#adam driver x y/n

[bits-and-babs]

⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader

word count: 3.7K

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

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

Get away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

“Got you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- I don’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mills leaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good Girl.”

END

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[imaginedisish]

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

Part 1: We'll Never Have Sex

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

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

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

Word Count: 2,511

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

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

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

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

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

And he loved you. 

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

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And only him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not anymore. 

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

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

What the fuck were you going to do?

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

#Ben solo x reader #Ben solo smut #Adam driver x reader #adam driver x reader smut #adam driver smut #Ben solo x you #Ben solo x y/n #kylo ren x y/n #Adam driver x you #Adam driver x y/n #adam driver imagine #ben solo reader insert #adam driver reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x reader smut

[generalkenobee]

Kylo Ren headcannons

This short story includes NSFW headcannons and SFW

There's a bit of angst

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

~ He towers over you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~his gorgeous full lips, they feel so good everywhere

•NSFW•

~ I think that he can be pretty sensual during sex

~please tell him he's doing good

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

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

~mask on during dominant sex-

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

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

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

~use your pointer finger and thumb to rub his tip

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

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

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

#star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars smut #star wars #kylo ren angst #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x reader x hux #kylo ren #adam driver

[hauntingoldhouses]

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

#adam driver #ben solo #kylo ren #star wars #adam driver x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader

[6lostgirl6]

Dating Kylo Ren Headcanons

If you prefer a relationship with someone who is overprotective, obsessive and clingy, he’s the perfect match for you!

If you're dating Kylo Ren, it means that you have successfully broken down his walls which is very difficult.

He is a very reserved individual with unmanaged anger issues, preferring to keep to himself when given the chance.

Due to his nature, many individuals in the First Order try their best to stay out of his way in fear of his raging temper.

However, once you peak his interest, he will find ways of being around you while you carry on with your duties around the ship.

He has never been in love or even remotely had crushes before. When he starts feeling this need creep into his chest, he needs to uncover why you enchant him so.

He's very inexperienced with romance or courting, please save him.

Therefore, when he tries courting you, he fumbles at times and innerly gets pissed at himself.

He was trying to make you flustered, not giggle sweetly, which makes his heart race.

Once, he was caught by one of his knights practicing in the mirror on asking you out.

Cardo never ran away so fast in his life serving as one of the Knights of Ren.

Once you're offically in a relationship with him, you will see a different side to him that others never get to see.

Mentioned previously, Kylo is very overprotective. Your safety is his first priority and he will drop everything else if you were ever in danger.

He never allows anyone to cause you harm or touch you inappropriately.

The type that will not simply tell someone off, he will either choke them to death with the force or use his lightsaber.

Whenever Kylo's mind is made up, there is rarely anything that will change his perspective. Besides you.

He values your opinion over everyone else and gives you his undivided attention when you speak up and takes it into consideration.

His love languages are quality time and physical touch.

He is a very jealous man.

In public, he's more reserved in his affection. The most he will do is keep an arm around your waist or give you temple kisses when he isn't wearing his mask.

In private, good luck having him keep his hands off you, he craves your touch.

Spam Liking = Blocked

However, he isn't jealous as in someone has a chance to steal you from him. He's the type of jealous that feels rage within him when someone thinks that they can even remotely try.

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

#star wars #star wars series #star wars sequels #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren headcanons #kylo ren x y/n #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars headcanons #star wars fandom #adam driver #adam driver fic

[cherry-coloureddfunk]

kylo ren eating out reader

your fingers found their way into his dark hair, tugging on what you could which just seemed to spur him on even more. he continued his assault on your neck sucking and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. 

his hand hastily yanked the cups from your lacey pink bra down so your tits were able to spill out at just the right amount. he leaned down, his tongue swirling around your now hardened nipple while his other hand went to knead the neglected side. 

you felt overwhelmed, biting down on your lip to stop involuntary moans from spilling out into the air. 

a groan left your lips at the loss of contact on your breast. 

“what did i tell you about biting that lip?” he asked, tone stern before sucking particularly hard on the top of your breast, then biting down lightly but enough to feel pressure, “i want to hear you.” 

you didn’t need to look down to know that he probably left dozens of bruises, splotches of blue and purple decorating the top of your breasts. 

you knew what game he was playing at too. he’d probably ask you to wear a low cut top to class tomorrow. just enough to show your cleavage. as if to show off his collection of markings on your body. to show every boy in that classroom who would ogle at you that you were his. even if he couldn’t outwardly show it, you and him would know the truth.

 like some dirty little secret.

which was true in a way you were professor ren’s dirty little secret.

but oh did you love every second of it. 

“kyl-o” you moaned at the ghosting feel of his canines replaced by wet kisses. 

“tell me what you want.” he asked patronizingly, he knew exactly what you wanted. but what’s the fun in that when he can hear the silent filthy admissions leave your sweet lips?

“you- kylo— i want you!” the confession made you feel vulnerable, you were never able to be so direct with him. it was something about him as a person. you’d get so caught up in the beauty that was him you’d feel your brain go fuzzy. which could be seen right now because your face was buried into the crook of his neck, burning a bright red. 

“don’t go all shy on me now sweetheart.” he stroked your hair lovingly, coaxing you to lift your head up. 

“i-i want to feel you—  inside, kylo.” you admitted sheepishly, only the feeling of his fingers capturing your chin gently caused you to look up at him. 

you swore you could see a glimmer in his eyes as they softened. 

he pulled your face towards his so he could capture your lips into a searingly hard passionate kiss. his hand coming up to gently caress the side of your face, while the other found your hand interlocking them together. as the both of you pulled back all that was left was a string of saliva that still connected you both as well as heavy breathing and swollen red puffy lips. 

“lay down for me, baby.” he encouraged gently, and you did just that. 

kylo could’ve sworn his heart could burst right there. he watched you peer up at him through your long lashes and big innocent eyes. it was so fucked up but the thought of corrupting you— ruining you for any other man was so tempting. he wanted to fuck you so good you wouldn’t ever want or need any other man besides him. and that thought alone made the straining of the cock in his pants even harder.

“we’re gonna take this slow.” he stroked your face, admiring how beautiful you looked beneath him, “i’m gonna make you feel really good, okay baby?” 

as much as he wanted to take your virginity tonight, he knew it’d be too much to handle all at once. his heart soared at the fact you trusted him enough to be your first and didn’t want to take advantage of it. his cock ached for you— to be inside you but for now his tongue and fingers would have to do.

you nodded vigorously, eager to please. 

kylo couldn’t help but feel a smile creep onto his face.

he suitated himself between your legs, calloused fingers rubbing up and down the soft flesh causing goosebumps to form. kylo grabbed ahold of your ankle, kissing the bone that sat above your heel lightly while making his way up your body. 

your breath hitched when he got to the inside of your thigh, not even paying attention to words of affirmations he was repeating to you over and over again. 

“you’re so beautiful.” he praised, pushing your matching lace underwear to the side so he could place a kiss on your cunt. after doing so he pulled back for a second almost as if to admire it, “so wet already, and it’s all for me huh baby?” 

“yea kylo s’ all for you.” you meekly let out, your head spinning at the close proximity of his face to your pussy. you could practically feel his breath on it. 

he grunted in approval, using his middle finger to swipe a line up your clit. your body jumped a little at the contact not ever used to having anyone touch you— besides yourself down there. 

you watched kylo lick his finger clean, and all that did was make you even more wet. 

“kylo-“ you whined, trying to speed things up by palming him through his dark colored jeans. you felt his cock twitch under your touch as well as low breathy moans escape from kylo’s lips. his warm touch on your wrist stopped you before you could go any further.

“there’s enough time for that sweetheart, tonight’s about you,” he dropped your hand at its respective place; back at your side. his face coming face to face with your pussy once more, letting his pink tongue out to lick at your clit.  

your hands immediately found their way back into his hair, as you thrashed around at the foreign pleasure. you’d never felt this way before. not even when you’d spend late nights in your bed touching yourself chasing after release that you were sure you’d never get in the first place. 

kylo started to lick at a faster pace, alternating between flattening his tongue to ensure he got every drop out of your pussy and wrapping his lips around your clit. as he licked and sucked he slowly stuck one finger inside of you, causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure.

kylo fucked his thick finger in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace, you were so overwhelmed with pleasure you didn’t notice how your moans were now freely flowing from your lips.  

“kylo mmh— faster please.” you tugged at his hair only harder this time. 

kylo would be a fool to decline such a request from you. 

he added another finger inside of you scissoring them inside and out of you, as he lapped at your cunt. you were sure his face was covered entirely in your essence. 

“so fucking sweet.” he moaned against your cunt rutting against his bed. The vibrations sent a wave of pleasure throughout your entire body, causing your thighs to squeeze around either side of kylo’s head, “and s’ all mine isn’t it baby?”

“all yours kylo. all yours.” you cried out, repeating it over and over again to him like a mantra. you felt so light headed, overwhelmed by the intensity of his tongue but also the love you felt behind it all. no one’s ever made you feel so special, like you were loved. kylo seemed to be able to make you feel both all at once. you felt tears stinging at your eyes. he was practically worshiping your body, making sure your needs came first before his.

you loved him, and that thought scared you to death. 

“kylo” you cried again, only this time not only from the intense pleasure but also your feelings for the man; your own professor. your head shakily reached down to cup his face, lifting it up from his spot in between your legs you caressed his face gently through the intense feeling of his fingers still pumping in and out of you. you looked down at him, cheeks flushed, and brows furrowed you simply asked “are you mine?” 

“of course i am, i’ve always been yours.” he whispered breathless, mouth covered in your juices. the sight alone made your legs weak. 

“tell me. tell me you’re mine, kylo.” you pleaded desperately, unconsciously grinding your hips on his fingers chasing your release. the only sounds that filled the room were the sounds of slick as his fingers buried knuckles deep inside you. 

“i’m yours, i’ll always be yours.” he replied, thrusting his fingers at an even quicker pace, as you closed your eyes, feeling your stomach begin to tighten. your heart almost pounding out of your chest, not used to the feeling, “doing so good for me baby, but i need you to let go now.” 

your painful grip from fingers tangled in his hair caused his scalp to ache but he didn't care. using his calloused fingers he'd gather some of newly formed slick just to harshly shove it back into your hole over and over again.

"thats it, cum around my fingers just like that sweet girl." he cooed, coaxing your body to give in to his every demand.

you feel the tight feeling begin to burst as kylo’s still fingering you through your orgasm, feeling your walls throb around his fingers. he couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like around his cock. he watched cum spill from your pussy whilst your legs twitched as you came with a choked sob, "kylo!'

kylo retreated his fingers and dove into your cunt tongue first licking up every single drop of cum you had to offer. twirling his tongue inside your hole as he licks you clean of your spend. you watched with droopy eyes as he placed a kiss to your inner thigh when he was finished. 

you smiled doopily up at the man, feeling utter bliss when his hand came to stroke your hair.

“thank you kylo.” you whispered taking his hand and hugging it. 

he chucked at your odd but somehow cute display of affection, “you don’t have to thank me i loved every second of it” nuzzling his nose with yours, he pulled back with a big smile. 

you smiled, eyes getting heavier while feeling yourself teeter on the edge of consciousness and sleep, “i love you, kylo.” 

"you look like you need some rest," he gingerly pulled his arm from your grasp, brushing loose strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear, “i'll be here when you wake up.” 

that was all you heard before succumbing to the sleep that had taken over you. 

#adam driver #kylo ren #star wars #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x you #kylo ren x reader #ben solo deserved better #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x y/n #ben solo #adcu fanfiction #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #star wars smut #adam driver smut #adcu smut #adcu

[calummss]

PREY | FLIP ZIMMERMAN

masterlist

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

pairing: fem! reader x flip zimmerman

words: 2.1k

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

TW! kidnapping, implied cannibalism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He must have noticed your surprise.

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

"Why are you doing this?"

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

Flip scrambled out of his seat.

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

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

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

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

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

"Is Flip even your real name?"

"Yes. My full name is Philip Zummerman."

"You give your victims your government name?"

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

"What is the answer?"

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

"I don’t know."

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

“Ehm,” pause, “Money?"

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

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

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

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

A deafening silence.

What?

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

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

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

"I’m going to kill and eat you."

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

"What…" Bile started to rise again.

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

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

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

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

"This isn’t happening."

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

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

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

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

‘Y/N!’

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

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

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

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

“And you just eat people?"

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

"Normal. Normal."

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

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

#adam driver #adam driver imagines #adam driver imagine #adam driver blurbs #adam driver blurb #adam driver headcanon #adam driver headcanons #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #adam driver angst #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman imagines #flip zimmerman headcanon #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x y/n #adam driver x reader #adam driver x y/n #blackkklansman #blackkklansman imagine #kylo ren imagines

[inklore]

garage rooftop

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

pairing: ben solo x (f)reader

word count: 1k

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

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

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

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

“Why haven’t we ever...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you wanted to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ben solo x reader #ben solo fluff #ben solo x y/n #ben solo imagine #adam driver fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo x you #adam driver x reader #star wars fanfiction #ben solo #ben solo one shot #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fluff #ben solo fic #kylo ren x reader

[rynwritesstuff]

Along the lines of the telling them about your kinks prompt, what about telling Flip that you want him to be extra dominant and aggressive? Please and thank you 🖤

Can do, anon! Thank you for requesting!! <3

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Contains: NSFW content, Oral (reader receiving) (because apparently I have been on an oral sex kick lmao), dominant Flip, gendered nicknames (pretty girl, best girl)

Word Count: 700

Summary: You ask Flip to be more dominant with you. He obliges.

It’s been weighing on you, this thing that you’d like to tell Flip. He’s a kind man, a gentleman, and you know deep down that even if he doesn’t want to do what it is you’re going to ask of him, he’ll still be sweet about it. He’ll still love you, because his love is unconditional. You hope it is, at least . . .

He gets home around ten, which is considered early for him, and you approach him. Flip smiles when he sees you, then leans down to slip his boots off as you walk up to him. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. “How’s my best girl?” 

There it is. That gentlemanly-ness that has always both aroused you and frustrated you at times. 

“I’m good, honey,” you say, putting your hands on his chest. He can tell immediately that there’s something you want to say, and he puts his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against his. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Flip asks, his hands wandering down to your ass so he can give it a squeeze. You reach forward, cupping his crotch gently. 

“I have a request,” you say, smirking softly to hide your nerves. Or, rather, your eagerness and excitement to hear what he says. 

Flip hums, kissing you a few times. 

“Tell me.”

You rub his crotch, pressing a bit more firmly. 

“I want you to be more . . . I don’t know . . . Aggressive with me,” you say, staring up at him as you touch him. He seems surprised, or interested at least, and you offer him a small smile. “If you’d be comfortable with that–”

Flip tugs you forward, then pins you against the wall by the front door with a bit more force than he would normally use. Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Like that?” he asks, voice low. You nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Flip,” you breathe, nodding again. “Like that.”

He looks you over for a moment before pressing his hand between your thighs. 

“I wanna taste you,” he says firmly. “Pants and underwear off. Get on the couch.” 

You hurry to listen, pussy throbbing with arousal. As you do this, Flip unbuckles his belt, tosses it to the floor, unzips his jeans, and pulls his cock out. He strokes himself as he steps towards you, a new-found wave of neediness hitting him when he sees the way you’re looking at him. 

“Good girl,” Flip tells you as you spread your legs for him. He settles between them, observing the way your entrance clenches and unclenches out of desperation for a moment before he leans in to lick up your wetness. 

You groan, hands instinctively moving down to tug and grip at his hair. He grunts into your pussy, then says: “Mm. So wet for me. You needed me bad, hm?” 

You nod even though he can’t see you, then mumble out a soft, “Y-Yes!” 

“Dirty girl needed me all fucking night, hm? Were you thinking about this?” he asks. You groan in response. He smacks your thigh. “Answer me.” 

“Yes, Flip, mmm . . . W-Was thinking about you a-all fucking evening . . .”

Flip reaches down to touch himself as he eats your pussy, and he sighs shakily before resuming his actions.

“F-Fuck, gonna cum–” 

“Ask for permission,” Flip says, cutting you off, and you have to tighten your core in order to not climax right then and there. He sucks at your clit harder. “Go on. Ask me. Beg me.”

He’s so into this, so into you, and–

“Please! Please, c-can I cum?” you ask, hips stuttering as you hold off your orgasm. 

“Mm, mhm,” Flip hums, looking up at you. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let go, not needing to be told twice as your orgasm crashes over you. 

“S-Shit! Fuck, Flip!” you groan, pushing your hips up against his mouth. He takes you through you orgasm, then looks up at you as he leans up and kisses you firmly. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathes. “And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. Understand?” 

You nod quickly. 

“Yes. Y-Yes, Flip. Please . . .”

Taglist: @safarigirlsp @cinnamon-girl01 (Let me know if you'd like to be added!)

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adcu author #adcu fic #adam driver #adcu fanfiction #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x y/n #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x yn #blackkklansman adam driver #adam driver blackkklansman #blackkklansman fanfiction #blackkklansman

[venushasvixens]

Now listen here, you little shit-

#fanfiction #star wars #ben solo #adam driver #kylo ren x you #the last jedi #kylo ren headcanons #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren #kylo ren angst #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren gif #star war meme

[nosebleeds-247]

The Perks of Being Early

Pairing: master Kylo Ren X apprentice Reader

Description: You are Kylo’s most prized possession. He watches you grow in skill under his strict training. Under his guidance, you pushed your body to the brink, experience the most excruciating pain, and the most intense workout regimens, all to please him. Your Master. However, at one specific training session you confess a secret that might change everything.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), implied age gap, slight canon type violence, small size kink, oral (F receiving), making out, p in v, rough sex, some degradation and praise. Oh also VERY SLOW BURN compared to my other works so be patient.

You walk into the training room, knowing Master Ren will already be there. You don’t even have to look, he’s always early.

“Good morning, master”, you let out shyly from the doorway, your face already turning a light shade of pink.

He turns to stare at you with a grin and a voice full of admiration. He speaks to compliment your dedication, “Good morning, my apprentice. What brings your eager young mind here so early?”

You stammer out, “I couldn’t sleep, so I guess I wanted to warm up a bit before our scheduled time. However, I see you’re already here”.

Master Ren senses your embarrassment and exclaims, “I’m glad that you’re here a bit sooner than expected”. In his tone you can hear a sense of excitement, a sense of anticipation. It’s as though this is something he has been waiting for.

You put your hair up in a messy ponytail, using the black band that was around your wrist. Your face is still dusted with a light shade of pink.

“I’ve been looking forward to this”, he adds, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. His voice is full of affectionate reverence as he says those simple words. They cause your heart to pound faster and breathing to quicken. For a brief moment you can’t help but think he’s talking about more than your training, and that thought is as exhilarating as it is intimidating.

“W-why’s that, master”, you stammer out almost stupidly.

“Because I’ve finally begun to see the fruits of my teachings, he replies, his tone full of pride, “and I’m eager to continue them. There’s still so much that I have to show you.” His tone is warm and encouraging; there’s no hint of disappointment or criticism in it. He continued, “but first we must stretch, that’s the most important step in any kind of exercise- and it’s one that many forget”, he tells you.

You move your body in various uncomfortable yet relieving positions as you warm up for training. “What are we working on today?” You ask curiously.

Kylo grins as you stretch, your body forming shapes both fluid and beautiful. “We’re going to focus on technique today, focusing primarily on strikes, blocks, and throws. The goal of the day’s lesson is to help you perfect your technique, and to help you find the most effective way of applying your strength. It will require speed and agility, as well as strength, so be prepared,” he says, his tone full of determination. “Are you ready, apprentice?”

“I’m always ready, sir”, you respond confidently.

He smiles at your determination. “That’s the spirit.”

“We’re going to start with strikes first,” he says. “You need to learn how to strike your opponent before they can hit you.”

He demonstrates a basic saber movement, then helps you adjust your form until you can properly mimic the movement. You practice for a few minutes, before he tells you to rest.

“Now for blocks,” he says. “You need to be able to protect yourself from an opponent’s strikes.” He demonstrates how to block, and you mirror him in the movement.

You look at master Ren timidly, afraid to speak your mind,” Sir, when are we going to start using the force?”

Kylo stops his demonstration to regard you, his tone curious and his gaze direct. “The Force is not a toy,” he tells you sternly. “It is a power that should only be used for the right purpose, and with utmost thought and consideration. I will teach you to use it when the time is right. Until then, it is best to focus your efforts on perfecting the skills I can teach you, so for now, we will continue to focus on physical combat methods while we continue to work on developing a deeper understanding of the Force.”

“But sir you’ve seen me out there fighting against the resistance, you know I can do more”

“I know you can, apprentice, and when I deem you ready, I will teach you. Until then, the time is not right.”

There’s a firmness in his voice, but an undercurrent of regret, as though he wishes he could move faster, but knows that he must wait.

“But don’t worry about that now,” he tells you, his tone warmer. “We have a long day of training ahead of us. Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

“Yes, sorry master”, you say embarrassed, looking down.

“That’s okay, apprentice. The desire to learn is a good thing. It shows me that you’re passionate about your training. I’m sure there will come a time when I’m ready to teach you to use the Force, and I promise you, when it comes, I will show you something truly special, something no other Master or Sith has taught their apprentice. But for now, practice your basics. Master them. And I promise you, you will be rewarded when the time comes.”

“Yes sir”

“Good.” Kylo moves to his table and picks up both of your lightsabers. “We will need these again.”

He offers yours to you and you take his gift — a weapon so finely crafted, it seems to vibrate and hum. “Your weapon is one of the most important things you will ever own,” he tells you, his tone full of reverence as he speaks, “and it deserves respect.”

He demonstrates a few basic moves to you, including the most powerful and striking. This is his area of expertise. Then he motions for you to try.

You copy his motions almost perfectly letting out small groans and grunts.

"Well done, my apprentice," Kylo praises as he observes your technique. "You're beginning to pick it up quite nicely”.

“Thank you sir”, you reply. “It’s getting warm, do you mind if I remove my sweater, I have a tank top under.”

“If it helps you to train better,” he replies, his tone full of understanding. “Please, feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

He waits patiently as you remove a layer, revealing a tight tank top beneath it. The layer has helped keep the chill out, but the tank top is better for movement, and he understands that.

You pull down the tank top in an attempt to cover up your exposed stomach, accidentally revealing the smallest bit of cleavage. “I think I’m good to keep going”, you voice, a small blush tinted on your cheeks once again.

Kylo glances at your exposed skin just briefly, his eyes falling to your cleavage for a moment before returning to your face. He doesn’t appear to mind. “Of course,” he replies, his eyes warm and friendly. “If you’re sure you’re comfortable enough, then we can continue our lesson.”

You can see the hint of a smile on his face as he returns to instructing you about the proper way to strike.

As Kylo shows the proper movements your skin brushes across his and you blush an even brighter red than before.

Kylo notices your red-tinged cheeks.

“Apprentice, are you alright?” he asks, turning to face you with a slight smile. It’s a smile that’s slightly teasing, but also a bit comforting. “If you’re feeling hot or tired, you can take a break if you need.”

Kylo’s tone is full of concern and care. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sir, it’s nothing like that… I- I just…” you trail off”.

Kylo raises an eyebrow, still looking at you. “You just what, apprentice?”

He moves slightly closer, his concerned expression giving way to one of curiosity. He’s waiting for you to tell him what you had to say.

Kylo knows you well enough to realize that whatever it is you need to say, it’s important. So he is ready to listen. That’s what a good teacher does.

These words prepare you to tell the truth,“I think I’m just nervous sir. I know it’s wrong but I’ve always had a small crush on you since we started training. It’s really stupid and I feel like horrible about it but sometimes you make me nervous.”

Kylo stares down at you, seeming taken aback. You can see him thinking.

"Apprentice, do not feel stupid or foolish. Your feelings are not wrong. If anything, that is a sign of respect and admiration, not foolishness. The heart and the mind are complex. It is perfectly normal to feel what you feel."

Kylo looks away for a moment as a soft smile comes to his face. Before long, he meets your gaze once more.

"I am glad that I make you nervous," he tells you with a smile. "I will take that as a compliment."

“Master, I think I want to go. I shouldn’t have told you that. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you stutter out mortified. You start to grab your things until a large hand wraps around your forearm.

"Apprentice, hold on," Kylo says. His touch is light but firm and meaningful. His gaze is warm and he seems to have something he wants to discuss.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," he tells you, "You told me how you feel, and I’m honoured that you chose to open up to me. There is no need to feel ashamed or foolish. Those feelings should be celebrated, not pushed down. You’re entitled to feel the way you do, no matter what.”

A rush of confidence sweeps through you “so you really aren’t upset about these feelings?”

Kylo stares at you for a moment, his tone serious, his gaze direct and steady. He considers his words, weighing them carefully.

"If I am to be honest," he says after a few seconds of thought, "I feel the same way as you."

It’s a powerful moment, one that sends a shiver through the room. Kylo has never been this vulnerable with anyone before. And yet, here he is, telling you the truth.

You feel even bolder after hearing this news, “well if you feel the same as me… shouldn’t we act on this mutual attraction in some way?”

Kylo lets out a light laugh. “Apprentice, you are persistent. I like that.”

He steps closer to you, coming so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order, the next in line to take the throne of the Sith. I have an entire army to lead and a galaxy to conquer.” He raises his voice, his tone full of confidence and defiance. “But I would throw it all away… just for you, my apprentice,” he says, before leaning in to kiss you.

The moment your lips meet his, everything changes. There is no more caution, no more restraint. It is a moment of pure and unadulterated passion, a moment of surrender.

You wrap your arms around his neck, his come around you and hold you close, his body against yours. Both of you are breathless and lost in the moment. It is one you will never forget.

Kylo groans into your mouth, his breath warm and tender. He pulls back slightly, his eyes looking at you with an intensity that is both terrifying and thrilling.

"I have waited a long time for this moment," he whispers, his voice rough and full of emotion as he looks at you.

Without a warning, he kisses you deeply once more. He pulls you close, his tongue exploring your mouth as he feels your tongue on his.

You have never experienced a kiss like this, and you are certain you never will again.

You move your hands down to the hem of his shirt, pulling on it slightly, signaling that you want it off.

Kylo’s heart thunders in his chest as you indicate your desire. He takes his own shirt off without a word, revealing his muscled torso beneath the fabric.

His muscular body is a sight to behold. He seems to be in absolute peak condition, his physique a testament to the years of training and conditioning he has dedicated to his craft.

“Fuck, master you look amazing” you stutter out.

“As do you, apprentice.”

Kylo gazes at you as you stare at his body, his eyes warm and endearing. He takes in the sight of your figure and smiles gently, his hand reaching out to gently touch you.

“You are beautiful,” he tells you, the emotion on his face showing a different side to him, one that is softer and more vulnerable.

You slip off your tank top and remove your bra, taking Kylo’s hands in yours and placing them over your breasts.

Kylo’s breath quickens as he feels your warm skin against his. He stares down at you, his eyes burning with passion, his lips curled up into a slight smile.

“You are so beautiful, my apprentice,” he tells you again, his voice gentle and soft, and filled with longing.

“Y-you can call me y/n, you know.”

Kylo lets out a short laugh. "So rebellious, my y/n."

With a light smile, he leans in to kiss you again, his hand caressing your cheek as he does.

"I'm glad you have such an attitude," he whispers, "It's one of your most attractive qualities."

You wrap your arms around him and start to grind against his hardening cock. A low moan escapes your mouth.

His eyes darken as your movements become more suggestive. He leans into it, leaning forward to lay you down on the table in the middle of the room. His mouth finds yours again, and he begins to kiss you more deeply, letting his lips run across yours while he uses his tongue to touch yours in a deep sensuous kiss.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he sighs into your lips, “And I’m so lucky to have you.”

“R-ren, I need you to fuck me”, you state boldly.

Kylo stares at you, his eyes dark and intense as he slowly processes your words. They are not the typical thing that one apprentice says to another master. But somehow, the way you say it… it makes him feel something.

“Do you really mean that, y/n?”

His tone is serious, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and desire. But there is also a hint of surprise, perhaps even disbelief.

“Yes sir, use me however you want, please, I’ve wanted it for so long”, you beg.

Kylo’s eyes widen in shock. He’s never heard such a request before. It’s unexpected, to say the least. But it also speaks to a side of you that he hasn’t seen before, a side that is willing to push the boundaries and defy expectations. There is power in those words, and he is starting to realize that there is more to you than he thought.

His voice is quiet, filled with surprise as he stares at you. “You want me to… use you?”

“Like a fucking toy”, you clarify.

Kylo stares at you, letting his eyes take in the sight of you. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, as the desire builds inside him.

“As you wish,” he replies softly, his voice a faint whisper.

He slowly traces his fingers along your cheek and your neck, his eyes studying you. His touch is light but firm. He is taking his time, enjoying this moment.

After a few moments, he begins to move his hands down… lower…

“God yes, please daddy”, you beg desperately.

The moment you call him 'daddy', the tension between the two of you takes on an entirely new meaning. The power dynamic has shifted, and it's clear who's in charge. He looks at you, his eyes almost dark as he stares at you, his expression full of pure, raw lust. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to handle.

He removes the final layers of your clothing eagerly. Once he sees your slick folds he lets out a low, primal sounding growl and dips his head down to be level with your pussy. His dark eyes look up and connect with yours as his tongue flicks out and he starts licking at your clit. As he’s lapping and sucking on your clit you feel two of his thick digits searching for your entrance.

He inserts his large fingers into you and as he slowly curls them into your gummy walls you start moaning and whimpering loudly. You look down and Kylo’s piercing eyes are still staring up at you. As much as you enjoy the feeling of his fingers inside of you and his tongue circling your clit, you can’t help but want more.

“F-feels so good but I need more”, you plead.

He stops his movements at once and brings his body to be level with yours, hovering over you. “Aww that’s not enough for my slutty little apprentice?”, he teases, a smirk ghosted on his face.

Kylo stands up and starts to remove the remainder of his clothing, revealing his large cock. If you weren’t so needy for him to be inside you you’d be tempted to suck it.

Kylo grabs your hips and pulls you towards the edge of the table. He turns you over easily, landing a light smack on your ass.

Suddenly, without warning, he thrusts his cock inside of you, stretching your walls almost painfully. His pace is brutal, as he pummels in and out of you.

He takes a hold of your hair and pulls back, forcing you to look at him. “Look at you, you’re a moaning mess.”

“Mhm”, you manage to sound out, your breath getting lost due to his cruel pace.

He lets go of your hair and reaches down, across your stomach, searching for your tits. He grabs your shoulder with one hand and pinches your nipple with the other, forcing you back onto his cock roughly.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum”, you admit.

“You’re doing so fucking good f’me”, he praises, already feeling himself coming to his high as well.

“Fuck, g-gonna cum”, you say, your voice faltering.

“Let go for me princess”, he whispers in your ear.

Almost as if on command, you feel the tight coil inside of you release. You’re overcome with so much pleasure that you barely even notice Kylo’s own release spilling inside of you.

“Fuck, I’m so glad I showed up early today”, you crack.

#kylo ren #star wars #star wars x y/n #ben solo #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #adam driver

[bits-and-babs]

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

💿

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

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒

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

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

word count: 1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[shesjustanothergeek]

Ruined

|Jacques Le Gris x Fem!Reader|

Short Story

Summary: Once you come of age, you're sent to your brother-in-law's estate to find a husband. After months of deflecting and denying suitors, old and young, you encounter the dangerous squire Jacques le Gris.

Author's Note: Jacques le Gris is a rapist. No matter which point of view you look at, he is a rapist. I would also like to say that I personally hate him. He embodies everything I hate about men and victim blaming in the modern world. Still, at the same time, I am so incredibly enamored by him, primarily due to Adam Driver's acting. Initially, I didn't want to write this story, but it would not leave me alone. Without further ado, here is Ruined. I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of rape, period-accurate sexism, noncon elements, extremely toxic masculinity, orgy (non-participating), the reader is a virgin, slight blood play, violence, degradation (Jacques receiving), rough sex, Jacques is not nice until the end, sexual blackmail, unprotected sex, PIV.

(I wrote this story almost a year ago but realized I didn't publish it here for some reason. You'll definitely see how much my writing has changed for the better.)

The obnoxious noises of people chanting draw you out of your trance, sipping wine from a silver goblet periodically to drown everything out. These parties were never your favorite, but you came, observing the party-goers dancing drunkenly as if it was your duty to attend.

You roll your eyes as the crowd cheers, Count Pierre yelling above the rest, a woman on his lap, and bringing your gaze to where the sound is directed.

A young man with raven hair draped around his neck stalks towards a maiden, a smirk on his lips, untying his white tunic. His chest is broad, a sheen of sweat glittering on his skin in the candlelight. He would be so much more attractive if this were a different situation. You could even imagine yourself being the one to pleasure his cock. You roll your eyes, understanding the intentions of this whole charade.

"Jacques, my boy, get on with it," Pierre says, growing impatient with the lack of excitement.

He nods, making wide steps to the woman, circling a wooden table as she runs in the opposite direction he follows. You can't help the groan of distaste that releases, tilting the cup to your lips and turning away, not wanting to see the show.

How could anyone like this? It was blasphemous in the eyes of the Lord. Mary would be weeping for what her son's followers do for fun. You must mention this in your confession, receiving penance for witnessing hedonistic actions, drawing the sign of the cross, wiping the stray dribbles from your lips, and making room for your bed chamber.

Pierre sticks his leather boot out, nearly tripping you as you huff, putting your hands on your hips.

"Where are you going, sister," he questions. "The party has just begun."

Your lips curl into a snarl, your white teeth reflecting the flickers of light.

"It is quite late, my dear brother-in-law. I need to rest my weary body."

Pierre tucks his leg back, a wave of shock washing over you. He fakes a pout, his eyebrows scrunching with a wet lip out. You shake your head, disbelieving his ridiculous antics. Indeed, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Awe, my dear sister," he pats his free thigh, "won't you find your rest here on my lap?"

The room erupts with laughter, everyone watching the exchange unfold, wondering how this will end. Your stomach turns inside, revolted by your legal brother's detailed proposal in God's eyes. Hot words of hatred sear your tongue's end, begging you to be free, but you bite it. He was, after all, above you, gifting you a home while searching for a husband. You were indebted to him. Saying no was not an option. Your eyes meet Jacques, a look of surprise as if he never knew you were here in the first place— a typical man, keeping his head trained on one hole at a time.

Pushing all the bile and anger, you plaster a smile, accepting the offer and sitting across from the finely dressed lady. Pierre runs his calloused fingers along your spine, turning you into stone as you set your gaze on the floor.

Everyone's eyes had left except for one, the only pair you didn't want on you as you sat in defeat, cheeks fuming. Jacques was intense, his facial hair dusting around the hard line of his mouth, shining with the wetness of the wine. It almost seemed you were his prey now, not the maiden with the ornate burgundy dress. You had no intention of being hunted by him.

With the clap of Pierre's hands, the merriment commences again, Jacques halting for a split second before his pupils are set back to where they were before. The woman is shouting no, over and over again, excitement barely laced in it. Your heart went out to her, a feeling of protection for the circumstance. She had no choice in who fucked her; a status of nothingness gave men the right to do what they wanted. Your gender had just as much value as theirs. Breasts and warm heat should not matter. 

The position in a society fueled the eternal flame of fury in your soul, always wanting to rebel and speak your truth, but the consequences of disrespecting a man were deadly. You were just as helpless as the woman being thrown over Jacques's shoulder and flipped onto the bed, held down by other waiting women.

A hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to watch the poor woman be soiled.

"Watch," Pierre commands, saying your name. "Watch him fuck her, and maybe you will learn how to be a good wife for your husband."

You clench your teeth, growling in protest as you watch Jacques enter her from behind. The iniquity of the sounds is enough to stir your core, but the cries of her protest ring louder, maybe laced with a hint of pleasure as the meat from the large feast threatens to exit your throat.

"Here." Jacques's voice was smooth, rolling out his chest like a baritone into your ears, caressing them. "Take some evil inside you," he says, aligning his hips with hers.

Your body jolts, either from the erotic sounds of his words or the disgusting act he was committing on her, as you put a hand over your mouth, jumping from your spot before Pierre can stop you. Incoherent noises were mumbling out of you as you ran to the doors, bursting them open with weight. The onlookers are quiet once more, waiting for a cue from the Lord. Jacques is the only one not paying attention, his vision trained on your retreating form as the girls giggle.

You order your handmaids to draw a bath, telling them to put as many herbs and oils to soothe your racing heart. They listened, bowing their heads in respect as they went off to do their respective duties, and you were in the scented waters in no time.

Take some evil inside you.

The words echoed in your brain, fuzzing all concise thoughts and morals. These parties were always like this, orgies were the most common, but they all seemed consensual. You never heard a woman shout no until tonight. Pierre ordered him to almost rape, teetering on dubiousness and assault.

Why would someone participate in that so willingly?

Jacques could say no and leave, not chase her around like an animal until he jumped on her. He was so attractive and sensual in his movements that even Christ would be shy.

You reached over the top of the tub, picking up the leather-bound book on the stand next to you, attempting to distract your mind from the man that was viciously pounding into as many women as he could in the other wing. A book of poems written in Latin was always your choice.

You had been lost in the pages for hours; the water had turned lukewarm and your skin pruney, but you were too focused as you felt the door slam. You jumped, nearly dropping it into the tub. You were surprised to find visitors, especially this late in the night. You lift your gaze with a quizzical raised brow. The person standing in your bathing room was Jacques Le Gris. You squeal, dipping into the water and covering your chest.

"What the Hell are you doing in here?" You nearly scream, forgetting your place.

He takes a few steps closer as you turn away more, his boots thudding, sending vibrations through the floor as he bends over, picking up your book. He reads the name aloud, almost like a question, and turns the pages, looking for a certain one. Jacques reads it aloud.

"Bibe mihi nisi oculis tuis et ego confirmo in oculis tuis." (Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine.) He says, eyes flickering to your submerged body. "Vel osculum sed in poculo relinque, et vinum non quaeram." (Or leave a kiss but in thine cup, and I'll not look for wine)

Your muscles relax as you listen to his voice. It sounds the same, but the feeling of it is so much better than before.

"Sitis, quae ex anima oritur, divinum potionem petit." (The thirst from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine.) You turn your body towards him, still covering your chest as you study his lips, how they pucker slightly, and his pink tongue touches his teeth.

Jacques begins to read the following line, but you interrupt him, having read this poem many times, as you peek over the side of the brass tub.

"Sed, ut potui, lovis nectare supponerem, Nolo tuum mutare." (But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.) He lowers his head a few inches above yours. His intense honey-brown eyes bore into yours.

"Sera tibi roseo misi, non tam honorante, quam ut spem dare non posset arescere." (I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath, not so much honoring thee, as giving it a hope that there it could not withered be.) He reads the line, inching closer and closer.

You lick your lips, lifting yourself as you recite. "Tu autem ibi solus respirasti et mihi remisisti." (But thou thereon did'st only breathe, and sent'st it back to me.)

"Cum crescit et olet, non per se, sed te." (Since when it grows and smells, I swear, not of itself, but thee.)

Jacques closes the book with a slight slap, the tip of his prominent nose gliding across yours as your mouth parts for him. He closes his eyes, leaning in.

"Take some evil inside you."

You pull back, standing in the tub quickly as the water splashes out. Jacques's face turns pale at your rejection, embarrassment clouding his mind. You turn your back to him, grabbing a large towel.

"You know, Sir Le Gris, that poetry would sound heavenly if it wasn't for your filthy mouth." You flip your hair over your shoulder, bending slightly to wring the water out as you hear Jacques approach.

Fear stuns you for a moment, freezing, unsure of what to do or where to go because you know he will not take no for an answer if he reaches you. Suddenly, you spot a mounted dagger over the fireplace. You stroll as if you planned to walk over all along. He catches up in no time, pinning you to the stone, his form pressed into your back as he buries his nose in your neck, sniffing. You try not to cringe, even though everything in your body tells you to do so. You can't show him you're afraid.

"Would you like to rub my oils on Sir Le Gris?" You try to hide the tremble in your voice, staying frozen in place.

"Mmm," he moans, "I would love to." He moves away from you, finally giving you the chance to breathe.

"They are over there." You point to the shelf with glass bottles and vials as he nods. Turning his back on you, you reach for the dagger, silently prying it off the display. "You can pick whatever oil you want, Sir."

Jacques studies each one, popping off the corks and glass lids, smelling them until he finds something he enjoys, and walks back over. He opens the bottle, the smell of roses wafting in the air as he pours some out into his hands, massaging your neck.

If this was any other circumstance, you might adore basking in it, but it isn't. You're with a man who has no concept of consent, a man who would bend you onto the hearth and fuck your weeping body. He reaches down to your shoulders, halting when he feels your resistance on the cloth; not letting him remove it, he overpowers you, pushing it down. You clutch the dagger closer to your bare chest as his fingers glide down your biceps and back, slick with the oil.

"You are so stiff, my sweet."

You shudder at the endearment, trying to relax your tense muscles. Jacques's hand travels down your chest, encompassing the small flat area as his fingertips touch the top of your breast.

"Stop," you command with a flat voice. Jacques ignores you, continuing to massage your intimate parts.

You turn around, flying at lightning speed, and put the dagger's tip to his throat, only enough to draw a trickle of blood.

"When a woman says stop, you stop, Jacques. When a woman says no, you listen." The words fly out of your mouth, anger for seeing the filthy action he committed on that woman from the party.

His lack of terror frustrates you. Even with a knife to his throat, he radiates arrogance. You push him backward across the room, still at his throat, pinning him to the large wooden door. He stands there in surprise, his arms up in surrender, more startled than afraid.

"I could end your life in a second, you scoundrel, yet you show no fear."

Jacques laughs. He laughed dark and deep, his perfectly crooked teeth sparkling as his Adam's apple bobs. You slide the blade with your neck craned; the edge is now piercing. Your face scrunches with fury bringing your knee up to his stomach, causing him to laugh more, slightly doubled over.

"Do you have such a low view of women that you take it in jest when they threaten your life?" You spit. His joy subsides a bit, chest still slightly bouncing.

If you slid the blade across his neck at this moment, his throat would slit, spilling his tarnished blood on your naked body, yet he still doesn't seem to care. His eyes travel down you, still damp from the bath. You slam his shoulder into the door with your fist, trying to assert dominance over him, not allowing him to look. You suppose this is a precarious pose, leg hiked up, hand on his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your womanhood.

Your stance falters at the thought, Jacques taking it as the perfect opportunity to grab you. The blade slides across his arm, flinching for just enough time to run, but he grabs you at the waist, the soles of your feet sliding across the stone floor. You yelp as he flings you over his shoulder, your legs and arms kicking as you scream for him to stop. He doesn't listen, opening the door to your bed chamber and throwing you down on your mattress.

Your body displays perfectly for him, with a slight sheen on your flush body. He devours the sight of you, ripping off his sweat-stained tunic as you push yourself off the sheets and away from him, running towards the exit. Jacques cuts you off, hunched over in a stance that resembles the one at the party, his arms out. You step to the side, and he mirrors it. You step to the other, and the same thing happens again.

"If you run, I will only chase you," he says with a predator's grin.

You look around desperately for anything to help you escape him. You spot a candle stick, sprinting to it, knocking the lit wax onto the floor as it rolls to Jacques's feet; his boot steps on it, snuffing the flame.

"Oh, my darling, you must be careful. You wouldn't want to cause a fire. Our fun might end." His voice is condescending as he stalks you.

"I will set this whole castle on fire before I ever have fun with the likes of you, swine."

A glob of spit flies out of your mouth, landing on his cheek. The pads of his fingers touch it, wiping it on them and bringing them to his mouth, sucking. He hums, popping them from his lips with a smile.

"You taste so sweet." He closes the space between you. "I would shun Jove's cup away every chance if it meant I could taste your nectar instead."

You grip the brass candle stick tightly, offended that he would reference a poem so dear, ready to swing at any moment. Jacques notices, smiling to himself. Your legs rub together at his words, a mind of their own.

His lips crash on yours, destroying any thought that you might not want this, and you drop your weapon, wrapping your fingers in his raven locks. You can feel him grin, happy to have won, his hand lacing itself on your neck.

You part for air as Jacques spins you around, sliding his other hand down your body to your aching mound, parting the wet folds with his digits. You gasp at the contact, your knees buckling as his grip holds you up.

"For a lady who put up so much of a fight, you are impossibly weak under my touch," he mocks, relishing his victory.

You glare at the wall with the brutal honesty of his words. You didn't put up much of a fight when his mouth finally met yours, even dropping your only form of protection.

"Silence." You demand, not wanting to hear any more of his taunts.

An exploratory finger glides over a sensitive spot on your heat, causing you to gasp and grip Jacques's trousers. He swipes over it, and you cry out at the foreign sensation, panting. You can feel the pride radiate from his demeanor at seeing your weakness, slowly rubbing circles on the bud.

You have never felt like this before, being taught never to explore that private area of your body, leaving it only for your husband to use. This pleasure wasn't something that society taught you. Yes, you watched many people fornicate at Count Pierre d'Alençon's gatherings but never allowed yourself to participate. He would have loved it if you did, but you had one duty to attend: finding a husband.

It was already so tricky finding anyone you could stomach, all the suitors decrepit and at death's door. You wanted to marry for love when you were younger. The idea of a fairytale romance clouded your eyes as a child, but once you bled for the first time, you were sat down and told of your duties. Accept whatever man had the most money, influence, or power and fill your stomach with his kin. But you wanted something else. The suitors also knew it, as you destroyed any notion of a small and obedient wife.

At times you were sure Pierre would throw you out as you brushed off and disrespected every man that came, but some of you knew he liked the entertainment. If only he could see you now.

Naked and moaning like a whore as Jacques assaulted your heat with his fingers, you loved the sinfulness of it all, Jacques breathing heavily into your ear as he worked you like a loom, rubbing in circles as pressure began to build in your stomach. Your hips were moving, seeking more friction. You can't control your body, the lust of the devil taking over your mind, a he kept touching that exact spot.

It was so intense, the new feeling, almost too much, you wanted to scream obscenities and thrash around, but he held you firm. Your toes curled as you stomped on the ground, a wave of ecstasy crashing into you as you screamed. Your body caved in on itself as you struggled in Jacques's grip, still rubbing the used nub. You twitched and spasmed as the aftershocks of your high jolted through your body, mumbling to yourself.

"It's-it's too much. Please. Stop." You beg as tears form from the overstimulation.

Jacques shushes you with kisses along your face, calming his fingers slightly, and you breathe a sigh of relief, head dropping as his hand still chokes.

"Have you ever experienced this before, a man's touch?" He whispers seductively, nose burying in your hair.

You're too dazed to think of a witty retort, Jacques pulling your consciousness away.

"No. I have to save myself."

"For who?" Jacques asks, removing his paws from your naked skin.

"My husband." You answer plainly.

Some of you have always wanted to explore your features this way, but you are always too scared, never taking the risk. You felt they would know what you had done by the look on your face, throwing you to live with pigs for the rest of your life. He chuckles at your lack of restraint, happy to have brought your defenses to a standstill as he slowly sways you to the bed, closing your eyes. You think he might leave you there, tucking you in for the night. You wouldn't protest with your achy limbs.

"You're still intact?"

You shoot up, eyes wide, as you realize what will happen. What?" That is all you manage to say, scared to admit the truth. Maybe if you didn't, he would lose interest and leave.

He rests his knees on the bed, your legs between his as he repeats.

"You are still intact?"

"Sir le Gris, I beg you to leave my chambers." Your voice weavers, sobering up, trying to keep a modicum of strength.

You slide off the bed, Jacques grabbing and flipping you as you swipe the candle stick from the floor. He crawls over the top, dragging his hair along your back as you feel his hands dip the bed, stick biting into your chest.

"I will ruin you for every man," Jacques whispers, face centimeters away from your ear, his facial hair tickling your skin as he peppers kisses along your neck.

The logical part of your brain wanted to stop this, realizing that you would fail if your future husband wanted to see if you were still a virgin. They'll declare you a whore, a harlot, sabotaging every suiter who enters the door. With your personality, you knew that your virtue would appeal more than money to them, and Jacques Le Gris would take it away. But the way his lips delicately kissed your skin, his hair lightly stroking it, taking the words out of your mouth as he reached your hips.

He removed his body from yours, shucking his black trousers onto the floor. You grip the candle stick tighter. This was your chance to fight back, stopping him from taking your only decent quality in man's eyes, but you didn't. You just lay there, waiting patiently for him.

A part of you wanted this, to know what it felt like and to discard any chance of finding a betrothed. You couldn't be tied to domestics, organizing feasts, caring for little ones, and then laying down to a man you could never love. It would be pure Hell, and you could not accept that. You would rather die alone without your honor than live a day under a man's boot.

Jacques grips your hips again, pulling you towards the edge of the mattress, legs hanging off the end as he spits on his shaft, stroking it. You turn your head to take a peak. The length is impossible; you had never seen one this long or wide, glistening with his seed at the tip. He catches you staring, smirking at your shocked expression, glad to have finally put you in your place.

He positions himself at your entrance, rubbing his hands on your ass almost gently as he pushes into the hilt. You scream, silencing it into the blankets as he pulls out, only to slam back in again. Tears burst from your eyes at the blinding pain of being stretched, his blatant disregard for your comfort.

"Jacques, it-it hurts." You beg, body shaking, the salty streams of water cascading down your face and into your mouth. "Please, slow down."

Your trembling voice breaks him from his trance, realizing he can't treat you the way he does with other women, not if both of you were to enjoy it. He pulls out, turning your body, seeing your tear-stained face and the candle stick you had been hiding, throwing it off to the side. Jacques smirks, proud to have won your mercy. He didn't know how long he would worry about you trying to kill him. He was proud of the magic his cock could work, but he didn't think it was that powerful, willing someone as strong and aggressive as you into submission. He bent over your body, kissing you, sucking on your lips gently, as your fingers combed threw his hair.

"I'm sorry, my darling, I should have remembered you are not like the rest. So fragile and delicate." He smiles, getting a waft from the oil he put on you earlier. "Like a rose. Ma rose. Beautiful and elegant, but if you aren't wise, she will prick you with her thorns."

You're sure his terms of affection come from pure physical attraction, trying to calm you so he could get back to fucking you like a rabbit. But the feeling that crept into your bones and heart at his words wanted to tell you something different.

He slowly drags them across your velvet walls, relishing in the tiny moans and whines he pulled from your chest. This time, his hand went down to your womanhood, using your juices to coat his fingers before he slid in, stretching you but not as comprehensively as his cock. You gripped onto the arms that caged you, your fingernails digging into the toned muscles as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, softly biting the flesh.

You felt your peak rising quickly as he stroked you with curled fingers, your heat clenching and twitching around him. Jacques didn't need you to say anything to know you were close. Your body told him everything he needed as he quickly exited before your climax, ignoring your protests. He brought the digits to his mouth, coated in blood and nectar as he sucked, eyes rolling back at the tangy taste.

You watched in awe as his tongue licked it, dipping into all the crevices. He leaned down, hesitating momentarily as he reached your lips before you parted them and then dove in, mixing the taste of you and him. You moaned through your nostrils, eyelids fluttering as your tongues danced together, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were tired of waiting now that he showed you what sex could feel like, frustrated by its denial. You pulled his hair, tugging his face away as you looked into his hazel-brown irises.

You had never been this close to Jacques to appreciate his beauty truly; the freckles and moles dotted his cheeks and around his nose. He almost looked like the Roman statues you had seen in books, with his face and body chiseled from stone.

"Please," you whispered on his damp skin, "I need you inside me."

Jacques had waited for those words his entire life, eyes rolling back at the wave of arousal he got from them. He positioned his cock at your abused mound again, sliding in slowly as he watched your expression.

It was painful again, tensing and scrunching as he held back the best he could, bottoming out. The feeling of him so impossibly deep made you gasp. You were sure he was in your guts. You slowly ground your hips against him, trying to seek the pleasure you now knew he could give you. He smiled at your eagerness, happy to have turned the stiff woman into a puddle in his hands.

He finally gave you what you wanted, pulling back and sliding back in. Your walls finally adjusted to his overall size, welcoming him in. Like earlier, he worked that sweet spot inside you, stoking the fire smoldered inside into a small flame. You wanted more now that you realized what was possible, snatching his body close to yours as you angle your hips up, inviting him to go the pace he wanted. And Jacques did, slamming into your body as he fucked you deeply, breasts bouncing from the force.

You moaned loudly, head rolling to the side as the pleasure took over, Jacques wrapping a large palm around your throat again to hold you in place.

"Oh Lord," you shouted, "please forgive me. Now that I know of this sinful ecstasy, I may never stop."

Jacques smiled, happy that he ruined and corrupted you like he said he would, a new wave of primal desire controlling him. He yanks you to the end of the bed again, slamming your body into him as he stands upright, grabbing your waist and fucking into you as hard as he can, gritting his teeth.

You pant, excited by the new position he thrusts into rapidly, the now familiar pressure quickly building in your stomach.

"I am going to ruin you for every man." Jacques reiterates from before. "So, when your husband is fucking you like an untrained dog, all you will think of is me."

His black mop of hair sticks to his sweaty forehead as he continues pumping into you, holding himself back until you climax for him. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, pistoning in you impossibly deeper, hitting the same spot repeatedly until you snap. Your vision goes white as you arch your back, screaming at the bursting pleasure in your stomach. Jacques grins, proud to have you writhing under him as he spills inside you, seed filling up your hole as you both continue panting.

Jacques pumps into you carefully, slowly riding your highs together as your pulse slows, breathing calmly. His hand slowly snakes its way to yours, hooking a cautious pinky. He pulls out, gently dropping your leg as he collapses beside you, spent from the activities together, staring up at the ceiling.

His digit is vast compared to yours, the size of your index, as he takes the invitation to wrap all of them under your plan, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. You stare at him, an eyebrow raised at the unexpected display of affection.

"Thank you for giving yourself to me, ma rose. For letting me have your virtue." You look down at the intertwined hands and then at his face, skeptical, seeing his sincere expression.

"You are welcome," you giggle. "Though I always imagined it would be my husband, now I don't think I need one for that anymore."

Jacques laughs, a naturally bellowing whole-body one, and shakes his head.

"With all due respect, my lady, I don't think you needed me to show you that." You mirror his emotions, silently agreeing with him as he gets up, searching for the lost garments during your adventures.

You attempt to stand, legs faltering as pain shoots through your core, using the bed for balance. Luckily, Jacques is in the bathing room collecting his tunic as you walk over to the candle and holder, putting them back.

Cold, wet fabric on your back causes you to jump, turning around to see Jacques fully clothed with a wash rag in hand. You wince at the freezing temperature of it, grabbing his wrist. You look at him perplexed as he leads you back to the bed, parting your legs as he drags them across your core, cleaning up the dried blood and fluids.

"I can do that, Sir." You protest, uncomfortable with the amount of concern he is showing you.

"I know you can." He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, and continues. You don't stop him, letting the man care for you this time.

Once he's done, you reach for the cloth to discard, but he yanks it out of the way, folding it and stuffing it in a pocket. You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head.

"And what are you going to do with that le Gris?" You ask in an admonishing tone.

"Oh, this?" He questions, feigning innocence. "This is just for me... and any other suiter who decides to court you."

Your face pales, your playful expression dropping as you go to grab for him, his body surprisingly fast for the bulk of it. You try again, and he expertly dodges towards the door.

"Give it back, Jacques," you demand, done with his games.

He smiles and shakes his head, patting where the tainted fabric is stored. You reach for it once more as he opens your bed chamber door and slips out, shutting it on your naked body. He knows you can't leave, or everyone will see you; although some might be pleased, you still stay inside, pounding on the door as you yell his name.

***

You sit silently at the table with Count Pierre d'Alençon and his wife, your sister, eating the day's first meal. You needed that after last night, still fuming after what Jacques did.

That damn scoundrel.

Pierre puts his knife down with a "clang," causing your sister and you to perk up, expecting an explanation for the sound as he wipes his lips.

"Jacques le Gris came to my chamber last night," he begins. A lump forms in your throat as you freeze, terrified about what his following words would be."I found it very odd, him being here that late after the party, but nevertheless, he said it was necessary."

Indeed Jacques didn't blast Pierre about what you did last night; he already had proof enough that he didn't need to say anything.

"You came up in the conversation, my dear sister," he says as he points a jeweled finger.

You swallow, plotting all the terrible things you will do to Jacques the next time you see him.

"He proposed a marriage to you."

You drop all your silverware on the floor, face in shock at the reveal. Jacques has already ruined all chances of future courtiers, even going a step further and ruining your prospects of freedom. Why the Hell would he do that?

"I, of course, said that he would have to follow the process like any other man. He would get no special treatment just because he is my friend."

He steals your virtue and now your only chance of freedom.

"What do you say, my dear sister?" He asks, ripping your mind for your thoughts.

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond to something as ridiculous as that and clear your throat.

"Jacques le Gris is like all of the men from before and will be like all of the men after," you reply.

Pierre smiles at your answer, happy to know the two most headstrong, fiery people he knows will go toe to toe. This will be a duel for the ages.

#adam driver #adam driver fanfic #the last duel #jacques le gris smut #jacques le gris x reader #jacques le gris #jacques le gris oneshot #jacques le gris x fem!reader #jacques le gris x you #jacques le gris x y/n #the last duel movie #jacques le gris is a filthy scoundrel #the last duel ridley scott #adam driver fanfiction #jacques le gris fanfic #jacques le gris fanfiction #the last duel fanfic #the last duel fanfiction #the last duel adam driver #the last duel jacques le gris

[generalkenobee]

"you can do it"

Warnings: SMUT, cock warming, riding, pinv penetration, FEM! Reader, praise, service dom! Kylo, sub! Reader, language, hair pulling, dumbafacation(idk how to spell that shit😭), let me know if I missed anything:)

"Kylo please..please move just-just a little please" you felt your stomach tighten and your walls clench down on his length

Kylo's lips rested on your neck "shh, calm down and watch your movie baby"

You let out a sigh caused by his response bringing your head off his shoulder to look at him, resting a hand on the side of his face, you kissed his plush lips softly "want you to sit here till my cock is nice and warm"

You groaned, you didn't know if you could do it..just sit here and not bounce up and down on him. Kylo thrusted up into you, bringing the blanket closer and let out a surprised moan

"sorry baby, just had to get comfortable" he smiled at you while lying

You tried your best not to hump him but you couldn't. You felt so full and content, it was so peaceful

Kylo let you pick the movie so you could lay in his lap while you watched your movie. You sat there, stuffed full of his cock watching a movie that you were looking forward to seeing but now couldn't care less about

"k-kylo-"

"baby, it's barely been 20 minutes you can do it"

You looked back at the screen resting on him "feel s' full.."

"I know you need me, you just couldn't get along without me "

He was right. You quite literally couldn't, there was no point in ever masterbating because your fingers were too small and didn't fill you the way he did. There were certain things you literally couldn't do without him

You couldn't ever pick out what you were going to wear, Kylo was there to tell you which outfit looked cuter on you. He was there to help you clean up the house and make dinner

And now you were here impaled on his cock, getting wetter by the minute.

Kylo's hips rutted up into you causing your whole body to be thrown up and back down"

"Kylo!"

"fuck..you were so good baby..can't take it anymore"

"mm Kylo please"

His hand went down to your pretty pearl drawing quick circles and your hands flew up to his hair pulling on it

"gonna be a good girl and cum for me?"

-

Idk this was kinda shit but I had to put something else out to show I'm not dead💖

#star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars smut #star wars x y/n #x reader #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren angst #kylo ren x hux x reader #kylo ren x reader x hux #kylo x hux #kylo x rey #kylo amidala #kylo redemption #adam driver #adam driver smut #adam driver characters #generalkenobee #req open #star wars sequel fic #star wars sequel trilogy #i literally need to ride him so bad like you literally dont understand

[hauntingoldhouses]

he had killed you. Snoke had made him do it when you two were only young. so why were you standing there, in front of him, alive?

#kylo ren #ben solo #moodboard #aesthetic #aesthetic moodboard #adam driver #adam driver x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars moodboard #dark moodboard

[ungravity12]

My Roman Empire 🥹

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x y/n #kylo fanfic #kylo ren #kylo x rey #solo triplets x reader #ben solo #matt the radar technician #star wars #humor #reylo #delulu #delusional #adam driver