#Adam driver x reader

[hauntingoldhouses]

tell me it doesn't look the same and you'll be lying

[heartshapedbabydolls]

Charlie’s dirty little secret💋

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed. 

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you.  You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue. 

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment. 

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing. 

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end. 

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered. 

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes. 

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused. 

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi. 

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently. 

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did. 

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam. 

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow. 

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood. 

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa. 

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said. 

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

 Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to. 

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave. 

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments. 

Adam controlled his breathing. 

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees. 

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch. 

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors. 

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment. 

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants. 

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted. 

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer. 

"Hi." You quietly spoke. 

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile. 

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness. 

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep. 

oh adam, i'd die for you

[inklore]

sending a little commander mills thot 💖 stopping for the night in a dark, deep cave. sharing a bed roll quickly turning into something more, as you end up on your hands and knees beneath him. there’s a rattle of stones near the entrance and his large hand is pressing over your mouth to keep you quiet - his senses on high alert for danger. but even then, mills can’t help the shallow rock of his hips - unable to resist how good you feel

warning signs

pairing: commander mills x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k+

contents: unprotected p in v, creampie, small amount of dirty talk, i didn't classify what planet they were on but threats are occurring, slight enemies to lovers, rough.

note: i'd let this man have his way with me in an open warzone and i have no shame about it because this idea has me insane.

You should have known. 

You should have known this planet would be nothing but a bad omen when you had to emergency land on it. When you lost contact, your ship deciding to stop working properly. When the only way of getting out a signal was to rig the system built within the interface of the hunk of metal. Ultimately destroying any chance of getting out of here on it but allowing you to get out a weakened signal, you hoped your home planet would come and swiftly send someone to you before this planet showed just why it was inhabitable by those who walked on two legs and didn’t prefer the taste of game. 

You should have known that Mills would be the worst person to crash land with.

Should have known he’d only raise your blood pressure and have a permanent scowl curve your brows until it gave you a headache. 

And you really should have known that he’d be this big. 

His stature alone suggesting that was more to him than broad deltoids beneath those clothes. More than just deadpan looks and side eyes of scolds and warnings behind those iris’s. Behind the moments and trips the two of you have taken together over the years. 

You should have known that his cock would stretch you like this. Making your insides burn when he thrusts inside of you. Your walls accommodating something that’s bringing you pleasure at the same time it has you mewling in pain—something big and hot and heady that’s making your fingers dig into the dirt. 

Your back arched at an angle that has your body scraping forward against the ground every time Mills snaps his hips against your ass. His cock going deeper and deeper—the tip hitting that spot inside of you that makes your body want to run from him, want to escape the pleasure and the sting of him going past what your bodies used to—his nails digging into your hips. Moonshaped marks embossed in your skin as he holds your ass in place. As he refuses to let you squirm away from him.

Because you wanted this, didn’t you?

“You’ve been begging for it.” He says with a heavy breath. A groan mixed somewhere in there, you’re sure of it but can’t decipher it fully with how you sound. How the back of your hand is covered in your own drool and bite marks from trying to muffle the moans and whines coming from your mouth. 

There’s a rock under your knee that has left an imprint into your bone, has cut the skin with how your body is moving. If you focus on it hard enough, you may even feel a trickle of blood. Or the indents of stone and caked on dirt on your elbows. 

But all you can feel—all you can hear, sense, smell—is Mills and what he’s doing to you. What he’s doing to your body and how you never want him to stop. Never want to go back to the time when the two of you pretended there was nothing there. 

The thrusting of his hips imprinted on your nerve endings, and you can’t imagine a time, a moment, or a place where you don’t want him to bend you over something and take you. Have you. 

“Who knew all you needed was my cock to have you so compliant.” Mills grabs the back of your neck. His grip just as rough and embossed as the fingers at your hips. The weight of his chest drapes over you in a way that has you pushed further into the ground and your ass higher in the air, shoving his cock to the hilt, a cry falling from your lips. His name coated in a pleading whimper. 

“Next time you’re not listening to me, all I’ll have to do is fuck you, huh? Bend you over and fuck you until you’re ready to admit who’s in charge here.” 

There’s some part of your psyche that wants to fight against this. That wants to throw his words back in his face with something snide and angry, but you’re fucking pudy between his fingers, and he’s molding you into a perfect compliant hole for him. 

Into someone who wants to follow his orders just as long as they get his cock in return. 

But you still open your mouth to try to tell him just as much. To ask him to fuck you harder or agree with him, you’re not sure because it dies in your throat.

The words fall to the pit of your stomach as the both of you stop in place as your body feels the soft rumble of something moving outside of the cave. The rustling of trees, rocks, and branches being stepped on. 

“Mills,” you murmur his name. Soft enough for him to hear but apparently too loud for his liking as he shushes you. His hot breath against your ear, his hands maneuvering your legs so they’re underneath him now as he lays on top of you. The massive width of his chest makes you feel engulfed in him. 

His hair against your cheek, his breath held in his lungs just like your own. 

You try to listen. Try to hear anything approaching, growing closer to your indisposed state. The two of you not in a position to move as quickly as you should to protect yourselves. Mills not seeming to be as on edge as you are, the faith he has in himself to grab his gun quickly enough if whatever is outside moves in closer, is almost aggravating. 

Your mouth parts to tell him this, to push him off of you so the both of you won’t die while he’s still hard inside of you. 

But instead of an argument, a gasp falls from your lips as you feel Mills rock his hips against you. The tip of his cock pulled back to your entrance only to be thrust back in slow, and agonizingly sharp all in one quick rock. 

“Mi-” his palm presses against your mouth, silencing you.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your ear. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been needing this, to fuck you.” His heavy breath and the deep timber of his tone as he tries to keep quiet, as he speaks the words for only you to hear, to know, and to feel, wash over your spine and lay achinly between your thighs where the shallow rock of his hips against your ass has your nailbeds housing rockbed as you try not to become a sobbing mess behind his hand. “You feel s’fucking good.”

And if the two of you were to die like this; with Mills rutting against you, his cock stretching you, his deep breaths and praises against your ear, your slick coating his length as you come, and his come leaking from you—leaving your pussy a warm and sticky mess as he continues to thrust inside of you even after the fact, as if he’s trying to keep all he can inside of you—then so be it. 

You’d die happy.

[jfksbrainmatter]

how’s mama? ;)

adam driver x reader

genre : fluff 🧸

summary : you are laying in bed, heavily pregnant and sleeping. your husband, adam driver, wakes you after he came home from work and accidentally reminds you of your pregnancy and impending due date. freaking you out.

author note : this based on a really cute tiktok i saw bc i couldn’t stop thinking about it 😓

content warning : pregnancy, talk of birth, anxiety, age gap (reader is like mid 20’s-early 30’s and adam is late 40’s) and reader cries (for like a sec bc hormones)

warm, kind hands stroking your arm wake you up. your eyes flutter open as you shift in bed, smiling as you notice adam kissing your forehead. “mmmmm..hi baby~” you mewl, shifting to turn toward him, leaning up to kiss him.

“hi sweetheart..” adam leans down and meets you halfway in the kiss, stroking back your hair. “how’s mama doin’ ..?” you furrow your brows and tilt your head, confused til you look down. your lips quiver as you remember the impending child in your belly. eyes filling with tears, you look back up at adam, seeing his small frown.

“what’s wrong lovey..?” he asks with concern. everything, you wanna say. but you don’t. you sniffle and blink back the tears, “m’having a baby…” you whimper. adam smiles in amusement at your shaky voice.

“yeah you are hun..” he strokes your cheek to calm you down. you shake your head and whine, cupping your bump as you remember all the weight and life inside you. your grogginess is gone. replaced with anxiety and…fear..?

you don’t know but what you do know is that you’re crying freely now. adam lies next to you and cradles your bump with you, kissing your cheek and holding your head to his chest.

“shhhh..babygirl calm down, you’re gonna be okay…you’re alright, just breathe..” adam coos, calming you down. he’s very good at calming you down most times but the tears won’t stop flowing. damn hormones. you pull back and whine, wiping your eyes and rubbing them tiredly.

“a-adam i- i can’t give birth i can’t…what if i go into labor without you here? what if- what if i go into labor early?? i- im scared adam.” you whimper, sniffling and hiding into him. suddenly you stop, breathing slowly as you feel your baby stir, getting more settled. adam kisses you softly to stop your rambling, wiping your tears away softly.

“you will be ready my love. i will be there and- and you are so prepared honeybun...you have the nursery ready, all the baby clothes and the books and toys~” he smiles and laughs softly, rubbing your bump. he slides further down the bed to wrap his arms around your waist, listening and feeling for kicks from the baby. “i’m ready. i feel like you are too, almost.” he smiles and kisses your bump as the baby kicks against his lips, his laughs rumbling through the room.

you crack a smile at his happy laugh, stroking a hand through his hair as the baby kicks against their daddy’s hand. “i think they missed you.” you wipe your tears and sigh, calming down into your husband’s embrace.

he smiles giddily and lays his head against the bump, closing his eyes in content happiness. he loves his tiny family. “do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl..?” he asks, excited about a baby either way.

“mmmm i don’t care..as long as they’re healthy.” you whisper in response, kissing adam’s hair. he sighs and sinks into you, exhaustion finally sinking into him from his long work day.

“what do you want for dinner tonight baby..?” he asks, having taken over the responsibility of dinner. he’s staring at your large bump as he speaks, almost like he’s talking to the little human in you.

“mmmm…i think they want your ‘world famous’ burgers~ and fries…and a chocolate milkshake from that one place-!!” you speak excitedly, the craving coming on quickly from the baby in your uterus (who needs to pay rent by now).

“then that’s what mama’s gonna get.” he smiles and stands, walking to the kitchen to make his delicious food for his very, very pregnant wife.

[beskarinhyperspace]

This is an erotic audio, proceed with caution.

Warnings: dom & choked (with love). Nothing violent only obsession.

This can be GN if you like being called a good girl ;)

A/N: I'm sorry i haven't posted for A ripple in space for a while. I'm getting my life in order. In the meantime enjoy this little treat. xoo

[strangunddurm]

Mine

Masterlist

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Summary: Flip Zimmerman was a man that liked to eat his cake and have it, too.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving). 

A/N: It's been ages since I wrote something so I'm so proud of myself for finally finishing something.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh, hahah..” Your laugh was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and skirt bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

Thank you for reading! Please check out my Masterlist if you want to read more.

Tags in reblog.

[imaginedisish]

how do you sleep? (Ben Solo x fem!reader)

Part 1: We'll Never Have Sex

A/N: Hey guys!! So here is the first part of my Ben Solo x fem!reader fic. It is going to be told in non-chronological order, and every single part can be read as a one-shot! The overall series is based on "how do you sleep?" by LCD Soundsystem, but this particular part is based on "We'll Never Have Sex" by Leith Ross. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

Summary: After a lifetime of pining and yearning between you and Ben while training with Luke, things finally come to a head. (Series takes place over the year before Ben turns to the dark side, and then the aftermath of that).

Warnings: SMUT, fingering (f!receiving), so 18+, obviously canon divergence, all chapters can be read as a one shot with no context, series warning for canon typical violence, cursing, probably poorly proofread bc I only proofread once, praise kink...

Word Count: 2,511

Rain ruthlessly patters against the roof of the tent, threatening to leak through with each drop that came crashing down. You and Ben lay across from each other, a fire separating you, crackling in the center. You silently wish you were closer to him. You wish you could feel his calloused fingertips threading softly with your own. Maybe his hands would find their way to your waist, gently exploring your-

No. You can’t think like this, you’re not allowed to, never have been and never will be. You weren’t meant to get to have sex, married, to settle down, to have attachments of any kind. You were a Jedi, first, foremost, and only. 

But could love be that bad? Would being with Ben be so insurmountably terrible that it would corrupt both of you and bring disorder to the galaxy? Master Skywalker had told you it would, that an attachment of any kind would disrupt your training and your entire way of being. That notion had lost its meaning for you, and seemingly contradicted itself time and time again. If loving Ben was so horrific, why was it the only thing that made sense? 

“You okay?” He mutters, noticing that your eyes are glued to the fire, that stupid fire that stood in the way of being close to him. 

You mumble a yes in response, your mind far too clouded and nervous to say anything else. You were too busy convincing yourself that whatever bond you had with Ben defined the word yearn. You had known him your entire life, both having been trained by Luke practically since birth. And for as long as you could remember, you loved Ben Solo. 

And he loved you. 

But you held back, at least for as long as you could. As teenagers he had slipped up, kissed you while you had been sparring in the woods, far, far away from Luke. He had won the sparring match with your back to a tree, and he kissed you. 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

You talked about it once, and never again. You decided to hide it, to stuff the memory down, deep down where no one would ever be able to find it. Hiding wasn’t enough, it never was. You couldn’t forget it. Even now you dream of the taste of his lips on yours. You wish you could taste them now.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, forcing you back to reality. He’s sat up now, looking down at you over the fire. 

You sit up too, forcing your gaze into the flames. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” It was Master Skywalker’s fault for putting you and Ben on missions together, for keeping you two so close. He had to know how the two of you felt about each other. It was like some soul crushing test, some obstacle he expected you two to jump over and come out the other side stronger Jedi. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last mistake a Skywalker made. 

“Do you…” He paused, waiting for your gaze to meet his. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes lock. “Do you wanna come over here?” He asks. He tilts his head to the side, searching for your response in your face before you can think of something to say. 

Say no, You think to yourself. Bad idea. Bad, terrible, awful idea. But your thoughts don’t seem to communicate with the rest of your body. You’re already standing up, walking around the fire, and sitting down on the edge of his cot, facing away from him. 

Ben rests a warm hand on your lower back, his thumb tracing circles and stars along your spine. It feels good, comforting – so it can’t be bad. You didn’t feel any evil bubbling up in your stomach, no pull into the darkness like had been foretold and prophesied. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Ben asks, there’s a smirk in his voice. You could hear it from a mile away. You turn your head to look down at him, and there it was, the cocky smirk. The second he sees the pain contorting your face, it slips away. You want it to come back.

You smile softly, reassuring him that everything was fine. “It’s just the nightmares.” It wasn’t a lie. They had certainly come back. You had dozed off a few minutes ago, and there they were. You weren’t going to fall back to sleep, not without him.

Ben responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down onto the cot. You stretch out a bit, letting yourself get pulled under the current of whatever was about to happen. The loneliness was too much; being without him was too much. And those – of course – were the real issues, the real sickness that was plaguing you. 

You and Ben knew loneliness too well, far better than any being ever should. 

Having someone this close kept that sinking alone feeling at bay; trapped it in some deep, dark, unintelligible, inaccessible corner far out of your mind’s reach. The feeling of his arms holding you tightly in place dispersed it, decimated it, fragmented it into pieces that simply could not be put back together, as if they had never been part of a whole to begin with. 

You’ve never had someone this close for this long. You’ve never gone this long without that alone feeling nipping at your skin and cursing in your face. And yet, it had been silenced. It wasn’t just because of a someone. He silenced it. And you knew that he was the only one who could. No, this couldn’t have just been anyone. It had to be him. 

And only him. 

“Ben,” You whisper. He squeezes your hip lightly in response. The feeling sends a ripple of chills down your spine. 

You don’t know exactly how long it’s been like this, standing on the ledge of a building neither of you should jump off from. You lost track of the time a few years ago. But you certainly never lost track of him. 

He squeezes your hip again, his lips suddenly sinking against your neck. You swallow the heavy lump in your throat as his hips push against yours. You jump, I jump, You think to yourself as he presses open-mouthed kisses up to your jaw, his body slowly shifting so that he’s above you. You let yourself fall onto your back, staring up at him. 

It was so quick, so easy to melt under his touch. It was too easy, for both of you, to give into the thing that had connected you for years. It was too simple to get to where you are now for it to ever be bad, to be the start of another war. 

The words slip from your lips. “I think I love you…” But you didn’t think. There was no thinking about this sort of thing, especially with Ben. That think came from your nerves, from that part of you adroitly trained to push him and everything else away. You didn’t want this to go past think. Think sits in limbo, unsure of its position, suspended in fluidity and nonsense. 

“Think?” Ben enunciates each letter, as if to question each sign’s meaning. But the smirk on his face tells you he’s much less serious than that, and that he knows your intention is far more serious than that think. 

You clear your throat, but the anxious feeling continues climbing up your esophagus. “Yeah…” You trail off, failing to seem aloof. “I think I-,”

“I know.” The thunder outside attempts to rudely interrupt the crackle of the fire and the finality of his words, but you hear them all the same. 

“Know what?” You question as the tips of his fingers graze the sides of your neck, slowly and gently wrapping around, as if to hold you in place. 

There’s no nervousness etched across his forehead as those perfect lips of his part. His brows aren’t furrowed, he doesn’t clear his throat. That smirk still tugs on his lips, even more so in his eyes, begging to be stretched into a smile. He’s cocky – but sweet – because he knows you’re terrified beyond belief. He’s more comfortable crossing this line than you are.

He was made to cross lines. “I know I love you.” And he means it. He means it in a way that speaks for you too, in a way that takes your think and transforms it into something greater. It was permanent, static, steadfast. A know, not a think. 

Rain pounds violently against the roof and you’re almost thankful for it. It keeps your words from leaking outside and into unaccepting ears. The ears that you and Ben had sworn your life to, your being to, your duty to. You were consciously breaking that oath, that code, that order that you had lived by for as long as you could remember. 

Part of you wants to scream, How dare you? How dare you cross the man who taught you everything, gave you everything? But what if that everything wasn’t as important as what Ben was, as that know had suddenly become? 

You know the answer, you’ve known it for years, before this moment, before he kissed you against that tree. You know the answer every time you see his smile, those eyes. You know when you hear his voice, when you feel his hand at your back when you’re being reprimanded by Skywalker. And he knows it too. He’s known longer than you have. 

Never mind crossing the line, it’s gone now, as if it was never there to begin with.

His lips press fervently against yours, already begging for more. He fits perfectly there, above you, your bottom lip skimming against his teeth, being bruised and imprinted with each hungry kiss. 

He pulls away for a second, his chest rising and falling somehow faster than your own. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating out of your chest, the sound drumming violently against your own ears. His hands unclasp your throat, roaming down your body, exploring each curve and corner before resting at the hem of your shorts. 

“Wanted you,” He pauses, his fingers hooking under the waistband. “For so long.” He finishes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking long.” 

“B-Ben,” You’re stumbling around your words, and yet your mind has never felt more clear, more free. “Need you, please.” It’s a beg, a whine. 

His lips part from yours for just a second to pull your shorts and panties down. “Always needed you,” He says as his right hand drifts slowly down your stomach and in between your thighs. He spreads your legs and finds your clit before two of his fingers move further down. “So wet for me,” He says in between the gasps that echoed in the air. 

“B-Ben,” You whimper, suddenly remembering once again that you quite literally have never had anyone this close before. “I-I’ve nev-,”

“I know,” He whispers, his voice filled with lust, even deeper than normal. His dark hair falls against your forehead. “I’ve got you.” His fingers move back to your clit, circling slowly at first, gradually getting faster until all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders. 

“F-fuck,” You curse. He presses harder against your core. “Need you, Ben,” You beg, all breathy and carelessly loud. 

Ben rests his forehead against yours, his fingers flicking at your clit, his other hand coming up and under your tank top. You have no bra underneath, something he couldn’t help noticing before. He gently rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, reveling in the way you feel against him. 

He wanted you, needed you, just as much as you wanted and needed him. 

His palm glides across your chest, making sure to do the same to the other side before swiftly pulling your top up and over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. You don’t care if it lands in the fire. You wanted it to burn. 

“Doing so good for me,” He whispers, his lips sucking against your neck now. “Such a good girl.” 

You feel yourself clench around nothing, fluttering as Ben’s fingers refuse to let up. “I’m s-so close,” You choke, struggling to catch your breath. You could feel that familiar feeling building up in your stomach, heat spreading like a wildfire across your skin and every inch of your body. “Ben,” You recklessly call out. “I’m gonna-,”

“That’s it,” He coos, his fingers still working at your core. “Come on my fingers.” And just like that, white heat, stars, the cliché tension snapping, all of it was true. With him, that’s exactly what it felt like. 

He doesn’t stop right away, his fingers slowing down a bit before dipping down to your entrance, collecting your slick bringing them up to his lips. His fingers disappear into his mouth, sucking gently before he pulls them out. The feeling at your core immediately sparks again. You want more, need more. 

“Ben!” Your heart pangs in your chest at the shout of a familiar voice. FUCK. “Ben!” The voice yells again, outside the tent. Your eyes widen in fear. Panic fills your chest, and Ben springs up and out of the cot, hoping to get outside the tent before the voice found its way inside. 

Ben smiles at you as he stands at the entrance of the tent. You smile back, but you’re freaking out on the inside. What if Luke hadn’t called Ben’s name? What would’ve happened if he had simply come in and caught you? Ben can tell that you’re uneasy by the way your nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowed tightly. And yet, you don’t regret a thing. How could you? 

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” He whispers, grabbing the cloth door to the tent with his hand. “We’ll figure it out…” He trails off, looking towards the door for a second before his gaze finds yours again. “I’d do anything for you, I mean it.” His words are so final, so permanent, the exact thing you had been afraid of. 

But not anymore. 

“I know I love you.” The words fall from your mouth with ease this time. You can hear Master Skywalker’s footsteps growing closer to the tent.

Ben smiles, his cheeks flushing just a touch, like someone had pinched his cheeks ever-so-slightly to remind him of how handsome he was. “I know I love you,” He says back before squeezing out of the tent so his uncle wouldn’t see the evidence of creed that had been broken and the attachment that had been consummated.

What the fuck were you going to do?

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I have a request and was wondering if I could please request it, could I request Ben solo x super affectionate reader please, I thought this would be super cute 😍 with gn reader pls

It’s been a while since I wrote for my emo bf🤭

no warnings, bens just a lil mean ):

Polar opposites

Ben wasn’t used to the affection, like at all. He loved it though, even if he wouldn’t say that. And everyone else thought you both were weird together, because you were both polar opposites.

“I’m working.” He grumbled under his breath when you came in and hugged him. He was in his office, out of his helmet and looking through some files.

“I just came in to see how you were.”

“You’re an officer, act like one.”

“Okay then, rude.” You rolled your eyes and went to leave his office before he stopped you.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Did you forget something?”

“Nah.. I don’t think I did.” You smirked.

He sighed “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yeah.”

“Please give me a kiss.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You teased.

“Please.”

You laughed at him and went up to him, he looked at you and you both kissed for a little before he pulled away.

“I’ll see you later.” He said.

“See you. I love youuuu.” You smiled at him.

“Love you too.” He said, and turned back to his work.

———————————————————————-

He opened the door, and was met with you immediately jumping onto him. His eyes slightly widened as he closed the door behind him with his foot. You jumped down and he just furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey.” He said, kissing you once again.

“Hellooo… you wanna go in the bed and cuddle? It’s like 11.. I stayed up for you”

“Sure. Just let me change and stuff..”

“Mhm!”

After he was done changing, you immediately latched onto him. He wasn’t complaining. He held onto you as you both watched the screen in front of you.

It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in his arms. How could you not? With his warm arms comforting you.

He smiled ever so slightly, turning the screen off and falling asleep as well.

[calummss]

PREY | FLIP ZIMMERMAN

masterlist

summary: never trust a charming man. his charm might turn into your worst nightmare when the man seems too good to be true

pairing: fem! reader x flip zimmerman

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is the weirdest idea i’ve ever had, do not ask how i came up with it…i wrote this for english lit so if there a name or description to the my oc i changed to ‘y/n’ please ignore since i didnt proof read!!

TW! kidnapping, implied cannibalism

"I can hear you, sweetheart," taunting words fell between the rapid rustling and crunching of the autumn leaves, creaking branches, and the smell of wet weeds and newly bloomed wild flowers.

A thin layer of sweat covered the nape of your neck; your hairs stuck to the side of your face as you twisted and turned to see what direction was the way out of the forest maze—quickly and safely. Every second you pondered, you wasted time. Every wrong turn you took, you wasted energy. Every second, you were hopelessly running away from safety.

You felt a surge of adrenaline as the cold air bit into your lungs. You forced your legs to push harder off the muddy ground and slippery roots, anticipating the relief of finding someone who could help. A sudden ringing noise penetrated your ear; a waft of air shot past you. Your heart sank into what seemed like a bottomless pit in your stomach when you saw a shotgun shell embedded in tree bark. A meaningless piece of brass and plastic, the colour of gasoline fuel, but its shape solid; red like blood.

Your screaming burst through your lungs; it was the only weapon you had. Your breath was sharp and frantic, your eyes wide filled with tears. Fear washed over you as you thought of the possibility of your life being cut short just because you had trusted a man who turned out to be the kind of charming until he got what he needed.

"You broke my trust, Y/n." His voice sang through the thick air. "You know, my favourite game as a boy used to be hide-and-seek. Always played with my brother, friends, family,” A short but taunting silence made your heart race. "They always complained because I played unfairly and cheated," he said, to the sound of his gun clocking. "I disagree."

The soft ground blurred below you. You continued running for what seemed like longer than it should have, figuring it was because of the psychopath on your tail. The only things that could hinder you from survival were your physical limits and your doubt. But your exhaustion also came running after you, and your cramping legs gave in, falling into the pile of wet leaves. Your body shook as you pressed your back against the tree trunk, trying to regain some sort of power to keep on running, but it was no use.

His frame edged closer and closer, his black shoulder-length hair blowing in the low wind. His dark gaze fixed on you as his twisted smile sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind went frantic with the thought, ‘weak.’

He looked at you, jaw clenched, inches away from you. Nostrils picked up the scent of his cologne as your lips started to tremble, knowing you had failed to outrun him. What would he do now that you had tried to run away? You didn’t know.

"You look beautiful when you're scared," he crouches down, cocking his head. "But the fun is over now and I get really angry when people try to outsmart me. Will you try to outsmart me again?"

"Please!" Your voice cracks. "Please, you don’t have to do this!" You cry out, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

"But I do," his voice now soft like it had been before he opened up the door to his cabin. "I have to do this."

Your crying intensified; your chest grew tight as bile rose in your throat. Blood pounded in your ears. Your hands shook. Your feet tingled. Your vision was disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish tank. There was nothing else you could do but give up. His strong arms scooped you off the ground and started carrying you away.

Your heart pounded even harder when you could see a street poking from behind the branches, realising you had given up before the finish line. Darkness was torn from your face, and a matrix of lights blinded you. Groaning, you shifted, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids. Your hand hits your face, the drowsiness making you feel like a marionette. But even though your limbs feel heavy, like they had piled on imaginary weight, you tried to pull herself together. Pushing your torso off the ground, you noticed you were back in the living room you had been in moments before you took off running. Your eyes scanned for restraints—none.

But there he was. Tall, broad, muscular, wearing...black? A black blazer buttoned over something white, dark trousers, black shoes, all melting together into one until you blink a few times.

He must have noticed your surprise.

"Don’t worry," he took a swig of beer. "This manor is human proof. Both escaping," he huffed out, placing his hands on his thighs before talking towards the kitchen counter, "I mean like escape proof, soundproof, everything proof." He laughed.

"Why are you doing this?"

You spoke, your heart pounding and your voice cracking. "What the fuck is happening?"

He cackled, like he had one too many drinks, and laughed at a terribly awful joke. "Something very unfortunate for you."

"Let me go. Please. I swear I—I won’t tell anyone."

Silence.

“What happened, Flip?" Your gaze dropped to his frame, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. His hands engulfed the beer bottle he held. "What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Y/n." Monotone. Dry.

"Then please tell me why you are doing this to me." You couldn’t stop your chin from trembling or your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. "You treated me so well. We slept together. And now. What is this?"

Flip scrambled out of his seat.

Your eyes darted across the room—the drawing room at the cabin, nothing but miles of land and sheep. It stood close to the sea, just off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, which at this time of year had the strongest and toughest currents.

Flip placed the beer on one of the coffee tables and braced his weight on the gold-encrusted sofa that stood perfectly opposite you.

"I mean don’t get me wrong, dear, the sex was incredible and probably some of the best I ever had but it was part of my scheme."

"What scheme? To lure me to the woods?” You wanted to shout, but every bit of effort you made to speak or move was tripled against the weight of you building fear.

"Look, it’s nothing personal, Y/n," he said, lifting the corner of his lips. "You took my bait and now it's on you. It’s not my fault when you’re so gullible when it comes to love. I mean seriously, falling in love within three dates?"

"Is Flip even your real name?"

"Yes. My full name is Philip Zummerman."

"You give your victims your government name?"

"Well, it’s not like any of them will ever tell the police," he chuckled, his white teeth shining between his black moustache and beard. "You asked me before why I am doing this. I have an answer to that but I don’t think you’ll enjoy it as much."

"What is the answer?"

"I am handsome, well proportioned and insanely wealthy. Those two components work rather marvellously together. I either charm my way out of any trouble or I’ll just pay off what I need to. Humans are leeches by nature, you know," he took another sip of his beer. "Humans crave luxuries and comfort, and what else?"

"I don’t know."

“Yes, you do. C’mon!" He slouched down with the biggest grin he had yet given.

“Ehm,” pause, “Money?"

“Ding Ding Ding…money. How much money do you think it will take to buy an ordinary man’s silence? Say less than a thousand dollars? Maybe even two if he’s desperate enough."

You had no idea how to behave. You felt like you were compelled to listen to him.

Flip stood back up again, beer in his hand, his back facing her as he paced around on the dark ebony floors, the squeaking penetrating your ears.

“And how much do you think you will need to persuade that same man, so dull and simple, to take a life?" His feet stopped moving.

A deafening silence.

What?

"Those dirty old men rummaging around the dirty cities of Colorado would do it for 5.000? Maybe 10. But in their eyes, you are worthless. Not worthy of anything except the price tag above your head that has compelled them to blindly follow any orders given to them. Just like dogs. I think there’s a psychology behind it but then again I am no psychologist,"

“What are you going to do with me?" You asked once more, collecting every ounce of calmness you had left, forcing yourself to make contact with him.

He sighed in response. Like he was... bored, annoyed, rushed? Perhaps all three?

"I’m going to kill and eat you."

His gaze went through you like a blast of ice, his sick smile making your stomach churn. Your muscles stiffened, paralyzed by fear. You could hear the slow, dragging beat of your heart. Fear became a tangible living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilising you and your brain, holding you captive. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to try and escape again, but you remained frozen.

"What…" Bile started to rise again.

"I will kill you, and I will eat you." The clicking of his tongue enunciating his pointed finger on you. "A simple concept really."

Panic started to settle in again. Fear creeping from behind, the hair on the nape of your neck stood up.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Nothing but high-pitched whimpers. Shallow breaths made it impossible to think clearly.

Your mind was scattered. How to escape? What had happened? Was your hand numb? Why did it feel like little pinpricks?

"This isn’t happening."

"It’s happening." His dark, monotone voice penetrated past your thoughts.

"It’s not happening. It’s not happening. This is all a bad dream."

You never had a heart attack but if someone had told you this is what it felt like, you wouldn’t doubt them. Your breathing was laboured, and your palms felt wet. You couldn’t think of anything but that your chest might get crushed any minute. "Oh, Lord," you started, "save me just this once."

You were trying to breathe, but you couldn’t. Someone was clutching your throat, stopping you from taking full breaths. But there was no one stopping you. Tears started trickling down your cheeks as panic crept over you again. This time, panic was unavoidable. It felt like forever. You sat there and panicked. He kept trying to say something, but nothing but mumbles made it past your ear. What he tried to tell you was inaudible.

‘Y/N!’

So suddenly his shouting erupted, bringing your mind back to reality as you stared blankly at him. You could feel a tear sitting at your lower lash line.

“There you are," Flip’s voice was half way between a whisper and a shout, deep and rumbling like the earthquake below you but still full of the danger you felt whenever you noticed his eyes on you. "Y/n."

“You’re a cannibal?" You choked back the fear and guilt you felt in your heart, speaking to yourself .

“Don’t insult your own intelligence," he tuts. "I do have a tendency to strongly dislike people who belittle themselves for the sole reason of incompetence or lack of confidence."

“And you just eat people?"

"I have refined tastes," he answers, his expression emotionless, but you could see the coiled tension in his body, the rage ready to spill forth. "You have complimented me on my cooking just earlier this evening. I remember the way your eyes fluttered, enjoying the thigh fillet. I would say your tastes are the same as mine. Why don’t we get you relaxed, dear? Hm? I have a room just for you and we’ll talk about this once you are back to normal."

"Normal. Normal."

You could feel his arms underneath you as he brought you to his chest. Feet dangling in the air as he made his way towards a wooden door that led down a spiral staircase, a red carpet greeting you as he walked past another long hallway until he came to a halt in front of the second-to-last door.

"You know, my dear, normally in these types of situations there would be some revulsion at the revelation that you’ve consumed a person. I see nothing of that in your demeanour. You don’t seem to care about the fact that others have suffered to land on my plate, yet you only seem to panic after you found out that you would meet their same fate... Tell me why? Do you think you are more important?"

[brazilian-vampyra]

♡♱ 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖂𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 (𝖕𝖙-𝖇𝖗) ｡ﾟ ୨୧

ೀ sinopse: pensou que o único lugar possível para se esconder do mal seria no convento, mas tudo muda quando o padre adam driver chega.

ೀ avisos: contém palavras de baixo calão, sexo explícito, sexo sem camisinha, creampie, perda de virgindade, masturbação, sexo oral, exibicionismo, dirty talk, size kink, orgasmo múltiplo, hipersensibilidade, praise kink, age gap, priest!adam x fem!nun! reader.

ೀ nota: esse capítulo aqui não tem o intuito de ofender ninguém ou ofender o catolicismo, caso não se sinta confortável, não leia.

𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂��𝐎𝐔 quando você completou 18 anos. Com a chegada da maioridade vieram as responsabilidades, e também vieram séries de pesadelos e sensações bizarras, como se alguém — ou algo — te perseguisse.

Sentia um arrepio constante na espinha, como se estivesse sendo observada por olhos invisíveis em cada esquina escura, ou em cada canto de seu quarto. A sensação de ser seguida por algo sinistro a perseguia implacavelmente, como uma sombra indesejada que se recusava a desaparecer e, a cada passo que dava, dia após dia que seguia, parecia apenas intensificar a sensação de que algo terrível a seguia, espreitando nas sombras.

Seus sentidos ficavam em alerta máximo, captando cada som sutil, cada movimento furtivo ao seu redor. O medo se transformou em uma constante companhia, enrolando-se em torno de ti como uma névoa gélida, impedindo-a de relaxar ou encontrar paz. Mesmo em momentos de aparente calma, a presença opressiva do desconhecido a assombrava, deixando-a à mercê de um terror crescente e incontrolável.

Ouvia sussurros chamando-a, sentia mãos quentes tocando seus ombros, ou algo deitado em seu lado no colchão.

Era tudo tão estranho e bizarro, que decidiu se juntar à um convento e se tornar freira. Quem sabe dentro da igreja não conseguisse a paz que tanto almejava? Quem sabe assim, aquela sombra não iria parar de se atrelar à sua?

Aquela tinha sido a sua melhor escolha.

Na penumbra da igreja, os fiéis se reuniam em prece, mergulhados na serenidade do local sagrado. Ajoelhou-se silenciosamente no banco de madeira polida, seus olhos erguidos para o altar iluminado pelas velas enquanto o som suave dos cânticos preenchia o espaço enquanto, mergulhava em suas reflexões.

De repente, um murmúrio percorreu a congregação quando o padre se aproximou do púlpito. Seus passos reverberaram pelo chão de pedra enquanto ele se aproximava, e ergueu o olhar para observá-lo. Seu coração deu um salto quando seus olhos encontraram os do novo padre. Alto e imponente, ele emanava uma aura de tranquilidade e dominância enquanto se dirigia à frente da igreja.

Possuía traços marcantes, com cabelos escuros e uma expressão serena que parecia irradiar sabedoria e compaixão. Seus olhos profundos refletiam a luz das velas, lançando sombras dançantes em seu rosto angular, junto à barba e o bigode que emolduravam. Sentiu um arrepio percorrer sua espinha ao encontrá-lo, uma sensação estranha e inexplicável que a fez desviar o olhar rapidamente.

— Queridos... — o padre Joseph disse, subindo ao altar. — Esse é o padre Adam, vindo diretamente do Vaticano. Ele assumirá meu cargo a partir da próxima semana.

O padre mais alto sorriu sem mostrar os dentes e levou uma mão ao peito, como se estivesse se sentindo lisonjeado por ter tal honra.

Enquanto os padres começavam sua homilia, você lutava para manter o foco nas palavras, mas sua mente inquieta voltava para o estranho magnetismo que emanava do padre Adam. Por mais belo e carismático que ele fosse, algo em seu olhar parecia esconder segredos sombrios, despertando uma sensação de inquietude que não conseguia ignorar.

[...]

Depois daquela semana, o padre Joseph foi embora. Tudo estava nas mãos do padre de longos cabelos escuros e alta estatura.

De repente, a sensação de pânico voltou — moderadamente —, aquela sensação de que havia algo a seguindo tinha voltado. Mas, faz dois anos que isso tinha sumido? Porque Deus decidiu te castigar novamente de tal maneira?

Deveria pagar algum pecado? Tinha atirado pedras à cruz de Cristo?

Não via outra opção a não ser se afundar em orações, e orar tudo o que sabia. As sensações se aquietavam quando você estava rezando, e perdeu as contas de quantas vezes seus joelhos ficaram doendo após ficar horas e horas sussurrando no altar. O crucifixo branco que ficava enrolado em sua mão já estava começando a ficar num tom mais encardido de tanto contato que tinha com suas digitais.

Agora mesmo, estava ajoelhada de frente à grande cruz de madeira, com o altar iluminado por mais de cem velas, enquanto você mantinha seus olhos fechados e rezava baixinho a oração "Glória a Deus nas alturas".

De repente, sentiu uma brisa fria percorrer a igreja quente e escura, batendo em seus ombros e quando olhou para o lado, lá estava o padre Adam. Como ele entrou sem fazer nenhum barulho? Parecia que seus pés eram leves como uma pluma, quase como se ele tivesse se materializado.

— Não quis interromper suas preces, filha.

— Não interrompeu, eu já tinha acabado, padre.

— Há algo te perturbando, querida... — o tom de voz dele era suave, quase furtivo.

— Como sabe?

— Posso ver no seu olhar.

Virou-se para ele, encarando aquele par de olhos castanhos. Havia algo muito estranho, apesar de serem brutalmente sensuais e cativantes, também eram densos. Tão profundos quanto mil abismos.

— Não sei o motivo... — ele levou uma mão até seu ombro, apertando levemente.

Seu corpo estremeceu levemente. Aquilo era muito similar à uma carícia, e não conseguia se lembrar da última vez que recebeu algum carinho de um homem.

Sentiu-se mal e se culpou instantaneamente. Estava gostando de ter o toque do padre Adam? Estava perecendo ao prazer da carne? Mas o que era aquilo? O que estava acontecendo com você naquela semana?

Não se conhecia.

— Mas... — ele prosseguiu. — Posso rezar por você, se me permitir.

— Agradeço imensamente.

O homem mais alto começou a rezar em latim. Apesar de você não falar esse idioma fluentemente, conhecia muitas palavras e foi capaz de identificar.

Ele estava rezando "Glória a Deus nas alturas", mas em seu idioma primário. Era a mesma oração que você estava fazendo antes. Ele estava ali há muito tempo? Escondido nas sombras escutando?

“Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.

Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te, gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam, Domine Deus, Rex caelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens.

Domine Fili unigenite Jesu Christe, Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram.

Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.

Quoniam tu solus sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus altissimus, Jesus Christe, cum sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris.

Amen.”

Um calafrio percorreu sua espinha ao escutar o "amém" dito dessa maneira mais forte, e você viu as chamas das velas no altar dançarem suavemente, por mais que todas as janelas e portas estivessem fechadas.

— Obrigada, padre.

Se levantou dos degraus. Já estava tarde, seu corpo clamava por descanso.

— Por nada — ele respondeu.

E, quando você ia sair, ele segurou sua mão e juntou às dele, fazendo-a praticamente desaparecer. Aquela mão pálida, grade, forte e cheia de veias aparentes estava sobre as suas. Elas eram quentes e macias, tão boas de serem sentidas que pareciam algo vindo de um paraíso artificial.

— E, não se esqueça de rezar antes de dormir.

Ele a olhou profundamente mais uma vez, fazendo você sentir sua garganta fechada. Responder era praticamente impossível agora, pois um nó havia se formado em suas cordas vocais. O que era aquilo, nervoso?

Assentiu com a cabeça e soltou as mãos dele, indo até o convento, para afundar a cabeça em seu travesseiro e desfrutar do sono dos justos. Dormiu com muito custo naquela noite, após ter rezado infinitas "Ave Maria".

[...]

O dia amanheceu sob um véu de sombras, onde nuvens pesadas pairavam no céu, obscurecendo a luz do sol e lançando o mundo numa penumbra sepulcral. O ar estava impregnado de uma sensação de inquietação, como se o próprio vento sussurrasse segredos sombrios que arrepiavam a sua espinha a todo instante, fazendo seus pelos se arrepiarem. No convento, o silêncio pairava como um véu de morte, envolvendo os corredores vazios em uma atmosfera de expectativa tensa, era como se algo estivesse prestes a acontecer.

Cada passo seu ecoava como um eco solene, reverberando nas paredes de pedra como um presságio fúnebre.

Os sinos da capela repicavam em uma cadência sombria, anunciando um dia que se desenrolava. Haviam corvos, que voavam em círculos sobre o telhado do local e suas vozes roucas cortavam o ar.

Cada sombra parecia se contorcer e se esticar, alimentando seu medo. Medo daquela sensação de que havia algo atrelado ao seu corpo... algo que não é desse mundo.

O dia se desenrolava como um capítulo perdido de um conto macabro, te deixando mais apreensiva a cada instante. Na parte da tarde, bem próximo às quatro horas, precisou ir ao monastério para pegar mais alguma velas que necessitavam ser repostas no altar da capela. Sob a luz pálida daquele dia extremamente não-expressivo, sua figura tímida deslizava pelos corredores sombrios da construção. Sentia seu corpo pesado enquanto seus sapatos tocavam no chão frio de pedra.

O ar estava impregnado com um silêncio pesado, sendo apenas interrompido pelos murmúrios dos corvos, que pairavam para lá e para cá, envolvendo-o numa atmosfera pavorosa. As sombras dançavam ao seu redor, contorcendo-se como espectros famintos que aguardavam nas dobras da escuridão.

A luz fraca das velas iluminava fracamente o espaço, lançando sombras distorcidas nas paredes antigas e nos móveis empoeirados.

Com passos cautelosos, você se aproximou de uma porta entreaberta, seus sentidos aguçados alertas para qualquer sinal de perigo iminente. Seu corpo tremia ligeiramente, uma mistura de medo e curiosidade a impulsionando adiante, mesmo quando a voz interior sussurrava advertências de perigo.

Se deparou com uma cena que ficaria em suas memórias para sempre. O cômodo era escuro, e várias velas estavam dispostas em cima da mobília velha. Mas, o que mais te impactou nessa cena foi o padre Adam — que estava sentado numa cadeira, no meio do cômodo escuro.

A cabeça estava jogada para trás, enquanto ele estava se tocando sem pudor algum. A mão grande e forte — que havia segurado a sua ontem — estava deslizando para cima e para baixo em seu membro, que estava melado pelo pré-gozo, escorrendo da glande rosada. A mão dele era bem grande, e mesmo assim, o pau ainda estava bem visível, com aquelas veias pulsantes e bem distribuídas por toda a extensão.

O seu corpo estava quase entrando em combustão, de tão quente que estava se sentindo agora. Seu coração estava martelando descompassado em seu peito enquanto você notava como o pomo de Adão dele subia e descia a cada momento em que ele respirava de um jeito mais ofegante. O moreno gemia de forma profana enquanto se satisfazia, e isso havia despertado algo em você.

Suas bochechas estavam coradas, e sua mão estava contra a própria boca, pois tinha medo de acabar deixando escapar algum som que não deveria. Havia um calor crescente no meio de suas pernas, um desejo estranho e uma inquietação em seu baixo ventre. O que era aquilo?

Por que ver um homem se rendendo ao prazer da carne estava te deixando assim? Você deveria se sentir envergonhada, deveria se sentir mal por isso, mas estava ficando excitada?

Seus olhos estavam vidrados naquela cena erótica, e você apertou ainda mais a mão contra sua boca quando o ouviu gemer mais alto e atingir o ápice, fazendo o conteúdo branco e viscoso escorrer pela extensão do próprio membro.

Saiu dali o mais rápido possível e desceu às escadas do monastério tentando controlar sua respiração, enquanto ainda sentia seu rosto queimar — só não queimava tanto quanto a inquietação no meio de suas pernas. Tentou tomar um bom copo de água para ver se acalmava seus nervos e controlar seus batimentos cardíacos, mas parecia que aquilo iria ficar na sua cabeça por um tempo; um bom tempo.

Como iria olhar para o padre agora? Como iria olhar para ele sem lembrar dos atos profanos que ele estava praticando num quarto escuro na construção?

Eram muitas perguntas e nenhuma resposta. O jeito era deixar que o próprio universo tomasse seu rumo.

[...]

A noite era tempestuosa, o som da chuva batendo impiedosamente contra as janelas era como uma sinfonia de caos e desassossego; raios cortavam o céu escuro, lançando breves lampejos de luz que iluminavam o seu quarto, revelando os contornos sombrios dos móveis e das sombras que dançavam nas paredes.

Olhava para o enorme espelho que havia perto da janela, pensando em como iria conseguir pegar no sono. Já havia rezado tudo o que sabia, e mesmo assim, a imagem do padre Adam dando prazer a si mesmo não saía da sua cabeça, assim como aquele fogo que ardia em seu íntimo ao vê-lo em tal situação.

O estrondo dos trovões ecoava pelo ar, como uma voz selvagem que rugia na escuridão, sacudindo os alicerces do convento com sua fúria incontrolável. O vento soprava forte, uivando como uma criatura faminta que clamava por entrada, enquanto as árvores fora curvavam-se em submissão ao seu poder avassalador.

Estava deitada em sua cama, os lençóis emaranhados ao redor de seu corpo como correntes que a mantinham prisioneira de seus próprios pensamentos impuros. Seu coração batia descompassado em seu peito, ecoando o ritmo frenético da tempestade lá fora, enquanto lutava em vão para encontrar paz em meio ao caos. Olhava para o teto de madeira, observando os padrões que eram desenhados no próprio material.

Cerrava os olhos com força, desejando desesperadamente que a tempestade passasse e trouxesse consigo a tranquilidade tão esperada. Sua mente atormentada por pensamentos impuros não iria te deixar em paz, nada iria.

Seu quarto era levemente iluminado pela luz branca e fraca de um poste que ficava ali em frente. Mas, essa luz parecia mais escura hoje.

De repente, ouviu batidas na porta.

Olhou para o relógio, que ficava em cima da mesinha de cabeceira. Faltavam cinco minutos para a meia-noite. Quem seria essa hora? Outra freira?

Levantou-se, usando sua camisola branca e fina e foi até a porta a passos relaxados, imaginando quem seria e o que queria. Ao abrir, se deparou com a última pessoa que esperava: padre Adam.

Ele estava em pé, e quase era do tamanho da porta. Estava sem suas roupas habituais, vestindo uma calça preta e uma camisa branca fina.

— P-Padre... — suspirou.

— Olá, querida. Problemas para dormir?

— S-Sim... estou tentando há algumas horas, mas meu corpo se recusa a descansar.

— Compartilho da mesma experiência.

Um silêncio mórbido pairou entre vocês dois, então você limpou a garganta brevemente e o olhou. Ele era tão grande comparado a você.

— Bom, hm... posso saber o por que de estar aqui...? Digo, essas horas...

Um sorriso praticamente sacana se instalou nos lábios sensuais do mais velho.

— Vim te perguntar se você gostou do que viu.

Seu corpo estremeceu no mesmo instante, e seu coração pareceu parar por alguns segundos, enquanto sua respiração ficava mais pesada. Arregalou os olhos e suas bochechas ficaram coradas de vergonha e desonra.

— E-E-Eu... eu n-não sei d-do que o senhor está f-falando...!

— Sabe sim, você é bem inteligente — levou uma mão até seu rosto, segurando seu maxilar e mantendo o contato visual. — Eu sei que você estava espiando. Que garotinha mais impura, não?

— D-Desculpa, não foi a intenção...

— Não me importo que você tenha olhado, só me entristece que não tenha se juntado.

— E-Eu não tenho como fazer o que o senhor fez... não tenho o que tem.

Uma risada rouca saiu dos lábios dele bem baixinho.

— Não mesmo... — a mão dele desceu por seu pescoço, e em seguida para seus seios, apertando levemente o esquerdo. — Deixa eu te contar um segredo... — ele se abaixou e se inclinou para frente, colando os lábios ao seu ouvido, enquanto a mão descia e adentrava sua camisola, chegando perigosamente em sua virilha, onde ele deslizou os dedos grossos por cima.

Seu corpo se estremeceu, e um gemido tímido saiu de seus lábios quando sentiu ele estimular levemente aquele ponto sensível, e pôde ouvi-lo sussurrar:

— Você tem algo muito melhor...

Os lábios dele desceram para seu pescoço, depositando beijos ardentes em sua pele, e te fazendo automaticamente abraçar os ombros largos dele. Estavam praticamente no corredor, entre a porta e o quarto.

— P-Padre... — tentou protestar. Mas aquilo saiu mais como uma súplica, do que um verdadeiro protesto.

— Adam.

Ele corrigiu, num tom ríspido.

— Mas que tipo de padre é você? — perguntou, sentindo o calor subir por suas pernas novamente, se concentrando em seu íntimo. — Que comete heresias...

Ele se afastou um pouco de você e te olhou nos olhos. Aquele olhar tão profundo e marcante, não era vazio e suas íris tomaram uma coloração vermelha, que brilhava como dois pontos na mais completa escuridão.

— V-Você não é um padre... você é... — ficou sem palavras.

— Sim, gracinha. Eu sou o seu demônio.

— Meu? — se perguntou internamente qual pecado teria cometido para merecer tal punição.

— Eu fui feito pra você. E, eu já tinha tentado me aproximar antes, mas você decidiu vir para o convento — ele reclamou. — Não posso te julgar, no fim, foi divertido.

— C-Como conseguiu entrar no convento? Como conseguiu se tornar padre? Pegar em cruzes, rezar...

— Eu tenho muita força de vontade, e deu um trabalhinho, sim. Mas, olha só como estamos... — ele se aproximou de seu rosto e deixou um selar demorado no canto de sua boca. — Valeu a pena.

A mão dele foi até dentro da sua calcinha, adentrando o tecido macio e permitindo que as digitais finalmente tocassem seu sexo nu. Um gemido de surpresa deixou seus lábios quando os dedos rudes do mais alto deslizaram um pouco mais embaixo, molhando-se com sua excitação.

Ele levou a mão até a própria boca, chupando os dedos vorazmente, com os olhos fechados. O moreno praticamente rosnou.

— Que delícia... — conseguiu dizer aquilo num tom que lhe deixava com as pernas bambas. — Preciso de mais.

— Ei, o que-.

Não teve tempo de protestar, ele segurou seu corpo como se você fosse tão leve quanto uma pluma, te agarrando, tirando seus pés do chão e entrando no quarto. Sua mente estava meio nublada, não conseguia pensar em nada agora que não fosse aquele homem; aquele demônio.

— Espera, e-eu nunca...

— Oh, eu sei... — ele levou o rosto até a curva de seu pescoço, passando o bigode por sua pele sensível. — Sinto o cheiro da sua pureza à quilômetros...

Os lábios dele foram até os seus. Eram quentes, macios e deliciosamente tentadores, só não era ainda melhor do que sentir a língua dele deslizando sobre a sua. Estava nos braços de Adam enquanto ele saboreava seus lábios e deslizava as mãos grandes por seu corpo, compartilhando seu calor com o dele. Nunca imaginou que fosse tão bom beijar um homem, mas estava sendo muito melhor do que nos seus sonhos.

Sentiu-se na cama, ficando de frente para ele enquanto o mesmo retirava a camisa e jogava em algum canto do cômodo. O peito pálido e com alguns pelos estava exposto, como seus braços fortes. Mas que belos músculos, aquele demônio tinha uma boa anatomia ou ele só tinha se ajustado à uma forma que sabia que iria lhe causar tesão?

Havia um crucifixo de prata ao redor do pescoço dele, com uma cruz detalhada e com alguns pedaços de uma jóia vermelha, supôs que fosse um belíssimo rubi.

Num movimento rápido, ele a puxou para o colo dele, fazendo você se sentar e sentir a ereção crescente que estava coberta pelo tecido escuro da calça. Seu rosto estava corado e sua respiração estava pesada, ele agora lhe dava selinhos lentos, que causavam estalos baixos.

— Seu coração está batendo tão rápido...

Aquele órgão pulsava em seu peito como as asas de um beija-flor.

Uma mão dele foi até seus ombros, abaixando as alças delicadas da camisola, fazendo-a cair levemente por seu peito, revelando seus seios que estava com os mamilos enrijecidos. Ele riu baixinho, um sorriso cafajeste que te deixou completamente excitada.

A outra mão foi até suas costas, obtendo um apoio para te inclinar levemente para trás, deixando seu peito mais visível enquanto ele praticamente salivava ao prestar atenção em sua pele, e perceber como você se arrepiava.

— Adam... — iria protestar sobre algo.

— Não se preocupe, eu sou forte o suficiente.

Assim, ele abaixou a cabeça, levando a boca até seus mamilos sensíveis, fazendo um gemido tímido escapar por seus lábios enquanto ele deslizava a língua descaradamente por sua pele macia. Aquela era uma sensação indescritível, pois nem mesmo em seus sonhos mais promíscuos foi capaz de imaginar que essa seria a sensação de ter a boca de um homem em seu corpo.

A mão livre do demônio foi até seu outro seio, praticamente o cobrindo por inteiro com aquela mão enorme, e apertando de um jeito que mais parecia massagear. Adam mantinha os olhos fechados, desfrutando daquele corpo perfeito que ele almejava há meses, e você estava gemendo baixinho, timidamente, se entregando pouco a pouco.

O moreno te deitou na cama em seguida, mantendo sua cabeça no travesseiro enquanto aproveitava para terminar de tirar a camisola que ainda te vestia, e ele aproveitou para puxar a calcinha junto. Agora você estava completamente exposta e sentia-se ainda mais envergonhada por ver como ele estava prestando atenção a cada mínimo detalhe em você. Desde quantos sinais de nascença estavam visíveis até suas bochechas coradas.

Cruzou as pernas por impulso.

— Não, não, minha querida... — ele disse num tom de voz suave. — Eu estava admirando esse paraíso que você tem entre as pernas, e você as fecha?

— Isso é um pouco vergonhoso...

O mais velho se deitou de bruços, distribuindo alguns beijinhos por sua coxa, fazendo você sentir aquela mesma sensação de quando o viu se tocando no monastério horas mais cedo. Aquele calor estava subindo por seu ventre novamente.

— Quando eu estiver fazendo você revirar os olhos, nem vai lembrar da vergonha... — os beijinhos foram subindo mais um pouco. — Agora abre essas pernas pra mim...

Ainda relutante, você abriu as pernas vagarosamente.

— Boa garota.

Ele segurou suas coxas na parte exterior, perto de sua bunda, e pôde posicionar melhor o rosto. Foi beijando a parte interior, praticamente queimando a pele sensível com aqueles beijos ardentes que pareciam te consumir como labaredas consomem a estrutura de uma construção durante um incêndio.

Os lábios dele chegaram perigosamente perto de sua virilha, antes de ele ir até a parte que tanto almejava: sua buceta.

Estava encharcada, tanto que sua excitação escorria. Ele sorriu maliciosamente ao notar e te abocanhou sem pudor algum. Um gemido de surpresa escapou por seus lábios, e você imediatamente cobriu sua boca com uma mão enquanto fechava os olhos.

Sentiu ele sorrir e grunhir contra sua buceta.

— Não precisa se conter tanto... as paredes do convento não são tão finas quanto parecem.

E voltou a te chupar novamente. Aquela era uma sensação tão celestial que nem parecia que algo profano estava sendo feito em cima daquela cama pois nunca, em todos esses anos, poderia imaginar que a sensação de ter a boca quente de um homem explorando seu sexo encharcado fosse tão perfeita assim, ainda mais quando o nariz dele estava sendo esfregado contra seu clitóris.

Pensou em como teria que rezar depois disso e pedir muito perdão por estar fazendo algo tão explícito e erótico. Finalmente havia se rendido aos prazeres da carne, ainda mais com um demônio. Mas, seus pensamentos rapidamente eram deixados em segundo plano quando sentia a boca quente dele indo até seu clitóris. Bem que ele disse que quando você estivesse revirando os olhos, não iria pensar em vergonha alguma.

— Porra... — a voz grave dele ecoou entre vocês. — Você é tão doce...

— Eu sou? — questionou timidamente, olhando para baixo e vendo como ele estava focado em continuar te chupando.

— Uhum... — ele murmurou, não perdendo o foco e jogando uma de suas pernas por cima do ombro largo enquanto apertava com uma mão.

Ele estava praticamente te fodendo com a língua, fazendo-a ver estrelas e praticamente alcançar sua utopia. Você levou uma mão até os cabelos escuros e macios dele, apertando sem nem se dar conta do que estava fazendo enquanto gemia.

O mais velho se concentrava agora em seu clitóris, fazendo movimentos em "oito" com a língua naquele ponto sensível. Aquilo te fez estremecer e praticamente lacrimejar de tanto prazer que estava sentindo. A sensação em seu baixo ventre voltou, mas dessa vez, muito mais forte que antes, como se houvesse um nó que estivesse prestes a se romper.

— A-Adam, por favor, eu... eu... — suplicou.

— Deixa vir que eu te seguro, querida — ele praticamente rosnou contra seu clitóris.

Não demorou muito para que tivesse seu primeiro orgasmo, o primeiro orgasmo de sua vida. Foi uma sensação tão intensa, que nem mesmo tinha palavras para descrever o quão incrível aquela experiência havia sido. Seu coração palpitava no peito, suas pernas tremiam e seus olhos estavam se revirando enquanto você apertava aqueles cabelos macios e escuros.

Ele lambeu sua intimidade mais um pouco, antes de se distanciar, com os lábios melados.

— Você tem um gosto melhor do que eu tinha imaginado... — ele admitiu, se sentando na cama.

A ereção já estava incomodando, aquelas calças estavam apertando mais que o normal. Mas, ele teria o alívio que almejava em breve, ainda não tinha terminado o que queria fazer antes de te penetrar.

O mais velho te fez sentar na cama, levemente inclinada para trás. Sentia seu corpo quente, o sangue fluía por suas veias rapidamente. Uma mão dele foi até sua intimidade, deslizando os dedos grossos por sua excitação gotejante, melando-os.

— Está sensível... — disse baixinho.

— Ah, querida... essa é a melhor parte.

Sentiu um dedo dele deslizar para seu interior apertado, provavelmente o dedo médio.

Arfou, olhando naqueles olhos profundos e cheios de desejo enquanto ele movia a mão devagar. Seu interior se contraia, devido a sensibilidade do orgasmo recente, mas mesmo assim era uma boa sensação.

— Vamos ver se você aguenta mais um...

E, assim, ele deslizou o dedo anelar, te fazendo gemer baixinho mais uma vez.

— Ótimo... ótimo... — te reconfortou.

Os dedos dele faziam esse movimento de vai e vem, curvados levemente para cima, te deixando cada segundo mais sensível. Era uma sensação estranha, ao mesmo tempo que era levemente dolorida, era extremamente bem-vinda e satisfatória. Fazia isso lentamente, mas não chegava a ser algo tortuoso.

— Está gostando disso? — ele questiona, baixinho, analisando seu rosto.

Você murmura algo de forma afirmativa, e ele segura seu queixo, fazendo-a olhar para seu rosto.

— Quero palavras, não murmúrios.

— Sim...

Ele começou a mover os dedos um pouco mais rápido, fazendo-a se contorcer levemente. Suas pernas ainda estavam um pouco trêmulas, e você fechou os olhos, inclinando levemente a cabeça para trás enquanto se entregava a mais uma sensação deliciosamente tentadora e excitante.

— Quando você estiver necessitada, e eu não estiver por perto... é isso que você vai fazer... — ele dizia aquilo num tom tão erótico, que parecia te levar para outra dimensão. — Você vai fazer isso com a sua mão, ouviu bem?

O moreno desceu a mão por seu queixo, até chegar em seu pescoço, onde ele não a enforcou, mas teve um certo apoio para poder olhar melhor para seu rosto. Suas bochechas ainda estavam coradas e seus lábios estavam entreabertos.

— Aprenda direitinho, hm? Na próxima vez você vai se tocar, e eu vou assistir...

Ele aumentou um pouco o ritmo dos dedos, movendo a mão mais rápido, fazendo com que a palma batesse contra seu clitóris e os dedos fizessem o som molhado reverberar entre vocês dois, te deixando ansiosa para sentir aquilo de novo.

— Eu tô... eu tô... — tentava falar, mas não conseguia.

A antecipação do ápice já fazia suas palavras tropeçarem umas nas outras.

— Mantenha os olhos abertos, querida — ele mantinha o ritmo dos estímulos. — Quero que olhe nos meus olhos enquanto goza nos meus dedos.

Aqueles olhos castanhos estavam fixos aos seus, e mesmo com a baixa iluminação que invadia o quarto, você conseguia prestar atenção em como aquelas íris escuras estavam ainda mais obscurecidas pelo desejo crescente que ardia por você. Não estava conseguindo se controlar, aquela sensação vinha com tudo mais uma vez, num desespero crescente que subia por seu ventre.

Ele continuava segurando seu pescoço, um pouco perto de sua nuca, mantendo seu rosto erguido e finalmente se deliciando com a visão de vê-la alcançar seu ápice. Seus quadris tremeram, um gemido sôfrego deixou sua garganta, e você sentiu como havia molhado os dedos dele, e como seu interior estava se contraindo.

O segundo ápice foi tão incrível quanto o primeiro.

— Muito bem, meu amor. Muito bem...

Ele retirou os dedos de seu interior e levou até a própria boca, chupando-os como havia feito mais cedo.

Estava ainda mais molhada, escorrendo ainda mais e molhando o lençol da cama. O demônio alto e forte se levantou, ficando de pé no chão de pedra e se livrando daquelas calças que estavam apertando a enorme ereção dele. Quando ele abaixou a calça, você não pôde deixar de se surpreender com o tamanho de seu membro.

Já havia o visto, mas agora que a mão dele não estava no mesmo, parecia ser maior. Só de lembrar daquela cena erótica no monastério, aquela sensação subia por seu ventre novamente. Ele estava pulsando, com a glande rosada molhada de pré-gozo, e ele pulsava.

— Eu sei que é grande... — ele se deitou sobre você, tomando seus lábios gentilmente, como se fosse uma forma de te acalmar. — Mas não se preocupe, vai caber.

Os lábios dele foram até os seus gentilmente, deslizando a língua pela sua, enquanto os lábios dele pareciam massagear os seus. Estalos baixos daquele beijo estavam ecoando entre vocês, e você estava tão perdida nessa sensação que mal se importava com o mundo ao redor.

As mãos grandes dele foram até seus braços, segurando seus pulsos com firmeza e deixando-os pressionados contra os lençóis. Sentiu ele te penetrar devagar, indo com calma e sutilmente, para que não acabasse te machucando.

Você gemeu contra os lábios dele, e ele separou o beijo, fazendo com que um filete de saliva acabasse pendendo entre vocês dois, que logo se desfez. Sentia centímetro por centímetro, e fazia uma pequena pressão no início, mas ele foi devagar e com calma até penetrar tudo.

— Puta merda... — ele gemeu.

— Caralho... — você gemeu baixinho.

O fato de estar se entregando assim, e agora falando um palavrão já havia deixado bem claro como aquele demônio havia conseguido corromper você.

— Viu? Eu te disse que ia caber... — ele a tranquilizou, começando a mover os quadris devagar. — Nossos corpos foram feitos um para o outro, querida.

Ele não estava mais com peito colado ao seu, mas estava movendo os quadris num ritmo lento e altamente erótico que te fazia perder o juízo, enquanto ele segurava seus pulsos com aquelas mãos grandes e olhava em seus olhos. Não sabia dizer se era só impressão, mas ele ficou ainda mais gostoso em cima de você, e imaginou como aquelas costas largas e aquele corpo alto cobriam o seu corpo pequeno perfeitamente.

Os gemidos e grunhidos profanos do demônio estavam adentrando em sua mente, e logo mais iriam se tornar seu som favorito, era melhor do que ouvir os pássaros cantando na aurora. O pau dele esticava seu interior deliciosamente, fazendo-a gemer sem pudor, olhando nos olhos escuros dele se sentindo indefesa e entregue.

Estava nas garras do demônio.

A cada trovão que iluminava o céu noturno, você podia prestar atenção nos músculos fortes do moreno, e sentir-se feliz por ter a chance de se deleitar com isso. Já Adam, estava mais do que feliz por tê-la embaixo dele, e ele sabia que deveria tomar cuidado com seu corpo, pois às vezes não tinha controle da própria força.

— Sabe por quantas e quantas noites eu ansiava em te tornar minha? — por Deus, aquele homem sabia como fazer seu mundo virar de cabeça para baixo. — Agora olha só...

— P-Por que não tira esse crucifixo? — questionou timidamente, prestando atenção em como o pingente se movia a cada movimento de vai e vem que Adam fazia.

— Ele é um amuleto de proteção. Me impede de usar 100% do meu poder.

— Por que não usa?

Uma risada lascívia escapou dos lábios dele ao ouvir seu questionamento.

— Porque eu posso acabar te machucando, e essa é a última coisa que eu quero.

— P-Podemos tentar sem o crucifixo? — não estava se reconhecendo agora, ainda mais fazendo uma sugestão tão promíscua.

Os olhos dele brilharam naquele tom carmesim novamente.

— Ah, querida... eu não poderia estar mais feliz em ser seu.

Ele saiu de dentro de você, se sentou na cama e retirou o crucifixo. Aquele sorriso malicioso estava no rosto dele, sentia que algo muito bom estava por vir e que não iria se arrepender de ter feito essa proposta.

— Fica de quatro.

Ordenou, e você ficou com um pouco de dificuldade, mas conseguiu. Ele xingou baixinho com a visão de sua bunda empinada, e segurou seus braços, levando seus pulsos até suas costas, mantendo-os juntos e enrolando o crucifixo neles.

— Isso vai ficar bem aqui... — ele prestou atenção na cruz brilhante. — E se você não aguentar, pode me avisar.

Imediatamente você sentiu uma sensação diferente, como diversos toques em seu corpo. Adam só tinha duas mãos, mas você sentia mãos segurando seus pulsos, segurando a parte de trás dos seus joelhos para manter seu equilíbrio e finalmente uma mão dele em seu quadril.

Ele segurou a ereção com a outra mão e levou até sua intimidade molhada e exposta, deslizando a glande levemente por sua entrada, te provocando desse jeito sujo.

— Meu Deus... — suspirou surpresa.

— Deus definitivamente não está aqui, querida — e ele empurrou tudo, te fazendo gemer alto e surpresa enquanto fechava os olhos.

A outra mão foi até seu quadril, te fazendo empinar os quadris para que ele pudesse mover os dele. A chuva ainda estava forte lá fora, e os trovões e os raios eram altos o bastante para poder mascarar os gemidos e os sons de seus quadris que ecoavam pelo quarto. Felizmente, a cama não fazia tanto barulho, e a cabeceira não estava batendo contra a parede de pedra, mas ele estava sendo bem intenso.

Não conseguia expressar a satisfação de estar sendo segurada por essas "mãos invisíveis", mas era uma sensação que beirava a definição de "celestial". Adam estava focado em te satisfazer, movendo os quadris num ritmo que era um pouco mais rápido, e a fazia gemer.

Nunca pensou que fosse se encontrar na cama, gemendo graças a um padre — na verdade, um demônio disfarçado de padre —, mas olha só a ironia do destino. Ele havia te corrompido da forma mais deliciosa possível, te fazendo enxergar que era bom poder se render ao prazer da carne quando estivesse com alguém que sabia o que estava fazendo.

E, céus... ele sabia foder.

— A-Adam, o que é isso? — perguntava, entre gemidos. Mal conseguia falar, as ondas de prazer eram de desnortear qualquer um que ousasse sentir.

— Isso não é nada, eu estou pegando leve com você... — ouviu ele rir, aquela risada cafajeste de mais cedo.

Os cabelos negros caíam pelo rosto de Adam, que estava olhando para baixo e apreciando a visão de sua bunda indo de encontro ao quadril dele, enquanto ele apertava sua carne com as duas mãos. O pomo de Adão subia e descia enquanto ele respirava pesadamente e gemia sem pudor algum. Ouvi-lo gemendo era tão bom.

Sentia aquela sensação novamente em seu baixo ventre, como se aquele nó imaginário estivesse próximo a se romper e fosse te levar ao ápice novamente. Estava prestes a saborear a deliciosa sensação num terceiro orgasmo.

— Por favor, não pare... por favor... — sua voz estava manhosa, mal conseguia falar.

Tendo em vista isso, ele usou um pouco mais do poder, fazendo você sentir agora como se a boca dele estivesse em seu clitóris, mas ao mesmo tempo estivesse em seus seios. Eram muitos estímulos juntos, e no momento em que sentiu, um gemido de surpresa deixou seus lábios que estavam abertos em um perfeito "o".

Ele aproveitou para mover os quadris num ritmo mais bruto e rápido.

— Goza pra mim, meu amor. Você tá quase lá, quase lá... — o tom de voz rouco dele adentrava e corrompia sua mente. — Goza no meu pau.

— Eu t-tô... eu tô- aah! — o gemido que anunciou o ápice acabou cortando sua lamúria enquanto você sentia as ondas de prazer atingirem seu corpo violentamente, fazendo seus quadris tremerem e sentiu que estava molhando o pau dele com aquele líquido quente.

Seus sentidos estavam confusos, a sensação ainda estava fluindo por todo o seu corpo, como o sangue que fluía por suas veias ativamente. Gozou com força, fechando seus olhos e praticamente gritando, agradecendo mentalmente pela tempestade que assolava o mundo lá fora.

— Que delícia, querida. Puta que pariu- ugh! Eu vou gozar, eu vou gozar... — o moreno gemia num tom mais manhoso e delicioso de se ouvir, aquilo não sairia da sua memória nem tão cedo.

Ele penetrou profundamente mais algumas vezes enquanto gozava em seu interior, liberando jatos de porra quente em sua buceta e respirava ofegante. O pomo de Adão subia e descia, como havia sido no monastério. As mãos grandes apertavam sua pele e os músculos daquele abdômen forte se contraíram.

Vocês ficaram parados mais alguns instantes, tentando voltar à realidade depois dessa experiência intensa.

O moreno saiu de seu interior e depositou um beijo em uma de suas nádegas.

— Seja uma boa garota e mantenha tudo aí dentro, hm? — ele disse tranquilamente.

Uma mão foi até seus pulsos, pegando o crucifixo e aquela força invisível parou de te segurar, te permitindo deitar no colchão. Ele colocou o crucifixo novamente e se deitou ao seu lado, te puxando para o colo dele.

Seus corpos estavam quentes e suados, mas aquilo era muito melhor do que havia imaginado. Ele deixou um beijo no topo de sua cabeça, e você pode fazer aquele peito forte de travesseiro enquanto ele deslizava a ponta dos dedos por seu ombro nu, no que seria uma carícia singela.

Passou uma perna pelo quadril dele, se aninhando no braço grande e forte do mais velho.

— Eu sou seu... — ele pegou sua mão e levou até os lábios, depositando um beijo terno. — E você é minha.

— Você é meu demônio de estimação? — brincou, fazendo-o rir.

— Se é assim que você quer se referir à mim.

[...]

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐃𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒: morceguinhos, eu sou tão apaixonada nesse plot maluco que eu tirei do cu, que eu juro que vou fazer um livro inteiro sobre isso no wattpad puta merda, o Adam é uma delícia e ele como PADRE fica a coisa mais pecaminosa do mundo juro puta que pariuuuu 🗣️

[hauntingoldhouses]

I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind🍾

[heartshapedbabydolls]

And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

Chris Evans & Sebastian Stan

delivered

summary: Y/N has been secretly dating both Sebastian and Chris, successfully keeping each relationship under wraps—until now. One day, both men decide to surprise her at the café where she works, showing up at the same time. As they realize what’s going on, awkward tension fills the air, forcing Y/N to confront the truth. With emotions running high, she must navigate the fallout and decide whether her web of secrets will unravel everything.

Adam Driver

adam designated driver

Logan Howlett

ravish

ravish part 2

ravish part 3

changes

taste of home

my little voyeur

[inklore]

garage rooftop

premise: the lines of friendship or something more grow more blurry the longer your eyes move from each mole, his cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. and you really don't understand why the two of you hadn't become something more ages ago.

pairing: ben solo x (f)reader

word count: 1k

contents: college au, fluff like this is nothing but fluff with one sexual innuendo and that's it, friends to lovers, quick mention of han being a lackluster dad sorry it's for the plot.

note: let's ignore that i actually wrote this back in april and just never got around to editing it but now that i'm in my driver era i had to come back to it. the title is from this song that i highly rec listening to while reading <3

The way his face morphs into something that was once joyful and silly—the blissed high that paints your cheeks red from laughing too hard over being overheated from how weightless it feels to be laying on the roof of your apartment building. The space decked out with rugs, blankets, and cushions from past and current tenants, mostly college kids like yourselves. 

Making it the perfect place to get high and look up at the sky at night. The city lights outshine the stars, but the clouds—and the strain of ganja Poe recently snagged from his dealer—give the same ethereal effect. 

“Why haven’t we ever...”

“Ever what, Solo? Dated?” There’s a pause between your words, and a slow, sly smirk moves across your lips as you look over at him. “Fucked?” 

The blush painting his cheeks quickly moves down to his neck as he shakes his head in laughter, biting his lower lip to hide whatever feelings are currently making him look like a shy schoolboy—something he was far from. 

It’s the “both. Why haven’t we done any of it?” That makes you both fall silent. That makes the joyfulness fade and something else fill the air the longer the silence spreads between the two of you. 

And it’s not the weirdest question or the wildest thing that’s come out of either of your mouths. 

It’s a question that makes you wonder, why? Seriously why? With the longer you stare at him, the more you take in the nervous tick of his chiseled jaw. The way his dark hair falls into his face each time he laughs and he has to continuously push it out of his eyes. How the crook of his nose looks oddly kissable and more attractive than you’ve noticed it before when it’s this close to your face. 

When the haze from the weed is making your body feel limitless and swoony. 

It’s a feeling that has you turning on your side. Putting a hand under your head shifts your body closer to Ben’s. Smiling when he doesn’t act phased in mirroring you, his body moving in the same motions and position as yours. Now putting the two of you so close that you can feel his breath hit your face, and the space between your legs barely exists without some part of him touching it. 

The two of you had been friends for forever, it seemed. Stuck in the woes of academia, making your parents proud does that to you. Makes you lose track of time and forget how the two of you became friends after getting into an argument over a Hamlet book in the library. 

A fight Finn quickly broke up, but Poe enthusiastically cheered on. 

The lot of you—Rose and Rey included—became inseparable after that day. Something that didn’t have a timestamp or expiration in your mind. It just happened. 

And now you have four best friends, and you’re coming to the conclusion that you’ve possibly liked one more than that. The lines of friendship or something more growing more and more blurry the longer your eyes moved from each mole, each scar, and each strand of hair. His cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. And you really don't understand why the two of you hadn’t become something more ages ago.

“Have you wanted to?” 

“The fact that you’re asking me tells me that you’ve never noticed. I’m not that subtle.” 

“Nose stuck in a book at all times, Ben, not subtle?” You make a sarcastic face, “yeah, who would ever think you’re subtle?” 

His knee nudges your thigh as his cheeks rise in that smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. “You think I’d let Poe or Rey borrow my stuff? Steal my takeout from the fridge—which I know you do—without consequence?”

“In their defense, Poe and Rey have three late library books from two years ago and only you and I like the takeout you get from the bodega on the corner, so…it’s not really a fair asses-”

The squeal that comes from his fingers digging into your sides, pinching the skin at your hip and rib bones, fills the air and knocks the wind out of you all at the same time as you realize the position the two of you have wrestled yourselves in. 

Strands of dark hair moving against your forehead, your fingers instinctively reach up to brush the strands from both of your faces. Ben’s lips so close to yours that all it would take is a heavy breath and you’d be kissing. The relaxing rhythm of your heart now feeling like a hammer in your chest. 

Ben’s fingers run along your jawline, resting at your chin. 

“What if we did?” He asks. Searches your face for any reaction or indication that the subject should be changed. That he should stop asking, and the two of you should move away and pretend like this never happened. Go back to how things were—which was clearly not subtle and most definitely screaming ‘I’m in love with my best friend’. 

“Why have you never asked until now?” You answer with a question. 

“Losing my best friend is not the traumatic life experience I’d like to put on my resume beside divorced parents and an absent father.” He jokes, his smile playful, as the pad of his thumb draws small circles against the skin of your jaw. 

“No wonder you’re unemployed.” The two of you laugh, breaths mingling in the joys of this moment. Of the jokes that come easy and the touches that seem to come even easier. But then there's silence, and you’re leaning closer to him, a feathering touch of your lips against his as you murmur, “maybe you should stop being so afraid, Ben Solo. And have me.” 

And if you’ve ever felt like there was something missing—some cataclysmic event in your life that could rewire your nervous system and make you feel like you’ve been barely making it, your heart barely beating and keeping you alive: Ben’s mouth is the puzzle piece as he brings your mouths together in a bruising kiss. 

[bits-and-babs]

⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader

word count: 3.7K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove Do Not Eat; this fic may be unsettling for some readers. Dark!Mills, Chasing Predator/Prey, fear, tense scenes. DubCon [Non-Con Themes?]. Mentions of body hair, Size Difference/Size Kink. Pussy slapping, unprotected p in v sex, tummy bulge, claiming, cream pie

➛ mills masterlist I| main masterlist |I send an ask I| taglist

Jagged bark digs into the skin of your back through the thin, soft cotton fabric of your shirt. You feel the amber tree sap seep into the canvas, sticking uncomfortably to your back and clinging to you as you try to ease your hyperventilation. The cells of your lungs vibrate with alarm, stinging as you suck in mouthfuls of oxygen.

Get away.

The sunshine thrashes you, your skin slick with the sweat that rolls down your temples. Heat ebbs at the edges of your mind, teasing you with the promise of unconsciousness. Rest. It urges you to let your knees slump, to ease your aching body down to the forest floor and close your eyes for a moment– you can’t. You can’t be certain how far ahead you were or how much of a head-start he had conceded.

It had been freezing when you awoke, the cold biting your skin raw even as it thawed. A low hum deafened your ears, subconscious tears frosting your coarse eyelash hairs together and forcing your lids shut. Panicked, you had pushed the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to melt the frosty glue, feeling something slippy and thick smear across the skin of your cheekbone.

The metal tang to the scent that pierced your nostrils indicated you were bleeding, pain leaping forward in your skull and forcing your eyes open in your discomfort. Like a mallet smashed over your head, the sounds of your surroundings cracked through your ear drums. A deafening siren screamed, blurring your vision with the intensity of its volume. Glass tinkled against the metal shell of the cryogenic chamber as you’d wearily pushed yourself from the leather seat you had called home for an estimated double solar-cycle. Your limbs were stiff, unused and preserved in ice for twenty-four months.

Green flooded your vision as you rose to your feet, a flashing light on the data pad of your chamber indicating your apparent survival following defrost. You’d been thankful to see your vitals displayed across the screen– you had felt so awful upon waking that you were almost certain you had died.

Relief that had flooded your veins curdled into distress when the data pad beeped, a cursor swiping across the pixels to dismiss the notification of your stirring.

You hadn’t given the scene much notice from then, jittery fear shuddering over your skin and forcing your feet forward. The ship that had meant to deliver you to Somaris was nowhere in sight, but debris pieces of the vessel had lay strewn across the forest floor. Orange embers still glowed within the metal of some large slabs of metal.

The realisation had been slow to arrive, the throbbing remnants of a concussion sweeping nausea throughout your body as you stumbled over the fallen trees. The piercing ring of the alarm continues to circle your agitated mind, tormenting you with the sinking reality of your plight. Stranded on a planet far beyond the solar system you had come from, surrounded by alien creatures you hadn’t seen stored in information holo-pads and without a ship to re-enter orbit– all while attempting to avoid the person who you had no doubt was hot on your heels.

Initially, you had assumed that the scaly, lizard-like animals were causing the snapping of the twigs in the thick treeline of the forest. While some were humongous, you noticed some were of a smaller size. Even the creatures that reached your hips posed a significant enough threat for you to avoid them by ducking behind tree trunks and bushes, their sharp teeth dripping with saliva when they caught your scent.

Whipping around at the sound of another ‘crunch’, you’d caught sight of him. Long, ebony hair fell in strands in front of his face; his brows pinched together in a stalker's concentration. His lips set in a grim, thin line, recharge-blaster aimed directly at your calves. The amber sap that had coated your skin from the trees appeared to have drenched his eyes, irises burning a bright honey colour in the brutal sunshine.

You hadn’t stopped running since, chest heaving as the cells of your lungs screamed at the intensity of your pace. The thick fabric of your flight suit, coated in leather around the collar, was heavy to carry, your legs aching as you’d lept over each of the fallen trunks in your way.

Shuddering at the memory of the hours you have spent evading capture, you inhale shakily in an attempt to ease your thumping heart. It threatens to crack your sternum, bludgeoning the bone with its rapid pace. Even though you’d stopped for some time, dread kept your heartbeat thrumming like the wings of the birds on your home planet, your blood rushing in your ears and drowning out the squawks of the flying lizards, their beaks long and sharp, wings leathery with clawed hands at the joint.

A stream trickles nearby, the running water rippling around the surrounding rocks. The breeze is cool against your face, tickling your cheekbones in a soft kiss. Despite the rustling of the leaves, the babble of the small brook, and the distant hiss of the hot spring geysers, it’s utterly quiet.

Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.

It feels off, this delicate balance of stillness. Trepidation crawls up the vertebrae of your spine and prickles your skin with goosebumps. There’s an ambience; thick with something sinister. It coats your surroundings and lingers in the air like unsparked lighting, threatening to pounce.

Your hair stands on end, blood freezing along with the beat of your heart when you hear it; the zooming charge of a blaster.

“You can’t run from me forever.” It’s delivered with an alarming deadpan, his even voice ricocheting off the tree line. You can’t tell where he is like this, your neck reeling on its shoulders as you frantically search the area.

Darting your eyes amongst the bushes, you spot him- his footsteps cautious as he picks each footfall carefully. He’s learnt from his previous mistake, ensuring not to reveal his position with a snapping twig.

You swallow back a whimper, skirting around the trunk of the tree. Palm pressed to your nose and mouth; you hear your trembling breaths as you attempt to smother them. It’s terrifying, the level of noise you make. You’re certain your pulse gives away your hiding spot- that the vibration of the very cells of your being is connected to an amplifier and blasting through the woodlands.

In contrast, your pursuer is almost silent, barely making a sound as he picks through the undergrowth. You wonder how it’s possible for such a large man to make so little noise. He’s so careful, so silent that you pause your breath to listen for him better. Where-?

“Sweet Thing…” you hear him coo, a slight taunt to his voice that makes your nails dig into the tree's bark. Your lungs threaten to scream, ankles promising to buckle beneath the suffocating pressure.

Crouching as low as you can onto the balls of your feet, you attempt to shuffle around the trunk's circumference. You’re careful to test each footstep, feeling for fragile foliage beneath the sole of your shoe before setting it on the floor. You swallow thickly, wincing as the dried leaves rustle quietly.

It’s as though time momentarily stops. The rubber of your heel catches on the roots of the tree, slipping down the curved surface and sending your foot crashing through the sun-baked foliage with a sickening ‘crunch.’

Oh.

Tensing up all at once, your muscles pinch with fear. You fail to suppress the heaving breaths that rattle through you now, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen and wheezing in terror when you exhale.

“Hmm,” a hum sounds to your left, loud to your ears. You bristle, the seams of your person screaming that you need to move, to run. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot, fight or flight bested by the primal instinct to be still. To hide. The atmosphere shifts, the chill of the breeze twisting to an icy disquiet.

Don’t. Don’t move, be still. If you’re still, he won-

They crawl across the curve of your jaw at first, fingertips creeping along the line of the bone before gently grasping your chin. White hot fear holds you perfectly still as his thumb pushes into the soft flesh of your cheek, the scrape of his knuckles biting into your skin as they purse your lips together. With your feeble attempt to shake him, his grip turns solid.

“Got you.”

His gruff voice rasps against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the thin skin and raising goose pimples across your neck and down your spine. Breath caught in your throat, you barely manage a whimper of response– the sound cracks in your vocal cords and sounds more like a startled exhale.

Your resolve fractures into tiny shards as he uses the grip on your chin to tilt your head backwards. Tension cracks between your shoulder blades at the awkward angle, your muscles straining as he pulls them taut. There’s a tensity at your throat, too, the thew connecting your jaw and neck almost pained by the extreme flex.

Amber. The thin strips of gold lay stark against the pitch black of his dilated pupils, irises merely a slither as the abyss swallows them whole. An eagerness paints his expression, even as his thick, dark brows pinch together in concentration. The hulking frame of your hunter stands above you, neck practically folded over to stare down at your kneeling form. He’s scanning your face, assessing each aspect of your visage and taking in the details. The paw grasping at your face tilts it left and right as he searches for… something.

Again, you wail as you feel his thumbprint dig into the soft flesh of your cheek. It braces against the edge of your molars, prints embedding– branding itself into the skin beneath it.

“Shh-Shh,” He hushes you softly, voice somewhat soothing now as he sweeps his knuckles across your temple and over your cheekbone. “Quite the hunt. Chased you all over, 70652. ”

The five digits of your passenger number ring through your eardrums like the alarms that had alerted you to your crash landing. It flits across his expression, a smug, mocking look as the realisation strikes you between your ribs like a wet blade—the pilot. Commander Mills, you had been told before cryostasis, was a skilled enough aeronaut to deliver you safely to the destination of Somaris. It appeared he had failed his mission.

“I- I don’t-”

“Everyone in the cryo-bay is dead,” he speaks over you, matter-of-fact in his unwavering tone. Your eyelashes flutter closed, confident Mills can feel your pulse pump blood through your veins as he trails his fingertips down your jugular. It tingles, the feather-light touch, adrenaline rushing over your body in surging waves. “It’s just us.”

“Hngg-” you mewl as he crouches behind you, dragging his lips gently across your pulse point as he breathes you in- the scent of your evasion. Soil coats you in an earthy smell, the metallic tang of blood from the scrapes of the thorny undergrowth. Mills groans against your jugular, scraping his sharp incisors over the thrum of your heart while savouring you.

“Aren’t you lucky?” He whispers, gravelly voice barely registering at this volume. Mill’s hand slips down your throat, calloused fingertips tracing down your central points. Your throat, your sternum between your breasts. The deliberate trail has your breath quickening, an underlying threat of danger making the hairs on your arms stand on end. “Lucky that I found you before those creatures did? Hmm?”

The delicate intonation of his question is deceptive. He’s not being kind- he’s mocking you. Still, the enamel of his teeth sinking into the concave connecting your neck and shoulder has you crying out, wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Mhm,” he lathes his tongue over the indents his teeth leave behind, splaying his fingers wide as he trails his palm over your stomach. Need unfurls beneath the weight of his hand, twisting and coating your abdomen when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of the joggers you had been provided before entering cryostasis. “This... Is thanks enough.”

Heat creeps across the apples of your cheeks as you feel his hand slip further into your pants and wedge beneath your panties. You can do nothing but turn your hot face away from him, squeezing your eyes shut when his fingers brush through the thatch of curls across the curve of your pussy. Mills hums softly, your only warning before he’s sliding the pad of his finger through your slick cunt.

“Shit,” he grunts softly, the tip of his nose trailing up the length of your jugular. “So wet for me already.”

Sinews in your jaw ache at the force with which you clench your jaw, trying desperately to swallow down the moans that threaten to bubble up from your throat. Mills is circling his fingertip just barely over your clit now, the delicate touch coiling a throbbing heat between your thighs.

It’s a subconscious response, one that bypasses your brain and jolts your hips forward onto his hand. You don’t mean to, your fingers sinking into the soil beneath you as your body tenses. It sends a bright, hot arc of pleasure through your body and you wail raggedly, the short-lived friction enough to blur your vision.

Mills leaps.

Ripping his hand from your pants, he grabs ahold of your waist in a bruising grip, flipping you over onto your back harshly. It’s so fast, the world careening sideways. When you land it almost winds you, your spine hitting the ground with a thud. Twigs and rocks dig into your flesh, but Mills gives you no real opportunity to complain when he pins your body down with the hulking weight of his own.

Urgency spurs Mills on, pushing his fingers under the waistband of both your joggers and your panties before yanking them down your thighs. He doesn’t bother to remove them, abandoning them over your shins. They bunch around your ankles, movements restricted by the fabric. Your body is trembling, buzzing with something far from the fear he had originally inspired in you.

Mills is huge. Broad and muscular, when he leans his body over yours he almost blocks your whole line of sight. His muscles shadow through the thin fabric of his shirt, sweat causing the material to cling to his damp flesh. The chase across the forest seemed to have had little effect on his athletic frame, the exhaustion that had afflicted you unapparent when he pushes your knees back against your chest.

“Just look at you. Trembling. Panting. It’s gorgeous.” Subtle cruelty drips from his tongue when he praises you, watching your nipples harden as your folds are exposed to the cool air. Honey irises drag over your sopping cunt, greedily lapping up the view. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, so exposed to a stranger you had been running for in fear of your life just moments before.

“Please,” you beg, pathetic sobs cracking in your throat at the desperation to be touched.

“You’re in no place to be directing me, Sweet Thing.”

Despite his apparent refusal, Mills is pushing the trousers of his flight suit past his hips to expose his cock. Again, he refuses to waste time in removing them entirely, removing just enough to ease himself out of the confines of the material. You only catch a glimpse of his cock before he hoists your thighs over his pelvis, but your heart seizes at the sight– an angry, red tip leaks precum that smears across the inside of your thighs, veins protruding across the large shaft. You can’t fit tha-

God, he pushes the pad of his thumb into your clit and you yelp, seeing stars. A steady, wicked throb of bliss pulses through you as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves, swiping his print back and forth. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your hips jolt as you feel him attempt to breach your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Stop moving,” Mills orders, hand wrapped around his dick as he sweeps through your folds. You’re sobbing now, tears welling in your eyes as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. He slips again, dark eyes flicking up to your face when your hips jolt upwards to chase his touch, the build of your impending orgasm catching you off guard with how quickly it seems to blossom. The third time, when the tip of his dick notches the inside of your thigh rather than taking root, his patience snaps.

Mills suddenly draws back from you, removing his hand from your clit before bringing his open palm down on your throbbing cunt with a brutal slap. Pain bows through you, blending seamlessly with your bliss and causes a sharp, high pitched cry of his name to tumble from your lungs. In your shock, your hips momentarily still. Taking advantage of your dazed state, Mills quickly lines his pulsing cock against your cunt and drives home, swiftly ramming into you with an abrupt snap of his hips.

A haggard gasp rips through your throat at the sudden intrusion, the painful stretch of his cock cracking through you and making your eyes roll back. Dirt cakes under your fingernails as you grasp feebly at the damp soil, trying and failing to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself.

“Take it,” Mills orders, his gruff voice impossibly reaching lower octaves as he pushes his length further into you. He sits back slightly, his eyes almost pitch black with how his pupils swallow them up as they settle on your cunt. Fascinated, he watches your lips stretch around his girth and paint his protruding veins with your slick. “Make it fit— Shit!”

His crude growl scrapes your eardrums as he bottoms out inside of you, hips flush with your own. You can’t breathe, feeling as though he’s big enough to settle amongst your lungs. You heave shallow breaths, your head pulsing with mind-numbing dizziness.

Then he’s moving. He drives forward at first, reaching depths inside you that make your abdomen ache before pulling out of you. The stark emptiness he leaves you with is short-lived, thrusting forward and stealing what little oxygen you had swallowed down.

Heat simmers through you with each shred of the head of his cock against something blinding inside of you. It gives you no room to think, to move, the cruel pace Mills sets. It’s merciless, pummelling into you and driving you up across the forest floor. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” Mills groans loudly, holding on tight to your hips to prevent you from sliding away from him. You sob brokenly, hitting his chest with the heel of your palm as you struggle against the orgasm that’s practically hurtling towards you. Christ, his dick is so hard, ramming through you and pushing up against your cervix and causing a delightful ache.

The wet sounds of him thrusting into you are obscene, slick and desperate as he begins to pull you down onto the snaps of his hips. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, collecting in your hairline as you sob his name over and over.

“Look at you,” Mills practically snarls, eyes set on the bulge in your lower abdomen and in awe of what he finds there. Fuck fuck fuck. You can see him, see the outline of his cock driving in and out of you through your abdomen. “Mine.”

Through your haze, you feel Mills press his giant palm against your abdomen, feeling himself twitch and thrust inside of you. His forehead drops against your shoulder, hips beginning to stutter as your walls flutter around him.

It’s overwhelming; the intense pace, the brutality of his thrusts, the way your clit brushes against the pubic hairs on his lower pelvis. You sound fucking wrecked, wails spluttering with each devastating rock of his hips.

“Aha-ah- ohfuck,” you babble, eyes rolling back as your body curls inwards. You’re burning, tightening, your orgasm creeping across the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m gonna-“

Mills groans loudly, and your back arches suddenly when he bites into your collarbone. His teeth sink into your flesh, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain shoves you right over the ledge you’d been dancing over. You cum with a scream of his name, clamping down around his cock as ecstasy surges through you from head to toe. Your vision blurs, hearing cuts out.

“Shit,” you hear him spit distantly, despite the close proximity to your ears. Mills’ hips push up deep inside of you, his body lurching and trembling as he cums inside of you. It feels, even in your altered state of consciousness, like it takes forever. Milking him endlessly, his breath shuddering against the wound on your clavicle as he gently grinds into you to ease himself down from the high.

There’s no movement, no sudden release of your body and flopping to the side. Mills stays stuffed within you, your mixed cum dribbling down the inside of your thighs as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his palms.

Your sobs of his name had been loud, noisy enough to draw in all kinds of lizard creatures, but Mills seems insistent on remaining like this, scraping his teeth across the curve of your shoulder and beginning to rock into your swollen cunt again.

“There’s a few hours before nightfall,” he talks over your garbled string of noises, overstimulated and exhausted from the hours of running and the brutal way he had fucked into you. “You can take me again before then, can’t you, Sweet Thing? Before we head back to the ship?”

Your body resigns to his question, already far too wearied and submissive to argue what feels more like an order than a question— besides, bliss is already pooling in between your thighs when he pinches your clit with the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

“Good Girl.”

END

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