#Adam Driver x you

[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

[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 𝐂𝐎��𝐄𝐂̧𝐎𝐔 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 🗣️

[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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[mrs-gucci]

For the Hunt

{ werewolf!flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Werewolf Flip wanting to knock you up (or role play at it) and scenting when you’re ripe for him and chasing you down and pounding you

thank you for submitting this!!

warnings. SMUT (18+), werewolf in rut, primal kink (hunter/prey), breeding kink w/no intention of actually getting pregnant, dirty talk, outdoor sex, creampie, minimal aftercare.

word count: 995

🐺 written for werewolf wednesday 🐺

Your breathing is soft, exhilarated, creating little puffs of steam in the cold night air. A shiver runs down your spine, out of excitement or nerves, you’re not really sure.

You two have an agreement that on rut nights, he has full consent to use you however he wants or needs to. He tells you what he needs from you on a particular night and you give it to him willingly, whether it's being tied up on the bed down in the basement or up at his remote mountain cabin.

His absolute favorite thing, however, is when he gets to hunt you. Which is why you’re currently standing behind a big pine tree, trying to steady your breathing.

By now you’ve nearly perfected the art of giving Flip a good chase, having been with him for almost six years. And tonight is an extra special full moon because you’re ovulating, which gives Flip the ultimate prize in his werewolf brain: the chance to breed you.

He looks up at the full moon with his golden eyes, knowing it’s time to hunt, he lifts his snout eagerly.

Almost instantly, he picks up traces of your scent and his paws thud against the earth as he runs into the thick Colorado wilderness. He can already feel that this is one of his more mild ruts, but he's still just as desperate and tuned-in regardless.

Flip slows down and sniffs the air again, knowing that he's close. You can feel him nearby, sticks snapping and leaves crunching under his large paws.

You sneak a look around the tree and he doesn't seem to notice, so you quickly attempt to sneak to another tree. But of course, his head whips over and you freeze, then take off running.

He feels the familiar tingle of his primal hunting instinct creeping up through his body, but he still gives you a head start before taking off in your direction, eyes beginning to turn black with desire.

Your breathing is heavy as you sprint away from Flip, trying to give him a good chase. He growls softly out of sheer thrill and quickly dips to the side to run around you, then stands proudly. You come to a screeching halt.

Strands of drool hang from his jowls as he takes a step forward, then another, piercing you with his lustful stare. You let out a shaky breath and step back, not actually afraid but acting so anyway.

"Please don't hurt me," you say softly, eyes flickering down to his hard member for just a moment.

He grunts when he notices your quick downward look and stands a bit taller, eager to present himself to you.

"I have something else in mind," he says in his deep, gruff voice. "If you do your job correctly, then it should be pleasurable for both of us."

You bite your lip as he steps forward again, sniffing the air.

"You smell especially good tonight, little girl. I could smell your ripe, fertile pussy from back at the house. You're so ready to be bred."

"I don't--"

"Run," he says, interrupting you. "If I catch you, you're mine."

Immediately, you take off again and he gives you a moment before taking three long strides, catching you and causing you to fall over. He quickly catches you with a clawed paw, though.

He brings his mouth down to your ear as he lowers you to the ground.

"I got you," he says. "And now, I get to pound you until you're swollen with my seed."

You whimper softly as he holds your wrists down and takes a sharpened claw to your pants, tearing the crotch open to make room for his thick, pulsing cock. He lets out a shaky breath as he pushes your legs apart and lines himself up with your wet entrance.

Flip groans when he finally gets the wet, hot relief he's been desiring all night within your walls. He gives you a moment to adjust before beginning to move, his hips delivering sharp thrusts.

You moan unashamedly as Flip growls and fucks you from behind. Hearing his noises of pleasure only arouses you more and you clench, earning a surprised, breathy grunt from your husband.

“F-Flip…”

His noises get louder and he leans down again, beginning to lick at your neck and jaw, occasionally scraping his teeth lightly against your skin as an alternative.

“I need you,” he grunts, hips speeding up slightly. “I need you to h-hold all my cum inside, keep it a-all…give me pups…”

You gasp softly, eyebrows knitting in pleasure.

“I will,” you breathe. “I-I’ll keep it all f-for you, my love.”

His cock throbs and he knows he can't hold on much longer. He always feels guilty that more often than not, you don't get to cum like this. But he definitely makes sure to return the favor the first opportunity he gets.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna--" He cuts off as the intense orgasmic sensations suddenly rush through him. His eyes flutter shut and he rocks his hips desperately, spilling every drop he has deep inside of you. "O-Ohhhh god..."

You sigh softly as he lets go of your wrists and sits up a bit, still staying buried deep in your pussy. He helps you get up on your hands and knees, then licks your neck again.

"Are you alright? I wasn't too harsh?"

"I'm fine, honey," you reassure, looking back at him with a small smile. "I promise I'm okay. I would've used the safe word if I wasn't."

Flip nods and pulls out slowly, letting out a shaky huff as he does so. When you stand up, he gently picks you up and you rest in his large arms. You smile up at him.

"I love you, Flip."

His eyes soften and wishes he could return your smile. "I love you too."

You sigh softly and look up at the night sky as Flip carries you back to the house.

****

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[hoteldreamss]

Paterson || imagine

Слов: 468

Патерсон всё ещё привыкал к своей одинокой жизни. После ухода Лауры всё в доме оставалось прежним, даже его чувство одиночество сохранилось.

Очередной раз проезжая свой прежний маршрут Патерсон замечает тебя, ждущую среди других людей ��а остановке. Стоит дверям открыться, все потоком заходят в автобус, занимая свободные места, пока ты с улыбкой и дружелюбием, которое переполняет тебя по отношению к Патерсону, встречаешься с ним взглядом, после чего занимаешь место позади него. Это было твоим местом уже пару месяцев, ваша маленькая дружба единственное, что заполнило сердце Патерсона в ближайшее время, разливая в нём столько тепла и признательности. Ему хочется чаще разговаривать с тобой, видеть тебя больше одного раза в день, к тому же, иногда в некоторые пасмурные дни ты не ездила на его автобусе. И это расстраивало Патерсона, потому что ты была его личным солнцем, которому он успел посвятить ни одно стихотворение. Это было его маленьким секретом.

— Как проходит твой день? — интересуешься ты, когда автобус трогается с места.

— Всё как обычно. — Патерсон никогда не был силён в разговорах. — Как у тебя дела?

Ты хихикаешь, уже предвкушая свою глуповатую шутку.

— Всё как обычно, — отсылаешь ты к ответу Патерсона. Это также вызывает его улыбку. — На самом деле всё и впрямь по-прежнему, не считая того, что теперь я работаю в другом месте. Меня взяли в газету. Теперь, когда ты будешь читать её по утрам, то будешь знать, что блок с глупой рекламой написала я.

Ты всегда поднимала ему настроение, и это вызывало что-то странное в его груди и внизу живота. Твоя компания заставляло его чувствовать себя не таким одиноким, но стоило тебе покинуть автобус мир снова становился прежним, серым и унылым.

— Теперь я не увижу тебя? — Патерсон старается звучать непринуждённо. — Сменишь маршрут?

— Не знаю, — пожав плечами, говоришь ты. — Твой маршрут лежит через центр города, сложно не пересечься с тобой.

Прильнув к ограждению в высоту один метр, положив руки на него вдоль, опираясь заодно локтями, ты кладёшь на тыльную сторону ладоней подбородок.

— Но может мы могли бы встретиться ещё где-то. — Твоё дыхание тёплое, слабо пробирается сквозь волосы на его затылке. Это вызывает мурашки по всему телу, может это также заставляет его подумать о том, чтобы позвать тебя в бар.

В его голове невольно всплывает картина того, как ты смеёшься над ним, отказываешь ему. Говоришь, что он просто глупый мальчишка решив воспринять тебя как кого-то большего, чем пассажира его автобуса. Но Патерсон давно уже не мальчишка, он думает, что перестал им быть после поступления на службу. Однако это не помогает ему набраться храбрости.

Когда подходит твоя остановка, ты прощаешься с ним, и Патерсон на мгновение думает, что больше он тебя не увидит.

Патерсон не знает почему высшие силы смилостивлюсь над ним, но ты снова в его автобусе, спустя пару недель, которые были наполнены переживаниями, одиночеством и даже тоской по тебе. Но именно всё это заставляет его решиться пригласить тебя в бар и получить твоё согласие.

[pxgeturner]

so this is love, in the garden — reimagined!jacques le gris

a gentleman stumbles upon a secret area of the palace garden, and sings a duet with an invisible maiden.

an. so. um. yeah this is my first piece in a reaaallll long time. and yeah it’s jacques. but this is not like, canon jacques. this is my version of jacques, a ladies man, naturally, but not necessarily a gentlemen in all aspects of life. he is not in any way a villain. when i tell you i was SO EXICTED for the last duel, i was ecstatic to have adam play a knight-in-shining-armor types, i had no idea that the movie was going to be… that (😖) so my brain blocked that out and put jacques into a reign!au/crossover so.. um yeah.. hopefully some ppl like this.

wc. 456

you wandered about the secret secluded area of the garden you call “yours”. of course, it is not yours but the crown’s. but no one ever comes here and you do not even think that the king nor the queen is aware of this spot's existence, as it is at the very edge of the garden, almost wood. there is a pond and two flower beds as well as a hedge that hides it all. you suppose not a soul besides you knows of this alcove. people think the hedge marks the end of the garden. this might be the king’s garden, but this is your secret space.

you lay at the edge of the water, dipping your fingers, singing a simple melody. you start to sing of the thing your soul craves.

“so this is love,

so this is love

so this is what makes life, divine

i’m all aglow—

and now i know—”

“and now i know,” a deep, attractive voice startles you. you cover your mouth and just barely stop yourself from rolling over into the pond.

“the key to all heaven is mine,” you sing together. you hear heavy footfall near your oasis.

“my heart has wings

and i can fly—”

he’s about to round the hedge. you can’t let him see you- you don’t know why, you just can’t. so you pick yourself up, and tuck yourself into the shrub. you’ve hidden in it before, once or twice when you want a complete guarantee of privacy. the greenery leaves no hint of your presence, your skirts tucked neatly under you.

as you start the last verse together, he discovers your place. you peer at him through the branches and leaves. he’s tall, very tall. with long hair and a broad frame. you recognize him. the new lord that has joined court. lord le gris. jacques, you think his name is.

you didn’t think he was one for singing.

“i’ll touch every star in the sky.

so, this is the miracle

that i've been dreaming of.

so… this, is, love—”

part of you wanted him to find you. maybe he’d scoop you out of the bush, help you fix your gown, and pick any twigs or leaves out of your hair. you’ve heard of how charming he is to the ladies of the court. you haven’t met him yet, as you are busy tending to queen mary.

“mademoiselle, where did you go?”

you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you.

“will i hear from you again?” you gave him a soft melody as an answer. he rounds the pond, looking at the flowers.

“you have the voice of an angel. hopefully you would soon allow me to see the face of one as well.”

You can’t wait to meet lord le gris.

[thedarkcoven]

The Fine Print | Adam Driver Req

Divider by @cafekitsune​ Warnings: Blood/discriptions of blood cause hes a vampire and very little alcohol use (in this he is able to eat and drink what humans can to blend in but he needs blood to survive) and some cussing. I lost the anon ask so I can’t share exactly what it said so I am so sorry if its not EXACTLY what you requested T.T But I am finally getting to it <3 Sorry it took a bit, anon but I didn’t forget you!! <3 We need more Vampire Adam Driver (come on Hollywood! Give us <3 lmao) -Sorry about errors. The banner is made by me. I ONLY take credit for the banner not the pictures used for the banners <3

Like every Summer you spent most of your time trying to find something to do or trying to figure out was you could make a bit of extra cash for whatever you wanted or to pay rent if you struggled with it or got jipped at work. Your answer? A piece of paper that was stapled to a wooden pole that was a few feet from your apartment. “HELP WANTED! Please call...-” Perfect! Just what you so desprately needed. Your eyes quickly scanned the pale slightly crinkled page. A male aged 39 needing an assistant ASAP and is willing to meet with anyone who was willing at any time. You were quick to put the paper down and text his number to ask if he would be willing to meet up with you at the local bar. Luckily he agreed and you felt excitement bubble up inside of your chest. Finally your Summer wasn’t going to be boring. The bar was dim and loud. Music vibrated your body as you waited in your booth toward the back of the bar with a couple of drinks on the worn wooden table, condensation rings collecting on the coasters under the shimmering glass. Your heart was pounding at the thought that he might have forgotten or possible found someone else to be his assistant. The sight of a tall man with shoulder length dark hair, a black jacket and jeans caught your attention. Your eyes scanning up the tall figure until you were met with a dark gaze, a small smile on his face. You could feel your cheeks grow warm as he sat beside you, his large frame practically pushing you against the wall. “Hi. I’m Adam. It’s nice to finally meet you. Y/N, right?” His large hand wrapped around the thick glass mug and brought it to his soft pink lips. His voice was deep and booming. “Uh ye-yes, sir. Its um it’s nice to meet you too. So you’re looking for an assistant?” You asked leaning in so he could hear your soft voice over the music. “Yeah. Something like that and please call me Adam.I have a spare room for you to stay in. I’ll help you by guiding you through everything since sometimes its so much for first time helpers to get used to. Once you get used to it its smooth sailing.” He gave a soft smile. “Come by my place tomorrow with a weeks worth of clothes, toiletries, things like that and then we can discuss it further. Sound like a plan?” You gave a nod and smiled.

Once you got settled into your room, Adam stood at the doorway leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He could since you were a bit nervous and let out a soft sigh. You were sitting on the bed with your hands clamped between your knees looking as if you were getting scolded by your parents for sneaking out late at night to go to a party.  “You didn’t read all of the paper did you?” He asked raising one of his thick dark brows.  “Noooope.” You drawn out with emphasis on the ‘p’ as you stared up at him, your mouth in a straight line.  “Oh boy. Okay so um... how do I?”  Your eyes widened and you felt as if all the blood was drained from your body as he smiled, sharp fangs glistening and poking out, his dark eyes now a soft honey color. When yous tood he quickly raised his hands up as if to show you he meant no harm.  “You drugged me. You drugged me and now I am tripping balls right now.” You panicked, your eyes glued to the sharp canines.  “Y/N. I uh I need you to remain calm okay?” He slowly approached you and took your hands in his, your hands looking extremely tiny compared to his. He had you sit back down so he could kneel in front of you. Both of you being at the same eye level. “The paper was to help with my need of survival. Yes I am able to eat and drink what normal humans can but I also need human blood to survive. I’m not going to force you to do anything you want, okay? I’m not like that. I want people who are willing and I care about your health both mental and physical. Tell me how you’re feeling now.” “You’re a vampire?!” You managed to squeak out. Adam gave a chuckle and nodded. “Can I... um could I touch your fangs? Sorry that was a weird as question ignore that. So um the whole thing... what um what am I needed for?”  “Well you’re going to be helping me with every day things as well as providing me my source of survival. But first I need you to sign a contract because I am not going to do anything until you’re 100% okay with it. If you want to go home and then thinka bout it or choose to never speak to me again then that is okay with me.” He gave a soft smile. “I just want to make sure you feel comfortable.”  After reading over the contract and making sure to double read the fine print this time you sat staring at the paper before picking up the pen, your hand hovering over the SIGN HERE line. You quickly signed the paper after double checkign one last time to all of the terms. The main one being at any time you are able to step back whenever you wanted. He wanted to make sure you knew that you were the one in control and whatever you wanted to know he would be there to help guide you.  “Okay. I’m ready now.” You stated with a shy nervous smile as he looked down at your signature before taking the paper and sitting it to the side on your bed side table before bringing a hand up to brush your hair back away from your neck, his arms wrapping around you further soothing your anxiety. You were more prepared and gripped his shirt as his fangs pierced your fragile skin at the crook of your neck with a small popping sound, the warmth of the crimson liquid pooling into his mouth as some trailed down your neck and chest.  This wasn’t how you expected your Summer to turn out but it was definately interesting and you got to spend it with a pretty cool vampire who suprisingly cared about your well-being and about how comfortable you were. And to top it off... you will know from now on to read the fine print.

[phasmattack]

Visitors (a 65 story) - Chapter 3: Safety

Read Chapter 2

Pairing: Captain Mills x Fem Reader

Fic Summary: 65 million years ago, Captain Mills (played by Adam Driver) crashes a passenger transport ship into Earth during the Cretaceous period. You are among three survivors of the crash. Together with Mills, you must make your way to the only shot of extraction through an unknown terrain riddled with deadly prehistoric creatures.

Fic Masterlist

Read on Ao3

___

You

The empty silence of space travel you didn’t even realize your body had become accustomed to was now cruelly ripped away from it. You drift in and out of consciousness as the alarms blare into your cryochamber, the noises muffled and distant. Your eyes feel impossibly heavy, begging you to return to your peaceful cryogenic sleep but you use what little strength your body is recovering to pry them open, rolling your head around to take in your situation.

Through your chamber’s window ahead is darkness, and with your eyes focused on the flashing distress lights inside you just can’t seem to make out your surroundings. You return focus to the small control panel to your left, eyes squinting as you try to make sense of the words. I can do this. I’m just a little cloudy from the cryosleep. You were meant to wake up through a slow process, like figuratively thawing your brain out. Being thrown awake like this was gonna mean your body would need time to adapt. Time you didn’t have, you realize, as you make out the words ‘oxygen levels’ and ‘steadily declining’ over a red bar that seemed to be getting smaller by the second.

“Damn it.” Your voice comes out weak and brittle, and your lungs start to feel tighter either from the oxygen deprivation or the panic of imagining what a death by oxygen deprivation would be like. Grunting, you pull your arm forward but it falls back down like you’re some kind of ragdoll. Finding more strength somehow, this time you throw it forward and it stays up, frantically pressing buttons marked ‘emergency release’, ‘oxygen reserve’, ‘SOS’, anything that you can reach. Not a single one blinks back at you, not a single one clicks or beeps in response.

“DAMN IT” Panic escalates, the logical side of you knows to conserve what little air you have left but the overwhelming urge to hyperventilate takes over. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you weakly slam your fists into the glass, each punch more intense than the last. You kick at the red emergency release handle, ignoring how obviously jammed it is. ‘WARNING: Oxygen Levels Depleted’ and ‘WARNING: Reserve Unresponsive’ begin to flash in your face and you sob as the last breath of air passes your lips. Your eyes start to revert back to their soft blur as you barely make out movement through the dark chamber glass. Darkness pulls at the corners of your peripheral vision and a painful ringing echoes between your ears.

Suddenly you’re thrown out of your dance with death when heavy glass shatters around you. Cool fresh air barrels into your chamber, and you gasp, vision returning and ringing subsiding. You feel a warm hand against your cheek, and begin to recognize a face in the darkness. It’s a man. A handsome man. Your brows furrow in confusion, half about this stranger and half about how your brain was able to form suggestive thoughts about him right after narrowly escaping death.

You see his mouth moving, but your ears feel full and his voice sounds distant. He lowers his gaze and cringes, which you take as a bad sign. The large hand leaves your face and begins carefully unbuckling your restraints, with a gentle nature you weren’t expecting from this stranger. He’s a brute by the looks of it, granted you were lying beneath him but he had to tower a foot above your height at least. He had wide shoulders and strong arms that tugged on his shirt. His scruff and long unkempt dark hair that fell to his shoulders gave the impression of some kind of dirty smuggler, but those eyes. The rich brown eyes that peered back at yours were so kind. The primitive feeling of safety washes over you and your body gives into the exhaustion.

___

You wake to the sound of soft footsteps thudding on metal in the distance. Wincing, you pull yourself upright, slip off the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and stretch your arms out, examining the various scratches and cuts that now litter them. Nothing too deep, just reminding you of the glass shards that rained onto you after being broken by that man.

That man who must be the source of the footsteps. You carefully slide out of the makeshift bed you were put in and peer down the hallway of this ship you once entered so long ago. It’s been badly ripped apart, you can see straight through the loading dock and into the distant alien landscape outside. To your right, the hull that once carried you and thirty four other passengers in cryochambers is now caved in. The metal roof crumpled, exposed wires sparking from the walls and red emergency lights rotating.

“You’re awake.” A deep but apprehensive voice came from behind you, sending a jolt through your spine and making you stumble backward. He throws a hand out to steady you by the shoulder, “I- oh sorry I didn’t mean to-” He trails off. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” You shrug, his hand releasing your arm. “No, I think I’ve had enough sleep for the rest of my life.” You rigidly joke, turning to look at the destruction that once held you in cryosleep. You’re sure you aren’t prepared for the answer, but you can’t help but ask, “What happened?”

He sighs and tilts his head toward the cockpit, gesturing for you to follow him.

“We were hit by an asteroid belt. It was undocumented, we never saw it coming.” You slide into a small booth seat in the corner and he opens a cooler of rations, fishing out a water canister.

“The damage was irreversible by the time I woke up, all I could do was send a distress signal before we crash landed here.”

“Here?” You probe, nodding a thank you as he hands you the canister.

“Unknown celestial body, as far as the scanners can tell.” He leans against a wall, his face growing somber.

You hesitate, “...How close were we?”

“Close.” He morbidly chuckles, “So damn close.”

You shudder, knowing you’ve just woken after what had to have been at least a year in cryogenic sleep. “Is there any chance?”

He sighs and nods. “The escape pod is our only chance to even meet an extraction point, if there’s one being sent. We lost the pod in the crash but it’s got an active reading so it must’ve landed somewhere nearby.”

“Was there anyone else?” You ask, alluding to the other passengers. After seeing the wreckage of the chamber bay, you think you already know the answer. His lips tighten and he looks to the ground, kicking a stray piece of rubble.

“Just you,” he says solemnly, ”and the girl.”

Your head tilts at that addition, “A girl?”

He straightens, “The young girl in your room, I found her after I brought you back here.”

“I-” You start, now recognizing the strewn blankets next to your makeshift bed as being another bed. “There was no one else in that room.”

At that he goes stiff, the color draining from his face. He darts down the hallway and into the room, swearing under his breath. He stomps back towards the cockpit and throws a pack over one shoulder, and a weapon over the other. He turns towards the collapsed loading dock with you hot on his heels.

“No,” He whips around to face you, “you stay here, I’ll be back.”

“But-” You start to argue, but he shoots you a stern look over his shoulder as he climbs down the ramp. “Fine.” You settle on not following him when some kind of creature screeches from the sky over the ship.

You use this time alone to settle the hunger in your stomach, pulling a tray of rations from the cooler you saw him open earlier. You finish your less than desirable meal of rehydrated stew and wash it down with more water. Returning to your room, you notice your reflection in a cracked mirror. Your hair is matted from being in one position for so long, your face pale and your clothes ripped and dirty. A year in a cryochamber does wonders for the complexion.

The attached bathroom has just enough water left in the sprung pipes to smooth down your hair and splash your face. You glance through the small closet, realizing this must be the captain’s quarters as several sets of the man’s uniform hang in between various men’s t-shirts. You doubt you’d be able to fill in that massive man’s clothing. Stripping off your tattered overshirt, you decide to keep on the tank that was still intact underneath. You step into one of his cargo-like work uniform pants, cinching up the waist with a belt. You reach down and cuff the dangling pant legs. Your boots will have to do, since you can’t imagine yourself clomping around in his size fourteens.

Something by your right boot catches your eye. A scrap of paper wedged into a drawer. You kneel down and open the drawer, pulling out a photograph. In the middle of the photograph was the man, smiling ear to ear in between a gorgeous woman with her head against his shoulder and a young girl who was the perfect combination of the two. She was stunning, obviously inheriting the best features of both her parents. You smile at their happiness, a piece of your heart crumbling for him being so far from them for so long.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a distant roar, and you rush to look out the front window of the cockpit. You don’t spot the owner of the roar, but you do see two figures rushing out of the treeline in front of you. The man pushes through brush, left hand holding a weapon high and right hand gripping the hood of a young girl’s jacket. The young girl in the jacket runs alongside him, her poor little face drained of all color.

You spin out of the captain’s chair and run down the loading dock to meet them. The man tucks his weapon behind his back as he sees you, pushing the girl in front of him and up the ramp. “She’s gonna get herself killed.” He mumbles as he passes you, tossing his pack to the floor and collapsing into his chair.

You watch the young girl scurry into the booth chair, lifting her hood and turning to face the wall. The man eyes her as well, but with more contempt on his face. You wonder what situation he found her in. Trying to remedy the tension, you retrieve another tray of rations from the cooler, this time opting for rehydrated rice and beans. You place the tray delicately on the table in front of the girl. She peaks from under her hood but does not make an effort to turn.

“My name is (Y/N),” You smile at her, “what’s your name?”

A confused look, followed by silence. She pulls her hood back over her face.

“She hasn’t spoken a word since I found her.” The man so helpfully adds. You narrow your eyes at him. “My name is (Y/N), what’s your name?” You ask him.

“Wh- oh, me?” He points to himself, eyes wide, “uh, Mills. My name is Mills.”

“Nice to meet you, Mills.” You smile at him, and his face calms. You even swear you see his eyes flutter.

You turn back to the girl, who is now looking between you and Mills. You point to yourself, “(Y/N).” You point to Mills, “Mills.” You point to her, “Your name?” Her confused look turns to one of understanding, but her lips remain closed.

Mills sighs and stands from his chair, pulling a book from a shelf over your head. He thumbs through it, “Passenger 27…Ko-ah? Koa? Is that it?” She perks up, still looking wide eyed at Mills. “Koa?” He repeats. She nods.

“Koa, I’m Captain Mills. I was piloting our ship when we went down. We crash landed on a planet that’s uncharted, unmapped. Do you understand?” She continues to stare at him. “We need to get to the escape pod and fly you away. You remember the escape pod we saw in the distance out there? The one on the mountain?” Silence. “Well we need to reach it if we have any chance of getting out.” She blinks at him, and blinks at you.

“God- okay hold on.” He pulls a box from the same shelf, and scatters its dusty red contents onto the table. He spreads out the dust, and begins drawing shapes with a finger. He draws a large triangle, “You see? Mountain?” and makes a stair shape up the side of it. He points to each of us, and back to the mountain, “We- climb mountain. On the top-” He makes a circle at the tip, and draws the circle jetting up and into the sky above the mountain. “Ship, it takes us home.”

“Home” a tiny voice speaks. You both look up at her.

“Yes! Home!” He celebrates, smiling at her.

“Mo-nah fetah-lay” She squeaks out, looking between you.

“What language is that?” He asks you.

“I’ve never heard it. Ko-an maybe?”

“Mo-nah fetah-lay!” She insists.

Mills presses his hand against his temple. “We lost the translator, just like everything else on this damn ship.”

“Mo-nah fetah-lay!” She says again, as she draws in the dust. She draws two stick figures.

“Is that your mom and dad?” You ask her, “Family?”

Her eyes light up, “Family!”

You try not to look grim, and lean back as if to let Mills break the news to her. He hesitates, “Y-yeah, family!” You whip your head to him, raising a brow. He doesn’t even glance back. “Your family, they’re uh, they’re up here.” He circles the top of the mountain. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Now her whole face lights up, “Family!” She squeals, pulling on your sleeve. You look up at Mills, who gives you an apologetic shrug.

“Yes,” You force a smile, “let’s go get your family.”

Chapter 4

[hauntingoldhouses]

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

[strawberry-whorecake]

Hopeless | K.R.

pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader

summary: Love? Kylo Ren wasn’t in love… was he? How could he be in love? How could someone like you make him feel like this?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: fluff, slight graphic depictions, swearing, kylo ren is in denial

requested by: @artemiscrios

A/N: i’m sorry this request took so long but i hope you like it !!! if you’re interested i’d be more than willing to make a pt 2 that includes smut- this prompt just felt so fitting to be a fluff

He was utterly kriffed.

He was Supreme Leader of the First Order— the man single-handedly going to bring justice to the galaxy. He was strong… powerful.

Yet here he was. And here you were. 

He remembered how everything had started.

“Eat.” he ordered, he couldn’t help the demanding tone in his voice as he looked at you. 

You sat with your back to him, refusing to look at him. “I’m not hungry.” you retorted. 

His eye twitched, but even though you wouldn’t turn to him his mask concealed it anyway. “You haven’t eaten in four days.” 

“I’m not eating anything you bring me.” you spat. 

Gods he wished you would just give in. To stop resisting him. 

With a quick-drawn and sharp inhale he keeled forward, placing the tray on the floor of your cell. He watched as your head turned ever so slightly, peering from the corner of your eyes over your shoulder. He stood to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“You’d be wise to do as you’re told. You’re not going anywhere. You have nowhere to go.” 

He’d almost thought he’d imagined it… but no. It was there. That ever so soft sniffle that gently echoed off the walls. He stood utterly still for a moment, swallowing down the urge to huff as his eye twitched again.

“Eat.” he mustered up once more. Hands still clasped behind his back he swiveled and exited your cell, his composure as collected as ever. 

But Kylo didn’t want to admit it… you enveloped him. 

He remembered your first night upon the Finalizer you were rowdy, kicking and screaming, baring your teeth and snarling. Combative. Your second day wasn’t much different. He could feel your indignation— your anger. 

The third day greeted him with the silent treatment, your newfound attempt at torturing him since you discovered your pugnaciousness got you nowhere. 

Then, day four, he could feel it. The dejection. 

You were no longer in denial nor angry, but you refused acceptance, settling yourself into despondency. 

Kylo stalked the halls, the influxes of greetings and polite bows seemed almost blurred in his mind as his brain raced a mile a minute. 

Regret? Kylo Ren didn’t feel regret— he shouldn’t feel regret. 

“We’ve acquired an escapee, Supreme Leader.” a pair of Stormtroopers dragged a shaking and writhing little thing towards him, shouting and arguing against their hold on her body. 

“Let me go! PUT ME DOWN!” sobs wracked your words, your breaths gasping as you tried to swallow down oxygen. 

He didn’t blame your hysteria. The scene unfolding before your eyes was a gruesome one. Bodies splayed the streets of Cardota, blood soaked the pavements. Structures crumbled, dust filled the air. And it was all his doing. 

He stood watching, silent, as the Stormtroopers forced you to your knees before him, you still fought against them, but the trembling made you weak in comparison to them. “Should we kill her too, Supreme Leader?” 

He parted his lips beginning to order that everyone was to be terminated— until his eyes fell onto yours.

Wide, brimming with tears of pain and anger. His words paused in his throat. You had no way of knowing, but as soon as your gazes locked, it was game over.

“No.” he ordered instead. “Release her.” 

He saw the relief flood to your system, but that’s not what he’d meant. The Stormtroopers slackened their grip as Kylo watched you fall to the ground before attempting to scramble upward. 

With an eased outstretch of his hand your movements ceased, the Force straining your muscles and pinning you to the ground, your eyes still wide, still enraged and sorrowful, but now they glimmered with a hint of confusion. 

He crouched down, waving his leather cladden hand across your face and gently ordered, “Sleep.”

Watching as you had no choice to compel, your eyes fluttered shut as your consciousness drifted away. 

“Pull out the divisions, our job here is done.” he ordered the Stormtroopers, ignoring the chorus of “Yes, Supreme Leader.” as he kept his mask locked on you. 

He swept forward, effortlessly pulling you into his arms, cradling you like a small and defenseless child. Your unconscious head laid against his rapidly beating heart, his thoughts reeling— what was he doing? 

Why did he feel this… this need to be near you— as if he wanted to protect you?

He carried you onto his ship, transferring you into a cell as he carefully, as if you’d shatter with too much pressure, laid you on the floor. 

Safe. On his ship. His. 

Kylo didn’t regret the blood that was shed, that tainted his hands. He didn’t feel sorry for any of the lives he’d taken… right?

But something possessed him— something soiled his spirits the moment he met your eyes, and it only worsened when he’d carried you in his arms.

Who were you? You were nobody, surely. Just a Cardota local girl. You had no affiliations with the war, with his plans for the galaxy— one half of him argued.

The other half begged to differ. You were someone. He could sense it within you every time he was near you, and kriff’s sake he couldn’t stand to not be near you… that was definitely something. 

But what was it about you? 

He’d whisked off to his private quarters, his mind still reeled with you— it was completely encompassed with you… why?

It infuriated him, part of him wanted to kill you, be free of the drawing compulsion he felt towards you. But he couldn’t seem to do it. Just the idea of killing you filled him with a feeling he hated more than his affliction for you. A feeling he thought he was better than to feel. 

Even on the other side of the ship he could hear into your thoughts as if you were clearly speaking to him. He could hear your indignation toward him and the hint of exhaustion in your scorn. You despised him— he’d taken everything from you. 

He crossed his chambers, ripping open the door to the private sections where the remnants of his grandfather’s mask laid awaiting him.

He crouched, not much unlike a pleading child. “Help me, Grandfather.” he whispered, his eyes shutting and his hand hovering over the mask. “Help me understand.” 

His desperate calls came unanswered, swelling a low broiling anger in his stomach. “I need to know what it is about her.” he demanded. 

Nothing. 

He ripped his eyes open, lip curling in irritation. Why was she in his head? What made her so special to make the Supreme Leader feel like this?

Practically leaping off the ground he turned his back on his grandfather’s mask, making his way to his sleeping quarters as he tugged off his own mask, throwing it with little care across the room.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. His head throbbed and that constant simmering, slow-churning anger seeped through his skin, rolling off of him in waves.

Why her?

He was about to throw his fist into the nearest piece of furniture when something washed over him. Something replaced the meek dullness he felt. 

As he sank himself deeper into the sensation, he allowed himself to feel. Ravenous and fulfilling. 

She’s eating. 

The realization surged over him with complete understanding. He could practically feel himself sigh. 

Good. Compliance. 

He’d kept you for a while now, almost like an experiment. Testing himself, his limits around you. 

He allowed himself to feel how he felt when he was near you. Trying several different approaches— spending too much time with you, staying away from you. 

All he gathered from this was being around you calmed him, it relieved that dull rage that constantly coursed through his system, and when he left you, it’d return. 

In the time he’d kept you captive he’d learned everything he possibly could about you. Who you physically were, where and what you came from. Your lineage, your occupation on Cardota. Every fact he could absorb, he did. 

The information he wanted to know, and still didn’t— which bugged the everliving stars out of him— was why you still made him feel this way.

When he was away from you, he could feel it swelling inside him. He scrutinized himself for the way he just wanted to be in your presence again— the way he craved it. The serenity you seemed to bring.

Kylo lost sleep over you. It was pathetic. 

Every night was the endless cycle of not hearing your thoughts while your mind was at ease, caught up in the bliss and the comfort of sleep. If he focused hard enough he could hear your soft breaths. He wondered what you looked like as you slept… if you slept more pleasantly than him. 

Sleep haunted him, his demons clawed at him when his eyes shut, it was never refreshing. He wondered if you felt refreshed when you’d awaken.

He wondered if you dreamed blissfully, whereas he was cursed with nightmares. Then a thought wafted over him— you were pure.

The only time he managed to fall asleep and stop thinking of you was if he imagined holding you as you slept. 

Pathetic. He reminded himself.

You made him feel unstable yet at peace all at the same time and it drove him insane. 

He’d indulged himself in your company, even if you were begrudging. Under his mask he quirked a smirk, watching as you crossed your arms, looking around the room to anywhere but him. 

You didn’t have to speak, he could hear you nonetheless. Your thoughts. 

“You’re restless.” his modulated hum rang out. His words were direct, but his tone was gentle. 

“How long are you going to keep me here?” you bit back. 

“Where else do you have to go?” he returned.

He cursed his words as soon as he’d uttered them. That indignation, that dull ache of your own rolled off of you and onto him. 

“That wouldn’t be the case if you hadn’t raided my planet and destroyed the Hosnian system.” your tone oozed with bitterness as your hands gripped your arms.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re going to stay upset about that, are you?” 

You scoffed, “Yes.” 

“Then I regret to inform you you’ll have quite the unpleasant while.” he leaned his head back, his eyes still glued to you. 

“You could always just kill me.” you spit. 

“I’ve already told you that’s not going to happen.” his voice hardened. Your continuous pleas for him to just finish you off were growing tiresome. 

‘He’s a horrible monster in a mask- and he’s insufferable. He keeps me around like some little pet, refusing to let me go or kill me.’ your thoughts reverberated around his own skull. 

His lip quirked upwards again, entertained. 

Pet? You saw yourself as a pet to him? Oh, how delightfully wrong you were. If only you knew how you drew him in— if you only knew of the pull you had on him.

“Insufferable, am I?” he almost cooed. 

“Get out of my head.” you spat. 

Monster in a mask, he thought. Was he a monster? Maybe his actions were ‘monstrous’, but were they not justified? Every decision he’s made had led him to where he is now. 

Oh right… to being tormented by this girl. 

He stood, eyeing you for a moment as you watched him, swallowing down your hopes for his departure. Funny you’re not used to his company by now. 

“Monster in a mask…” he repeated your thoughts back to you, earning a disinterested hum in response. 

“You can’t deny your curiosity.” As he looked at you, you looked at him. His hands seemed to move on their own accord. They found the edges of his mask, and with an eased sweep he pulled it from his head. His eyes fell on you— and your eyes looked into his, unconcealed for the first time. 

He watched your eyes drift over his features, soaking in his appearance. He ignored the way his heart rate picked up. You were quiet, completely thoughtless for a moment, and he couldn’t hold back his smirk. He’d taken you by surprise. 

“I suppose it’s time we met, face to face… after all, you’re not going anywhere any time soon.” His eyes drifted over you, soaking you in as he set his mask on the cot he’d been sitting.

He relished in the soft little hiccup sound you made at hearing his unmodulated voice. How your eyes gently widened and how your heart skipped a beat. 

But as quickly as these appeared they faded. Changed into something else—

Confusion, he finally recognized.

“What do you want with me?” you piped up, making him cock his head in intrigue. “You won’t kill me, you won’t let me go… so what is it you want?” 

A little voice in his head seemed to speak up for him, You, but he quickly stifled its words. 

“I want to know why you have this hold on me.” he spoke truthfully. 

He watched as your forehead crumpled but your eyes remained wide in disbelief. “Hold I have on you!?” you practically squeaked. He nodded, “Yes.” 

You scoffed, which normally he’d have taken offense to, but it oddly piqued his interest. “You’re holding me captive.” you reminded him. 

“Yes, I’m aware of the circumstances.” he clasped his hands behind his back, still not removing his gaze from you, and it pleased him that you didn’t shy away from looking back. 

He looked to the ground for a moment as he took a sweeping step forward, bringing himself closer to you, his eyes falling on you again as you looked up at him from the floor. 

“What is it you’ve inflicted on me?” he asked, utterly serious, and a twinge of annoyance struck him as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Why is it that you are all I can think about? That when I’m around you I find myself at ease?” His expression hardened as he spoke, his eyes almost glaring. His desperation for the truth was affecting him. 

There was a beat as you stared at him and he looked back at you. “Tell me.” he ordered.

You scoffed again, “I don’t know what this obsession is you have with me- but I didn’t inflict you with anything.”

Obsession? Surely it wasn’t obsession… right?

He stared at you, his eyes still slightly glaring as he looked at you just as incredulously as you looked at him. 

“Why?” he asked again. 

Your brows furrowed as you shook your head. “I don’t know why you’re in love with me!? Gods you’re insufferable!” you spat.

His brows raised before he let out an almost jeering laugh. “In love with you? I couldn’t be farther from in love with you.” 

You looked at him for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours as you both silently sized each other up. 

“Let me go then.” you finally broke the silence. Your words took him aback, not that he wasn’t expecting them, but they did manage to surprise him. 

“That’s not happening.” he turned away from you, shaking his head. He heard you scoff once more, but he ignored it. Your rising agitation only made the feeling gurgle within him, and he knew his visitation for the day was over. 

He pulled his helmet back on, looking at you for a moment. When you’d turned your head, crossing your arms once more, he tutted softly before exiting your cell. 

He remembered how his mind had reeled as he retired from your cell. 

In love? In love?! 

What did the Supreme Leader need with love?! It was preposterous. First Order sympathizers looked up to him, practically ate out of his palm. He could have the whole galaxy and he would soon enough, so what did he need with love?

The word ‘love’ reverberated around his brain like a blaster shot bouncing around a contained room. 

He didn’t feel love– the idea that he did brought a low boil of anger to his gut. Love was useless to him, how dare you suggest he was in love with you.

Sure, he’d give it to you, maybe he was a little obsessed with you, with the way you made him feel– but him in love with you? No way. He refused to accept it. 

He needed to reach out to his grandfather again, to beg for answers. He needed to know why it felt like you had him in your grip when he was the one with the hold on you. 

Crouched once again on the floor before his grandfather’s mask, his hand hovering above it, he pleaded out. “Please, Grandfather. I need to understand.” 

His desperations came answered, but not in the way he expected– or the way he was ready for. 

He was met with a vision of your eyes on him again, looking into his eyes. He saw you reach out for him and he wanted to cower away, but he just couldn’t seem to do it, and a moment later he found your hand in his before he pulled you tightly to his body. 

He held you for a long moment, and he almost swore he could actually feel you against him, but as soon as he thought he could, you vanished from his grip and he was filled with a feeling of longing and emptiness. 

‘Love’ echoed around his brain again. 

“Fuck.” his eyes shot open and his hand withdrew rapidly from above his grandfather’s mask. He recalled the way he’d met you, the way he felt when he first looked into your eyes. 

The obsession he had for you, the way he wanted to protect you, how he felt at ease in your company. 

He wanted to ravish you, show you things you’d never experience without him. He wanted to watch your eyes light up as he showed you unseen parts of the galaxy… from beside him. 

The draw he had to you… it was… love. 

What was he to do with this realization? Surely you couldn’t love him back— for stars sake he took you captive. You were prisoner on his ship. 

How could he make you see he only did what he did because he was, in fact, in love with you?

That’s when things changed. That’s when Kylo extended an olive branch and after a while, you accepted it. That’s why you were where you were now and Kylo Ren was completely and utterly kriffed. He was Supreme Leader of the entire galaxy… he could have anything— he could get anything, what did he need with you? Why did he need you?

Yet here you were. In his quarters, lying beside him in his bed, so sweet and gently sleeping.

As soon as you willingly moved from your quarters to his, he knew it there was no use arguing how he felt. While he was comforted by your presence, so much so as to almost lure him to sleep, he couldn’t stop himself from peering through his closed eyes at you every time you rolled over, sighed, groaned softly– or worse– moved closer to him. 

You moved restlessly as you slept, and it slightly annoyed Kylo, that’s why he couldn’t seem to stop himself when he threw his arms around you and tugged you against his chest, keeping you pinned against him. But to his surprise, you stilled. And you stayed that way as long as he held you. 

He constantly wracked his brain wondering why you’d meant so much to him. You were a prisoner, you were his captive. And yet without you knowing, you had him wrapped around your finger. Why? What was it about you that drew him into you– and after a while, you into him? 

Regret.

You should hate him, he’d hated himself. Not only for what he’d done, but for what he did to you. He’d taken everything from you and left only him for you to know, so why did you give in?

He remembered that switch in your brain. When you finally stopped fighting him– wanting to escape, being defensive and aggressive– and you gave in. As if you’d accepted that he was your new normal, and you didn’t fight it, in fact, you welcomed it. Why? What changed?

Was it him? He supposed he had been trying to be nicer to you. He granted you your own quarters, he allowed you to have a little more freedom, all the while you were his prisoner.

Maybe it was when he opened up and he talked to you. He told you all about his desires and his aspirations not just for himself, but for the galaxy… and you listened. He liked that you didn’t just accept everything he said, that you were a little combative. That you argued against his means and questioned his motives.

He wasn’t sure why, but you liked listening to him talk, and even more confusing, he liked talking to you.

He couldn’t seem to help himself from telling you anything and everything, even the minute details about his life such as what he ate for breakfast, and what his favorite color was. He liked that you listened, really listened.

You didn’t listen like everyone else who just accepted what he said as fact. You listened and processed what he’d tell you, and you’d respond.

He also liked that you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore at least, though, he’d argue you never really were. Even the moment he took you on board the Finalizer, you never once showed him you were afraid of him. You were strong. Something else he supposed he liked about you.

He could easily destroy you, and in a way he had, but he didn’t want to, at least not anymore. Something about you made him want to protect you, to care for you. Why?

You thrashed gently in his arms, tearing his attention down to you. When his eyes met yours he found you looking up at him with your tired, but ever so gorgeous eyes. 

“Do you ever sleep?” you hummed half-consciously. “No.” he said mostly jokingly, though his tone was firm and serious. He was relieved when a small smile pulled on your pretty lips anyways.

“I don’t keep you up, do I?” you yawned, shifting in his arms a little. He froze– you were worried about him? His lips parted to speak, to question why you cared, but he couldn’t seem to find the means to ask. 

“No. If anything I sleep better when you’re near.” 

This time you froze– and he scrutinized himself. Why did he say that? Why did he think that was something he should’ve ever admitted?

Time seemed to slow as you looked up at him, and him down at you. Part of him argued to let you go, release you from his hold, but the other half of him begged to pull you closer.

You pulled away from his arms, and he hated the way it felt like his heart sank– how he felt disappointed, but he acted as if it didn’t bother him as he watched you pull yourself up on your arms. He feigned a look of indifference as you looked at him, your emotions so strong he could feel them radiating off of you. 

Confusion, intrigue… want.

Then you did the unthinkable. Your hand gently met his cheek and he had to fight the urge to snatch your hand off and push you away, after all, he didn’t want to scare you, not anymore.

He watched as your eyes fell from his to where your hand laid against his cheek, then they moved to his lips.

Just enough time passed for his heartbeat to quicken and thump against his ribcage before you leaned in and your lips were on his. 

He stilled for a moment, watching, waiting as you took the lead, but he finally allowed himself to kiss you back.

When you pulled away you both eyed each other, like you were silently sizing the other up. “Why did you do that?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“To see what you’d do.” you answered as if it was the most obvious answer in the galaxy. When his eye twitched slightly, you giggled, “Well? How do you feel?” you asked, as you pulled your hand away from his cheek.

Hopeless.

Kylo Ren— Supreme Leader of the galaxy felt hopeless.

Hopelessly in love with you. 

You possessed him, you made him feel things that he swore he’d never feel again. He was supposed to be angry, cruel, the embodiment of revenge and power… and yet he was in love with you. 

He wanted to give you everything. He’d pluck every star from the galaxy for you if it meant he’d get to see that smile of yours, to see the way your eyes would sparkle. He needed you. 

He snatched up your face with much more haste than he’d meant, but it didn’t matter. He needed to feel your lips on his again, to feel the feeling of you against him and the way everything felt right when you were near.  And you didn’t fight. 

You let him as he wrapped his free arm around your waist, tugging your body against his as his lips pressed to yours. 

He kissed like he was a drowning man and you were the smallest bit of oxygen that would give him a second wind to keep going. Because that’s how you made him feel. 

Kylo Ren was drowning. Drowning in responsibilities, in expectations of what he needed to do and who he should be, but around you, Kylo Ren could breathe. 

All responsibilities and expectations died away, and he could simply be. 

Your arms tangled around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer as your lips worked in synchronization, each of you battling for the upper hand to kiss with the most passion. To kiss with love. 

As much as it didn’t make sense to him— you did. Everything felt at ease with you, and here and now, he was finally accepting that he didn’t need to fight it. That everything you made him feel wasn’t weakness, but that you gave him an unknown source of strength. 

You were intoxicating. He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about you that he liked the most. He liked you as a whole. You pulled him in and made him feel safe… like he belonged, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly felt.

You were supposed to be his, he was supposed to have you wrapped around his finger, eating out of his hand, but he was so wrong.

You didn’t know it, and he may not be ready to tell you, but he was yours.

Kylo Ren was yours.

[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

[generalkenobee]

Kylo Ren headcannons

This short story includes NSFW headcannons and SFW

There's a bit of angst

~ He's possessive, very. If you think you can just have a conversation with general Hux like a normal person you're sadly mistaken

~ He towers over you

~ he always has his hands on you, your thighs, around your shoulder, your hand resting in his. I feel like he needs that extra reminder that you're here with him

~ Kylo won't show public affection, if you're being stared down by a certain stormtrooper he'll take pursuit but if it's just holding hands in public it's kind of a big no no

~ he has scars everywhere, his chest, back of his thighs, knees, everywhere. When you first ran your hands over them he was embarrassed and confused, but now he knows it's just a form of you showing your affection for him

~ if you're arguing he won't say sorry first when you first get together. It takes him time to understand how to work together in a relationship

~ little glances from under his helmet, no one can see where his eyes are going.. including you

~ his dark secret is he loves when you play with his thick black hair, it lulls him to sleep

~ Kylo really has beautiful hair, that's the only way to explain it. The way it swings while lightsaber training, how it falls on his pillow during sleep, it fluffs up sometimes and when it does...oh my god

~you're the only person allowed to call him Ben

~you told him he was pretty in the first month or so you were together and he got confused

~there was a time when you got jealous of Rey and the attention she was getting and Kylo had to remind you that he only wants you

~his gorgeous full lips, they feel so good everywhere

•NSFW•

~ I think that he can be pretty sensual during sex

~please tell him he's doing good

~his voice is just so pretty he doesn't moan often but when he does it's like a little surprise for you

~call him sir if he's feeling dominant, if it's slow sensual call him Ben

~mask on during dominant sex-

~I shouldn't even be saying this because it's so obvious but size kink HUGE size kink. Everything about him is big, dick, height, muscles, hands. If you express how you like how big he is he puts it to action in the bedroom

~I think he's really good at eating pussy (big noses😩)

~you couldn't fit him all the way in the first time

~use your pointer finger and thumb to rub his tip

~his tip is definitely a red shade. His cock gives off angry vibes

~this man's sex drive is insane, same with stamina

~Hux walked in one time and Kylo just kept thrusting harder, maybe it was to make Hux jealous, or maybe because he just doesn't care whose watching

[gh0stsp1d3r]

kinktober day 6 , glove kink with kylo ren

warning: fingering, fem!reader, small lil blurb because I have so much of these to finish and catch up on

his gloves were just one thing you always found yourself hyper focused on.

Was it odd? A little.

Did you care? Not a single bit. He was your husband, you were going to admire him shamelessly.

You caught yourself staring at him pulling his gloves on a few too many times, watching the fabric flex around his hand when he moved.

You loved when he fingered you with them on especially, muttering about how he needed to leave soon, about how you’re lucky for even getting this right now.

His fingers running through your folds and pressing your button, feeling the cool leather press against the bundle of nerves, making you let out a moan of his name. He smirked, enjoying the sight of you slowly letting go underneath him, before he prodded his finger in your entrance, your velvety walls pulsing around his gloved finger, welcoming it with a warm embrace.

Your nails dug in his back, and he decided, fuck it, who cares if he’s late to his duties.

[bits-and-babs]

Hi, I just read your rules again and saw that this request needed to be sent on non anon, so I’m sending it again.

💿

For Commander Mills and the shower prompt please, or it could be a waterfall too. Thank you so much for taking requests 🖤

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒

summary: grief threatens to consume you far quicker than the creatures that inhabit the moon you have crash-landed on. Mills does everything he can to stop it.

pairing: Commander Mills (65 Movie) x f!reader

word count: 1k

content: 18+ MDNI. Injury, trauma, vague descriptions/mentions of PTSD. Survivors' guilt. Sad sex (?), sort of a hurt/comfort thing. Heavy petting, p in v sex. 

➛ mills masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Cuts seep deep crimson down the length of your forearms, the ichor dripping from your fingertips and into the freezing cold water at your feet. It dilutes, the scarlet cloud swirling amongst the crystal clear river before drifting away with the current.

Closing your eyes slowly, you tilt your head back into the bruising flow of the waterfall as the plummeting stream bludgeons your skull and shoulders. It hurts, your aching body battered and beaten in the crash that had claimed the lives of the cryogenic cargo you had been attempting to shuttle across the universe. You’d lost count of how often you’d been flung into the steel walls- or had you blacked out? You weren’t sure.

A shaky breath rattles in your lungs as you try to expel the pain that sits heavy against your heart. Abandoned on this planet, surrounded by creatures lusting for your flesh with no promise of assistance, you’re beginning to feel utterly hopeless.

“Hey,” a soft, gruff voice murmurs in your ear, lips pressing against the soft cartilage shell as hands swallow the curve of your hips. You lean into that touch, cling to its scarce comfort. The calloused fingerprints circle the arch of your hip bones in soothing circles, soft mouth places open-mouthed kisses across the length of your shoulder. “You’re disappearing again.”

Clearing your throat weakly, you nod your head, chewing on the raw surface of the inside of your cheek. “I’m-… I’m trying not to, Mills.”

“I know,” he urges you softly, skimming his hands across your bare skin. It’s cold to the touch under the stream of the waterfall, but Mill’s proximity sparks heat, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. “I know. Tell me what I can do to help.”

Mills struggles to conceal the concern that laces the casual tone of his request. He’s been worried about you since the crash, scared that the grief, the guilt of being the only other survivor, and the brutality of the planet would swallow you whole. You’d catch him checking on you in the middle of the night, scared you’d… given up.

“I just-“ you choke, emotion roiling in your stomach like the bubbling surface of the water battered by the falling stream. Mills squeezes you tight, letting you know he’s here to hold you together as you shatter. “I just need you. Need you closer.”

You don’t have to ask twice. Mill’s arms encase you, pulling your back to his naked chest ever so gently. Tears stream down your cheeks, mixing with the freshwater droplets that drip from your hairline. He doesn’t mind as you sob into his kisses, plush lips pressing delicately against your own as they tremble. Gentle words of encouragement pour from his mouth like a free-flowing cup of wine, overwhelming, sweet affirmations that still leave a bitterness coating your tongue.

You’re doing so well. I know it’s hard. We’re getting out of this together.

Sinking your fingers into the soaked strands of midnight hair at the base of his neck, you push his head closer to you and smother his proclamations of survival with a heated kiss. Mills returns your hunger, groping at the soft expanse of your flesh with heavy hands.

The guilt drenched you, makes you feel colder than the cascade of the rapids above you. You can feel the press of Mill’s heavy cock twitching at your back; note the swirling arousal that blooms beneath his touch as he sweeps his thumbs across your pert nipples. You’re alive.

Fuck, you’re alive, and it feels so good. Mill’s beard brushes at your cheek as his tongue lathes against your own. You cling desperately to him, afraid that you’ll wake from this blissful dream and return to consciousness, plummeting down to earth in the steel coffin of the ship.

“I’m here,” Mills pants heavily into your mouth, sweeping his palm up the inside of your thigh, “You’re here with me, Sweet Thing.”

You sob weakly, reaching out to grasp onto the rocky cliff face with a trembling hand. “Please, Mills. Please.”

Begging for everything and nothing and for mercy, you let out a blissful wail of relief as Mills sweeps his blunt cockhead against your soaked pussy lips and into your aching cunt.

It’s this. This moment. When you have to suck oxygen into your lungs and focus on the pace of your breaths. The sting of his cock stretches you open, and the distant groans behind your head as the roar of the falls drown him out. You don’t have room to think of anything else, can’t consider the chaos and the carnage that killed off your cargo-

“Mills,” you choke out as he rocks heavily into your hips from behind, slamming hard against the surface of your cervix. It’s a dull pain, breeding pleasure beneath the throbbing sensation as he rocks into you. His palm cups over your breast, squeezing the malleable flesh and pinching at your nipples.

It sparks heavily in the pit of your stomach, the increase in pace causing the slap of his balls against the curve of your ass to sound over the crashing water. You whimper loudly, tilting your head against his shoulder and revelling in how he takes your earlobe between his teeth and groans into your ear.

“Come on,” he hisses softly as your walls squeeze around him, “Come on, I know it feels good.”

The devastating agony of loss melts away as the ebb of your orgasm throbs at the surface of your being. You nod mindlessly, all sounds caught in your throat when his fingertips brush at your clit, and you threaten to cum.

“Yeah? You’re gonna give me everything? I’ve got you, Sweet Thing. I won’t let you go.” He whispers, and it’s so gentle that it shakes your soul.

join the taglist:

@pansa-1-san , @safarigirlsp , @heart-atttack , @crybaby-blue-blog , @queeniebee , @lumberjack00fantasies , @wingedgothapricot, @glassbxttless , @Ghoulian13

[mrs-gucci]

What Happens at the Cabin...

{ werewolf!flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon(s)

Werewolf Flip keeping you locked away in his cabin for when the full Moon hits please 💛

Werewolf Flip in the middle of a serious rut and just needing to use you like rag doll Please and thank you 🐺

just a quick disclaimer, sorry if this sucks lol, I'm writing this half asleep at 11:45 pm and I'm only doing quick proofreading as I go along.

warnings. SMUT (18+), werewolf rut, objectification (treated like a sex doll), dirty talk, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of breath play, creampie, minimal/no aftercare.

word count: 790

🐺 written for werewolf wednesday 🐺

Flip's ruts are always pretty intense, matching his human personality quite well. He's impulsive, passionate, a bit temperamental, but most of all, horny. Oh so horny.

Rays of moonlight shine through the thin curtains hanging in the cabin's master bedroom as Flip's wolf form stands over you, casting a shadow on your bare, bound form. You look into deeply his amber eyes, watching them darken with lust the more they roam your nude form.

It's quite a sight, you're sure, seeing your wrists and ankles each tied to one post of the old metal bed frame, spread out just for his pleasure.

You watch as his length fills out and hardens, the sight making your thighs want to rub together, but alas, they're bound apart. Flip looks down and sees that you're beginning to glisten and your pussy is clenching ever so slightly. The sight alone turns him on even more.

He growls lowly and quickly pounces, getting on top of you and beginning to lick at your neck, hips rolling forward instinctively in order to rub his hard, leaking cock against your abdomen.

"Do you feel what you acting like a little slut does to me?"

You smirk. "What do you mean?"

Flip huffs, nipping gently at your throat.

"You know exactly what you did, wearing your low cut sweater dress at the station on the day of a full moon."

Your smirk widens slightly.

"Maybe I...wanted this to happen."

"Mm, I'm sure you did."

He chuckles breathily, then forces your legs apart a little more, cock nudging against your entrance. You open your mouth to say something but he thrusts in suddenly, abruptly finishing your sentence before it even begins.

"Ohh fuck."

Flip looks down at you. A shiver runs down your spine at his sudden tone of seriousness.

"You will lay perfectly still while I do what I want to you at my discretion. And you'll be nice and quiet as I do so." He thrusts abruptly, harshly. "Y-You'll be my perfect little doll, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Your mouth falls open and a soft, pathetic-sounding whimper slips from your lips. You somehow manage to nod and he begins fucking you at a quick pace.

His eyes remain on you, watching closely for any slip-ups. You try your best to stay still, you really do, but the more he fucks you, the more your body begins to jerk and squirm with arousal.

Suddenly, one of his paws wraps around your neck and presses down gently, impairing your breathing only slightly, but enough to choke you up for a few moments.

"Quiet," he snarls. "Dolls are m-meant to take cock, not to be heard."

Your eyes roll back in your head, pussy clenching around him. Everything is happening all at once and it's all bringing you to levels of arousal you've never known were possible. Your body tenses and you focus on staying still, wanting to give your beloved a pleasurable experience.

He presses a bit harder on your neck, long enough to make you squirm again, before pulling away completely. You inhale deeply and he grunts softly in satisfaction, then drags his sharp claw gently, slowly down your neck, across your collarbones, tracing the swells of your large breasts to tease your senses.

Then, he suddenly yanks your shirt down and tears your bra, exposing your bare breasts to the cool Colorado night air. His textured tongue begins to lap at your hardened nipples, enjoying how it makes you whimper and whine beneath him

Soon enough, your attempts at staying still and quiet are thrown out the window, and you let out a long moan.

"Christ, Flip..."

He growls, fucking you harder, enjoying the sight of you breaking character and the feeling of your insides tightening around his thick cock.

"Good girl, tighten for me," he grunts. "Make me fill you up."

His words propel you into a sudden, powerful orgasm, and you cry out in pleasure as it washes over in intense waves. Seeing and feeling your orgasm is enough to send Flip hurdling over the edge as well, his bellowing growls and grunts echoing through the small room.

You sigh, biting your lip while Flip continues to jerk his hips, fulfilling his most primal desire to breed you. He gives your breasts a few more licks before moving back up to your neck.

Once he's settled and his orgasm has faded, Flip looks down at you, his eyes returning to their usual beautiful amber color. You smile, knowing that your Flip has returned to you, at least for now.

Your hand smooths across where his cheeks would be. He leans into your touch.

"Better?"

He nods, nuzzling you with his wet nose.

"Much. Thank you."

****

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[hoteldreamss]

Kylo Ren || imagine

Метки: попытка убийства

Тебе нужно было сделать не так много, просто небольшая работа, которая ты уверено окупилась бы в разы, хотя страх с трудом мог покинуть тебя и твои мысли, учитывая, что ты собиралась делать.

Это оказалось легче, чем ты думала. База Первого Ордена была на удивление почти пуста, когда ты пробралась к ним. Может дело было в том, что это была ночь, но ты также не думала, что сможешь встретить Кайло вне его комнаты, прямо в коридоре.

Немного внезапная встреча, во время которой он легко мог понять, что наткнулся на нежелательного гостя, пока ты поняла, что тебе больше не нужно искать его комнату.

Его взгляд изучающий, явно замечает доказательства того, что ты была не местной. И стоит ему попробовать пробраться в твои мысли, он натыкается на барьер.

— Кайло Рен? — твой голос мягкий, хотя ты готова к тому, чтобы отрезать ему голову.

— Охрана! — Его крик заставляет тебя вздрогнуть от внезапности, но ты уже бежишь на него.

На его призыв либо никто не отзывается, либо работники здесь плохо слышать.

Пока вы пытаетесь перехватить возможность скрутить друг друга, ты не замечаешь, как оказываешься в невыгодном положении для себя.

Волосы Рена взъерошены, когда он наконец отделался от тебя. Твоя голова звенит от сильного удара об стену. Он теперь может лучше рассмотреть тебя, заметить твои тонкие черты лица и даже попытаться пробраться в твои мысли, которые ты снова блокируешь от его любопытства. Ты сжимаешь зубы, чувствуя, как твои желваки напрягаются, а взгляд сконцентрирован только на Кайло, который по всей видимости больше не считает тебя угрозой, когда ты приходишь в себя стоя между стеной базы Первого Ордена и Реном, который определённо был большим парнем.

— Знаешь, с дамами следует обращаться понежнее. — Ты шипишь, когда всего одним взмахом руки, приложив свою Силу, ты заставляешь Кайло отлететь по коридору достаточно далеко. Он проскальзывает даже дальше нужного. Отлетев от тебя на несколько метров, Рен понимает, почему не мог прочесть твои мысли.

Гнев медленно расплывающийся по твоим венам. Дыхание глубокое, ноздри еле заметно расширяются при вздохе, пока твоя грудь вздымается, из твоей разбитой губы слабо сочится крови, а зрачки расширены. Уверенными шагами, ты направляешься к Кайло, уже хватаясь за свой световой меч на поясе.

Может быть это немного захватывающее зрелище для Рена, потому что он никогда раньше не видел таких как ты, никогда не мог наблюдать за такой разгневанной женщиной. Может это заставило его пропустить возможность откинуть тебя также, с помощью Силы.

Сиреневый свет откидывает своё свечение на лицо Рена, как только ты подставляешь к его шее свой меч. Ты даже не склоняешься над ним, смотришь прямо в его немного покрасневшие глаза и на твоё удивление ты не можешь отвести от них взгляд.

— Тебя заказали, ты знаешь об этом? — твой голос немного прерывистый от тяжёлого дыхания. — Перекупишь себя?

— Что? — Его чёрные и густые брови сводятся чуть заметно к переносице, а верхняя губа слегка поднимается вверх на секунду.

— Ты можешь перекупить себя. Заплатишь в два раза больше, чем мне заплатили за твою голову, и я не убиваю тебя, за дополнительную плату могу убить того, кто заказал тебя, — произносишь ты, уже отдышавшись.

Меч возле шее Кайло Рена слегка обжигает его, на самом деле он знает, что на волоске от смерти. Его дыхание также восстановилось, его волосы не так аккуратно лежат, как раньше, после небольшой драки с тобой, которая скорее напоминала предварительные ласки из-за вашей сдержанности в ударах.

— Разве это не…

— Я тут вроде как задаю вопросы. — Ты ненавидишь, когда твои заказы начинают думать, будто у них больше шансов выжить, заговорив тебя.

— Сколько за выкуп?

***

Ты довольно ухмыляешься, когда богатеешь. Тебе нравилось зарабатывать в разы больше за возможность дать кому-то жить. Хотя это и было не совсем нравственным, может даже серой моралью, но ты смотрела на это, как на шанс чего-то нового.

— Почему я не могу прочесть твои мысли? — Кайло, кажется, не собирается нападать на тебя. Хотя у него есть шанс атаковать, у него мало шансов победить тебя.

— Потому что твой учитель не хотел тебя учить. — Ты пожимаешь плечами, и уже собираешься попрощаться с Реном, направляясь к двери из его комнаты.

Сделав пару шагов к выходу, ты чувствуешь его хватку на плече. Он не сильно сжимает руку, лишь чтобы остановить тебя, не удержать. Не смотря на вашу разницу в росте, ты не чувствуешь себя слабее.

— Ты должна научить меня, — произносит он, отпуская тебя. Не смотря на его тон, ты не чувствуешь давление с его стороны.

— Это не так.

— Я заплачу тебе, если это единственное, что тебя волнует.

Тебе не нравится, как это звучит. Он будто обзывает тебя, выплёвы��ает это как кислоту тебе на лицо, и ты не можешь игнорировать злость, которая тебя охватывает.

Скривившись от его слов, ты делаешь ещё пару шагов назад.

— Мне просто не выгодно помогать командиру ситхов. — Теперь ты оскорбляешь его, нисколько не чувствуя вины за это.

Кайло больше не склонен быть таким дружелюбным, каким ему приходилось, поэтому он всего парой шагов настигает тебя. Разворачивает к себе лицом. Теперь его ладонь сжимается намного сильнее на твоём плече. В его взгляде есть капля безумия и гнева.

— Ты поможешь мне, или я не отпущу тебя с этой базы.

— Ты слабее меня, — шипишь ты. — Ты не сможешь удержать меня. Я слышала ты не смог удержать мусорщицу, и разве этот шрам не от неё?

Ты указываешь на его щёку заставляя Кайло чувствовать неловкость, потому что теперь его лицо иногда заставляло его думать, что он недостаточно привлекателен. Может быть раньше ему не удавалось задумываться над своей внешностью, больше одержимый своей Силой, уроками Скайвокера, а позже уроками Сн��ука.

— Чего ты хочешь? — интересуется он, пока твои глаза озаряются игривым блеском, а губы растягиваются в ухмылке.

***

Взаимодействие с Кайло было не таким скучным и проблемным, как ты думала. Его мысли были громче, чем ты предполагала. Он был хорошим учеником, несмотря на свой гнев, который излишни часто брал над ним гнев.

Ты сидишь на против Кайло, в отличии от него, твои глаза не закрыты, потому что ты пытаешься наблюдать за ним.

Шум ветра и листвы единственное, что вы можете слышать на этой заброшенной, но до безумия красивой планете. Ты понятия не имеешь, почему Рену удалось так легко отлучиться от своей работы и привести вас сюда, может быть, он и впрямь так сильно желал стать лучше. Поэтому, когда ты рассказала ему о том, как проходило твоё обучение, он решил действовать по тому же сценарию.

— Ты не сосредоточен. — Твой голос спокойный, пока ты сидишь в позе лотоса, как и Кайло. Трава под вами сухая, хотя небо постепенно становилось серым и затягивалось тучами.

— Выйди из моей головы. — Его глаза остаются прикрытыми, и ты на самом деле довольна Кайло.

— Заставь меня. — Конечно, ты кидаешь вызов, заставляя теперь Рена думать о совершенно другом.

Ты слышишь в его мыслях, речи о том, что ты всегда была такой дерзкой и наглой, что теперь это заставляло его немного наслаждаться этим, даже осознавая твой игривый характер. Может быть, тебе нравилось иногда читать его мысли о себе, зная, что ты начинаешь привлекать его больше, чем должна бы учитывая ваши взаимоотношения.

— Ты думаешь не о том, — произносишь ты, заставляя его отвлечься снова на тебя. — Тебе нужно сосредоточиться на окружении. Не перескакивать с мысли на мысль.

Тогда Кайло думает только о тебе и это даже слегка вызывает жар на твоих щеках.

— Сосредоточься на природе.

На самом деле несмотря на его успехи в контроле, в том, чтобы быть более сосредоточенным, у него всё ещё не получалось закрыть свои мысли от тебя. Ты также могла заглянуть в его голову, как и Сноук, может быть, как и мусорщица.

Мысль о том, чтобы помочь Кайло, уже ни раз посещала тебя.

— Ладно. — Ты пододвигаешься ближе к Рену, его глаза открываются, когда он слышит движения с твоей стороны. — Ты должен расслабиться, подумать о чём-то хорошем, по-настоящему хорошем, я не увижу этого, но ты… увидишь то, что думаю я. Когда мои мысли будут в твоей голове, твоих там не будет, и ты поймёшь это чувство, когда там ничего нет. Тогда ты сможешь стремиться к нему при следующих тренировках.

Ты берёшь его за руки, и Кайло удивляет то насколько твои руки нежные и тёплые учитывая прохладу вокруг вас. Ты же чувствуешь его мозолистые и на удивление замёрзшие ладони, ты немного наслаждаешься вашей близостью, хотя и не даёшь об этом знать Рену.

Прикрыв глаза, легко вторгаясь в его мысли, ты заменяя фантазии Рена своими воспоминаниями о том, как обучали тебя. И хотя ты стараешься избавиться от плохих воспоминаний, о том, кем на самом деле был твой учитель для тебя, тебе не удаётся скрыть это от Кайло, хотя ты легко заставляешь только хорошее оставаться вашей общей мыслью.

Тогда Кайло пытается уловить это чувство в тебе. Он цепляется за ощущение той пустоты, которой ты требовала от него.

Отпустив ладони, Рен снова оказывается один в своей голове и открывает глаза. Может быть, он немного скучает по твоему прикосновению, но умалчивает об этом.

Может быть, он хочет сказать тебе, чтобы вы повторили это, потому что связь между вами была чем-то, чего раньше Кайло не чувствовал, чего ему никогда никто не показывал, и это странно приятное чувство, похожее на уютные, тёплые объятия, которые были так сильно необходимо ему уже много лет.

Но ты не дашь ему этого снова. Кайло заметил твоё желание сохранить своё пространство. Поэтому он не просит тебя о повторении.