femme-from-hell

[femme-from-hell]

❝ final girl. ❞

── sk!anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 8.4k SUMMARY: the neighborhood serial killer has a soft spot for you. you didn’t realize how really close you were to him. after your best friend confesses his feelings for you, he confesses something else as well. something far more sinister. NOTES: this piece features dark themes in honor of halloween. anakin based on sam monroe from life as a house. both in appearance and personality. (as giffed above). so it’s like a modern, college, no jedi au hehe | my kinktober fic for the month bcos i couldn’t participate in the full month 💀 | i made a playlist & listened to it religiously while i wrote this piece :) i also imagine it’s the halloween party’s playlist. WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | explicit sex | dark themes | serial killer things | f!reader | dom!anakin | breath play (choking + suffocation) | features murder by blunt force trauma so blood (reader is unscathed btw) | touching blood + blood consumption | size difference, impact play: slapping (f + m receiving), tit slapping | unprotected sex | exhibitionism | dirty talk/degradation | no specific ask for consent + slight coercion | features drinking & smoking weed/nic.

“Can you imagine it? I just feel like our town isn’t the type to have a serial killer.”

“Oh, shut up, Jeremy, it’s not that big of a deal,” you replied. “It’s probably just some crime of passion blown out of proportion.” The plastic of your chip bag crackled when your fingers dug in for more.

Jeremy nudged you, his strong arm jostling you in a way you would’ve disliked if it wasn’t coming from him. “Aw, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have that nasty serial killer obsession,” he teased, grinning down at you from his seat above you on the concrete steps.

“It’s not like that! I just study the thought process because of purely scientific fascination.” You did not appreciate the way you could see Jeremy’s dimples when he smiled at you like that, unable to meet his gaze for longer than a couple seconds. “I major in psychology for a reason,” you muttered sheepishly, aware of how flushed you were getting.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER, who’d remained quiet as he listened in, nursed his cigarette. When he spoke, the smoke blew from his lips, “Yeah, (y/n), I’d say you’ve got a pretty nasty affliction. You don’t remember when we watched Scream and you told me you thought Ghostface was hot?” That brooding look shifted in judgement, arching his brow at you.

“Don’t say that!” you leaned over to push him, making him snicker at you. It was too early to reveal that to someone like Jeremy.

As you expected, Jeremy reacted with an exclamation, eyeing you accusingly, “Oh, you do, do you?”

“Don’t you have class to get to, man? Head out,” you shoved your thumb over your shoulder, and he stood from the steps. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked in his jacket. He was a pretty big guy, broad and muscled. It was easy to deduce he played some football in high school. Tilting your head at him as he adjusted his clothes, both Jeremy and Anakin saw the way you were checking him out.

Jeremy moistened his lips. “I’ll see you later then?”

Before you could respond, Anakin chimed in, “Yeah, man, don’t forget. My place, eleven.” With Anakin’s good natured pat on Jeremy’s backpack, he got him to move on, hopping down the steps.

“Yeah, see you guys.”

While Jeremy traveled further out, yet another one of your opportunities to say goodbye was squandered when Anakin added another thing, “Don’t forget to dress up~!” he called in a cant, and you recognized it as his way of making fun of you.

“Ani,” you scolded through a clenched jaw, “can you stop?”

Anakin merely frowned, screwing the end of his cig into the concrete, staining it with ash to put it out. “Why do we hang out with that guy?” He repositioned himself, leaning back onto the concrete with his arms up, and legs spread.

“I think he’s cute, and I like him. I’m hanging out with him, nobody said you have to.”

Anakin pouted his lips, shrugging minutely, “These are my steps.”

“You can’t monopolize concrete stairs.”

“I can if I piss on them. Doubt you’d come near them then—”

“Anakin!” your scold dissolved into laughter.

You’d known Anakin for years. You were in college together now, but you met when you were children. Living next door most of your life, you spent a lot of time with the kid whose parents were never home. It became an effortless habit to invite him over, where the two of you would spend time together silently, whether it was to work on homework alongside one another or while he messed with his guitar, you listening to music in your earbuds, or movie nights. Your parents took pity on him, and you’d learned firsthand that Anakin wasn’t easy to love or get along with for the most part. However, they tried, and in no time he’d warmed up to them with enough family dinners.

He’d been your closest friend, and he was fiercely loyal. The memories of how reckless he’d been on your behalf were some of your least favorite: the bloody noses he’s gotten, the broken arm—one time he split your skateboard over someone’s back when they’d pushed you down as young teens. As you grew up alongside one another, you had a front row seat to watch how he altered himself. He dyed his hair, got all those piercings, and wore eyeliner for no other reason than dramatism.

Frightfully intense was another descriptor you’d use. Anakin felt your eyes on him as he drove you home from campus. “Sure are staring a lot for someone who can’t fight,” he muttered, and your lips curled in amusement at how he read your mind.

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, inclining in his direction to run your fingers through his hair. “You gonna keep the black and blue?”

Your nails sent chills down his spine, and he batted your hand away, “Quit touchin’ me. I’ll shave it off if you don’t stop grabbing at it like that.”

“I bet you’d still look good,” you said without thinking, turning your attention to your phone in your hand. Anakin lingered on that compliment, and pulled into his driveway.

“Alright, get out,” he ordered, gathering his stuff. The doors of this old, beat-up truck creaked as the two of you exited.

“You’re not gonna walk me to my door?” you teased, clutching your books to your chest. Rounding the car, he squinted at you.

“Don’t be a ninny.”

“You’re bossy today. What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

Anakin’s large hands found your waist, pushing you in the direction of your house next door. You swallowed, but your mouth was dry, wide eyes staring at him. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Get your little ass inside, (y/n).”

“You stressed ‘cause of the party? Didn’t finish your engineering homework? I can help you, you know!”

“(y/n),” he said warningly, impatience setting in because of your idling. His expression was endearing to you, and you chuckled.

“Okay, okay.”

Since Anakin’s parents were never home, he had free range of the house, and in honor of Halloween, he wanted to trash the place with a party. Neither of you knew a lot of people, but once word got out of a Halloween party, it snowballed. As soon as you’d finished getting ready, you admired yourself in the mirror. You’d thrown together the costume out of anything you found in your closet, the subtle makeup holding the character together. Twirling, the white dress bore an uncanny resemblance to that one famous picture, not to mention flattered your figure.

“(y/n)!” your friend called you over from the porch, and your heels clicked against the pavement.

“Hey! So glad you could make it!”

“Of course! Anything for Anakin,” she responded so carelessly, your countenance flashed a furrowed brow. It dissolved into a smile, shaking your head at your reaction.

“Yeah… Yeah! Right?” You were surprised at how such a subtle comment caught you off guard, and your friend said nothing else as you entered. What could she want with your Anakin?

Compared to the cold weather outside, the inside was boiling. Bodies were pressed together, dancing to the pounding music. The bass shook the house, strobing lights confusing you. You identified that Anakin’s huge speakers from his studio had been moved from his room down to the living room, and it impressed you that he’d done it himself. It wasn’t like Anakin to accept help.

There was beer pong and a circle smoking a joint in the kitchen alongside a punch bowl that was mostly straight up vodka at this point. Since the girl on the porch, you didn’t see anybody you recognized. When two fingers poked into your sides, you jumped, startled. You whirled around, “Ani, I was looking for you—” you began to say, but cut yourself off at the sight.

A tall figure, dressed in black and a chest holster, long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, gloves, shirt tucked into pants… with a Ghostface mask. A fake knife twirling in his hand. Speechless, you stared, “Is that…?” you were about to ask Anakin if this was really his costume, when he reached up to take the mask off. Jeremy’s face met your gaze.

“It’s me!” He grinned at you, “What do you think?” Clearly, he wanted you to know he wore it for you, especially because of what Anakin had mentioned.

A disappointment hung in your chest at the fact he wasn’t Anakin. You mustered a weak smile. “Wow! You look great,” you responded, trying not to be rude. He did look hot, the outfit fit him great, the mask is a kink of yours, but something felt off. It was missing something. He sheathed the fake knife and took your hand in his free one.

“You too~” he purred, guiding you to twirl for him when he held your arm over your head. You did so, relaxing into it. “Marilyn Monroe?”

“Yes! Great guess.”

He inclined in your direction, “It’s the eye makeup that gave it away.”

“Thank you! I tried so hard.” Instinctively, you backed up a step.

It was hard to speak over the din of the room, but you two managed since he insisted on standing close to you.

That lingering unease was impossible to shake, and you questioned if you should be feeling this way about the guy you liked. Here he was, dressed better than you expected he could be, in this character no less, but Anakin occupied your thoughts. Part of you wanted Jeremy to put the mask back on.

“Have you seen Anakin? I can’t find him,”

Jeremy let you speak in his ear, and pulled back to shake his head. “No, I haven’t. Let’s look over here,” his hand stayed in yours, leading you through the crowd.

“Hold on, Jeremy, this is hard!” you referred to attempting to cut through the crowds. He merely shrugged at you.

“Dance through it!”

You had to admit, it was a smooth trick, because instead of looking for Anakin, you were now dancing with Jeremy.

It was packed tightly, and it was the perfect excuse for Jeremy to move in. Since it was fun, you allowed it. Within arm’s reach of each other, it quickly turned to pressing up against one another. The music took over, blaring, bleeding into your thoughts as you let it move your body for you, swaying with the beat. Effortlessly, Jeremy had your back to his chest, bunching up your skirt in his hands, guiding your hips to move against him. The act had butterflies erupting in your stomach, how he danced so fluidly betrayed the control he held over it, and it had your mind drifting to how else he could put it to use for you.

Much to your dismay, he’d discarded the Ghostface mask, but it’s not like you saw his face while you were grinding on him.

Anakin, who had been so wrapped up in getting his house ready for the onslaught of guests, didn’t have a costume, and didn’t care to buy one. It was one less thing on his to-do list. Jogging down his stairs with his guitar in hand, a stranger offered him a hit of a joint which he took, nodding to them in gratitude before continuing his search for you. You’d texted him you were here a while ago but he was occupied, knowing you’d busy yourself. He laid his guitar down onto the counter by the side door.

The people he’d asked hadn’t seen you or didn’t know who you were. Anakin wasn’t worried, but lit a cigarette anyway. It balanced in between his lips, and a random girl from the smoke circle offered a light, holding it up to him. He flashed her a quizzical look, but leaned in anyway, puffing to ignite the end, and pinching it in his fingers. On the table near her was a discarded Ghostface mask.

His chain rattled against his leg, striding through the crowds, gradually tightening together as he traveled further in. He looked over the bouncing heads, the music surging.

Jeremy was the first face he recognized, and then you, pressed up against him. His eyebrows pinched together, eyeing the two of you, noting how naturally you molded together. Anakin’s jaw clenched.

The instant Jeremy’s lips latched onto your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him the access, Anakin shot his hand up in the air. It was just his luck that Jeremy saw him before you did.

So Jeremy acknowledged him, having not realized what he’d just been caught doing, he muttered to you that he’ll be right back. He managed to squeeze through, leaving you to dance alone as he approached Anakin, who towered over everyone.

“Hey, what’s up, man? Lookin’ for (y/n)?” It was an expected question, considering Anakin and Jeremy never interacted outside of you.

Anakin pulled the cig from his mouth. “No, actually,” he replied over the music, slinging an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders to pull him further away from you. “Was looking for you. You’re strong, right?”

“I mean,” Jeremy gave himself a once over, “yeah. What do you need?”

“C’mere, man, someone passed out in the bushes, need you to help me carry him inside so I can sober him up.” As Anakin explained, he led Jeremy to the side door. To fill in the silences as they made their way through the sea of people, his curiosity got the better of him, “What’re you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, Ghostface. Can’t tell without the mask,” Jeremy answered with a chuckle in spite of himself, scratching the back of his head. “Total coincidence you mentioned him earlier.”

Yeah, total coincidence, Anakin thought, taking a drag from his cigarette as the wheels in his head turned. His lips held the cigarette as he grabbed hold of the Ghostface mask from the table as they passed by, stuffing it into his back pocket.

Awkward, Jeremy added, “‘Course, we just have to be quick ‘cause I wanna get back to—”

“To grinding on my friend?” Anakin finished for him, staring at him with raised brows while Jeremy sheepishly could not meet his intense gaze. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to the dance floor in no time,” He patted Jeremy’s chest once and detached from him. Eager to get this over with, Jeremy strode in front, heading out the side door.

Anakin lingered, puffing his cig to hear the crackle of paper. He held it in between his lips, and he flexed his hand to pop the joints. Deft fingers enclosed around the neck of his guitar he’d left on the counter, and followed Jeremy out.

“Hey, man, I think the guy left on his own,” Jeremy began to say, turning to face Anakin who had raised his electric guitar, and swung.

The body of the instrument shattered against Jeremy’s cheek, the sickening crack of bones sounding as the body slammed against the outside wall of the house, sliding down to streak the wood in red. Anakin, splattered with blood, tossed what was left of his guitar, held together by the wire strings, into the bushes.

No one was sober, and it was a Halloween party. Blood on the wall was not an uncommon decoration, nor was a seemingly dead body crumpled on the ground. Anakin knelt down, replacing the Ghostface mask back over Jeremy’s smashed-in head, the cowl concealing the deed.

Anakin blew smoke from his pursed lips, and put the cigarette out onto the mask’s forehead. He rejoined the party.

You’d gotten tired of waiting easily, and you escaped the dancing bodies. Not being much of a drinker didn’t stop you from making yourself a drink. Since the punch bowl was vodka, you rifled through Anakin’s fridge to grab cranberry juice, pouring it into your red solo cup to make the horrid taste of alcohol go down. Having been left alone, your nerves were getting to you, and you enlisted the help of liquid courage in order to face Jeremy again. Nothing was wrong, but since you were getting closer to him, that pit in your stomach grew at the thought of him asking to take you home. It wouldn’t be a stretch since the two of you danced so closely together, and it would’ve been in character from your experience with men. It wasn’t like you hadn't considered going home with Jeremy, you liked him, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask—you needed more time to get to know him.

Your brain had run away with you, guzzling down the drink to calm yourself. When a hand is wrapped around your waist to get your attention. Startled for a second time tonight, you assumed it was your dance partner, “Jeremy—!” Your hand braced yourself on his chest and came eye to chest with Anakin.

“John F. Kennedy,” he corrected like it was obvious. “I just had to keep my head on.”

Relieved to see your friend, you instantly relaxed, your expression softening to break into a grin. “So you just…” you gestured to him, his normal clothes splattered with red, “covered yourself in fake blood, Mr. President?”

Anakin shrugged, dragging you from the kitchen by your waist. “I wanted to match with you, Marilyn.”

“How so?”

“They boned.”

“John and Marilyn did not have an affair!” you replied incredulously, allowing him to lead you, not registering it when his large fingers splayed around the rim of the solo cup, plucking it from your hands to set it on the table that you passed by.

“Oh, c’mon,” he goaded, shaking his head with a frown. Heightening his voice to pitch light and airy, he sang the famous song, “Happy birthday~ Mr. President~” It made you giggle and hit his chest.

“Shut up!”

Anakin continued his trek, and you were grateful he kept his arm around you as the front door came into view. “Come on, I wanna go to your house for a second. It’s too much in here.”

“I shouldn’t leave,” you looked over his shoulder, finally remembering Jeremy who’d said he’d be back. An additional wave of anxiety washed over you, and you decided a break would be best. “Yeah, okay.”

Your hesitance followed by compliance was noted by your best friend, and when the two of you reached the porch, you were somewhat disappointed to not see your friend from earlier. An intrusive thought popped into your head that you wished she could’ve seen you and Anakin leaving together. The music leaked from his house, some remix of Katy Perry’s E.T.

“Did you make a playlist for this?”

“Yeah.”

“I showed you this song.”

“You want me to interrupt the music to tell everybody which songs you showed me?”

“It’d be nice to be credited.”

He scoffed. “It’s freezing out here, let’s just get inside.”

The alcohol kept you warm, however you hadn’t had enough to be too buzzed. “Is there a reason you’re avoiding your own Halloween party?”

Anakin had settled into your bed, tossing a ball up to catch it repeatedly. “It was too loud.”

You took this opportunity to fix your makeup in the mirror. “Where were you? When I got there I couldn’t find you.”

“Seemed like you found a way to occupy yourself.”

At the mention, you realized Jeremy must be looking for you. You’d only been here for a few minutes, but it was rude to keep him waiting. “Hey, we should get back soon.” Anakin’s expression shifted to something indecipherable, flashing furrowed brows when he cleared his throat. The makeup brush in your hand made a sound when you dropped your arm, frustrated with him. “Look, you don’t have to like him, I like him, and—”

“Where are your parents at?” Anakin interrupted you, and you lost your train of thought.

“Oh, they’re out tonight. Business trip somewhere on the east coast and gone for the weekend. I didn’t tell you?” The emotion that had coursed through you dissolved, and you went back to powdering subtle blush onto your cheeks. He tossed the ball up one last time, letting it fall and roll from his chest and he brought his fingers up to chew the sides of them. A single glance at him told you he was nervous about something. “What’s up, Ani? You wanna tell me what’s been getting you so worked up lately?” you spoke through your parted lips, focusing on re-applying your eyeliner.

He sighed hard through his nose. “Nothing, I’m just…” His hands came to grip his hair, tugging on it. It’s always been hard for Anakin to express himself verbally, and to make it easier you came over, kneeling at your bedside.

“What?” you encouraged, taking his hand in yours.

It was a quiet moment as he inhaled deeply, meeting your soft gaze.

He leaned in—you didn’t pull away—until his lips were on yours. It was tentative, and you felt his warm breath fan over you as you kissed him back, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. His palm cupped your cheek, tilting his head and intensifying the kiss.

It felt so good. So right. Your hand tangled in his black hair at the nape of his neck, and when his lips parted in surprise, on instinct your tongue invited itself in. It unlocked something within him because his tongue met yours with fervor, and his thick arm wrapped around your waist. Unable to get the contact he wanted, he pulled apart from you, cutting the string of saliva connecting you two. You panted as he ripped off his flannel, setting his boots down onto the ground to lean over and go for you again. Finally realizing what had just occurred, your hand shot out, halting him by his chest. Without heeding your warning, his hands handled your waist, pulling you to your feet as he stood. The action had you fluttering, but this was wrong.

“Wait, wait, Ani, wait—”

“See that’s the thing, I don’t want to wait anymore.” Since you would not give him your mouth, his lips latched onto your neck, rewriting whatever Jeremy had left there, sending tingles throughout your body. Weakly, you pressed your palm against him.

“Listen, Anakin, this isn’t right. I should get back because Jeremy’s waiting for me.”

That caught his attention, and he recoiled, hands squeezing your upper arms. “You wanna know what Jeremy’s doing right now? You wanna know?” he asked, anger shining through in his voice at being rejected, his firm grasp remaining on one of your arms to yank you along with him out of your room. Your bewildered countenance stained your face as he brought you to another window, showing you the side of his house. “Look out.” It didn’t make sense to you, his behavior. You faced him, attempting to put a calming hand on him but instead he jerked you in the direction of the window, jamming his finger against the glass. “Look. Now.”

Unappreciative of the way he treated you, you did as he requested to get this over with. At first, you saw nothing, “I don’t see anything…” until a body on the ground came into focus from behind some foliage, a Ghostface mask, and a sense of worry overtook you. “Oh, my God, he’s passed out,” you exhaled, moving to leave the house, “I have to go help him.”

Anakin stepped in front of you.

Your frown hardened, “What?”

“I can’t let you do that, (y/n).”

“You’re being weird, he could be hurt. I need to go see him. There’s…” You pivoted your head, hair falling over your shoulder from the motion, and once your gaze settled onto the streak of red on the wall, panic replaced worry. “Blood on the wall… Anakin! There’s blood on the wall!” You turned to him, pushing at his shoulders when your fingers came into contact with something cold and wet.

Your friend was silent.

You pulled your hands from him, examining the blood on your trembling hands.

Stomach dropping, you stepped back from him. Your head spinning so fast you dizzied, you braced yourself on the window behind you. He knew and he didn’t tell you that Jeremy was hurt. Was he the one that did that to Jeremy? He couldn’t have. Could he? He’d always been protective. Did he knock him out? What reason could he have?

It was not the fact it was plausible that scared you. What scared you was the fact there was blood on your hands from touching him.

It was not fake.

It had to be Jeremy’s.

You could be next for knowing.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you crept against the wall slowly, staying as far away from him as possible.

“(y/n),” he said warningly, trained on the route you could be taking.

“I need to go.” You watched his tongue poke out to moisten his lips, and you went for the exit.

“(y/n)!” His arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you from the floor as you thrashed in his grip.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Let me explain!”

“No!” Your body was moving for you out of fear, and when he set you down you tried to elbow him. Anakin was much larger than you, and much stronger. He maneuvered you to face him, and allowed you to bang your hands against his chest. “You—! I can’t believe you!”

“I know, I know, just stop. Stop!”

“No!” Your heel came down hard on the top of his foot, and he cried out, grabbing hold of it while you fled. Unfortunately more athletically inclined, Anakin swooped in, cutting your path off to the stairs. You screamed, passing him before he could clutch you.

“(y/n)! Come here!” His heavy steps thundered after you as you dove for your room, whirling around to slam the door when his hand shot out to catch it before it closed. You shoved as hard as you could but he kept it open, wedging it open. “Don’t run away from me, sweetheart, you know how much I like it.”

You knit your eyebrows together, incredulously questioning, “You’re joking at a time like this?” Taking advantage of your guard down, he grabbed your wrist, and like a little doll, he tugged you over to lock the other one in his harsh hold. “Hey!”

“I can’t let you leave,” Anakin told you, a solemn lilt to his voice and your first thought was how he was going to hurt you too.

Somehow, you still believed he wouldn’t be capable of that.

“Ani, Ani, please,” you pleaded. “Before you do anything or say anything, please hear me when I say I love you, I love you and I mean it, and I can help you, please just don’t—”

“I know, I know,” Anakin rolled his eyes as he backed you up, your knees hitting the side of your bed, tripping over it and he pinned you there. A much more sinister assumption replaced your old one. Your wide eyes stared up at him as he straddled you and locked your hands over your head. “God, (y/n), do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is when you beg like that?”

Your mouth fell open at how he spoke to you, “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck, baby,” he leaned down, lips connecting to your jaw and you jerked away. It only gave him more access to your neck, peppering kisses along the column.

“Stop, stop, Anakin, don’t do this.”

“Would you rather I keep chasing you?” he reproached and that familiar heat pooled in between your legs. It was like your body recognized this as some sort of sexual act, whereas your brain was in a frenzy at the unsafety.

“Did you hurt Jeremy? You can tell me,” you told him, lips quivering as you fought tears. You couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of him.

“Aw, I got blood all over your pretty dress,” he cooed, eyeing you up generously. One of the sleeves had fallen off your shoulders. “You know a white dress like this makes you look like a little virgin,” he mused, a crooked grin adorning his lips.

“I know you defend me. Did Jeremy do something? Tell me, Anakin!”

“Jeremy didn’t do a damn thing,” he told you, meeting your gaze as you were silenced. “Except think he could put his hands on you.”

“You’re—!” you wiggled underneath him, attempting to worm your way out of his hold, “— crazy!” He dodged your head from butting him, and you managed to roll the two of you to the side and off your bed. Landing on top of him, knocking the wind from him, you scrambled up. Somehow, you were able to slip your hands from his frantic latchings and beelined for the stairs. You skipped some, and landing funny on the floor, you regained your footing as he called after you. He wasn’t far behind, and you weren’t going to get to the front door in time. You opted to hide. In a dark room, you slid behind a door, and your heavy breathing would give you away if you didn’t calm it.

His voice raised to ensure you’d hear him. “You don’t feel safe, angel? Not even with me?” he grinned sinisterly as he searched his surroundings.

You prayed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced yourself to draw in a slow deep inhale.

Heavy boots echoed.

“Got to admit, this is turning me on a little bit,” he mused, that familiar playful tone controlling you like always, gasping to speak before you realized you were giving away your position. Frozen in place, you couldn’t bring your feet to move. Silence from him indicated he hadn’t heard you, and you thanked your lucky stars.

Anakin’s head snapped in your direction at the noise of your breath, and picked up a stray item from the kitchen table. He’d pinpointed you were somewhere in corridor that connected rooms, and he pressed himself against the wall by that doorway. Glancing inside, he tossed the item across and hid.

The sound told you he’d passed by the open door you were concealed behind. Gently, you removed your heels, your feet against the tile as quiet as a field mouse as you crept around to see he wasn’t in the room where the noise was made. You dashed for the front door, and when you passed the doorway, a large hand clapped around your mouth, muffling your scream as he locked you in his embrace.

“Hey, shh, shh,” he soothed, slamming your back against the wall with his palm at your upper chest and shoulder. Fighting for oxygen, you clawed at his fingers. “Listen to me, baby, listen,” Anakin could see how dilated your pupils were in your wide eyes, pleading to him to release you as you futilely fought against him for air. The way he stalked you, caught you, and stared at you like you were his prey had your heart beating so fast you could pass out. The notion distracted you from doing anything effective against him. “I’m not going to hurt you, (y/n), and I’ll let go if you promise to behave.”

Lashes fluttered as you neared your end, vision blurring, driving you to nod furiously at him. You were released and you fell against him, his towering frame supporting you as you gasped for air. As you recovered, Anakin tongued the inside of his cheek, pinching your jaw to force you to look at him. Lazily, you allowed him, lightheaded. “Now that I’ve got your attention, pretty girl, I need you to hear this. Did you mean it back there? When you said you loved me?”

He clenched his teeth, and you lingered on his lips, reminiscing on the kiss you’d shared with him and the influence it had over you. It was no secret you were attracted to him, you loved him as a friend, and you got jealous when the girl on the porch talked about him.

Impatience got the better of him, and he jostled you to wake you from your trance, “Answer me, princess.”

The way he was speaking to you, the thrill of the chase you’d just endured—it had the hairs at the back of your neck standing as a chill ran up your spine. “Mhm,” you nodded at him.

“You liked kissing me.” It was a statement.

You nodded anyway.

“You kissed me back.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, shame setting in at the truth he made you face.

“What else did you want to do?”

Why were there tears pricking the corner of your eyes?

“None of that, (y/n), I’d like the waterworks later.”

“I wanted to keep kissing you,” you replied reluctantly, knowing he’d sense it if you lied.

“Yeah, I know,” he slumped in place, rolling his eyes. When he straightened, his hands slammed at the sides of your head, startling you. “I don’t always like it when you play hard-to-get,” he warned.

Opening your mouth to ask what he meant by that, you listened to your better judgement. “I wanted you to touch me.”

This pleased him, perking up with interest. “Where?”

Apprehension claimed you, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I don’t know,” you told him with a hint of incredulousness, afraid of the point he was traveling towards.

“You wanted me to touch your pussy, right?”

His harsh words and lack of romance made you flinch, but hearing him say it at all sent heat pooling in between your legs.

“Say it, (y/n), and I might just give it to you.”

“I don’t want it!”

He grabbed hold of your upper arms, circling you around him, and you arched away. “You’re lying.” You were never good at lying to Anakin.

Shying away, you cried, “Fine! Yes! I wanted you to touch me like that!” You squeezed your eyes shut as your words grew bolder, “I wanted your hands on me, Anakin, I always have. I like it when you touch my waist,” you looked at him, “and I liked it the one time you smacked my ass even though I threatened you afterwards!” The backs of your hands swept his off your arms. “And I liked your tongue in my mouth,” you stepped to him, backing him up, “and I’ve touched myself imagining it was your hands and your mouth and your dick getting me off!”

That was all Anakin needed to hear because with lust-blown eyes he clutched onto you, drawing you back to his lips, reconnecting to finish what you two started earlier. You accepted it, accepted him, fisting his shirt to press him nearer. He backed you against the kitchen table, parting your lips with his to explore your mouth with his tongue again. This kiss was different. It was hard, demanding, and unapologetic. His writhing tongue inside of you was desperate, and you matched his enthusiasm. When you sucked on it, he slowed out of curiosity, and you bobbed your head as if you were giving him oral. The moan that emitted from him shot straight down to your cunt. His hand came to tangle in your hair, tugging you off him with a sting of your scalp.

“It’s hot when you fight back, you know. I wouldn’t mind a little challenge.” A breathless chuckle escaped him as he spoke, and you hit his chest at the suggestion. “Go on,” panting, he stepped back, gesturing to the stairs. “Be a good girl and run along now.” When you stared him down in disbelief, he spun you to face the steps, smacking your ass to get his sincerity across.

You jumped on the opportunity, dashing for the stairs. You were not granted a head start when he came barreling after you, a hair’s width away from you up the steps. Squealing in excitement from the thrill he put in your belly, he laughed at you, chasing you up, “It’s so hot when you run from me.” Inexplicably, it worsened the desire for him, facing him when you reached your bedroom doorway. Anakin didn’t slow, practically running into you and scooping you up. Your back hit the wall, and his hands bunched up in the skirt of your dress, riding it up as he settled it around your waist. When you gasped, he dove in, swallowing your surprised sounds as he lapped at your open mouth.

You cupped the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there and tugging when his tongue slid against yours in a way you liked. He moaned for you, senses heightened from the excitement. Breaking the kiss, he stooped to be eye level, his fingers rifling underneath your skirt, and ignoring your squirm, he asked, “You think I didn’t notice you whoring yourself out to everyone but me?” He bit his plump bottom lip as he wrapped his digits in the strings of your panties. On instinct your mouth fell open, scrambling to grab at his arms. “Huh?” He wanted you to answer, goading you, “You wore these for someone else, right?” he provoked, tugging until you heard the thin strap snap apart. It made him scoff. “Yeah, I know you did. You wanted precious little Jeremy to get in your pants tonight, isn’t that right?” he mocked the name, and he got on his knees in front of you, hiking up your dress around your waist again. “I’ll get you ready for him,” he told you as your hands braced on his shoulders. There was an undertone in his voice that conveyed something more sinister. You didn’t have time to contemplate it when his mouth latched onto the folds of your pussy. Warm spit coated your insides that he greedily pet with his desperate tongue.

In your experience, it wasn’t often that a man just dove in headfirst, but you’d had plenty of anticipation that built a need up within you. Anakin was quick to comment on it after he moaned into you and vibrated you with his voice, “Fuck, baby, fuck. Already so wet for me, huh? I can’t believe what a freak you are.”

You keened in response, desperately grasping onto the windowsill next to you for purchase as he made your legs shake, the tip of his nose poking into your clit as he devoured you. There was no doubt in your mind you were a freak, getting turned on by the chase, and now the predator was on his knees for you. The eye contact he made over your mound drove you crazy, your hand now finding a place at the back of his head, stroking through his hair to grip it which earned you his hum of approval. As if to shut him up, you pressed him further into you. A flash of mischief in his eyes told you he was into your actions.

He flattened his tongue, drawing from the bottom to the top, wiggling it against your clit and you trembled. You’ve never had your pussy eaten out like this before, and it made you wonder where he picked this up… How long had he been waiting to do this to you?

Anakin noted how your gaze grew hazy, his large hand—panties hanging from the webbing—came to grip your chin to warn you, and patted your cheek hard. “Pay attention to me, princess,” he spoke against you, sucking hard on your sensitive bud. The motion had your face stinging slightly, but it was the shock of it that widened your eyes. “Don’t look so surprised,” your gaze trailed from his fingers to the panties that hung from them. “I want everything from you.”

Your face twisted in pleasure as he returned to eating you out like his life depended on it. The way his tongue swirled and jabbed inside of you had your back arching and the coil in your belly wound tight. Both hands came to your thighs, gripping hard to indent the porcelain flesh, sensing your proximity to your release. Your fist in his hair clenched, and he stuck his tongue as far as he could inside, nuzzling your bud with his nose again. “I’m-I’m going to… if you keep—” Your sentences couldn’t form, and you cried out in frustration when he pulled away from you completely, your slick shining on his face.

“Oh, no, you’re not,” he replied so derisively, straightening up, ripping your chances of an orgasm away from you. “First time I’m gonna make you cum, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock. I’ve waited too damn long for this,” His strong hands slid up to squeeze your hips, and he pressed your wet heat against his erection in his jeans, the denim dampening with your secretion. It was easier to grind into you that way. “You were so scared earlier, what happened?”

The reminder had your hands bunching up in his shirt, weakly pushing at him. He pressed on. “C’mon, baby, feel it. Feel what you’ve done to me. Such a tease, making me chase after you like that.” You pivoted your head away, gasping when the ache inside you dulled with a splendid swipe of your clit against his hard cock.

You’d seen Anakin naked before, but you’d never seen him hard. The thought had you wiggling your hips against him, anxious to egg him on.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. “I’m desperate to hear that pretty voice of yours. Tell me what you want. You want my cock?”

You, desperate for anything, nodded your head. Again, he forced you to look at him, another firm pat on your cheek. “Answer me, brat.”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“What? Am I supposed to say ‘please’?”

His rut slowed, snatching up your wrists to direct your hands to his jeans. “Go on.”

Obediently, despite glaring at him, you undid his button and zipper. You were angry at him for prolonging your release, for causing you such distress, and for refusing to fix it for you until you begged for it. You tugged down his pants and boxers until just his member was free. Seeing it in it’s erected glory had a pain shoot through you from the mere anticipation of it burying inside of you, your eyes widened at the sight, a demand emitting from you, “Just fuck me already!” You’d barely finished speaking before he ripped the front of your dress down, freeing your tits. He spun you to the side, pressing your bare chest against the cold of the window. “What are you—?” The temperature perked your nipples up painfully, and when he slid his cock inside, your head bumped against the glass.

At first he’d rocked about half of himself in, gradually adding more until he bottomed out, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “You’re so big, Ani,” you purred, hot breath fogging up the window.

“I know. A shame you didn’t hop on my dick sooner, yeah?”

The cockiness had you breathlessly scoffing, but when his pace increased, things were suddenly not so funny anymore. Your mind was bursting with things more important than the fact you were against a window where anyone could see you if they simply looked up. You could still hear the music from Anakin’s house, the multicolored lights pouring through and staining the pavement. You were called back to the present by the way your pussy slurped him up. “Fuck, Anakin!”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. I like my name on your lips,” he purred, snapping his hips against your ass. His shirt got in the way so he picked up the hem to tuck in between his teeth, watching how his member was swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

Cock drunk, you couldn’t stay up, leaning into the window until what was left of your red lipstick stained the glass. A familiar face exited the house from the porch, and you recognized it to be your friend that had made you realize your jealousy earlier. At the risk someone would see you like this, you reached back weakly. “Ani! Ani, wait, someone could see!”

He merely continued, railing into you harder. You cried out, enraptured with how he filled you completely. As if she could hear you, the girl looked up and locked eyes with your lust blown gaze. She was suspended in disbelief, seeing Anakin fucking into you. Anakin, who took notice of this, merely grinned biting his t-shirt, and waved flirtatiously at her. The interaction had your wet heat dripping. He spat out the fabric, and clapped a hand over your throat to bring you away from the window, redirecting you. He pulled out to spin you, pinning your back to your bed and picking up your legs to hover as he re-entered you. The new position made your eyes roll into the back of your head, his hand coming to wrap around your neck again. “Did you like that? Huh? Could feel you clenching down on me like a vice.”

You whined, begging for a release.

“I’m so into you, (y/n), I’ve always been into you. You’re so fucking hot,” His fingers dug into your hip painfully, watching your tits bounce with his thrusts. You lazily reached out to him, running your claws down his abdomen taught with his movements. “I’ve gotta tell you another secret.”

He was taking advantage of how silent you were, unable to form words like a dumb whore speared on his cock. “You were right, they were crimes of passion. All of them.” You furrowed your brows at him quizzically, mouth having fallen open to emit any sinful sounds he dragged from you with the scrape of his dick petting your insides. “Every single one. Passion. Passion for you.”

“What are you talking about, Ani?” Finally you’d sobered up enough to say something.

“I took Jeremy out back, and I bashed his fucking head in.” An evil glint flashed in Anakin’s eyes, thrill shooting through him as you stuttered. “You’ve got shit taste in friends, you know that?” Did he mean in Jeremy or in him?

He killed him. Had he really just admitted that to you?

“If this is,” Anakin adjusted his hips, the new angle causing your voice to crack, “is one of your jokes… Anakin… it’s not funny.”

“No joke, sweet girl, it’s me.” I’m the killer, the unsaid words hung in the air for a moment before you threw your head back, unable to respond appropriately when he increased his pace, fucking you like a little toy after he’d just confessed his darkest secret.

“Anakin!” you cried out, and he kept you pinned down by your throat, squeezing while his other covered your mouth again so he could speak.

“I never did like Jeremy, I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming. How I’ve been protecting you.” Wide eyes met gaze over his hand, your body was not one with your mind because it still reacted to Anakin positively, your orgasm building and nearing. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it. I do it for you, you know.”

Your fingers clutched onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again from the overwhelming emotions. You shouldn’t like this, but you do.

“I can feel how wet you are for me. So fucking filthy, I can’t believe you’re into this. I was right about you being a little whore.”

Futilely, you moaned against his hand, so his fingers brushed over your lips, dipping into your mouth. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around them to taste something metallic. His hazy gaze on you told you he’d had blood on his hands, and you’d done something to him by cleaning them off for him. “How’s he taste, baby?” he cooed. Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t talk back, he removed them for you, running down your chest to squeeze at your breast, smacking it. It moved downwards until it reached in between you two, rubbing circles into your clit. “Leading me on the way you did. Touching me, letting me touch you. All those late night conversations about kinks and who or what you were into. You had to know I watched you change. Why else would you change in front of your stupid bedroom window?”

At the mention, your hand grew a mind of its own, coming up to slap him across the face for spying—as if that was the worst thing he’s done. “You’re so gross!” He moistened his lips, coming to look back at you with a newfound vigor.

“Feisty…” he groaned, rolling into you to hit that spongy spot inside of you with his tip.

You writhed, jerking your head to the side to squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’re close, huh? I can feel you fluttering. You feel better than I ever imagined,” he breathed, groaning low in his throat after he let himself really cherish you. “These hands have done unspeakable things. Strangled the life out of people, and here you are, letting them wrap around you so trustingly.” His finger came from your neck to your jaw, guiding you to look at him. “You trust me, right? Baby?”

“Just let me come, please, Ani, please just let me cum…”

You felt it in your legs first, how they trembled when your high crashed through you. It traveled throughout your whole body, seeing stars as you thrashed involuntarily, clenching down on him hard without warning. It felt so damn good, Anakin fucked you through it, tipping over the edge himself and spilling inside of you while you were panting underneath him. You threw your arm over your eyes, lip quivering from the overstimulation. He leaned over, chest to chest as he rocked into you lazily, his finish oozing from your entrance.

His face buried into your neck, hands caressing your body, massaging you as the last remnants of your orgasm passed through you. Pleasant tingles calmed you as his kisses pressed against your jawline and temple. “You wanna go again?”

“Go again?” you parroted.

He stayed sheathed inside you, the feeling bringing you both comfort, humming in confirmation to your question.

“We need to talk.”

[femme-from-hell]

❝ a lesson in huttese. ❞

── anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k SUMMARY: after a market mishap, anakin gives you a more personal lesson in how to speak his native language. NOTES: semi-inspired by my past work “talk huttese to me” but it is not required reading to understand this piece | prompt supplied by @xstarkillerx WARNINGS: size difference | anakin lowkey babying you and then degrading the fuck out of you | you know a little huttese | anakin gets a little degraded too | vag fingering | some choking (f receiving) | anakin being a mean sadist | overstimulation | squirting | anakin’s exhibits his piss kink interest | dacryphilia | edging | dumbification | no use of y/n i think

“Keep up.” ANAKIN SKYWALKER chastises you, and you obey, increasing your pace to meet his monstrous strides, struggling to maintain his speed. “I want to make this quick.” 

“I don’t know if I know enough—“ you protest, glancing at your feet to avoid tripping over the rippled sand. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been doing well.” he insists, his hand instinctively guiding you by the small of your back. “I’ll be right behind you.” The day breeze is warm, but it’s Anakin’s touch that burns you. Timidly responding with a complacent confirmation despite your doubts. 

Open-aired bodegas line the street, merchants with goods to sell wait for willing customers. Anakin had warned you about the demographic of Tatooine, but you’d expected far meaner appearances. Bashful still, your gaze turns to Anakin uneasily, who greets you with his kind eyes, and uncharacteristic patience. 

“Yes?” he says softly, and you feel like retreating into his arms. 

“What are we looking for again?” your tone, feathery light, causes your lover to lend his ear to you so as to hear you over the rustle of passersby. You repeat yourself, shyer than before in response to his abrupt proximity. 

He maintains that closeness, retracting only to look into your eyes. “An aeromagnifier.” A pause, so he adds, “Do you remember how to say it?” 

In this moment, you feel ashamed to admit how much you like when he babies you like this. “Yes, yes, I remember.” 

“Alright, this way.” His metal hand hooks around your waist, and you approach a man at his seat. Out of the options, he seemed the sleaziest by far, which did not assuage your nerves. “Go on,” he encourages in a whisper so only you can hear it, allowing you to step forward without him. 

The vendor notices you, and immediately turns on the artificial charm. A wide, toothy and yellowed grin, peering at you with his enlarged red eyes through bifocals attached to his head in meticulous machinery. “Hello, welcome, welcome,” he says in a rasp, and you can smell the cigarette he smoked prior to this engagement. 

“Hi,” The only formal greeting you know in Huttese, and you pray it suffices for proper engagement. 

“Ah, the little lady speaks my language. Should’ve known. Little lady, what can I do for you? What are you looking for?” 

You glance back at Anakin, who goads you with a chastening expression. As if to say that you can’t back out now. You pivot your attention back to the merchant clasping his gold-ringed fingers in anticipation. 

“Perhaps, the lady does not know what she searches for…?” he trails off, awaiting you to finish the sentence for him.

“No, no. I know what to do.” you reply, but is it to convince you or him? Your knowledge in Huttese is limited to predictable small talk and basic commands. You’re trying to keep it as simple as possible, and luckily he talks slow enough for you to understand him, repeating lots of words that help your context clues. “I need an aeromagnifier. The one there-'' You point to its location. “There.” 

“Yes, yes, this one, this one. I see.” The vendor recedes to the back of his shop, shaded by his canopy hanging overhead, and retrieves it, bringing it to the light to present it to you. He gestures to it with a tantalizing flutter of his fingers down its figure. “Good taste, good taste. This one, little lady, is two-fifty. Two-fifty nothing less.” 

“Two-fifty?” 

“Two-fifty, two-fifty. Nothing more, nothing less. Two-fifty.” 

“That… um, I don’t understand.”

The merchant lets his act slip marginally, enough for you to note it, but only to decide he must’ve enacted his contempt because of your unreasonable phrasing. You’re floundering, you must be. “What’s there to not understand? How do you not understand?” 

“No two-fifty. Too much?” Suddenly, your knowledge of Huttese is dissipating out of fear. Unable to properly convey your disagreement when the price isn’t what you thought it’d be. 

“‘Too much’—? How ‘too much’—?” 

The conversation makes your hands sweat, wondering if you did something wrong. No sooner do you turn to search for Anakin’s help when he meets the vendor at the table, at the ready for your rescue. When he interjects, you barely keep up to how quickly they talk. 

“Choy tay saka ‘ton-sin’? Mi wat do suzun nawee eet raun, kung. Ton-sin’d do karkin’ moocha. Soong wanga—“ You get every other word, something about being a thief, “to steal” specifically. You furrow your brows, attempting your best to follow the discussion. 

“Wanga-threnten!” The merchant declares, holding his finger up to Anakin’s face, who promptly pushes it out of his way. 

“Tagwa, deetso eff chuba noah moocha. Wanga mo noah, sleemo.” Decisive as always, Anakin silences his opponent with his confidence. From what you gathered, Anakin gave him an ultimatum. The price as one, instead of two-fifty. 

The vendor, reluctantly, concedes with a flapping of his hand to signal to Anakin to calm down. Dramatizing the situation because Anakin had been atypically placid the entire exchange. The way he took control of the situation and forced someone to yield so determinately, had you rubbing your legs together. You’re addicted to this personification he takes on when he speaks his native language. 

Anakin turns his attention to you, and you jump in place when he addresses you, having been too entranced to realize your own presence. “Go ahead and pay him, baby.” He eyes you through his brows, softening his voice, “Did you get all that?” 

“Just one, right?” you confirm, collecting five wupiupi pieces to give to the grumbling merchant. 

As Anakin guides you away with the aeromagnifier in possession, you hear a phrase you could never mistake. “E chu ta!” the vendor calls after the two of you. ‘Fuck you!’ he’d said. 

Anakin hollers over his shoulder, “Chuba ta, maya punchee.” You too, weak-minded friend.

You chuckle to yourself. 

“Should’ve known they’d try to take advantage of me. I mean, the guy talked to me like I was stupid- and I was actually grateful for it.” you relay to Anakin, wryly grinning about the ordeal as you wash your hair. Suds pouring down the column of your neck to trail around your naked body. Wiping soap from your eyes, you open them to gauge your lover’s reaction. There’s a smile on his face you cannot place, whether it’s endearment, or meant to be demeaning, you didn’t know. 

“I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t. Pretty little thing like you?” he teased, moistening his lips and advancing on you playfully. You absorbed his subtle bump, curbing your instinct to scold him since you like when he talks down to you. “I would’ve tried to take advantage of you too.” 

A comfortable silence follows while you stare up at him with stars in your dilated pupils, hot water rinsing your hair. He holds your gaze faithfully, and you break it before you lose yourself in him. “I thought I did pretty good.” you praise yourself to change the subject from the idea of Anakin having his way with you, from the fantasy that he’d overcharge you for a product and when you can’t pay your way out you sell your body to him instead. Showering together makes you go crazy sometimes. “Speaking it, I mean.”

“You did.” he concurred verbally, but his tone conveyed another layer. His large hands cup your hips, guiding you to the side so he can have his turn under the faucet. You raise a brow at him. “You could do better though.” His challenge jellies your legs. You watch, like a lovesick fool, as he tips his head back into the water, and comes to, shaking his curls out. Droplets draw down his herculean form. Ever since he saved you from the market— as silly as it was— you could not stop thinking about fucking him. 

“Oh, yeah?” You fall into his trap. 

“Your pronunciation is too polished. If you don’t sound like a local, people won’t treat you like one. They’ll treat you like a sucker.” 

Much like that vendor today. As soon as Anakin stepped in, he backed off. Remembering how assertive Anakin was is all too much. You’re about ready to get on your knees and start blowing him like a real sucker would. 

Anakin sensed your frenzied need for him as soon as the two of you had left the market. Your desire is no secret. Certainly not one you can keep from him. 

“Alright, so what do I change?” 

“I’ll show you. Hear what I say,” he tells you and you swallow hard, mouth drying up. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa.” he says, and you practically melt. “Now, say it back to me.” 

Obediently, you parrot it back to him. There was one distinct word you're sure you’ve heard before.

No sooner had you finished your sentence than his palm cupped your chin, tucking it into the web of his thumb. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks, pursing your lips for you. “Say it again,” He emphasizes his command by pinching further, a sting in your buccal. “At-“ You listen intently, the phonetic arrangement teaching you to put your tongue behind your teeth when pronouncing the “T” at the end. 

“At-“

“Eep-tuk-“

“Ee—“ you stifle a giggle at your positioning, worried you’ll earn yourself a reprimand from your stoic teacher. “E- eept—“ You dissolve into your laughter, and a loving grin breaks out onto Anakin’s face, contrasting his demanding nature from before. He draws you in by his clutch of your cheeks, kissing on your puckered lips over and over again until his hold loosens enough for you to escape it. “No, don’t distract me!” you plead, “I can do it! Ee… Eep-tuuk—“ Your weak dissent of your hands against his chest does nothing to dissuade him. He chases you, and envelopes you in his arms, sliding your wet naked bodies together as he captures your mouth. He wastes no time in prying your lips open, inviting his tongue in to explore all it can. 

It’s a wonder you didn’t notice how heavy his cock lay against your leg until he humps you with it clumsily, searching for some comforting friction after witnessing your attempt at immersing yourself in his culture. 

Habitually, you withdraw to make room for yourself, enclosing your lips around his tongue to suck on it and bob your head as if you’re giving him oral. Usually, such a thing coaxes a whimper out of him, a desperate beg to put that gifted mouth to use on his cock. Instead, it only heightens his desire for you, to have you as quickly as possible. He slams you against the cold tiling, stealing the breath from your lungs, freeing his mouth to plant sloppy, open kisses onto your cheek and down your neck. Anywhere within his reach is mouthed passionately, tongued as if it’s not a mundane part of you but your very core itself. Your eyes roll into the back of your head once he meets with your pulse point, propped up by his body against yours. “Ani…“ He hums in response to the call of his name, admitting his approval for it with a bite into your flesh. “What did you say earlier?” you exhale, palms outlined the dips in his muscle. 

“In Huttese?” he speaks against your skin and it tickles you, pinching your head into your shoulder, his damp curls brushing your jawline. “‘This little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” 

“Fuck you, would you really have me say that?” 

“Tell that to your puppy eyes. Begging me to save you as soon as shit got tough. My poor baby, so pitiful,” 

As if to discipline him, you shove him, but he remains undeterred. There’s no need to make fun of you for needing help, besides he’d volunteered before you even asked. There’s plenty you can do on your own, without him. You can be independent. 

You don’t get a chance to defend yourself as he maneuvers you to arch your back, his mouth traveling to consume your collarbones and upper chest as he bends over you, thick arms behind you to secure you. “Gimme those tits, baby, wanna swallow them.” he demands from you in Huttese, but this time you’re able to understand the gist of what he’s saying. 

“Maker, Anakin, you’re so gross.” you tell him, but as you suspect, he grins in response. His teeth scrape against you, and he does as he promised. Lapping at your nipple as if seeking it out to latch, to suckle. Your hands slide into his hair, sighing out as he imbibes as much of the fat he can. “Ani—“ you whine, wiggling your hips to chase any friction you can afford. 

Swiftly, he answers you, with his large hand cupping your mound, soothing it with slow circles. You press yourself into his grasp, rolling your hips. It earns you a sharp bite to your sensitive bud and you yelp. To exhibit patience, you let him explore your pussy as he sees fit. Fingers dipping into its wells, circling your folds and flicking up against your clit every so lightly. “Such a pretty thing. My hole, you know that? My hole.” The key words are lost on you. “Gonna fuck this little hole til it’s red and swollen. Til you cry.” 

You whimper, regardless if you can’t understand him, and he sticks a single finger in, only to pull out to stretch you with two. 

“How fucking tight can you get? Almost wanna turn you off so I can make it tighter. You’d let me do it too.” He licks water off of you, up the valley of your breasts, and takes your lips in a passionate kiss, scissoring you open so he can swallow the noises you make. Experimentally, he massages your insides, his thumb brushing your clit every so often as he pistons deeper inside. Your curiosity is killing you enough to break the kiss. 

“What the hell are you saying to me right now, Anakin?” you breathe, slumping against the wall while he fingers you. Why the hell did it work so well on you? Immediately soaking when you know he’s talking dirty in a language you can’t translate quick enough. 

“If you keep up with your lessons, you’ll know one day,” he promises. Instinctively, you shy away, pivoting your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, nearing your release. To counter that behavior, Anakin heightens and uses his free hand to clutch your neck, redirecting your attention to where it belongs. On him. “Don’t be stupid.” This insult you know. 

You frown at him, but as soon as your gaze lands on him, he speeds up, curling his fingers in a way that has you reeling. Your favorite spot, erasing all of your offense in a motion. Worsening when he sneaks in another finger.

“Oh? What are you gonna do about it?” 

You can barely keep your eyes open, staring at him through thick lashes because it’s what he wants. His grip squeezes, and it enhances your pleasure, tingles spreading throughout your entire body. 

“Can’t pretend you hate it. Can’t lie to me, can’t hide from me.” His admonishing tone only adds to how the coil in your belly winds, the heat in between your legs desperate to go somewhere, anywhere. He leans into you, burying his nose in your cheek as he talks shit in your ear. ”You’re gonna say it for me one more time,” he demands, and you stifle your wail of despair. How he teeters you, so close to where you need to be, and takes it from you at the last second. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa. Do you understand?” 

“Ani, I can’t—“ There’s not a possibility, how could you think let alone speak? 

“You can.” He leaves no room for argument, his teeth biting down onto your earlobe to tug on it. “Don’t tell me you’re this fucking dumb and all I’m using is my fucking hand.” 

“Fuck,” you curse in the language, which earns you a snicker from him, his breath against you sending shivers down your spine. “Okay— ah! Okay… Uh,” 

Your walls clench around him, signaling your impending release. Reading them like a book, he keeps you right where he wants you. A damn near painful experience, and he knows it. 

He recoils so he can see your pretty face, jutting his chin. Bragging about his competence when he’s the one unaffected. “At-“ 

Idling for too long earns you a hard press of your clit and you mewl. Hastily, you manage, “At-“

“Eeptuk-“ 

“Eeptook—“ 

“Baby.” he lowers his voice, fit to scold you. “Do you want to cum or not?”

“I do, I fucking do, please.”

“Then do as I say.” He commands it of you as if it is so simple! His thumb traces your jawline soothingly, but his grip stays firm. 

“Eeptuk,” you flinch, worried that if you’d pronounced wrong like before you’d receive some sort of punishment. “schutta-“ The word you most recognize. Slut. His favorite pet-name for you whenever he was persuaded to speak his native tongue. Keen on tripping you up, he increased his pace, and out of the corner of your eye you witness how swollen his arm has become from this workout. Veins popping out. It fucked you up. “Hagwa non che-“

“Chee’toosa. Right, baby? Almost done.”

Your eyes burn, red in the face out of frustration. “Chee’toosa.” 

“That’s right. Like I said, ‘this little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” If you had the energy, you’d fight him on it. Unfortunately you’re spent, the only reason you’re upright is his body weight. He’s right, all you wanted from him is what he can give you. 

Unintelligible noises spill from you, rocking into his hand movements, but this time he lets you. His intense eyes hold your gaze unapologetically, waiting to feast on your orgasm. 

“Does a brat like you really deserve to cum? Should leave you like this.” Weakly, you shake your head, on the verge of crying from his cruelty if he really put you through all that just to steal it from you. You’re at your edge. There isn’t anything in the world you crave more than finishing right now. His thumb works into your clit, getting you to reach that breaking point, attaining it. You cry out, your orgasm crashing through you beginning from the tips of your toes, crawling up your spine. The fact he can bring you to this using only a hand awes you. You brace yourself on him, clawing into his bicep. 

He doesn’t stop there. An overstimulation already setting in from how heartlessly his rough fingers glide in and out of you, unbothered to let you recuperate. How he takes your pleasure for himself. You’re fucking his hand, but he’s feeding off of you, playing with your parts for his own fascination. 

Your throat is released, causing your vision to haze, and he hooks his hand under your knee, hiking your leg up. Your cum drips from his palm, but he’s still going, regardless of your protests. “You wanted this, c’mon,” Your pussy feels raw, yet he probes it, and when he pinches the sensitive flesh between his fingers, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Are you about to piss? Fuck, you really are a little slut. You’re about to squirt all over me, huh?” 

“Anakin!” 

“Do it, go on. Can’t believe how disgusting you are. Don’t worry, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue afterwards.” 

It stings how he fucks with your bladder, readying that most sacred attribute. Not everyone can squirt, but you can, and Anakin fucking loves it. Enough to pull it from you whenever he wants. You don’t need to know Huttese to get what he’s trying to do to you right now. 

“Yeah, you like that, whore? You wanna lap up your piss from my legs? Suck it off my dick? Here it comes, get ready.” 

You keen, the floodgates finally opening to spray your dirty fluids all over your lover. Hot and wet, running down your thighs. The act itself, the intensity, causes you to choke back sobs. Anakin lets your leg drop, and gingerly he tugs his digits from their wedge inside you. Flattening his hand against your sex, soothing it with a light massage. He bites his lip, holding back his smile as you try to hide your tears from him. “Too much, baby?” 

“You are such an asshole.” you speak Huttese, with perfect pronunciation. It gets him to laugh, drawing you to him so he can lick your salty tears away, and help you clean up in the shower. 

[femme-from-hell]

Anakin Skywalker: A headboard gripper

WARNING: Nsfw content !!! Content: p in v sex, cream pie, dirty talk. A headboard was, in fact, hurt during the production of this drabble. Not proofread and written in the middle of the night after uni classes lol.

shoutout to my friend Emma for asking me this incredible question and fueling my drained mind to write something <3

Ofc he is a headboard gripper!

Using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, yes sir

But I think he would use it specifically to get you full of him

He's strong af and he has the Force... this? yeah, this is to assert dominance

You're already stuffed by his thick cock, but he needs more: he wants to drown every single one of your senses, until the only thing you could do is feel him, taste him, see him.

Hazy vision, your sweaty body sticky and pressed to his. Hair out of line and all over your face. You're the most wonderful mess he has ever seen.

You borderline sound like a porn star, whimpering so high and loud, moaning his name because that's the only thing you could remember.

Legs wrapped around his waist, your ankles pushing his fit butt so he thrusts harder. Your boobs are bouncing to the rhythm of his hips and he takes the opportunity to rest his face in between them.

You crave more, your spongy walls convulsing around him in the hope to milk him for all of his worth.

Who is he to deny you your orgasm... any longer than he already has?

"You close, baby?" He pants, flexing his arms while he lowers his head to lick the drool off the corner of your mouth.

"Mmph-" You roll your eyes, so into the sub space of your mind to answer a real word. "Ani..." You indulge his desire to hear your voice, just for a bit.

"Yeah, my baby's close. Clenching around me like a vice." He hums half a groan, half a moan. "Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"I-I-" You whine when he reangles to hit your G-spot better. "I want more!" You cry out loud, clasping his shoulders to survive the hellish pace he had set.

"More what, pretty girl?" He cocks a narcissistic eyebrow, looking down at your pathetic face.

And that's when he does it. Stretching his arm over his head, he grips the headboard of the shaking bed and hammers faster into you. And now he is everything you can see. Just like he wanted.

He knows the view of his abs curling as his hips buck forward drove you crazy every time. If it wasn't because you indeed love to see his chiseled torso, you would have already shut him up.

"More cock!" You quiver underneath him, completely in trance with the sight of a drip of sweat falling from his pecs and his toned bicep tensing at the effort. Veins popping to show off his strength. "More you." You moan in the low.

Side note: I also think Anakin has broken a shit ton of headboards, specially when he is gripping them with his mechanical hand.

He just can't measure his strength !!!!

Also he would totally be like: "want me to fix that?", MID FUCK AND PANTING LIKE THE SLUT HE IS

and yeah ofc he repairs what he broke

except for your pussy

[femme-from-hell]

dilf!anakin would definitely be the type to steal you away from the kids for a while just to fuck you.

he'd come up with some random excuse like "we gotta go have a private talk" while grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. as soon as he shuts the door, he would be so quick to strip you from your clothes, pawing at your ass and tits, until you're totally naked above him.

"shhh baby can't let the kids hear us." his hot breath fanning your neck as you bounce on his thick cock. it would be absolutely impossible for you to keep quiet.

"needed you so bad angel, i just couldn't wait." he grunts, his hips thrusting harshly up to meet yours.

your kids would eventually start knocking on the door needing you for whatever reason, but anakin doesn't care, he still needs you. his hand slips right down to your clit, making you quickly clamp your mouth shut to prevent any noise coming from escaping. your orgasm creeping closer and closer.

"just a minute, mommy's coming!"

"isn't that right mommy?"

[femme-from-hell]

cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

[femme-from-hell]

𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader 

synopsis. anakin finds loopholes in the jedi code.

warnings. 18+. this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. cock warming, p in v penetration but no movement. whimper-y anakin, if you move i'll leave the jedi order type beat.  

an. just a little something i wrote for the kinktober i never did. I thought i'd post instead of letting it collect dust in my drafts. the prompt was cockwarming! hope i did anakin justice<3 pls comment & reblog.

You find him at the window.

Sitting, with his thighs open and chest bare, staring out into the abyss. The night glints at the beads of sweat sliding down his chest, and his fingers drum endlessly against his thighs.

He heard you wake up, so he’s expecting your company, and has leaned back against the chair – thin black gown falling open – ready for you to climb all over him.

It happens often.

It’s not uncommon to wake up without him.

Most nights, you startle out of your slumber – as if even asleep, you’d sensed a shift – and blink at the space on the mattress beside you.

Finding him was easy.

You pad through the living room and wordlessly reach him in his post-nightmare state. His hair is tousled, sculpted chest is slick with sweat -- there’s an energy vibrating off of him, and you can taste it in the air.

Stepping behind him, you gently run the tips of your fingers over his shoulders, and the whirlpool in Anakin’s belly settles for a second. When you move into frame, it’s gone completely, replaced by a warm heat that has roots. He breathes a smile.

“Like clockwork.”

You give him a sheepish grin in return and fiddle with the fabric of your small nightgown. There’s a moment where Anakin gets to look at you – all sleepy and cuddly – and he’s ready to escape with you off of this forsaken planet.

His will holds strong.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asks, raising a scarred brow, and despite your groggy state, you still manage to roll your eyes. Stepping closer, you use his broad shoulders as anchors to slip onto his lap.

“Don’t make that face,” Anakin hushes, and while you settle back onto his thighs, his metal hand comes up. He traces the line of your jaw, “You know I let you do what you want.”

His spare hand steadies your hips, and it’s still warm from his lightsaber. Calloused fingers run over your skin, reminding you of the fight that’s leaving scars – the war that’s brewing, both inside and outside of his mind.

In moments like this, though, there’s a subtle calm.

An impenetrable force that hums over the pair of you.

You lean into his palm and whisper, “Not everything.”

There’s a haunted edge to your gaze, and your words are loaded. Anakin knows what you mean, knows all the intricacies of your subtle dig, and yet, he still manages to smile.

Well, smirk.

“What do you want? Just say the word.”

You wouldn’t, and Anakin knows that. He’s caught your bluff, and you manage a bashful smile before gently leaning forward, dragging your hips against his lap.  

Anakin’s cloth-covered thigh nestles against the thin fabric of your underwear. Your smile falters, lips parting. You push your forehead against his, and whisper, “If I say the words, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I know,” he breathes, “I know.”

I want more.

A life together, not stolen moments when the sun is down.

An attachment. A bond.

But it’s forbidden.

It’s why it can’t go any further than this.

“What’d you dream about?” you wonder. Anakin pulls his eyes away from you, instead looking to where his thigh sits. The silence is your answer.

“I’ll still ask, even if you never tell.”

He takes hold of your bare thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, and you hum his name, reaching out to push his hair behind his ears.

“Pretty boy.”

“Stop it,” he huffs, cheeks reddening.

But how can you? When he’s all sharp lines and long hair. You run your hands up the bare panes of his muscular chest, feeling the deft of his muscles, and the dampness on his skin.

The air changes – hums electric – and it buzzes as you push his gown off his shoulders.

Carefully, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss against his collarbone.

“That’s better.”

Anakin hums a laugh. His hands snake around to your lower back, dig into the fat of your ass, and using the grip there, he gently rocks you forward once, forcing your clothed cunt to drag against his muscular thigh.

You whimper. It’s quiet, but Anakin can hear it, even if it’s muffled by his shoulder.

“’ S’what you came out here for, huh?” he whispers. The electric flooding through the walls hums, but the room is still eerily silent. Anakin’s voice is a roar.

You lick your lips and drag your face up to see him. “No,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against his top lip, “I like being with you, even if we don’t do this.”

Anakin has to close his eyes. Words like those are fuel to the fire brimming in his chest, and it doesn’t help that you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the tail end of his hair.

Arching your back, you slowly roll backwards, then forward, teasing the bulge between his legs.

Releasing a shaky breath, you repeat the motion, again, and again, near humping his leg.  

A familiar ache begins to swell, coiling between your thighs and up into your belly. It makes you clench around nothing, and you mewl quietly, wishing for more – always wishing for more.

Still, you continue, slick pooling into your underwear and against his thigh.

Anakin can’t look at you. If he sees your face, his resolve will falter.

His nerves are shot. If he couldn’t feel how wet you are, he could smell it, and it makes a groan bristle behind his teeth.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and busies himself with kissing at the soft shell of your throat, careful not to leave marks.

Once, you left a mouth-shaped mark against his stomach, and he looked at it every day for a week.

Caught himself with his top up in the mirror looking at the reflection, eyeing the way the mark sat on the firm lines of muscle, fading away with time.

A dark part of him wanted the mark on the slope of his neck.

“Wanna be inside of you.”

His admission rests heavily against your throat, and you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed.

Though, he does feel you tighten your grip on the back of his head. Feels you shift up against his thigh, and the warmth pooling in your underwear burns against him.  

He can sense you’re hesitant.

“’ can be like last time. Just – Just --” he stutters, licking his lips and struggling to release the words from the back of his throat. Finally, he manages. “--Sit on it.”

“Anakin.”

He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.

“We can use it as an exercise.”

A laugh bursts from your throat, “To test your will?”

He smiles, and because you have to, you push your cunt against his crotch, uttering, “Want me to make It difficult for you?” and white flashes through Anakin’s eyes.

He grabs your hips to steady you, tensely pushing his fingers into your skin.

“Hardest challenge I’ll ever encounter.”

“You eager to impress?”

He kisses your jaw, “Don’t I always?”

“Mm,” you hum, cradling his chin. You shift back so he can pull his trousers down, and when you take his cock in your hand, he melts. His commanding aura switches for a moment, and you watch Anakin still his breathing.

You push your underwear to the side, and as you lift yourself to sink onto him, Anakin breathes, “Just the tip – just a little bit, j-just—” and he chokes on his words, gasping as you brush the leaking head of his cock through your folds.

You halt. Whimper. Have to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, or you’ll push him inside of you all at once and hurt yourself.

You inhale steadily.

“Have to – have to go slow,” you spurt, trying to calm your tremors.  

“It’s been a while since…”

You don’t have to finish your sentence. Anakin knows, and he feels a mix of pride and guilt. Only me, he thinks, and then, like a flash, only me, he swallows. And I can’t give her everything.

This. This is as far as it’ll go. He knows he’s pushing it. Knows that he’s come up with some convoluted rule to both have his cake and eat it too.

If he fucks you the way he wants to, he’ll fall in love with you. As if it hasn’t happened already.

Anakin has made lying to himself a speciality.

You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You stop. Pause and curse yourself.

A slow burn builds in your thighs, and you clench down to try and mediate the burn. Anakin grunts.

“Maker,” he utters. “Sorry—” you splutter, sucking in a tight breath.

Anakin wraps his metal arm around the back of your hips, hoping to steady you. “Lemme,” he mumbles, and gently, he flexes his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked pussy.  

Your lower abdomen immediately burns.  

He’s being calm about it – using all his training – but there’s nothing calm about the words trickling out of his mouth.

“Oh stars,” he groans, voice wrecked, “You gonna take all of me, sweet girl? Gonna let me fill you up?”

When you finally sink to the hilt, your resolve snaps. The pair of you moan out in unison, loud and high-pitched.

Anakin buries his face in your chest, and the heat of his mouth against your breasts adds to the tension coiling in your belly.

“Don’t – don’t move,” he grunts, and you shake your head, “I won’t – I’ll come on your cock if I do,” and you don’t mean to say it like that, don’t mean for the words to come out like that, but you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you, warm and hard and wet.

He manages to laugh.

“Tryna kill me,” he shakily breathes, shaking his head. His wet lips brush against your breasts, and you want more – want all that he can give you – so you clutch the back of his head, pulling him closer, hoping he gets the message.

His wet kisses make your skin prickle.

You’re full up. Can feel him stretching you out, this feeling something that’s only happened a few times before.

“If you move,” Anakin begins, out of breath, “I’ll leave the Jedi order and spend my days inside of you.”

“Don’t t-tempt me.”

He laughs, and you accidentally clench around him, causing him to groan deep and long against your tits.

“If you do that again, I’ll come inside of you.”

You imagine it. Imagine him spilling out, the wet white of it dripping out of your cunt and back onto his cock, and the mere image of it has your clit throbbing.

Keep still. Don’t move.

But he wraps his tongue around your nipple and begins to suck.

You cry out, and all of your muscles tighten, forcing you to clench tight around his cock. Anakin jolts and whines your name against your tits.

“S’your fault,” you mewl, moaning. You hang your head back, “Stars, Anakin.”

“Try and stay still,” he mumbles, and you stutter a laugh, “Impossible.”

“It can’t be,” he responds, and while he speaks in jest, his words are sincere. The line between love and lust runs thin, and if Anakin is being honest with himself, it’s close to snapping.

[femme-from-hell]

El Diablo Wears Prada (Pt.3)

Mafia boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Smut, Fingering, non-con oral (M! receiving), masturbation, power play, sexual tension, mild angst, Dom! Miguel.

Summary: Another toll is put on your shoulders.

Previous

A/N: Centuries later, here's part 3! Hope you like <3. Feedback much appreciated. Cooper Coen belongs to Marvel ✨

As much as you wanted to remain in Morpheus' arms and let your body rest until it reached a hundred percent, the constant buzzing of the tracking device against your ankle kept alerting you. 

The last vibration had bolted you awake with a startle. Body whined in protest at the sudden movement that took such a strong hold on your hips, the juncture of your arms and thighs. 

It took you a couple of seconds to get your bearings and see the little and borderline fancy tracking device on your ankle. It was as if a digital watch had been locked up around your smooth skin. 

A little jolt of electricity ran through your nerves in a clear sign to not mess with the device, since you had tried to remove it. If you looked closer, it had a little password lock behind, a four-digit code. 

You gotta be kidding me

How dared he putting such a thing on you? When did he put this thing on you?, but more important, was he still around? Cause if he was, he'd have a piece of your mind. 

His sweater on your skin felt a too stuffy, and you needed a bath. A couple of bruises begun appearing in your ankles and the fatty part of your thighs cause obviously he needed to make sure you understood the magnitude of your current situation and how Massimo had willingly put a target ring on your back.

The buzz however snapped you out of the spiralling trance of thoughts that assaulted your mind. Brows puckered as you made your way towards his room but as soon as you entered, anger sapped away for a moment from your head. 

The curtains were drawn shut, their dark colors provided enough darkness to isolate the brightest sunshines that tried with all their might to seep past them and take a hold of whatever thing they could reach. 

With careful steps and a petty heart you sauntered over the windows and one by one removed the curtains, letting all the sun's ablaze glory to illuminate the darkened room in a go, even if it meant for you to be blindsided for a second before you turned your back on the light and saw the results of your anger display before you. 

El Diablo, laid sprawled in his ever big and cozy bed, his right and sharp cheek smooshed against the soft and silky burgundy sheets that wrapped like a second skin on his torso and legs. One of his feet poked out from underneath, letting itself to hang outside the smooth prison. 

His gorgeous mouth laid slightly ajar, letting a little drool streak to escape him and get long dry over the sheets. The smooth locks with the little silver strands in it were also sprawled all over his forehead and the mattress. Your eyes shamelessly raked his back. Big, well worked, perfect for leaving scratches and marks. He had none of those, but a different one. 

A red lips silhouette located a few inches from his ear, half of it smeared, as if wrongly or quickly wiped, trying to cover up a trail. 

The fact he had someone before giving you a rough fuck, not only put a little familiar yet painful stab in your heart, but returned the angry thoughts that initially gave you enough courage to foray into the devil's personal hellhole.

The pain felt like an old friend now that you had seen and heard the type of man Massimo really was. You didn't want to admit that there were times you could still feel a woman's perfume on his clothes while busying yourself in the confinement of your manor, trying to distract yourself from the emerging distraught of knowing your husband was possibly cheating. 

Men

With a scowl, you took one of the many pillows and threw it at his beautiful sleeping face. 

"Wake up!" 

That quickly contorted into several emotions upon suddenly awakening. Surprise cause you had dared startle him, anger because you had the guts to interrupt his slumber and throw a pillow and finally, annoyance at your yapping. 

Your arms crossed against your chest as he placed the pillow you threw his direction on t of his head with a bored grunt. 

The smell of his perfume wafted through the air, hand in hand with a light natural musk and a dash of air freshener coming from the bathroom. 

"What the fuck is this on my ankle and why did you put that thing on me?" 

"Can you shut up?" His slouching form only turned enough to take a proper look your way once his irises had adjusted at the room's brightness. 

Wearing his oversized sweater that covered those perfect mounds of yours he didn't have enough time to squeeze properly. Face twisted in a scowl, that although he rather your scared and demure look, he had to admit this angry you made his lips smirk and a spark of excitement to run through his body. 

Your hair spooked and tussled even if you were now trying to contain it in a messy bun while ignoring the rebellious baby hairs, revealing more of your upset features.

Beautiful and angry. 

Was this the sight you gifted Massimo every day?

"I'm talking to you!" 

"¡Ya pues! Cállate... fucking heard you already." He grumbled while laying down on his back. 

But in truth he hadn't heard a single word it came from your mouth. Too deep in suddenly remembering last night's events and what had transpired back in the club. 

"Take this thing off me." 

"No." 

Miguel stretched his spine with feline grace and a satisfied smirk, letting some joints pop back into place. His spine wasn't aching anymore, he didn't feel like dragging the past few weeks' tiring load, his shoulders felt rather light, he was even in good spirits. You had spent him real good last night. 

"What is this anyway?"

You remained on the window, letting the sun warm you up a bit. The whole floor was cold anyway. Your hands grope on either side of your waist and your frown deepened upon him turning his back on you. 

"Fucking men." 

He smirked as you went to his closet. He noted you only wore the thick sweaters. You didn't rummage through his clothes and personal items like he initially thought. 

"I need to get some things back from home."

With a groan he finally rose, and sat against the bed's oak frame, his hands reached for his phone, and scrolled through his messages as his other hand slicked the messy strands that partially obscured his sight. 

"Are you even listening?!" 

"I'd rather not to."

He grumbled while his eyes remained on the screen. 

"I need to get myself some clothes. I don't wanna keep using yours for you to have me naked later." 

"You're thinking way too high of yourself, Ratoncita." He removed the silky sheets and tossed his phone somewhere in the bed, revealing his bare physique to you as he prowled your way. 

Eyes boring on your tense form. Undoubtedly he was the cat and you his ever lovely and amusing little mouse. One of his hands landed a few inches on one side of your face, but as soon as you tried to remove yourself from the equation, his other hand and a step forward of his frame closed the space, sandwiching you loosely between him and the wall. 

Even if limp, his cock felt above the sweater's fabric, right above your lower belly, ever warm and hefty. He had to lean down enough to face you, then took a half firm half gentle hold in your chin.

"If you have the energies to be mewling this early in the morning, you can take your pretty ass to the shower, clean yourself and get changed. We'll leave soon. ¿Entendido? 

"I'm not coming-" 

He squeezed your chin, igniting that spark of fury within you as he growled between teeth, "Understood?" 

His tone left no space for replies. But you slapped his hand away and retreated away from his confinement, but the petty in him needed to have the final saying. Even though words were done, he took your actions as a defiance. So he returned it, on your butt as a firm slap that smacked deliciously in the air. 

You didn't even turned to face him. Anger was too much in your mind to let it have the whole control over your emotional panel, and part of you assumed that he'd settle the score to his favor with another rough fuck.

Men. 

Your hands clenched into tight fists to finally disappear into the bathroom with a loud slam on the door. 

As much as he wanted to yell for the poor treatment on his property, he couldn't help but smirk, satisfied at your reaction. 

Part of his brain was amused to no end to see this new emotion in you. Anger made his senses tingle. But the ever rational part of his gray mass, wondered what had taken over you to be this pissed. 

Hadn't he fucked you silly last night? Cause he refused to believe he had done a poor job. 

The sudden thought of him underperforming in bed made his bushy brows to pucker in annoying concern. He'd take many insults, name calling, but someone, a woman specially saying he was bad at in bed? No. He couldn't allow it. 

He heard the shower run, and it was his cue to get his clothes ready. 

He'd go for a pair of black pants, a burgundy Prada button shirt, socks, dress shoes, no tie neither a suit, Day was too humid to be overdressed. 

The shower stopped a couple of minutes later, and he put all the things on the bed. 

You had finished a hot shower, rinsing all trace of him, wrapped your hair in a towel and pat dried your body to then wear one of his many black sweaters and slippers, the only thing you truly possessed. 

Upon seeing nothing but his toothbrush and grooming devices, you rummaged through the marbled drawers to look for a new toothbrush. You'd eventually find them next to a neatly arranged box of condoms and some gun chargers. But to your surprise the box was intact, sealed even, waiting to be used. 

With a roll if your eyes and a huff, you got to brush your teeth, a little harder than intended. 

Miguel simply entered the bathroom and slowly squeezed his way into the same space as you before the mirror, pushing you softly as you brushed your hair with your fingers. 

He looked in the mirror, the grayish hue on his cheeks increased, but he kept it. Not really feeling like grooming himself. His happy trail was on full display to you. 

If honest, it was the first time you actually paid attention to the secrets of his skin. 

A couple of scars littered his cinnamon tan and muscled skin, bullet marks? perhaps. The muscles rippled at every movement, enhancing the sight of his lower back's dimples, waist narrow and sharp, adorned with well-worked abs and sculpted thighs. There were no tattoos on his skin as he rather keep himself clean from them. 

His mere existence spoke loud and clear, he didn't need ink to prove his prowess. Plus, he considered himself too old for them. 

Gabriel on the other hand was like a walking board underneath his clothes. Or a bathroom stall's wall like he once called him. 

Your stomach grumbled loudly, and he chuckled. 

"Instead of staring, why don't you get some food? You'll need it." 

He grabbed his toothbrush and put a dollop of paste on it. Voice smooth like butter, that barely did a good job at hiding the rising mirth. But his lid twitched, vexed on your mimicking words 

"You're thinking too highly of yourself."

You pointed at his neck. 

"And make sure to properly clean yourself from others before even considering touching me." 

His smirk widened and held your wrist with enough force to make you whimper. Miguel finished washing and rinsing his mouth to then pull you by your nape and crashing his mouth on yours. 

You froze as he made you taste the fresh and cool flavor of mint in his mouth. When he pulled away, a sardonic smile plastered all over his infuriating yet beautiful face. He didn't give you time to reply as you were being pushed out the bathroom and before you could even give him again a peace of mind; he slammed the door in your face. 

"Asshole!" 

He chuckled as you yelled behind the door and finally got to shower. 

----

After a hearty breakfast and some more calls from Miguel, you and the rest got into the cars and left. 

Ben, the blond man drove the SUV again. Jessica was tailing after in her own car as another car with a lanky and pierced man lead the way. 

Buildings and skyscrapers of all sizes and colors passed you by, streets were averagely full, but Ben drove through shortcuts that approached faster towards your secret destination. 

Miguel had refused to speak after you recoiled away from his sudden urge of teasing you. He deliberately ignored you through the road, focusing occasionally on his phone screen. 

"We're here, boss." Ben mumbled after what it felt like forever. 

The little caravan had stopped before a bright red three floored building. Dark windows prevented the sunlight to seep in. The name, Casa Cisneros displayed in a Dior alike typography over the red walls. 

Your eyes widened when you saw the gorgeous, elegant and colorful clothing designs neatly arranged in the window's showcase. 

Miguel guided your surprised self deeper into the boutique. A man around his forties, white hair, shorter than Miguel, dressed up in an orange suit and a shit-eating grin came to greet Miguel. 

"Por Dios, te juro que si vienes con esa mierda de zapatos de Prada ni me molestaré en atenderte." (I swear that if you've come with those shitty Prada shoes I won't even bother in help you out.) 

Miguel chuckled while shaking his head. Then hugged the man briefly yet sincerely. 

"How have you been Mateo?" 

"¿Cómo que 'How you've been?'" His disgust couldn't hide, "Ugh. Never mind, where is Dana? Can't wait to dress her up in my new collection!." 

Your brow quirked upon the woman's name but Miguel just dismissed him with a disdainful wave of his hands and a blasé scowl. 

"Ah... Ya veo. En fín, whose the new seasonal fling?" 

Mateo, the owner, or so you supposed, fixed his eyes your way and smirked approvingly as he watched you from head to toes. 

"Nothing better and exciting than a blank canvas." he then turned to Miguel, "The same as usual?" 

The same as... what? 

You looked at Miguel and the mob lord shook his head while focusing once more in his phone 

He dialed some numbers to place the trinket in his ear, "Up to her." 

He mumbled before disappearing into another room. Mateo however grinned upon you being given a carte blanche from his best client. Cause that meant money. 

"So... What do you want?" 

"Uh... The basics I believe?" 

This earned him a giggle. 

"Preciosa. Hermosa, muñeca. Listen to me. And listen well.", He waved a warning finger at you, "Basic is not in this fashion's house vocabulary. Secondly, if Miguel brings you here is cause, he wants you to look good and not embarrass him. I know it sounds awful, but if you're with him-" 

"I'm not." Your frown deepened and Mateo just rolled his eyes. 

"Of course you aren't. Anyway, I'll give you a wardrobe. Let's go. Cooper!" 

He called and soon a tall, young and redhead man approached. His green eyes lit up upon the task ahead. 

"This is Cooper Coen, my assistant. He'll be helping us today." 

The young man greeted, and soon they began working. 

Mostly of the pieces the both picked suited perfectly on your body, every curve lavished and worshipped with utter care. But you also noticed that as beautiful as it all was, the crafts were easy to remove. As if Mateo knew the purpose behind everything he donned you with. 

Cooper kept packing and bringing clothes that not only enhanced your body shape, but made you look like a spoiled rich man's wife. Elegant, beyond gorgeous, expensive and oh so tempting and fuckable. 

Mateo seemed delighted in having you as his personal doll, trying outfit after outfit. Miguel had left to business but Jessica remained behind to look after you. 

Hours kept passing, and you moved to the undergarments. You were too focused in getting the underwear you had missed for so long that didn't hear Miguel returning. 

You wouldn't ruin him financially, sadly, but as Cooper had told you, it wasn't going to go be cheap either. And if your intuition wasn't failing, you knew something didn't add up. Not that you weren't grateful to finally have your own clothes to wear, but deep in your brain, the ever rational and alert part of it kept telling you to be wary. To not trust Miguel.

What is he hiding? 

----

Miguel had to leave for a couple of minutes to have an impromptu meeting with Peter back at the club for more Intel gathering. Apparently a clue on Massimo's whereabouts came up and he left you with Jessica. 

But upon returning and seeing the amount of packages and the count ascending past the fifty grand, he called you. 

Money wasn't an issue for him, but the amount of unnecessary shoes that you or rather Mateo had made him wonder how many pair of shoes a woman truly needed. 

Never enough apparently. 

He called you once, but Cooper showed up instead. 

"She'll be here soon, Mr. O'Hara." 

The young man nodded as Miguel huffed.  

It reminded him the too many times he took women for shopping and always ended up like this. Bored out of his mind, sometimes pissed at the constant questions they asked him. 

Do I look fat? Does this color matches my skin? 

He sighed, irked but somehow ready to ignore the flood of questions you'd annoy him with. 

Much to his dismay, minutes kept stretching impossibly longer and he had things to do and places to be at. He called you again. 

No response. 

His jaw tensed as his teeth ground together. He immediately took his phone and searched on the tracking device location. 

Signal Lost 

"Pinche mujer" He growled as he bolted gun in hand towards where you had been, Heart pounding with such an intense anger it felt like molten lava flowing through him. 1Jessica was helping Mateo, unaware of what was to unfold. 

Heavy and livid steps guided him towards the dressing rooms. He swung the curtain, ready to look for clues as to where you had left, only to find you, struggling with adjusting the back straps of the lingerie Cooper had handed over to you. 

"¿¡Qué no oyes cuando te hablo?! ¿'Tas pinche sorda o qué?" (Didn't you hear me when I'm talking to you?! You fucking deaf or what?!) 

His sudden outburst startled you while your frightened gaze settled on him and it quickly turned angered. 

"What the fuck?! I'm changing!" You were about to keep up with his yelling when his gun stood high and proud in the air. Silencing your babbling with an unintelligible grumble. 

"What was that?" With a scowl he glowered your way. Your tongue clicked, ignoring him. 

His eyes couldn't help but rake your body for some brief seconds to finally settling on the tracking device. The thing was off. 

"What did you do to it?!" He growled while pushing you against the mirror and kneeled to grab your ankle and see with his own eyes why the device wasn't working. 

Updating 40% 

Of course the damned thing would be updating. His nostrils flared angrily as you yanked your limb away from his grasp.

"Hurry the fuck up, I don't have all day."

He let you go and headed towards the entrance. 

"Che palle! Lasciami in pace un attimo, stronzo!" (How annoying! Leave me alone for a second, you asshole!) 

And oh his head turned in many dangerous and dark thoughts. It wasn't the words you used, he couldn't care less about them, but the fact alone you still had bits of Massimo still clinging to you. 

If honest, you only had learned some phrases in the attempt to rekindle things with your husband, it somehow worked, but this was a completely different outcome you truly weren't expecting. 

In a blink of an eye he was already before you, red eyes glowering your way, a steely grip on his gun. 

"The fuck did you say?" 

You had to recoil away, but where? He had trapped you again against the mirrors, your fear etched in every face the multiple surfaces provided and it fuelled him. 

A thick gulp rolled down your throat as his gun's tip placed underneath your chin to drag down between your breast to stop right above your heart, tapping a tad rough with it. 

"If you wanna act like a spoiled brat, fine." he seethed as he pushed you on your knees in a swift move, the sudden movement had you stumbling down, startled "I'll teach you a fucking lesson." 

His other hand immediately went to your front strands, tangling his long fingers in them, your hands immediately flew to his wrist, grunting uncomfortably at the tight grip on your skull, trying to pry yourself away from him. You could feel his anger through the little tremors his body did as he tossed the gun to the seat inside the little cubicle. 

"Let me go!" he pulled your head back, parting your lips open in the way. 

"Since you fucking love opening your pretty mouth to disrespect me," His hold tightened on your hair as his hands fumbled with the belt of his pants, sliding his free hand past the layers of clothing and pulled out his engorging cock. A few pumps of his hand around it had it twitching to life. 

"I think it's time to find a proper use for it, hmm?" Before you could even protest, his flushed tip was already invading your mouth. A hiccup escaped you while he pushed in inch by inch, earning a brief gag and gurgle from you. 

A satisfied growl escaped his smirking mouth. 

"What's wrong? Cat's fucking your tongue?" 

He stepped in closer, your nose nuzzled his happy trail as he was now holding your hair in a fistful. A sharp tinge of tears blurred your eyes for a moment as he slid down your throat. Your hands slapped his thighs while trying to push him back, earning him a breathless moan. You had tested his patience long enough for him to snap and remind you of your position. 

If he had known how easy and quick you'd learn how to get under his skin, he would've left you back with your rotten husband. 

Upon sensing you gag again, he chuckled while sliding some of his fingers underneath your chin, guiding you slowly to take him properly. 

"Fucking relax." He heaved when your mouth flattened around him to have air flowing back to your lungs. 

Fucking gorgeous. That's how you looked, staring with your pretty and angry eyes while you choked on him, set a long forgotten thrill alive that he rather keep buried for good. 

You coughed as soon as he slid out, completely hard, glistening in your saliva and beads of pre cum that connected to the corners of your flushed mouth. 

"Uh-uh. Open up, I'm not done yet." 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and coughed a couple of bits; the glare returned to your eyes. 

"Fuck you." 

Miguel huffed, crouched and took your chin to kiss you, tasting himself. You bit his lip, hard trying to get him to free you, but the growl grumbling through his chest only made your skin crawl as his tongue slid in your mouth, also invading you. 

The sheer size of his frame and the little space between sandwiched you, deliciously against him. One hand cradled your head, not giving you a truce while devouring your lips as the other one slid down between your legs. 

The sudden contact sent jolts up your spine, as he changed the cradling on your nape to a light squeeze on your neck as he pressed you against the floor, and spread your legs with his teasing hand when you trapped his hand in between your thighs, preventing him from reaching deeper. 

The motions had slowly made his cock to be trapped again in the fabric confinement. 

He earned a feeble mewl as he slid two of his fingers inside. The vibrations of your purring reverberated underneath his skin made his eager tip to twitch again 

His phone buzzed and he let your throat go for a second, but his fingers remained inside, massaging and wriggling softly within your flesh. 

"Not a peep from you, ok? This is an important call." 

Your hands immediately clenched and your thighs trembled when he moved his hand, back and forth, delving into your drenching walls. 

Heat licking at every pore of your skin. You didn't know if it was in anger or your hormones betraying you once again. The lack of sex with Massimo was costing your dignity big time. 

He's just toying with you cause he knows he can. 

Your mind reasoned, despite the rationality's grip loosening at his ministrations. 

"Ya le dije a Gabriel que procediera sin contratiempos." (I already told Gabriel to proceed without problems)

He talked and moved his hand like the most natural thing to do while in a call. 

Shame washed over your cheeks at the raunchy and sloppy wet noises your cunt made the more he probed your insides. 

"No, no-"

You hissed and his eyes went immediately on you, as if with his glare alone he'd be defying you to make a noise again. 

Your lips pursed shut as your chest heaved with ragged yet quiet breaths 

"I've got it under control." 

More than a reply to whoever he was talking to, his words were a fact. An undisputed truth that clawed at your brain the deeper he stimulated with his fingers. 

He was on control. Of you, your body and every bit that formed it, of every contraction that sucked and trapped his fingers, of every breath he made you exhale. 

His pace increased, and you choked while your body trembled at the beat of his thrusting fingers. A satisfied smirk crept up to his face, determined to break your forceful silent vow. 

He's worse than Massimo. Don't forget that. 

The hardened nub of your breast peeked underneath the flimsy fabric, swaying, demanding to be tasted. 

His initial resolution of not making a physical approach, had been long broken, ever since you insulted him in that foreign language that certainly sparked things within his mind he rarely liked to indulge thinking. 

You amused him, that was much true. But God you also made him so fucking angry. Running your mouth like you were his equal, facing him despite being scared to the core and spending his energies in such a delicious way he only sought whenever stress was eating him alive and none so far had properly known how to sate. Not even Dana. 

The only serious relationship prospect he had so far until she cheated on him and he had to get rid of her. 

But you, He didn't know if to kill you himself or fuck you 'til you were in tears. 

Your mouth parted in a pornographic 'o', gasping quietly, eyes shut, face covered in a deep shade of red, hands clenched into fists on the floor as your body swayed underneath. 

"Let me see what I can do." He crooned as his golden chain around his neck dangled with his motions.

His eyes kept glued onto your face as he slowly rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against your neglected clit in a tortuous and flickering motion. 

You bit your lip, and he smirked darkly. Slowly, he pushed in a third finger as he applied a bit more of pressure on your already sensitive and engorged nub 

Think about the condom box! 

Your toes curled in, body contorted in between gentle twitches and jerks when he grazed ever softly and teasingly at your sweet spot. A soft and barely audible gasp escaped your mouth. And his breath hitched as soon as you locked eyes with him in a glare. 

How dare he? 

He moved in and out, alternating between fucking his fingers inside and caress your bundle of nerves for enough time to edge you. 

"I know. Hmm." He nodded at whatever words Peter gave him, "You're more than capable of handling it." 

It felt like he was encouraging you through the whole process. 

He's not in control. 

One of his fingers grazed into a spot that got your hips stuttering and shaking your head as your teeth sunk deeper into the plump of your bottom lip, jaw tense but unable to trap in a garbled moan. You felt like a hypocrite. 

"Yeah, don't worry. Everything's fine." 

The way your walls increased their drenching with every contraction on his digits, had him tittering silently in twisted delight. 

At this point it was a matter of seconds to have you coming undone. He was set into making you break the rules. Your toes curled and trembled as he fastened the pace enough to have a soft squishing slap echoing just for him. 

El Diablo tilted his head as you clawed your nails on his ankle, it barely tickled him. 

"All he has to do is to agree. Offer him more money if that's the case." 

With clinical precision he stopped a few seconds before you got to come undone and trap him inside. A frustrated and shallow whine flew out your mouth. His thumb pad was now tracing the outline of your lips, to then slid two of his drenched fingers into your mouth. 

"All he has to say is yes." He moved his hand, making your head bob in a nod as he spoke. Your taste exploding into your mouth. 

With little he just retreated outside the cubicle to return a few minutes later with a plain pair of pants and a shirt. He hung the call up and sighed. 

" Now that you've learnt how to shut the fuck up, get changed. We need to go."

With trembling legs you stood, trying to catch your breath, the lingerie soiled, your thighs sticky. Heart and pussy played like a fancy tailed piano and he was the main musician. 

He fixed his clothes, despite the raging boner pulsating between his clothes. He looked at you for a moment, nose reddening, lips flushed and glossy eyes that turned aqueous the more he remained in there. 

His brows pinched softly in an imperceptible frown before leaving you alone. Not really wanting to witness your sudden discomfit. 

What had came over you? 

----

Ever since he woke up that day there were so many changes he had barely had time to adjust. But this quiet and distant you was unsettling and uncomfortable for him. 

First the need to cry after he almost gave you an orgasm, then, the silent ride back at home. 

You barely glanced his way when explaining the dress you needed to wear for the party he was also changing into. But what frustrated him the most was when he asked you to remove the ring out of your finger. The urge to cry returned on your face. 

He truly didn't understand why you still clung so blindly to Massimo. At this point he thought it was love.

He huffed, disgusted. 

You wouldn't drag him to your emotional rollercoaster cause he already had his own. And there was an enough mess as it was to keep adding to his plate. 

He was proud of his detachment skills, soon you'd return to that asshole you called a husband and he wouldn't have to worry about you anymore, cause again, he was growing tired of facing other emotions that weren't the ones he could master. 

No matter how gorgeous and fuckable you looked in that backless and sequin golden dress that undoubtedly did a better job at treating your body than him. 

You had to apply some makeup to the most visible bruises around your body. Neck included. He loved squeezing it apparently. 

Miguel had removed the tracking device of your ankle to disguise it as a clock on your wrist. He looked handsome as usual. 

In truth, you looked like a celebrity. It made you wonder what kind of party you headed to, but you refused to speak to him and he was more than happy to not be bothered. 

Each sat in opposite corners in the car. Not saying a word during the ride. The only instruction he gave you was to stay close as he hugged your waist, although weakly, with his hand. 

Nostalgia was rampant on you today, and it didn't help the not so clandestine reunion harbored within a familiar milieu for you. 

A fancy club, L'Enfer, you once had the chance of visiting. Your engagement night, and returning after so many years in extremely different circumstances, tightened the knot around your throat and the need to run away to increase tenfold. 

Golden floors matched the velvet curtains that protected the black windowsills from prying eyes. The tables pristinely arranged to the left and right, ready to witness its attendee's darkest and deepest secrets. 

Servers were dressed in jet black suits and red gloves, offering the myriad of delicacies prepared for the night. 

Some men stared at Miguel, apprehension and wariness in their eyes. Others smirked and raised their champagne cups as he made his way deeper into the place. Peter walked ahead, Miguel and you followed, and Jessica tailed behind, yet his agents scattered all over the place, either as servers or valets, even bartenders. 

Miguel wore his usual frown, occasionally changing into a deadpan whenever a fan of his work approached. 

Miguel entered to a further room, more private and secluded. The smell of tobacco and expensive perfumes polluted the air, assaulting your nose at once. 

You downed the discomfort with a cup of champagne. 

"Try to not drink too much. Need you sober for the meeting." 

A meeting? 

You quirked a brow at his mumbles but nodded and remained seated near the indoor font, the least tobacco smelling place from the rest and the same place Massimo proposed. Now, you were eating the different entrees, balancing the alcohol ingest in a mob lord party, you realized too late. 

Jessica remained on your side, also eating whenever a snack she liked passed by. Peter accompanied Miguel as he greeted and exchanged a few words with the other people. 

Orborn, Kravinoff or Kraven for short, Olivia Octavius, and other men didn't ring a bell on you. 

"Let Miguel do the whole talking. In fact, act as the listener. And if Kraven calls you beautiful, don't say thanks. He'd think he can hit on you and the least Miguel needs-" 

"Is worrying for stupid shit. I know." 

The sweetness of the mini desserts and other assorted flavors didn't help to conceal the tart tasting in your mouth. Jessica quirked a brow and nodded. 

"You're adapting quick. That's good. But despite having a ten grand dress on you with matching shoes and gold in your ears, you look like you're about to cry. What the hell is wrong now?" 

Tough love was all you got from her, but it also surprised you how perceptive and unsuspecting she could be. 

"Everything."

Jessica rolled her eyes and sighed, adding another lemon curd mini tart in your plate. One you hadn't had before. 

"What in specific? Is it... That guy, your husband?"

Jessica smacked her lips with her gaze fixed on you, scrutinizing within your eyes upon your sudden silence. 

"You're really hung up on that asshole, aren't you?" 

"It's not that. And I'm not even sure about my feelings on Massimo. I want to punch him in the face for lying to me, but I also I want to know he's alright, so I can... pass page."

Your shoulders slumped as you heaved, defeated, "And Miguel is no better. It feels like they'd be secretly competing against eachother whose worse." 

Jessica grunted with a silent titter and shook her head. 

"He's blunt and an asshole, undoubtedly. Despite that, I'd stick in Miguel's side, he'll make sure you're safe in his own way." 

"Just wished he'd be less cryptic whenever I ask for answers." 

"Again, he's protecting you."

"From what? From himself?" 

"No. From the troubles your man dragged you to, honey." 

"Ugh" You rolled your eyes, the last thing you needed right now was to be reminded how awful Massimo was, "Just forget it. I feel anxious enough as it is." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I... I have a bad feeling." 

-----

You sat next to Miguel and carefully listened. The mobster's voice occasionally drowned the cutlery's tinkling out. 

Topics had varied through the night, from luxury cars and ways to armor them, weapon hiding and smuggling, to your current predicament. Massimo. 

"Kingpin is looking for him, his wife has gone MIA, which is convenient. Bitch's smart. The guy could learn a thing or two from her."

"He ratted out Delgado with the FBI. His associate! Wouldn't surprise me if he'd sell out his family to save his skin." The man called Harry Osborn spoke as he downed his whiskey. 

"Da. My associates have gathered Intel, he hasn't left the country still."

You gulped thickly the more the men spoke. If seeing with your own hands what your husband had created wasn't enough, hearing it straight from the horse's mouth only crushed your heart even further. 

"What about you, Diablo?" 

"Max owes me money." 

Many just hissed while contorting their faces disapprovingly. 

"How much?" 

"Four Million."

"Poor bastard sold his soul to you, didn't he?" Olivia Octavius mumbled between sardonic and titters. 

Miguel downed his whiskey as your hands clawed on the golden sequins of the dress. 

"What kind of fucked up woman marries a guy like that? She's desperate or corrupt as he is." 

Olivia spat and a few nodded. 

"Heard he was fooling her this whole time."

"Ahh, C'mon, Miguel. Didn't know you fell for such things." 

Miguel just shrugged, then he lit up a vanilla and cherry cigarette to blow the smoke away from you. 

"I'm giving people the benefit of doubt still. But I'll find him."

"You'll kill him?" 

"Gotta collect my reaps first." 

The men and Olivia grinned, everyone seemed pleased but you. It had been a good deal of information to swot on, so many to digest your stomach had turned queasy. 

You were about to stand up, feeling the bile and nausea rising, that registered too late the acute ring piercing through your eardrums so badly after a powerful loud bang. Unable to move, frozen in the spot. 

Everything felt in muted slow motion, some droplets of something warm and wet fell on your face, spraying you. You saw the group pulling out their guns one by one as Harry Osborn fell with a seemingly loud thud on the table. 

Why isn't he moving? 

Your heart pounded in your ears, throat constricted, and when you tried to scream nothing but a mute yell came out. A strong tanned hand pulled you down, as more loud bangs kept echoing, like distant fireworks underneath water. 

Guns were sparkling with every shot they fired, people fell on the floor, staining the golden surface with crimson as the walls around received an ugly hole-themed makeover. 

You could see Miguel grabbing your shoulders, shaking you while his mouth moved angrily as he pulled his gun away and kept you secured tightly underneath his frame. 

Chaos had broke loose. And you weren't sure you'd live up to tell. 

-----

Taglist:

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[femme-from-hell]

"how can you like this objectively bad thing!" because i have bad taste. move on.

[femme-from-hell]

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x mafia!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex

Summary: Bad girl, good guy.

A/N: Requested by @shadofireshinobi! Thank you. love!!

Not Edited

Fuck, it's cold.

Miguel shrugs up the large bubble jacket higher up his body, the warm material meeting his chin as he turns into the narrow alleyway. His head is ducked down, yet white puffs of breath appear in front of his face. He sniffles as he looks behind his shoulder, the street lights getting dimmer the further he goes. He looks forward again with a sigh, stopping in the middle of the alleyway.

It's quiet. There aren't even any cars on the main road behind him. He can hear the dripping of water from earlier rain as it hits the ground, echoing against the brick walls. He looks up the walls, not spotting anything in the darkness, even with his enhanced senses. He shivers, shrugging in his jacket again. His lips thin, and he turns back around to the alley's entrance.

He doesn't get very far.

"Are you lost?"

The voice is silky smooth, and he can feel a pleasant feeling vibrate up his spine. He turns slightly, his head tilting up. She stands right above him on a creaky fire escape. He isn't sure how he didn't hear her, but he isn't surprised either. He turns fully to face her, his heart bounding.

"Yeah, think you can help me?"

He can hear her amused chuckle, watching her shadowed silhouette. She walks towards the end of the fire escape, a large groan sounding before rusted clicks fill the small space as the ladder falls. Miguel walks over, climbing it easily. She's waiting at the top for him, and he pauses to look up at her. A gust of wind blows, making her hair and nightgown sway. It makes Miguel's mouth dry and he swallows.

"I thought I told you not to wear that here."

Her voice disrupts his thoughts, and he huffs as he finally stands in front of her.

"Just got off duty." He says, shoving his hands in his pocket. "It's a bit cold to be wearing that out here."

He nods at her outfit, the end of his chin pointed at her. She rolls her eyes, her hand leaning on the railing as her hip juts out.

"It won't get me killed." She says in distaste, her eyes scanning his visible suit to signify the meaning of her words.

He chuckles at that, knowing how right she is. She pushes past him, going to the open window. She slips in, and Miguel bends down to follow her in. It's much warmer in the small apartment. It's not technically her's, just a small place she rents for these meet ups. The money she spends on it gets lost in the expenses of her shopping, but Miguel doesn't think her father or brothers would care too much if they found out she rents it. They would surely get mad if they found out why.

She closes the window behind him, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around her. He leans down, trailing kisses along her shoulder as his hand slips to the edge of her dress. It ends up against her thigh, the soft skin melting into smooth silk and lace. She hums as she moves her head to the side, giving him room to explore her neck. His teeth nip lightly over where her pulse is, causing a pleased sigh to escape her lips.

"Missed you," He mumbles against her skin, his hand slipping under her dress.

His hand skims over her thighs and up to her stomach, resting against the warm skin. Her hand lands over his on the fabric, her body pushing back against his own. Her other hand finds it's way into his hair, pulling his head slightly so their face to face.

"Don't be cute." She smiles teasingly, "Don't think I didn't see you on that rooftop two days ago."

His cheeks flush at the mention. He wasn't trying to follow her, he just happened to stumble upon the scene. He didn't know all that noise was her and her brothers dealing with... business. But, it was good business! Honestly, the world could do without two corrupt CEOs. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Her nose bumps against his, and his eyes dart down to her lips. She has that pretty lipstick that he gifted her a few visits ago on, and he subconsciously licks his lips. Her smile widens, leaning forward to kiss him. He instantly moans, closing his eyes and holding her tighter. He only lets up when she moves to turn, wrapping both of her hands around his neck as the kiss deepens.

He almost trips when she makes him move backwards, walking him until the back of his legs hit the edge of the couch as he throws his coat to the floor. He collapses heavily onto it, tearing the two apart, He looks up at her as she goes to straddle his lap, his hands gripping her waist. She flips her hair to the side, smiling down at him before she leans down to his neck. He groans softly as he tilts his head back, his eyes closing as her lips suck and kiss at his neck. His brows furrow in a silent moan as she grinds against his already hard cock.

Even if his hands weren't under her dress before, he can feel the fact that she was no panties on. The warm mound of her heat rubs against the technological material of his suit, his hips bucking up to meet her moves. She giggles against his neck, pulling away as his lashes flutter open. He has that silly, hypnotized look on his face. She can't help but smirk down at him, the silly little spider that's absolutely smitten with her.

She cups his cheek, stroking the slightly stubble-graced skin. He leans into her touch, eyes practically glowing with hearts as he looks up at her.

"Get rid of the suit, Miggy." You whisper down at him, biting your lip as he gives you a small nod that turns into enthusiastic nodding as your words click.

It recedes in seconds, and both you and Miguel moan as his weeping tip just barely skims over your folds. His eyes drop down, huffing when the ends of your dress block his view. You smile slightly at the pout on his face, your hands slowly grabbing at the ends of your dress as your bring it up to your waist. The second your pretty pussy is revealed to him, Miguel's breath catches.

It rushes out of him instantly when you slowly sink down on him, a choked moan parting from his lips as your warmth pulsates around him. His hands grip your thighs tights, his eyes snapping up to your face. You're looking down at where you two meet, but you meet his eyes once you feel them on you. You smile lazily at him, smirking when his face contorts as you begin bouncing on his cock.

His mouth drops open in breathless moans, his eyes dreamy as he studies your face. You bite your lip as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, your own moan filling the room. Miguel whimpers up at you as you clench around his cock, eyes rolling back with a groan as you buck your hips. You giggle at how easily it is to make him go crazy, leaning down to quite him down with a kiss.

He hums against your lips, eagerly returning the kiss as he squeezes your thighs tights. You can feel that pleasant burn of an orgasm forming in the bit of your stomach, and your trail your hands down until they land on top of his. You silently move his hands up to your waist, and he makes quick work of bouncing you on his dick, already used to the silent command. You moan against his lips, pulling away and throwing your head back as your hands land on his shoulders in support.

A pleased gasp leaves you as you feel Miguel's warm mouth wrap around your nipple through the silk, a desperate noise leaving him. He can feel your walls tightening around him, and he sucks harder on your covered nipple to distract himself from the twitching of his cock. He wants- needs- you to come first, his hips hammering up into you. You're surprised your lip isn't bleeding from how hard you're biting down on it, but it finds relief when the band inside of you snaps.

A loud moan is directed at the ceiling as you come, your pussy clamping down on him as he stills. He pants out your name as he spills inside of you, the feeling dizzying. You giggle at the fucked out look on his face, gently easing yourself off of him. He leans his head against the back of the couch, taking his time in catching his breath. You hover just over his lap, pushing the hair out of his face with a smile.

You have him right where your family wants him.

[femme-from-hell]

https://twitter.com/DaddyyRough/status/1686385918922661890

this is so john price miguel ohara keenan and webslinger

I HEAR SUM PURRINGGGG

cw: TWT LINK!!, NSFW MDNI!!, f!reader, lazy lazy lazy writing, rough sex, name-calling, pussydrunk men<3, not proofread

price

"Take it honey, fuckin' take my cock." price pants, groaning once he feels your pussy squeeze tight around his cock, "Yes, yesyesyes," your eyes are rolling back, the only thing you're able to focus on is his thick cock thrusting in and out of your pussy sloowly, "You're so warm, so tight, wanna fuck you all the damn time," his eyes catch the way your lips part when you moan, and his mouth mimics your own, dropping open to moan with you, his eyebrows furrowed, loving nothing more than seeing you fucked out like this

miguel

"You needed this, didn't you? Fuck, I know you did... been fuckin' asking for it all day. Needed my cock that bad, huh? That's fine, baby, been needing you too..." Miguel is grunting, groaning under his breath each time he fucks his cock back inside your pussy, barely able to keep his eyes open from the way you feel. "Ah.. ah'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me-" a shiver runs down his spine when he feels his eyes water, and he's suddenly snapped back to reality. Miguel licks the pads of his fingers hurriedly, dropping them to your clit and starting to rub circles on the bud, "Cum for me. Fuckin' cum for me baby, please. Please, I want it,"

keegan

"Fuck.. fuuuck," he's grunting, throwing his head back, mouth open as he keeps thrusting into you at this slow pace, "S'good, s'fucking good baby, ah-" he moans along with you, leaning closer to stare at the way you're losing yourself on his cock, "Fucking slut- fuck. Say you love this cock." he has the audacity to chuckle at the way you keep swallowing down the spit gathering in your mouth, his laughter drifting off to a groan when he feels you clamp around him suddenly, "Ah fuck- S okay baby I know you're too cockdrunk to tell me, yeah? Pussy said it for you,"

webslinger

he doesn't know where to look. your pussy, that's sucking his cock in, with your slick dripping down the swell of your ass? your tits, that're bouncing each time he thrusts back into you- wanting so bad to just lean in and suck at your pretty nipples, kiss at the underside of your boobs, mark you, claim you-

He ends up looking at your face instead, at the way there's spit dripping down your chin, the way your pretty lips are parted- stuttered moans tumbling from your mouth when he squeezes your throat, keeping you down as he fucks you hard. "Fuckin' Christ. Be good for me and stay down, darlin'. I'll fuckin' give it to you,"

yeah<33

[femme-from-hell]

BDSM gets a bad rep as like a violent (male) dom pushing the boundaries of a reluctant (female) sub but in my experience it's a lot of subs with wildly elaborate fantasies screaming shit like "PUT MY ASS IN THE CHILI" while a new dom is like "Okay I think, we are reaching yellow for me,"

[femme-from-hell]

Voracious

My most recent thots about Feral!Miguel... (18+...minors, please don't hoe)

Insatiable.

Thats the only word to describe Miguel O'Hara. This man doesn't do anything in half measures.

Installment 1: Eating you out

Miguel does so with a voracious appetite. He'll pin down your thighs and plunge his tongue between your folds like a man deprived of oxygen.

That isn't to say he's not precise. On thr contrary, Miguel, ever the scientist, has made your pleasure his latest field of study.

As he sucks and groans around your over sensitive clit in a depraved manner, he's busy sliding a finger into your entrance. And he chuckles darkly when your whole body twitches as he massages your g-spot mercilessly.

You writhe and buck against his face, moaning and babbling, beyond words after your third orgasm. He peels his face away, and looks up at you pupils blown wide with lust, and you shudder at the practically feral way he's eyeing you, the lower half of his face slick with your arousal.

Opening his mouth slowly, Miguel flashes a bit of fang as he slowly runs his tongue along his lower lip, growling as he savors your taste.

"You really want me to stop?"

A shiver runs down your spine, and a gooey warmth begins spreading across your chest again. You find yourself shaking your head dumbly.

"No Sir." It was no more than a whisper, you'd barley summoned the strength to breathe he words, but the spark in Miguel's eyes, and the way his claws dug into the mattress by your upper thigh told you he'd heard.

"Good girl. Mi buena niña."

With that he dove back between your thighs, biting and sucking at the tender flesh, marking you as his before parting your swollen folds with two fingers and purring.

"My very good girl."

You mewled as he firmly pinned your hips to the bed and circled your pulsing bundle of nerves with his tongue. Miguel wasn't coming up for air until either he was sated or you forgot both of your names.

Fortunately, Miguel was rarely satiated, and you had a very good memory.

[femme-from-hell]

GymRat!Miguel Part 7

content warning: mentions of blood, some violence, FINALLY 18+ so MDNI, dry humping 😁, like a smidge of fluff, some Spanish (as always, correct me if I'm wrong)

word count: 2.3k (we're back with some sense)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

Gabriel jumped as the grand doors slammed closed.

The room was quiet minus Kron groaning on the floor.

“I’m going to kill him!” he shouts, hand trying to cover his bloodied nose.

“If you try, you’ll be disowned,” Tyler frowned down at him. Gabriel had never seen him without a smile on his face. It was scary yet familiar. It was times like this that Gabriel was reminded that he and Miguel were different.

“Dad, are you fucking serious? He just assaulted me!” Kron cried in disbelief as Nancy tried her best to clean his face.

“It was nothing you didn’t deserve. Surely, you’re grateful that I pulled him away.”

“Tyler. Our son is hurt! And bleeding out on my expensive carpet,” Nancy bit back, snapping at a butler to bring her a health kit.

“My other son is also hurt,” Tyler replies with his voice even, looking at Nancy and Kron as if they’ve lost it.

Gabriel could see George tense up at Tyler’s acknowledgement of Miguel as his.

“All this time and effort spent on putting this whole thing together and for what? What did I gain?” Tyler said lowly as he took his glasses off.

“I’ve spent two decades raising you and the older you’ve gotten, the more you have disappointed me. Twenty years spending dollar after dollar on your schooling and wellbeing. Ten years of watching you grow. Ten more years of watching you drift and become someone I’m not sure I can even call mine. What happened to my boy? What have you done with him?”

Gabriel was outwardly wary of what would happen next. Internally though? He was bullet-pointing every dig.

His name wasn’t Gossip Gabriel for nothing.

He watched as Kron shook on the floor. A simple hangnail could probably make him breakdown.

“Almost two decades I’ve watched from the sidelines as my son grew up without me. I watched as another man took my place. I watched as my careless actions were formed into a son that I could not connect to, talk to, or even hold. So please, forgive me if the few times, no, the one time I have the opportunity to build that connection, I am furious that it is ruined by my eldest son and his entitlement.”

“Entitlement!? What entitlement? Every time I say something it’s wrong, but Miguel is all of a sudden this perfect son that you wish you had. I wasn’t the one that ran that girl away.”

“Watch it, boy,” Conchata hisses.

“No, you watch it!” Nancy snapped back.

“Silence!” Tyler’s voice boomed throughout the house. “What all of you fail to realize is that the special guests have been iced out of my home! Kron, I may not have been there for you at every moment, but I have never taught you to disrespect women like you’ve done tonight. You owe several apologies.”

“You cheated on mom to have a bastard baby.”

Gabriel only blinks as Tyler moves to hit Kron in the mouth. Just as fast as Miguel.

“And what your mother fails to tell you is that she cheated first. I am not perfect, but neither was she.”

“Escandaloso,” Gabriel leans over to whisper to Dana.

“It would be best for us to talk after you’ve gone to the hospital. Make haste, lest you make me angry, son,” Tyler says with venom-coated words.

Nancy, with help from one of the butlers, scrambled to get Kron up and out of the door.

Kron took a deep breath and put his glasses back on. He turned to Conchata as started to unbutton his cufflinks.

“Conchata,” he said. “Level with me, what did you really not like about Miguel’s girlfriend tonight? I know you too well and her weight is not the problem. She’s beautiful, intelligent, talented, and we can both see that Miguel loves her.”

It was Conchata’s turn to look shocked. She looked around to everyone staring at her, waiting for a proper answer.

She stuttered trying to get her sentences out, “Why am I being held to the fire right now?”

“Ma, I’m not sure if you remember, but you quite literally criticized her body and expression,” Gabriel said. He was never afraid to step up to her when it came to Miguel, he just had to gauge how far he could go.

“I didn’t intend to do that,” Conchata starts.

“Honey, you stopped her from eating her food,” George chides. “It doesn’t get any worse than that.”

Conchata was silent as she sat back down, staring at the centerpiece, “I just-”

“No puedo creer que fueras tan grosera con ella, Conchata. Miguelito is right. You should be ashamed,” Gabriel’s abuela said. (I can’t believe you were so rude to her, Conchata.)

She got up and came to Conchata’s side, “You have fussed at him all his life. Nothing he did was ever good enough for you. You can not choose now to try and control him.”

“Tyler, can you have someone take me back home? Oh! And pack me one of those yummy cherries too,” she said as she gave him a hug and a pat on the cheek. She then proceeded to give everyone a goodbye but her daughter.

“I truly apologize for this hectic night,” Tyler announced to the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see how I can make this up to Miguel. You all can use my home however you need.”

Gabriel cleared his throat now that he was left in a room with his parents and Dana, “Well. Did you guys like the meal?”

“I thought the filet mignon was fabulous,” Dana replied.

They leaned together and giggled.

Gabriel had a lot to spill to Miguel.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You wake up unbelievably warm, the bed sheets piled on top of you. You lift your head from the thick pillow, and waited as the AC hit your face.

Sun was coming in through the cracks of the drapes. It was all quiet except for the light snore coming from Miguel’s side of the bed.

You turn to him and he’s out from under the covers, bare muscly back to the world. You swallow around nothing as you watch the ripples of his muscles move with his breath.

Who knew you were going to wake up to this delicious sight?

You move quietly, shuffling to the bathroom to pee and freshen up. You felt miles better than you did last night. You felt even better as the memories come back to you. Your boyfriend really took a stand for you.

When you walk out the bathroom, you don’t expect Miguel to be sitting up on the edge of the bed, bed head and sleepy eyes.

“Are you up? I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, voice light and soft.

“I moved over and you weren’t there,” Miguel yawned. “Couldn’t go back to sleep ‘till I found out where you went.”

You shuffle to his side of the bad, “Just went to the bathroom.”

He opened his legs and pulled you in. He laid his head on your chest, kissing the skin through the fabric as placed his hands on your ass.

“G’morning,” he said, voice scratchy.

“Morning to you too,” you said while scratching his head.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, peering up at you.

You give him a small smile, “I’m feeling better.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, bringing your hands to the nape of his neck. You twirl your finger is his hair absentmindedly.

He puckers his lips, waiting expectantly. You giggle and lean down pecking his lips.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries and brushes his teeth, wanting to continue this mood. You were rocking one of his shirts and some panties. He still wanted to see if the offer from last night was still up.

GymRat!Miguel who crowds your space on the bed, hovering over you as he kisses your lips. He’s feeling particularly ravenous and all he wants is you. Your grip on his shoulders becomes tighter as he slots his tongue in your mouth.

GymRat!Miguel who is definitely a virgin. Sure, he spent his free time researching how to make you feel good. He even shyly asked Peter for advice. It still doesn’t negate the fact that he has put none of these things to use.

He pauses as things start to get even more heated, sharing this news with you. You’re a little shocked but you promise him it’s fine to take it slow. You have never done penetrative sex with anyone either. Feeling more relaxed, he dives right back in.

GymRat!Miguel who has you grinding above him. Your clothed sex slides against his, two layers of cotton separating you both. You’re whining against mouth as he moves your hips. He’s humming at every noise you make.

As much as he wants to go further, he has a need to fulfill your desire first.

Plus, he was dumb enough not to bring a condom.

He opens his mouth to take a nipple in through your sweater. It’s thick, but he sucks hard enough to get the job done. He watches as you tilt your head back and moan loader, hips stuttering.

Miguel watches you in awe. He’s never seen you like this before. So needy for him. It was a contrast to how you usually let him take, take, take.

He moves quick to lay you on top of him, finally getting his dream of you over him.

“Miguel?” you ask, wary of your weight.

“Nuh uh, baby keep going. Don’t stop,” Miguel says, swerving your hip along his.

You fall down from a sharp buck of Miguel’s hips, moaning from the friction and holding your hands against the headboard.

Miguel was in heaven watching you roll your hips faster and faster.

GymRat!Miguel who flips you over as soon as you come. He is grinding better against as you lay on your back. Your tits ate bouncing under his sweater with every jerk. He wanted to take it off, but you were still a bit self-conscious.

For now, it was fine because you looked so good in his clothes, nipples hard and ready just for him to devour. In the future, he hoped to have you see how beautiful you are in his eyes.

You’re sensitive, thighs tightening around his waist. He softly moves one of them, gaining better access for his bulge to slide against your clothed clit.

“Miguel!” you cry, voice high.

“Give me another one, come on,” he says, mouth moving to your ear. “You’re doing so good. Just need one more.”

He feels you nod your head, arms wrapping around his neck.

You yell his name as you come again, thighs shaking.

GymRat!Miguel who comes through his underwear on top of you. He pulls your sweater up a tad to watch some liquid pool on your stomach.

“Fuck,” he heaves, smearing it with his thumb. You were fluttering against him softly.

You were laid out under him coming down from your high. Your breaths were slowing down and you were looking at him, blissed out.

This was better than his dream.

He rubbed up and down your bare thighs, watching as they twitched when he grazed your inner thighs. He walked his fingers down to your panties, running his knuckles over your mound. The fabric was wet, evidence of what you two just did.

He starts to pull the fabric tight, watching as your folds imprint through the cotton.

What a pretty sight. Your body so open with his cum on your smooth skin.

Mine. All mine.

He’s about to press against your clit again until you say something.

“Huh?” Miguel asks, in a daze.

“I asked if you could go get a wet towel,” you say.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, frantic movements as he hobbled out of the bed. He was acting like an idiot, gawking at you instead of talking.

GymRat!Miguel who realizes that he put you both in a sticky situation as he wipes your stomach off.

“It’s fine. ‘Was hot,” you whisper, completely flushed.

“Yeah? You liked it?” Miguel asked, giddy.

You nod your head, “You made me feel really good, so yes, I did like it.”

“Is that so?” Miguel mumbles, leaning close to your face. “Might have to do more next time.”

“More? Like what?”

“Like finally getting you to sit on my face,” he says in your ear. He finally got you to put your weight on him, all he needed was that final push.

“Oh my god,” you drone, covering your face dramatically.

“What? Baby, it’ll be so fun! I promise!”

GymRat!Miguel who finally checks his phone while you both wait on room service.

Abuela 💕:

“Miguelito!”

“Call me when you can!”

“dile a mi muñeca que mi casa es su casa!” (tell my doll that my home is her home)

“And I don’t want any new grandbabies so soon so control yourself”

Pa:

“Miguel I hope you can forgive your mother”

“She needs some time”

“I’ll be sure to talk to her”

“It was also lovely to meet your girlfriend”

“I’m proud of you mijo”

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“Bro”

“You missed SO MUCH!”

“BDHDHDHDJEBE”

“I wish I could have streamed it”

“Tyler SWUNG KRON’S BODY TO THE SIDE….”

“Ok no but fr”

“It’s def confirmed that you’re Tyler’s favorite 🤷🏽‍♂️”

“Kron got socked in the mouth by Tyler”

“That’s def where you get your punches from ngl”

“OMG”

“Did you know that Nancy cheated on Tyler first?”

“Crazy. Ik. You don’t have to say anything”

“Anyway”

“Tell my girl I said gn 😁 her breakfast in bed will be waiting on her”

Dana:

“Your dad’s kinda hot”

“Tyler not George”

“But you know who’s hotter?”

“Your gf”

“Give her my number. Plz and ty”

Dad….Tyler:

“Son I sincerely apologize for this terrible evening.”

“Kron will be reprimanded. No need to worry about that. You only taught him a valuable lesson in reality.”

“If I can, may I make it up to you?”

“I added a few more days to the hotel.”

“And my doors are, of course, always open to you.”

“Please reach out to me soon.”

Ma:

“Miguel please come home”

“I need to talk to you”

divider by: @plutism + @benkeibear 🩵

a/n: AHHH! If you're reading this, then this (hopefully) means that I have finished and turned in my Senior Thesis 🥺. As a gift, please tell me you how you feel. You guys have been so kind to me on here, so I hope you enjoy today's chapter. There are more great things coming soon!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

[femme-from-hell]

420 references in Muppets Mayhem

[femme-from-hell]

[femme-from-hell]

Apology ☔

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader

TW: MINORS DNI, NSFW, SMUT(P IN V, MAKEUP SEX), RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, established relationship

A/N: 😫 my inspiration for this one, this wonderful Miggy audio by gabriela_sksk. Also @politemenacephd 's rainy day Miguel fic ,one of the greats. 🧎🏽‍♀️

------

Having slow, sleepy, makeup sex with Miguel laying side by side in bed at 3 am. You were upset with him because you were supposed to watch a movie together and he got home late.

You felt the bed dip under his weight with a feeble creak as he rolled in, groggily raising your head, your face dry from all the tears you cried earlier.

Now you found yourselves making love in the wee hours of the night as a torrent of rain pelted against the windows, sensual fog leaving condensation on the glass. Darkened silhouettes in an erotic display. Your ass is pressed back against his body as he holds one of your thighs in the air easing you open for him to lovingly take you in heartfelt apology, his other hand kneading and rubbing your clit in soft circles as he nudges the tip of his cock at your entrance, a long breath leaving both of your lungs in sweet unison as every vein re-acquainted itself with your wet velvet, tender kisses murmured into the nape of your neck. He lowly purrs as he begins to thrust, whispering in a soothing tone,

"M'sorry, M'sorry...so sorry baby..."

-----

🌃

[femme-from-hell]

Tell Me.

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT, P IN V, CREAMPIE, PRAISE, NIPPLE PLAY, MINIMAL PLOT, YOU CRY DURING SEX

Word count: a little over 600 ish.

-------

Telling Miguel how much you love him and how much you need him while he's fucking you.

Position-wise, in missionary or in lotus. Anything where you're gazing directly at each other, eye to eye. Crimson ruby of his eyes blown wide. A most intimate portal between two souls where the love can move freely in both directions. No loud sounds escaping him so much as those soft whimpers that you find so endearing. 

"Dime(tell me)..." he implores you, his rough, sweet breaths and pants against you. The angelic face of your lover spurring you on.

Somehow, with him it just comes. The words flow seamlessly. A dam gently breaking. Ink swiftly bleeding. Hearts calmly stirring. His soul is burning. 

Words on a string tugged from the profound depths of your heart become soft whispers in his ear as his veiny cock slides in and out of you in tender love-making.

"I n-need you...in every way there is to need another person..." 

Miguel rumbles a low hiss at your words, closing his eyes as if he's in fervent prayer. "God..."

"...so fiercely, so...completely...right now...I need you physically, carnally...until the night runs out....Until you can't use me anymore. Until there's no more of your cum you can leave inside of me...."

Miguel's eyebrows knit with passion and his jaw inches open as he pants over you. "Yes..."

"I want to take you in every way...in every position..." 

Miguel groans loudly, slowing down his hips in steady rhythm with every word that tumbles from your lips, as though he were punctuating each one.

"I think about you......every day. Every. moment. Mnhhh...that I'm not with you..." 

"What do you think about me, hermosa...?" He begs. "Tell me...please..." 

"I think about your eyes...how you look when you kiss me.... I think about your arms, how you f-feel when you hold me...I think about your voice...how you sound when you fuck me..." 

"Mierda(shit)..." He lovingly presses his forehead against yours, taking your jaw in his fingers, his breaths picking up. "Don't stop..." 

"Every bit of you....every inch of you..."

"Oh my God..." He frantically litters kisses all down your neck.

"Nobody...yearns for you...as much as I do.... Miggy!" You whine and shut your eyes, clutching onto him as bury your face in his shoulder. 

"I've got you..." he murmurs, paying special attention to your breasts. He pauses his tempo as he indulges in one of his favorite parts of you, all the while he savors the way your weeping pussy hugs his cock, delaying both of your peaks so he could love you longer. 

"Baby..." 

"Relájate para mi...(Relax for me)" He ever so lightly bites your nipples. 

You deliciously arch your back, sucking in air through clenched teeth, "Ohhh I can't..." 

"You can, baby... it's alright..." he coaxes, moving up to kiss you again. "Look at how perfectly I fit inside you..." 

He slowly begins thrusting, slowly starts moving his cock inside your pussy once again. 

"You were made just for me....made only for me..." He whispers.  

He soothes you with a tender kiss. 

"Go on, cariño..." He murmurs into your mouth, his thrusts speeding up. "Let me hear you, please...I ache for you..." 

The vulnerability and rawness of this moment where your bodies are intertwined in the most intimate act revealed the profound weight of your emotions and escaped you with delicate tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Your voice rasps under the heavy weight of his body pounding you into the bed,

"I love you...so damn much...I've n-never loved anyone...like I love you..." 

After he cums inside you, his lips capture your tears as he hugs you close against his thrumming heart. He utters, 

"And I'll never stop..."

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