, ironically, like this was her way of reclaiming space, of rewriting the rules, of burning down the old and rebuilding it in the heat of the moment.

And Benny?

Still on the floor. Still out cold. Still irrelevant.

Her hands were on me again, dragging me down into another kiss, more urgent this time. This wasn’t playful. This wasn’t testing the waters. This was a damn storm breaking after months of silence.

Selena moved with the kind of intensity that didn’t come from flirtation, it came from release. From finally snapping the leash on everything she’d been holding in, resentment, betrayal, exhaustion. It wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t even about me. It was about taking control of something, anything, after feeling out of control for too long.

I grabbed her by the waist, grounding her, trying to get a word in.

“Selena, are you sure.”

She cut me off with a whisper, hot against my ear. “Don’t talk. Just… let me have this.”

It was like a dam had burst. She pushed me back onto the edge of the bed, their bed, which somehow made this even more volatile. Like she wanted to erase the weight of it, overwrite the memory with something she actually chose.

She straddled me, her breathing ragged, her hands in my hair, on my jaw, pulling, desperate to feel something real after being surrounded by someone fake for far too long.

But even through the fire, even as the room practically crackled with heat, my mind raced.

I looked at him, still crumpled on the floor, still breathing, still unconscious, and felt nothing. No regret. No second thoughts. If he got up and wanted round two, he could have it. I'd already dropped him once. I’d do it again without flinching.

Right now, this wasn’t about him. This was about her.

About the way she looked at me, hungry, furious, alive for the first time tonight. About the way her voice dropped when she said, “I need this,” like it was more than a want, it was survival.

She kissed me again, and I didn’t hold back. I let it happen. I met her with the same energy, the same heat. If this was her breaking point, I was the one she chose to break with, and there wasn’t a part of me about to stop her.

Because this wasn’t just about lust. This was about power. Reclaiming it. Wielding it. Earning it. And she was doing exactly that.

With that Selena and I aggressively tear each other's clothing off.

The sound of fabric ripping filled the room, drowning out any lingering doubts or concerns. It was a frenzy of hands and desire, an unspoken agreement to leave everything else behind. As the last piece of clothing hit the ground, there was no more pretending, no more holding back.

There was a hunger in her eyes, a need for something beyond words.

Her hands roamed over my body, urgent and demanding, seeking out every inch of me as if she wanted to consume me whole. Selena wanted it hard and fast, and I was going to give that to her. There was no room for gentleness in this moment, no time for soft caresses or whispered words of affection. It was a release of pent-up tension and frustration.

She clawed at my back, urging me closer, her nails leaving half-moons on my skin. I grabbed her and flipped her onto the bed, before getting on top of her.  And then, in a sudden surge of aggression and need, I shifted her hips, guiding myself into her with a force that matched the intensity of our connection.

She gasped at the sudden invasion, her eyes locking onto mine with a mix of surprise and craving. But there was no turning back now. We were both caught in the whirlwind of our own making, unable to resist the pull that drew us together. I thrust into Selena hard and fast, giving her everything that she wanted in that moment, what we wanted.

Her legs wrapped around me, her body arching to meet each thrust. The room filled with the sound of our skin meeting, It was a dance of sorts, wild and untamed, each movement driven by pure instinct and need.

Her eyes were closed tight, her lips parted in a silent cry of release and rebellion. This wasn't just sex, it was a statement, a reclaiming. I didn’t slow down, didn’t soften. This wasn’t the time for that. She wanted to feel alive, to feel powerful, and I was damn well going to give her that.

The bed shook with the force of our movements, the headboard slamming against the wall in a relentless staccato. Her eyes were wild, her hair a dark halo against the white sheets. She met each thrust with her own fiery intensity, her body demanding more, always more.

I could see the flush spreading across her chest, the sweat beading on her skin, as she took everything I gave her and begged for more. My hands found her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her there as if she might break away at any moment. But she didn’t struggle against my grip, instead.

Selena urged me on with her eyes, her voice a ragged whisper of “More.”

I gave her more, driving into her with a relentless pace that left us both gasping. The muscles in her thighs trembled as she tightened her legs around me, pulling me closer, deeper. Her head thrashed side to side until I caught her chin in one hand and held it firm. She opened her eyes slowly as I continued to thrust into her hard and fast.

I shifted slightly, changing the angle, and she let out a low moan, that turned into a sharp gasp as I leaned down, capturing one of her nipples between my teeth. I sucked hard, then bit down, leaving a reddened mark on her smooth skin.

She arched her back, pressing herself further into my mouth, a silent plea for more. I obliged, moving to the other breast, lavishing it with the same rough attention. Each suck, each bite left her writhing beneath me, her breath coming in short, desperate pants.

Her body was covered with sweat, I could feel her heart pounding against my lips as I moved back and forth between her breasts, leaving my mark, claiming her in a way that was primal and raw. She didn’t shy away from the intensity, instead, she embraced it, her body bucking against mine in a rhythm that was wild and untamed.

Her hands found their way to my hair, gripping tightly as she pulled my mouth closer to her flesh. I could feel the heat of her body, the desperation in her touch as she urged me on. Her body bucked against mine, meeting each thrust with renewed vigor.

She came undone with a cry that was half-release, half-triumph, her body convulsing beneath mine.

“Ugh yeah," Selena cries out "...so fucking good."

I followed her over the edge, my grip on her wrists tightening as I drove into her one last time, holding myself there as I came hard, pulsing inside her.

We stayed like that for a moment, before she leaned in close, a sly smile tugging at her lips, eyes locked on mine.

“Still a little hard, I see,” she said, low and teasing, like she already knew the answer. “Think you can handle a second round?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said, voice steady, that fire still pulsing just under the surface. “Question is, can you?”

Her grin deepened. “Try me.”

She shifted, moving down my body with a deliberate slowness that was torture in its own right. Her fingers trailed along my chest, nails lightly scoring the skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. I could see the wicked gleam in her eyes, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, like she was already savoring the taste of me.

Her hands found my thighs, gripping firmly as she settled between my legs, her breath hot against my skin. She looked up at me, holding my gaze as she lowered her head, those full lips parting in a way that promised pure sin. The initial contact of her lips was electrifying, a surge that coursed through my entire being. She began gently, playfully, her tongue tracing and discovering, heightening the anticipation with each intentional movement.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing and exploring, before she took me deeper, inch by inch, until I hit the back of her throat. She didn’t gag or pull back, instead, she relaxed, she was savoring it, using every trick in her arsenal to drive me wild.

Selena bobbed her head up and down, expertly working me over, and I groaned as she alternated between deep throating me one second and flicking my tip playfully the next. She picked up the pace, her head bobbing faster, I could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my entire body. Just as I was about to reach the edge, just as I was about to reach my boiling point…

Benny groaned.

A low, pathetic noise from the floor. Reality slammed in like a freight train.

Selena froze, still half-breathless, like she wasn’t sure whether to let go or finish anyway. I looked over her shoulder.

The idiot was moving.

Slowly. Barely. But he was coming too. Confused. Disoriented. Most likely concussed.

“Son of a…” he mumbled, trying to push himself up.

Selena didn’t even blink. She stepped away from me, crossed the room, and stood over him. I followed behind, not saying a word.

Benny looked up, one eye already swelling, jaw slack, voice groggy.

“Wha… what the hell…?”

Selena knelt down, not to help, but to look him dead in the face.

“You lost,” she said coldly. “And I’m done.”

He blinked, still not understanding. “Selena, what…”

Selena stood up, her voice like ice. “You think you can treat me like property? Like I’m just another thing you own?” She stepped back, her eyes never leaving Benny’s face. “You’re about to see what a real man looks like, Benny. And you’re going to watch me as I fuck him right in front of you.”

I saw the shock register on Benny’s face, his eyes widening as he tried to process what she was saying. He looked from Selena to me, then back to Selena, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Selena, what the fuck…” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp laugh.

“What the fuck? You want to know what the fuck, Benny?” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “The fuck is that I’m done with your shit. I’m done with your fake persona, your pathetic attempts to make yourself feel bigger by putting others down.

Benny tried to stand, swayed, then dropped to one knee. I didn’t move. Just stared him down.

“Try anything,” I said flatly. “And you’ll go back to sleep the hard way.”

His eyes flicked between us, finally seeing the writing on the wall.

And for the first time all night, he shut up.

Selena pushed me back onto the bed, her hands demanding. She climbed back on my body, straddling me with a confidence that was intoxicating. Her fingers found my chest, nails digging in slightly as she grinded against me, her hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle.

Her hips moved, rolling forward and back in a fluid motion that was hypnotic. She rode me like she owned me, her body rising and falling with a practiced ease that had me gritting my teeth to maintain control. Each shift of her hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, as Selena’s hands found my chest, using me as leverage as she picked up the pace, her breath coming in quick gasps as she moved faster, harder.

Benny watched from the floor, his expression a mix of shock, anger, and something else... maybe realization. Selena didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his presence. This was her moment, her reclaiming of power and control.

Selena's eyes locked onto mine, as she bounced up and down on my cock, riding me with a renewed intensity. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, her moans echoing through the air, with unbridled passion.

Selena’s breath hitched, her eyes rolling back as she let out a loud, defiant moan. “Yes,” she cried out, her body tensing around me, her pleasure peaking in a relentless wave. This wasn’t about putting on a show, this was about taking back what was rightfully hers.

Benny, still on the floor, let out a strangled noise, a mix of anger and humiliation. "You bitch," he spat, finally finding his voice. But there was no power behind his words, only impotent rage.

Selena turned her head to look at him, her expression cold despite the flush on her cheeks and the sweat beading on her skin. "See how it feels, Benny?" she panted, her voice laced with venomous satisfaction. "See how it feels to watch someone else take control?"

"You think this is funny?" he snarled. "You think you can just replace me like that?"

Selena didn't let up, not even for a moment, I was merely the instrument she chose to wield. But Benny, blinded by his bruised ego, couldn’t see that. She leaned back slightly grinding against me as her nails relentlessly dug into the skin of my chest, "I hate him," she panted leaning down her breath hot on my ear.

She began to move faster, her hips rising and falling. Each movement was a defiant statement, a claiming of her own pleasure and power. She rode me hard, her body taking what it needed, using me to drive out every last trace of him.

I could feel the tension building in her, the coiling of sensation ready to explode. I gripped her thighs, my fingers pressing into her flesh as I met her movements with my own thrusts, driving deeper into her. Her head fell back, her long hair cascading down as she leaned back, her breasts bouncing slightly as she grinded against me even harder, her body trembling with the building climax.

"Look at him," she panted, her voice breathless but fierce. "Look at his face."

I glanced over at Benny, his expression a look of humiliation. He was watching us, looking like he was on the verge of crying.

Selena saw it too, and it only spurred her on more. She leaned forward, her hands pressing against my chest as she moved faster, her hips rolling in a relentless rhythm. Each movement was a declaration of independence, a reclaiming of her body and her desires.

Benny watched tears now streaming down the side of his face. Selena didn't care. In that moment, she was free, unchained from that douchebag of an ex.

"Oh god," she gasped, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. I could feel the wetness of her release, the slick pussy juice that coated my cock as she came undone above me. Her eyes were closed tight, her lips parted in a silent cry of ecstasy and liberation.

“That,” she whispered, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips, “was fucking incredible.”

She rolled off me, sitting up on the bed, her body glistening with sweat and triumph. Benny started to push himself up from the floor, his mouth opening to spew more vitriol, but Selena beat him to it.

"Get out," she said, her voice cold and steady. Benny froze, one hand on the edge of the bed, his eyes wide with shock.

"What? Selena, you can't just…”

"I can't what, Benny?" she interjected, her voice like a whip. "I can't kick you out of my house? I can't tell you to get the fuck out of my life? Because watch me."

Then he lunged. Not at Selena, but at me. A clumsy, reckless tackle that sent us both crashing to the floor. I heard Selena yell, but it was distant, background noise to the sudden explosion of violence. A punch by him like a piston, then another one grazing my cheek as I turned my head too slow to avoid it completely. More out of instinct than thought, I drove my knee up hard in his ribs knocking the wind out of him. The room spun momentarily as I shook off the surprise of his attack and started to connect my own.

“You need to leave. Now. Or I swear to God, I will call the cops and have you hauled out of here in cuffs.”

Benny’s eyes widened, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. He looked from Selena to me, then back to Selena, his mouth working soundlessly as he struggled to find words. “You… you can’t do this,” he stammered.

Benny’s protests died in his throat as Selena picked up her phone, her fingers poised over the screen, ready to dial. The room was thick with tension.

“You think I won’t do it?” she asked, her voice steady and cold. “Try me, Benny. Try me and see what happens.”

He looked at the phone in her hand, then back at her face, he saw that she wasn’t bluffing, that she was done. He pushed himself up from the floor, his movements slow and defeated.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, but the threat was empty, a last-ditch attempt to save face.

Selena stood there, phone still clutched in her hand, breathing hard. She didn't move until she heard his car start up and peel out of the driveway. Only then did her shoulders relax, her tense posture softening slightly. She turned to me, her eyes still bright with the lingering adrenaline, a small, almost disbelieving laugh escaping her lips.

“That was…” she started, then paused, shaking her head as if searching for the right words. “That was insane.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and something else, something fiery and intense. “And you,” she said, taking a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “You and I are not even close to being done.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Is that so?” I asked, my voice matching hers in intensity.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “Damn right,” she murmured. “I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, and you’re going to help me do it.”

The End