kb4g3

[kb4g3]

Hii!!! if you’re comfortable with it, could I request something with somno and puppy anakin? Like maybe he’s humping you in his sleep and actually whining like a dog 😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵 foaming at the mouth

❥Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader

❥CW: smut, dry humping, somno, pet names (puppy), wet dreams, anakin is a deep sleeper, like REALLY deep, handjobs, 1.2k words

❥a/n: puppy ani and somno? NEED IT. Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy <33

The room was silent except for the rhythmic hum of Coruscant’s cityscape beyond the window, and Anakin’s steady breathing beside you. You’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, unable to settle your restless thoughts. Your mind danced between lingering worries and the comforting warmth of Anakin’s body pressed snugly against yours.

He’d fallen asleep quickly, his arm draped possessively around your waist, his chest flush against your back. The usual softness of his touch grounded you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to lull you into sleep.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, counting the minutes until exhaustion would finally take over. That was when you felt it—Anakin shifting behind you. At first, you thought it was nothing, just the usual movements of a dreamer. But then his breathing began to change, quickening, becoming uneven.

The hand around your waist tightened, his fingers twitching as if grasping at something in his dreams. His hips pressed forward, brushing against the curve of your thigh, a soft groan of your name slipping from his lips. You froze, heat pooling low in your stomach as his movements grew more insistent.

His voice was barely whisper, broken and needy, as his forehead pressed into the back of your neck. His hips rolled against you again, harder this time, and a whine escaped him—a sound so desperate, so utterly animalistic, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Anakin?” you murmured, your voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t wake, his dreams pulling him further into whatever fantasy his mind had conjured. His nose nudged against your skin, a whimper bubbling from his throat as he buried himself closer to you. It was like he was chasing you, seeking something just out of reach.

Your heart raced as you tried to steady your breathing. The way he moved—grinding against your thigh, his whines growing louder, his desperation raw and unfiltered—it was intoxicating. You shifted slightly to look back at him, and even in his sleep, he seemed to react, growling low in his throat, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words.

Something about the way he whimpered your name again, the way his fingers gripped at your hip, sent heat coursing through you. He looked so vulnerable, so utterly wrecked, even in his dreams.

“Anakin,” you murmured again, your hand slipping to his cheek, cradling his face as he nuzzled into your touch. His lips brushed against your palm, warm and damp, and he let out a low, helpless whimper that sent a jolt straight through you.

His body moved instinctively, grinding harder against your thigh as his breath hitched. His lips parted, and a soft, growling sound spilled out. He sounded… needy, desperate, like a loyal pet begging for affection.

You shifted, turning in his grasp until you were facing him fully. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and for a moment, you thought he might wake, but his dream seemed to hold him firmly in its grip. His nose pressed against your collarbone, and he let out a sharp, pleading whine, his hands gripping your hips tightly as if he needed you to ground him.

“Good boy,” you whispered, testing the words as you dragged your nails lightly over his scalp. His reaction was immediate—a low, breathy moan escaping him as he bucked against you, his face burrowing deeper into your skin like he couldn’t get close enough.

The power you held over him in this state sent heat flooding through your veins. You tilted his chin up slightly, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “What are you dreaming about, Ani?” you teased softly, your voice dripping with a mix of affection and curiosity.

He whimpered again, his lips brushing your collarbone as he murmured incoherently. It was almost like he was trying to respond, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, he let out a low, frustrated growl, his teeth grazing your skin as his hips rolled against you.

“Such a needy little puppy,” you cooed, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. His response was immediate—a sharp inhale and a keening whine that sent shivers down your spine. His reactions were so raw, so unguarded, that you couldn’t help but smile.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. “Is this what you want, Ani?” you whispered, letting your voice drop lower. “To be my good boy?”

The words seemed to pierce through his dream, his breathing hitching as his arms tightened around you. He let out a broken, needy sound, somewhere between a whine and a bark, his lips brushing against your neck in a clumsy, desperate attempt to please you even in his unconscious state.

You laughed softly, stroking his cheek as you let him unravel against you. “That’s it, good boy,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re so perfect like this.”

You couldn’t resist him like this—so vulnerable, so utterly consumed. His soft whines and needy grinding set a fire in you that demanded more. His hips rolled against your leg with a desperate rhythm, and the way his lips trembled with every exhale sent shivers down your spine.

Gently, you slid your hand lower, letting your fingers graze the waistband of his sleep pants. His body shuddered at the contact, a deep, instinctive whimper vibrating in his throat as his hips jerked toward your touch.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft and coaxing as you let your hand dip lower, brushing over the hard, twitching length beneath the fabric. His breath caught, and another sharp whine escaped him. He was still fast asleep, lost in his dream, his body completely at your mercy.

Slowly, you curled your fingers around him through the thin material, giving a gentle squeeze. His response was immediate—his hips bucked into your hand, and he let out a broken, breathless sound, his head tilting back against the pillow.

“Such a good puppy,” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. Your free hand stroked through his hair, your nails dragging lightly over his scalp as you began to move your hand, slow and deliberate. “So obedient, so perfect for me.”

Anakin whimpered, his breathing growing erratic as his body twitched under your touch. His lips parted, and a soft, pleading moan escaped, so raw and desperate that it made your heart race. He nuzzled into your neck, his nose brushing your skin as if seeking comfort.

“That’s it,” you cooed, your voice a soothing melody as your hand worked him through the fabric. “Let it all out, Ani. You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you? My perfect little puppy.”

He moaned again, the sound muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. His fingers tightened on your hips, and his legs shifted restlessly, his entire body caught in the throes of his dream.

You pressed a kiss to his temple, your lips brushing against the damp skin as you whispered, “You’re mine, Ani. My good boy, my sweet puppy.” The words seemed to soothe him, his whines softening into breathy little whimpers as he surrendered completely to your touch.

As his body trembled, you couldn’t help but smile. He was utterly lost in you, even in his dreams—a loyal, devoted pet who would do anything to please you.

[kb4g3]

Anakin is a virgin and the reader and him dry hump. Btw, I love how u write, you're the best sub Anakin writer😭

a/n: Tysm for the request!! This has been sitting in my inbox for so long- SO sorry it took me so long to get to it. Hope u enjoy! <3

CW: 18+ smut, virgin anakin, sub anakin, dry humping, cumming in pants, 683 words

Anakin's heart pounded in his chest as he lay beneath you, his inexperience and nervousness making his breaths come in shallow gasps. He had faced countless battles, yet nothing compared to the intensity of this moment. You straddled him, your thighs on either side of his hips, your eyes locked onto his with a mixture of desire and reassurance. Your hands roamed gently over his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your touch. As you leaned down to capture his lips in a deep, hungry kiss, he hesitated for a moment before responding, his lips moving tentatively against yours. Your tongues tangled, and he let out a low, breathless moan, his hands gripping your waist as he tried to keep up with your pace. Every touch, every kiss was new and overwhelming, and he felt like he was drowning in the sensation of you.

It didn’t take long for him to pop a boner, the considerable size of him poking against your inner thigh. You broke from the kiss with a smirk, eyes raking down his body to his aching cock, then back to his lust filled eyes. 

“Is that all it takes to turn you on, Ani?” you asked teasingly. Anakin looked away, face turning bright red at your taunting stare. 

"I-I can't help it," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands moved nervously on your waist, fingers twitching as if unsure where to rest.

You chuckled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, making your way to his ear. "It's okay," you murmured, your breath hot against his skin. "I like knowing I can do this to you."

He shivered under your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as you trailed kisses down his neck. Anakin's hands tightened on your hips, his breath hitching with each teasing touch. "What... what should I do?" he asked, voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Just relax," you whispered, nipping at his earlobe. "Let me take care of you."

You rocked your hips gently against his, feeling his hardness press against you through the fabric. Anakin's breath hitched, and his hands instinctively tried to guide your movements, though he was still unsure. You could feel his uncertainty, his desire to please you even though he didn’t know how.

"You're doing great, Ani," you reassured him, reaching down to guide his hands back to your hips. "Just follow my lead."

You slowly ground your hips against his, eliciting a deep groan from him. His eyes opened, filled with a mixture of awe and desire as he watched you move. "F-feels so good" he breathed, his hands tentatively exploring the curve of your waist, the softness of your skin.

You smiled, leaning down to capture his lips again. The kiss was deeper this time, more confident as Anakin started to respond with growing eagerness. You could feel him slowly letting go of his hesitation, his hands roaming more freely, though still somewhat shyly.

You trailed kisses to his jaw, sucking deep purple marks as you made your way to his neck. Anakin whimpered in response, thrusting his hips in time with your own. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppier. “You gonna cum, Ani?” you asked, breathless from your own approaching orgasm. 

Anakin could only nod his head and whine, the building sensation he felt in his stomach too overwhelming for him to form words. “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

And with that, Anakin let out a loud, strangled moan as he spilled himself into his pants, his body trembling beneath you as waves of pleasure washed over him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his orgasm, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You watched him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you slowed your movements, allowing him to come down from his high. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your fingers threading through his hair. "You did so well, Ani."

[kb4g3]

This was… inspiring🙌🏼

bro code - smau masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

synopsis: you're Barry's little sister, and he takes the bro code very seriously...

parts 𖤓

one

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eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

[more to come]

taglist

[kb4g3]

Hi girlie!! I’ve been looking everywhere for some Hayden x actress!reader with age gap but there’s nowhere to be found, so who’s better than my favourite hay writer to bring it to life

Skywalker’s Padawan

Summary: After nearly a year apart, you reunite with Hayden Christensen on the set of a new Star Wars project — he’s playing Anakin, and you’re cast as Ahsoka, his padawan. Long hours of training and dangerously close fight scenes lead to explosive tension behind the scenes.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x fem!actress!Reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Warnings: NSFW / Explicit sexual content (18+), Age gap, Power imbalance (mentor/padawan dynamic, slight teacher/student tone), Costume kink (Anakin x Ahsoka roleplay), Light dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, possessiveness, Mentions of reader fantasizing about Hayden/ROTS Anakin, Use of “Master” during sex, Mild degradation/brat taming, Mutual obsession, emotional tension, post-sex vulnerability

You weren’t supposed to see him this soon.

Not like this — not with your script clutched in one hand and your nerves threatening to burst out of your skin-tight sweatshirt. But there he is, across the rehearsal space, standing tall and golden and effortlessly older, just like the version of him you memorized all those months ago. Hayden.

Hayden Christensen.

You feel eighteenth again, even though you’re not. Not anymore. You’re nineteen now, barely, but it doesn’t matter — not with how he’s looking at you from across the room, head tilted slightly, smile already forming like a reflex. His hair’s shorter than last time. Tighter jawline. Broader shoulders. There’s scruff on his face and something softer in his eyes — like he recognizes you before you even make it all the way across.

“Hey, starlet,” he says as you approach, and your stomach flips.

“Hey, Skywalker,” you answer, instantly wanting to bite your tongue. He laughs, though — the warm, low kind that settles straight between your legs.

“You really pulled off the Ahsoka thing, huh?” His gaze slides down. You’re not even in costume yet, but you know what he means. Your casting was controversial. Young. Too new. And yet, you’re standing here, holding the script that says Padawan Tano on the cover, and you’re damn proud of it.

You lift your chin. “You doubted me?”

He raises a brow, full of that quiet, cocky charm. “Let’s just say I wasn’t sure how anyone could make those lekku work.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “You mean the tentacle head thing?”

“I mean the tentacle head thing.” He grins. “But I’ll admit, you’ve got the attitude for it.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

And just like that, you fall back into it. That rhythm the two of you had last year when you shot your first film together — the playful banter, the stolen looks, the way he always lingered just a little too long when he handed you your coffee. Back then, you thought you were just imagining it. The heat. The closeness. The barely-there tension that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

But now, after a year apart?

It’s worse.

So much worse.

“Can you believe we’re actually doing this?” you ask, eyes scanning the sprawling set. Lightsaber props on the wall. Replica Star Destroyer blueprints on the table. “This is insane.”

He hums, nodding. “It feels… surreal. Being back in this world. Especially with someone new.”

You look up at him. “You mean me?”

He nods. “Yeah. You. My padawan.”

Your breath catches. My padawan. You didn’t expect to hear it said like that. Not in his voice — low and smooth, teasing just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You cover it with a smirk. “Careful. That sounded kinda possessive.”

He tilts his head, smirking right back. “Maybe I meant it that way.”

You swallow. Suddenly your script feels way too hot in your hand.

Before you can reply, the director calls the team to start the read-through. You follow Hayden to the table, heart hammering as he holds the seat out for you. Gentlemanly. Just like last time.

But when you sit down, his hand brushes the back of your arm — intentional, lingering, maybe just a second too long.

Yep. It’s definitely worse this time.

You flip open your script and try to focus. Try to ignore the way his thigh presses close to yours beneath the table, or how his voice deepens when he reads Anakin’s lines. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore — he is Anakin. Commanding. Dark. Distracted by something he’s not allowed to want.

And you?

You’re his apprentice now.

Forbidden.

Of course they cast you as the girl who gets too close to the man with too much power. Of course you said yes.

You glance at Hayden between scenes. He catches you looking — and smiles like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You shift in your seat.

You are so screwed.

The stunt coordinator explains the sequence again, but you’re barely listening. Because Hayden’s standing behind you, one arm lightly around your waist as he adjusts your stance — and suddenly you forget what the hell a lightsaber even is.

“Too stiff,” he murmurs, voice brushing the shell of your ear. “Relax your knees.”

“I am relaxed,” you mutter, which is a lie. You’re trembling. Inside and out.

“No, you’re ready to bolt like a scared padawan.” He chuckles. “Which, I guess, is accurate.”

You twist slightly in his grip to glare up at him. “I’m not scared.”

His hand stays right where it is — resting low, dangerously low, on your waist. You can feel his fingers press through the thin training tunic. Can feel the heat of his chest behind you. He’s close. Too close.

“Prove it, then,” he says. “Come at me.”

It’s half-challenge, half-flirt. You step out of his grip, flick your saber on, and swing for his shoulder — slow, like the pre-rehearsed choreography — but there’s a flicker of playfulness in your eyes he doesn’t miss.

He blocks easily. “Weak.”

“Says the guy who just got schooled by a nineteen-year-old.”

His brow lifts. “Oh, we’re mouthing off now?”

You smirk. “Always.”

He lunges forward unexpectedly, forcing you back — his saber locked with yours, sparks of faux plasma crackling between you. He’s grinning. You’re giggling. The stunt coordinator calls out a direction, but neither of you are really listening anymore. You’re dancing with each other. Toying. His movements are fluid, predatory. Yours are quick and reckless.

Your foot slips.

You fall.

But you don’t hit the mat.

Hayden catches you around the waist and pulls you right into his chest. Your hands are braced against his chest plate. His face is inches from yours. His breath fans over your cheek. And suddenly, there’s silence.

Complete.

Fucking.

Silence.

“Careful,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t always catch you.”

You swallow. “Guess I’ll have to practice mounting you better next time.”

Oh my god, did you just say that out loud?

His lips twitch — equal parts amusement and something much darker. “You’re not even subtle about it, are you?”

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “About what?”

“How badly you want me to fuck you over the training mat.”

You gasp, a little breathy sound you weren’t ready to let out. Your legs squeeze together instinctively. He’s still holding you — arms solid around your waist, fingers digging in slightly. He’s breathing heavier too now, and you’re close enough to feel it against your chest.

“You’re imagining it, old man,” you tease, trying to break the moment.

But he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t call me that,” he says, voice low.

You arch a brow. “Why not? Sensitive?”

He leans closer, lips just shy of your ear. “Keep running that mouth, and I’ll give you something to choke on.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh — one that turns into a quiet whimper as his thigh nudges between your legs. You’re still in costume, still on set, and still entirely too aware of the eyes around you. But his touch is subtle. Controlled.

Possessive.

“Still think you’re the one in control?” you whisper.

His eyes rake over you. “You haven’t seen me lose control yet.”

The stunt coordinator clears his throat loudly. “Okay, lovebirds — let’s reset from the top.”

You both freeze.

Hayden smirks and slowly, very slowly, lets go of your waist. But not before letting his fingers skim over the small of your back, like a promise.

You step away on unsteady legs, cheeks burning, breath shallow, lightsaber still humming in your grip.

You are so not surviving this show.

The rehearsal ends, but the ache in your body doesn’t.

Your thighs are sore. Your palms are sweaty. Your lips are swollen — from biting them, from holding back every filthy little sound that wanted to spill out when he pressed into you. Hayden didn’t even kiss you. And yet your underwear’s soaked.

You should go straight to your trailer. You should shower. Cool off. Not follow him toward the dressing rooms like you’re hypnotized.

But you do.

And when you push the door open without knocking, you freeze.

He’s shirtless.

Back turned to you, sweaty hair clinging to the nape of his neck. His body is unreal — solid, tanned, marked with that perfect balance of age and strength. Veins down his arms. Defined muscles flexing as he undoes the belt on his costume pants.

You mean to say something. You really do.

But you’re staring. And he knows it.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” he says, not turning around.

“I—” You swallow. “Forgot something.”

He glances over his shoulder. One brow lifts. “What exactly?”

Your mouth moves before your brain can stop it.

“You.”

There’s a pause.

Then — “Careful.”

He turns slowly, and your breath stutters.

His pants are still on, just barely. The black Jedi trousers hang low on his hips. The belt is undone, hanging loose, and the outline of his cock is very apparent. Hard. Straining. Thick.

You blink. “Oh my God.”

“What?” His voice is dry, teasing, like he already knows.

You take a step closer, eyes shamelessly dragging down his body. “It’s like a lightsaber in your pants.”

His head tilts. He smiles — just barely.

Then he steps toward you.

Two steps. Three. And now his chest is nearly flush with yours, sweat and musk and man, radiating heat.

“You think that’s funny?” he asks.

“No,” you whisper, eyes wide. “I think it’s hot.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep it together. His eyes flick down — to your Ahsoka tunic, to the painted lekku over your shoulders, to your trembling fingers that are not holding your script anymore.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, but his hands betray him — already reaching, brushing your waist. “You shouldn’t—fuck.”

You press closer.

“Why?” you ask sweetly. “Afraid your padawan might make you lose control?”

His hands grip tighter, fingers digging into your sides like he might actually lift you onto the vanity behind you and ruin you right here. But he doesn’t.

Yet.

“You’re nineteen,” he growls.

“And you’re forty-four. That’s the hottest part.”

He stares at you.

You stare back.

There’s heat in your chest, wetness between your legs, and so much electricity in the air it feels like you’re already sparking. You reach up, fingers grazing the sweat at his jaw.

“I had a poster of ROTS Anakin in my room, you know,” you say quietly.

That gets his attention. His jaw tightens.

“Used to stare at it. Touch myself to it.”

His hand flies to your wrist.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“Why not?” You’re breathless now, drunk on the way his fingers wrap around you. “I was obsessed with that version of you. But this one?”

You lean in, brushing your mouth just under his jaw.

“I like DILF Anakin better.”

He groans.

Loud. Deep. Feral.

His other hand grips the back of your neck and slams his mouth against yours.

Finally.

His lips are rough, desperate, devouring. You whimper against him as his tongue slides into your mouth, claiming you, destroying you. Your back hits the wall — hard — and he cages you in, hips grinding forward.

You feel it.

His cock. Pressed thick and hot against your stomach.

You grind up against it without thinking. His hands fly to your hips, dragging you closer, practically lifting you into him.

“You know what you’re doing,” he growls into your mouth.

You nod, breathless. “So do you.”

“You want this?”

You whimper, “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me in this costume.”

He groans again — deeper this time — and spins you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, his chest flush against your back. His hand rips at the clasps of your belt. Your lekku brush his cheek as he leans down, biting your shoulder.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he rasps.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the day we met.” You moan.

And then he freezes — hands fisting the fabric at your hips, breath shaky.

“Say it again,” he murmurs. “Say you want me.”

You push back against his cock, grinding.

“I want you, Master.”

His breath catches.

“Fuck.”

He pulls you back from the wall like you weigh nothing.

One arm tight around your waist, the other yanking you by the hip until you’re pressed to the front of him, your ass grinding right against the thick bulge in his pants.

Still in costume.

Still dripping for him.

“Fuck, you don’t even realize how bad this is,” he growls, dragging your back tight to his chest. “You dressed like that. Calling me Master.”

You arch into him with a grin, eyes fluttering shut as his hands roam — over the sharp curves of your belt, up the stiff Ahsoka armor, down again, rough and greedy.

“You love it,” you breathe.

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you do.”

He grabs your chin and turns your face so you’re looking up at him over your shoulder. His eyes are wild. His mouth, swollen from kissing you raw.

“You shouldn’t talk to me like that.”

You lick your lips. “Why not? Afraid you’ll snap?”

He shoves you forward, and your palms slam into the vanity counter. The lights are still on — bright and blinding. Mirrors on every wall. Nowhere to hide. You look up and see yourself in full costume — lekku, face paint, tight orange mesh bodysuit underneath armor plates — flushed and panting.

And behind you, Hayden. Or — no.

Anakin.

Shirtless, pants low, cock thick and straining under the fabric, pressed against your backside.

He leans in, whispering against your ear, “You know what Padawans get when they disobey?”

You gasp when his fingers slip between your thighs. Still clothed. Still over the mesh. But he feels the wet spot instantly.

“Fuck. Look at that. You’re soaked for me, aren’t you?”

You nod frantically. His fingers press harder.

“Say it.”

“I’m soaked for you, Master.”

His growl is dangerous.

And then he starts unbuckling your armor — not careful, not gentle. He strips you like he’s unwrapping something precious and can’t wait another second. First your belt, then the molded chest plate, then the gloves. Each piece clatters to the ground like he doesn’t give a single fuck who hears.

“You shouldn’t wear this around me,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. “This little mesh thing? You think that’s funny?”

You glance at him in the mirror, smirking. “I think it’s distracting.”

“Oh, it is.”

He yanks the mesh down, exposing your bare chest, and groans at the sight of your nipples hardening in the cold air. He cups one breast, rolling his thumb over the peak, making you arch.

Then you whisper the line you’ve been saving.

“Oh, what would Padmé say if she found out her husband is fucking his padawan?”

He snaps.

He grabs a fistful of your lekku, yanks your head back, and laughed into your neck biting it softly.

You moan — loud, filthy — as he drags his other hand down your stomach and slips inside the mesh bodysuit between your legs. His fingers find your clit instantly, slick and needy, and you buck against him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he grits out, voice deep in your ear. “This isn’t from sparring. This is from me. From looking at me like you want to be used.”

“I do,” you gasp. “I want it.”

He shoves two fingers inside you without warning.

You cry out, eyes rolling back, hips jerking.

His grip on your lekku tightens.

“You wanted to fuck Anakin Skywalker so bad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, writhing on his fingers. “Ever since I saw you swing that lightsaber—”

He pumps harder. Faster. It’s almost mean.

“You used to fuck yourself thinking about it? On your little twin bed? With my poster on your wall?”

Your head lolls back. “Yes, Master—fuck—I wanted it so bad.”

“You like this version better?” he growls. “The older one? DILF Anakin?”

“Yes—oh my god yes—”

He pulls his fingers out and shoves them into your mouth.

“Taste how ready you are.”

You suck them greedily, eyes wide, tongue wrapping around his knuckles. He watches, growling low in his throat, cock twitching against your ass.

Then he pulls away — only long enough to yank his pants down, letting his cock spring free, flushed and thick and huge.

You stare at it in the mirror, mouth falling open.

“Still think it’s just a lightsaber in my pants?” he huffs, lining himself up behind you.

“No,” you whimper. “This one’s real.”

And then he presses the tip to your entrance.

You lose it.

“Breathe,” he mutters behind you, the swollen head of his cock slipping through your soaked folds. “You’re tight. Gotta relax.”

You brace yourself on the vanity. “I am relaxed.”

“No,” he grits, hand gripping your hip. “You’re shaking.”

Because he’s huge.

Because this is real.

Because Hayden fucking Christensen — no, Anakin — is about to take you from behind while you’re still half-dressed as Ahsoka Tano. In a bright-lit dressing room. In front of a mirror that’s about to show you everything.

And you want it so bad you could cry.

“Please,” you whisper. “Put it in.”

He growls — actually growls — and pushes forward.

The stretch is unbearable. Perfect. His cock fills you slow, so fucking thick you feel it in your stomach, your spine, your throat. Your eyes roll back.

“Oh my god—”

“You feel that?” he snarls against your shoulder, buried halfway. “That’s what happens when you mouth off to your Master.”

You whimper, back arching, hands clutching the edge of the vanity as he bottoms out — all of him, deep and hot and pulsing inside you.

You’ve never felt so full in your life.

He stays still for a second, like he’s savoring it.

Then he moves.

The first thrust knocks the breath out of your lungs. The second makes you moan loud. And the third — rough and punishing — has your head hitting the mirror.

“Fuck—Hayden—Master—”

“That’s it,” he pants, pounding into you now, hips slamming against your ass. “Say it again.”

“Master—please—fuck—”

“You like getting fucked in costume?” His hand tangles in your lekku again, tugging until your back arches like a bow. “You like this dirty little fantasy?”

“Yes, yes—fuck yes—”

He drags your gaze up to the mirror. “Look at you.”

You do.

You see yourself — sweaty, flushed, mouth open. Armor still half-on. Lekku swinging with every thrust. And behind you, him. Muscles flexing, hair wild, eyes dark.

“Look at how filthy you are,” he growls. “My perfect little padawan.”

Your legs almost give out.

But he holds you steady — one hand between your shoulder blades, the other slipping down your front. His fingers find your clit and rub hard, in rhythm with every thrust of his cock.

“You gonna come for your Master?”

You nod frantically. “I’m close—fuck—it’s so much—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, biting your shoulder. “I know.”

His hips start to stutter. You feel him swell, get even deeper. The filthy slap of skin-on-skin fills the room, echoing alongside your high, desperate moans.

Then—

“I’m coming,” you cry out, thighs trembling.

“Let go,” he groans. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

You do.

Your whole body spasms — every muscle tightening, vision going white. You cry out loud, the orgasm ripping through you like a force quake.

And then—

“Fuck,” he snarls, slamming into you hard, once, twice—

And he comes.

Hot, thick spurts flood your pussy, his cock twitching deep inside as he spills everything into you, hips grinding to prolong it. He buries his face in your shoulder and moans like a man who hasn’t had this in years.

You’re shaking. Both of you are.

It takes minutes for the room to stop spinning.

When he finally pulls out, you gasp — from the emptiness, from the aftershocks, from the mess dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around and lifts you onto the vanity like it’s instinct.

You blink up at him, dazed. He brushes your hair back gently, one thumb stroking your cheek, still breathless.

“Fuck,” he says softly, almost to himself. “What did we just do?”

You smile.

“The galaxy’s worst crime.”

[kb4g3]

Im begging for young Hayden smut 🙏

2000 years I mean

Fangirl In Yellow Ferrari

Summary: You never planned on staying long at the Malibu beach party. Just long enough to snap a few shots for your portfolio and maybe catch something real through your lens. What you didn’t expect was a yellow Ferrari… or the man leaning against it — Hayden Christensen. Celebrity you've been dreaming about every night.

Pairing: 2000s Hayden Christensen x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), fingering, clothed grinding, vaginal sex (unprotected), dirty talk, power imbalance (celebrity x fangirl), light aftercare, fangirl energy, public setting (parked car), use of "baby"/"mine," smutty fluff ending.

Note: Written to the song Yellow Ferrari — The Toxic Avenger

The air was thick with salt and summer sweat, mingling with the faint scent of sunscreen and bonfires. Malibu’s beach party pulsed with a careless energy — laughter spilling over waves of music, a kaleidoscope of bodies tangled on the sand. But for you, the chaos felt more like static, an echo drowning out the quiet you were searching for.

Your camera hung heavy around your neck, its strap digging into sun-warmed skin. You moved through the crowd, lens lifted, hoping to catch something real. Someone who wasn’t just posing for the ‘Gram or shouting over the bass. But every frame you shot felt flat, forced — nothing like the pictures you dreamed of capturing. Faces blurred, smiles too wide, the scene too crowded to breathe.

The ocean glittered beyond, but even the tide seemed restless tonight. You slipped past groups of shouting friends and flashing phones, edging away from the congested shore. The salty breeze tangled your hair, drawing you toward the quieter edges of the beach.

And then, there it was.

Parked alone against the backdrop of the sun dipping low, a yellow Ferrari gleamed like a beacon. The paint caught every last ray of gold, its curves sculpted perfectly in the fading light. It was out of place here — too polished, too sleek — but somehow, it made the whole scene feel electric.

You raised your camera instinctively, fingers tightening around the grip as you framed the shot. The gleaming hood, the way the light stretched across the windshield, the faint shimmer of ocean spray in the air — this was what you were after. The kind of beauty that didn’t shout but held you in its quiet spell.

Click. Click. Click.

You lost yourself in the rhythm, each picture a small rebellion against the noise behind you. Time seemed to slow as the sky turned softer shades of amber and rose, the world shrinking down to this single, golden moment.

Suddenly, a voice cut through your focus, smooth and casual.

“Yeah, I also like this car. It’s stunning.”

You nearly dropped your camera. Heart thumping, you turned to face him — the man leaning casually against the driver’s side door, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes amused but warm. His face was familiar, almost too familiar: sharp cheekbones, intense eyes that held stories behind them. The kind of face you’d seen in magazines, on movie posters, but here he was — real and close, like a secret you’d been waiting to uncover. 

Someone you know well.

You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

He shrugged with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. Can’t leave a pretty thing like that all alone, can I?”

You glanced back at the Ferrari, then at him. “I’m a photographer. Thought I’d try and capture the light.”

He nodded slowly, eyes drifting over your camera. “Mind if I see some?”

For a moment, you hesitated — but then something in his tone made you feel less like a starstruck fan and more like an equal. You flipped the screen around to show him a few shots, his gaze sharpening with interest.

“Not bad,” he said quietly, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle. “You’ve got a good eye.”

You smiled, the tension easing. “Thanks. Would you… maybe want some pictures of you with the car? It’s not every day you see something this perfect parked at a beach party.”

He laughed softly, a sound that settled around you like warmth. “Sure. Let’s make it interesting.”

You followed him around the Ferrari, adjusting angles, finding the right light as the sun slipped lower. He posed like a natural — easy, confident, but with a flicker of something else behind his eyes, like he was letting you in on a secret.

Between shots, you caught glimpses of a smile, a teasing glance. The kind that said he was enjoying this — the attention, the moment, maybe even you.

You tried not to show the slight trembling of your hands. After all, you knew exactly who this man was.

Then, casually — too casually — he tilted his head toward the car and asked,

“Wanna go for a ride?”

You blinked, still caught in your camera’s viewfinder. “In that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into the front pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a slim black key fob. With a quiet click, the yellow Ferrari chirped, headlights flashing once in confirmation.

Your jaw actually dropped.

He just smirked, sliding the key back into his pocket like he hadn’t just set your entire pulse on fire. “Yeah,” he said, lazy and cool. “She’s mine.”

You stared at him, genuinely stunned. Honestly? You don't even know why. “That’s your car?”

Hayden lifted a brow like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why else would I be standing here waiting for you to take its picture?”

You laughed, half-nervous, half-delighted. “I thought you were just… loitering with really good timing.”

“I mean, yeah. But with style.” He tilted his head toward the passenger door. “You coming, or are you just gonna keep photographing her like you’re in love?”

Your fingers tightened around the camera. “I kind of am in love.”

“Damn,” he said, moving to the driver’s side. “Now I’m jealous of a car.”

You hesitated for only half a second — then something clicked inside you. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the way he was smiling like he already knew the answer. Maybe it was just Malibu air, tasting like salt and rebellion.

You slid into the passenger seat, and the door closed with a satisfying thump.

Inside, everything smelled like leather and heat, sun-soaked and rich. You sank into the seat, still gripping your camera like a safety net, trying not to let your brain melt into the upholstery.

Hayden glanced over at you, hand on the gear shift. “Seatbelt.”

The word landed somewhere between a warning and a promise. You fumbled with the buckle, hands suddenly clumsy, pulse loud in your ears.

He didn’t start the car right away.

Instead, Hayden leaned back in the driver’s seat, arm draped over the wheel, watching you with that slow, unreadable gaze. The silence stretched — thick with something unspoken — and when you turned to glance at him, you almost flinched at how close he was.

His voice, when it came, was low. Velvet and heat.

“So… you a car girl,” he murmured, “or was it me you were taking pictures of?”

You huffed a laugh, eyes flicking toward the windshield. “Bit of both.”

“Mm.” He smirked, eyes still on you. “Thought so.”

The Ferrari purred to life, a deep, masculine sound that vibrated through the seats and straight into your bones. He shifted into gear and pulled onto the coastal road like he owned it — one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the space between you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his skin.

Malibu’s lights blurred by in streaks of gold and blue. Music thrummed low from the stereo — some sultry, unfamiliar beat that felt too in sync with your pulse.

You tried to focus on the view — ocean to the left, city to the right — but it was impossible with him sitting next to you. Hayden Christensen, in the flesh. You’d crushed on him in high school. Watched Clone wars mostly for him. Oh and you saw Revenge of the Sith five times in theaters. Had a poster on your dorm wall you used to pretend you didn’t look at every time you changed clothes.

Now here he was. In a car that cost more than your college degree, driving like sin itself, glancing over like he knew every single thought in your head.

“I’ve seen that look before,” he said suddenly, lips quirking.

You blinked. “What look?”

He shot you a sidelong glance, slow and smug. “The one you’re trying not to give me.”

You laughed, nervous. “And what look is that?”

“The ‘I’m not gonna act like a fangirl, but I definitely used to imagine this exact scenario’ look.”

Your stomach dropped. He was too good at this. Too casual. It made you want to crawl into yourself — or crawl right into his lap.

You didn’t say anything at first, just stared ahead, pretending the leather seat wasn’t making your thighs sweat.

Hayden turned onto a quieter road, lined with tall hedges and empty beach houses, the kind of road people used when they wanted to disappear for a little while.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said softly, eyes still forward. “It’s kind of sweet.”

You swallowed hard. “What is?”

He finally looked at you again — and this time, his expression wasn’t teasing.

“The way you’re trying so hard to be chill around me,” he said. “Like you don’t want me to know how badly you’re feeling this.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The air between you seemed to shrink.

“I’m not—” you started, then stopped, because lying felt impossible when he was looking at you like that.

He smiled again, softer now, something in his face shifting. “It’s okay. I think it’s hot.”

Your thighs pressed together before you could stop them.

“I mean it,” he said, voice dipping even lower. “You, all nervous and flushed in my passenger seat? Kinda the best part of this day for me.”

You hated how good that made you feel. Hated the way your body betrayed you — the way your skin felt too hot, too tight. You clenched your hands in your lap and stared out the window like it might save you.

It didn’t.

Especially not when he said, almost too casually, “What’s your name?”

You told him. Voice barely above a whisper.

He said it back like he was tasting it. Like he might need it later when his head was between your thighs.

“Pretty,” he murmured.

And then — god help you — his fingers brushed your bare knee.

You startled a little, but didn’t move away.

“You okay?” he asked, too smooth, too knowing.

You nodded, breath stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

His hand stayed there, resting lightly, like he wasn’t doing anything. But every nerve in your body was screaming — because you knew what this was. It was permission. It was heat. It was the slowest, dirtiest flirtation you’d ever endured.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said softly, fingers curling just a little. “Otherwise…”

He dragged his hand up, up — over your thigh, beneath the hem of your skirt, slow enough to give you time to say no.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because the tension had built into something unbearable — something electric and desperate and real. You weren’t just a girl with a camera anymore. You were his focus. 

His fingers paused just beneath the hem of your skirt — resting, waiting — like he wasn’t touching you at all, and yet your body knew exactly where he was.

The road hummed beneath the tires. Trees and shadows slid past, but none of it existed now. It was just you and Hayden, your name still warm on his tongue.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, not looking at you. His hand pressed just slightly into your inner thigh, like he already knew the answer.

“I’m fine,” you lied, breath catching.

He smirked, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Yeah. That’s what they all say.”

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of the ache of his touch, the weight of your wanting.

Then, with no warning, he flicked the turn signal and pulled sharply onto a narrow dirt path that disappeared between a thicket of trees. The car crunched over gravel, headlights slicing through the dark. He parked beneath the wide, overhanging branches of a cypress, ocean waves faint in the distance.

The engine cut. Everything went still.

Except your heartbeat.

You turned to him, pulse thudding in your ears. “Why’d we stop?”

He unbuckled his seatbelt with one hand, slow and deliberate, and then turned to you with the kind of look that makes your stomach drop.

“You really need me to spell it out?”

Your breath hitched.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he went on, voice low, steady, wrecking. “From the second I caught you taking those pictures — biting your lip like you weren’t dying to know what it’d feel like if I touched you.”

He leaned in a little, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

“I’ve seen that look before. But you?” His lips curled into a dark smile. “You’re trying so hard not to fall apart. And it’s turning me the fuck on.”

You didn’t realize how hard you were clenching your thighs until his hand slipped higher, fingers now resting just beneath the edge of your underwear. Barely there. Just pressure. Just presence.

You gasped softly, breath fogging the window beside you.

Hayden’s eyes flicked down, watching the way your chest rose and fell. His hand moved higher, his fingertips now skimming heat and cotton and trembling skin.

He leaned in. “C’mere.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come sit on my lap.”

The words made your stomach twist.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he added, voice gentler now. “But if you’ve been dreaming about this even half as much as I have since I saw that camera in your hands, you’ll stop pretending.”

You stared at him.

And then… you moved.

Wordless. Breathless. Like gravity pulled you toward him.

You climbed over the console slowly, one knee between his legs, then the other, your skirt riding up as you settled onto his lap. The Ferrari’s seat was deep, the leather creaking under your shifting weight. Hayden’s hands caught your hips immediately — firm, possessive, like he’d been waiting all damn night to touch you like this.

You didn’t even realize how wet you were until the pressure of your body against his thigh made you gasp.

He felt it.

You knew he did, because he groaned — low, rough, from the chest.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he whispered, eyes locked on your face. “Already soaked for me.”

Your cheeks burned. You dropped your eyes, but he tipped your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, voice thick. “You don’t get to hide now.”

You squirmed, the friction of your panties against his jeans maddening.

He hissed. “Keep doing that.”

You moved again — a slow, desperate grind against the ridge of his thigh, heat sparking in your belly. His hands gripped your ass, guiding your motion, dragging you over him just hard enough to make you want to cry.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Use me.”

You whimpered, forehead pressing into his shoulder, but he wasn’t done.

“You ever ride someone like this before?” he asked, right against your ear. “Still dressed? So fucking needy you can’t wait?”

You shook your head.

He chuckled darkly. “Of course not.”

His voice dropped to a rasp. “You’re gonna make yourself come like this, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe. Your hips kept moving — slow, tight circles that made your whole body ache. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, could feel the shape of him through the denim, and it made you reckless.

“Say it,” he growled, hand sliding up your back. “Tell me you’re close.”

“I—” your voice broke. “I am.”

“Good.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging your face close to his. “Then come for me.”

His mouth was right there, lips brushing yours, breath warm and heavy.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Make a mess on my fucking lap.”

And god help you — you did.

Your whole body clenched, pleasure hitting hard and fast, thighs shaking around him as your hips jerked. You muffled the moan against his neck, but he felt it. All of it.

He held you through it, grinding you down just enough to draw it out, to tease the edges of overstimulation. His hands were everywhere — cupping, stroking, soothing and wicked all at once.

When you finally stilled, shaking and breathless, he leaned back just enough to look at you.

“Still think you’re gonna play it cool around me?” he asked, smiling like he already knew the answer.

You gave a breathless laugh, pressing your forehead to his again.

He let you rest there, one hand stroking your thigh gently, the other tracing your spine.

“I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he murmured.

You blinked. Pulled back slightly.

And then… he did.

Slow. Deep. Tongue sweeping your bottom lip before sliding inside, tasting every breathless, trembling part of you. The kiss wasn’t hurried — it was intentional. Like he was claiming it. Claiming you.

When he finally pulled back, he licked your lip like he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered.

And the worst — or best — part?

You didn’t want him to be.

Your head was still spinning when he kissed you again — slower this time, like he wanted to taste what he just did to you.

Hayden’s hand slid beneath your skirt, palm warm against your trembling thigh. He didn’t move higher. Not yet. He just held you there, grounding you in that soft, dizzying afterglow.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

You nodded, cheek pressed to his shoulder. “That was…”

“I know,” he said, and you could feel the smirk in his voice. “Didn’t even need to take your panties off. Look what I do to you.”

You could barely breathe, let alone argue.

He slid his hand further — fingertips grazing the wettest part of you through the soaked cotton of your underwear. He stilled for a moment, exhaling a rough sound into the shell of your ear.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

Your breath hitched, thighs twitching under his palm.

“Open your legs for me, baby.”

The words were soft. Not a command, but a request wrapped in velvet — the kind of thing that made your whole body obey before your brain caught up. You shifted in his lap, knees spreading as far as the car would allow. His eyes dropped instantly, fixated on the sight of you perched there, open for him, trembling and wrecked.

He brought one hand to your jaw, tilting your face up, kissing you slow while the other slid beneath the edge of your panties.

Skin to skin.

He groaned into your mouth the second his fingers found your slick folds.

“Fuck. You really came for me, didn’t you?”

You whimpered, hips bucking gently, your body begging for more.

“Look at you,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours. “All wet and pretty in my lap, like you were made for this.”

You gasped as his fingers dipped between your folds — slow, deliberate, teasing your entrance but never pushing inside. Just tracing, circling, feeling everything.

“Bet you’ve thought about this,” he whispered. “Touching yourself in bed, thinking about me.”

Your breath caught.

“You have, haven’t you?” His voice dropped an octave, a dark rasp that made your toes curl. “In that cute little bed of yours, late at night… pretending it was my fingers instead of yours.”

You nodded before you could stop yourself.

He exhaled sharply — like the confession did something dangerous to him.

“How often?” he asked, dragging his fingers slowly over your clit, not pressing down, just enough to make your hips twitch. “How many times have you made yourself come thinking about me?”

Your voice broke. “Too many.”

That made him grin. His mouth ghosted over yours. “Filthy little fangirl.”

His fingers circled your clit again, this time with pressure, and your whole body arched in response.

“Hayden—”

“Shhh,” he soothed, slipping two fingers just inside you — slow, stretching you open while his thumb kept working soft, wet circles above. “Let me make it better.”

You cried out softly, biting down on your lip, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

He watched you — eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every moan, every trembling breath.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, fingers sliding deeper, curling just enough to make your eyes roll back. “God, I wish I could fuck you right here. Want you bouncing on my cock in this seat — windows fogged up, this skirt around your waist, moaning my name so loud the whole fucking beach hears.”

You clenched around him, hips moving on instinct.

“You like that?” he whispered. “You want me to ruin you in my car?”

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word.

His mouth was back on your neck — kissing, licking, biting — as his fingers fucked you slowly, working you open while his thumb kept flicking over your clit in maddening little circles.

It was too much. Not enough. Everything at once.

You were panting now, face flushed, thighs shaking in his lap.

“You close again?” he asked, voice like smoke.

You nodded, a whimper breaking from your lips.

“Then give it to me,” he whispered, voice trembling with restraint. “I want to feel you fall apart on my fingers. Come for me again, baby.”

You shattered — legs locking around his waist, hips grinding helplessly as your climax hit like a wave, rolling through you in hot, dizzying pulses.

He kissed you through it — deep and messy, your moans swallowed into his mouth.

You collapsed against his chest, trembling, breathless, and completely undone.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close like he meant it.

After a long, quiet moment, he spoke — voice softer now, but still full of heat.

“I told you I wasn’t done with you.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh. “You really weren’t.”

He kissed your cheek. “This was just the warm-up.”

You were still catching your breath, body limp against his chest, when you felt it — the thick press of him beneath you. Hard. Unforgiving. Straining against his jeans.

He hadn’t moved much. Just sat there quietly, letting you fall apart in his arms. But now?

Now his hands slid up your back, under your shirt, palms warm against your bare skin.

His mouth brushed your ear.

“You’re not leaving here without knowing how good you feel around me.”

You whimpered, hips shifting instinctively in his lap — and the friction made you both hiss.

“I want it,” you whispered, the words shaky, your voice barely yours. “Please.”

He exhaled hard, like he’d been holding it in this whole time.

“Say it again,” he murmured, both hands sliding down your spine. “Slower.”

You swallowed. Looked him dead in the eyes. “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened — something raw and hungry flickering to the surface.

Without a word, Hayden reached for the seat controls and pushed the backrest down, reclining both of you until you were sprawled across the leather, your body draped over his. The sudden movement had your skirt hiking higher, baring the tops of your thighs, your ruined panties clinging to you like a second skin.

He shifted underneath you, unbuckling his jeans with one hand, lifting his hips to slide them down just enough — and then he gripped your hips again, positioning you right over him.

“Look at me,” he rasped.

You did. Your eyes locked, wide and wanting.

Hayden hooked two fingers into your underwear and dragged them aside, baring you completely. His cock nudged against your slick entrance — hot, thick, unrelenting.

He held there. Didn’t move. Just rubbed the head slowly between your folds, gathering your wetness, teasing you both until you were nearly sobbing with need.

“You sure?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yes.”

Still, he didn’t rush.

Instead, he gripped your hips tighter, guiding you down… slowly.

The head pushed inside, stretching you open inch by inch.

You cried out softly — not in pain, but from how deep he already felt. How real it was now.

Hayden’s breath caught. “Fuck, baby.”

He was watching you again — your eyes fluttering, your lips parted, your body swallowing him whole.

You sank lower, his cock stretching you further, your walls clenching around him in slow pulses.

When your hips finally met his, when he was buried all the way inside you, he let out a long, low groan that sounded like it had been building in him for years.

You froze there for a moment, both of you barely breathing.

Then he spoke — voice rough, reverent.

“Feel that?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

“That’s how deep I am,” he whispered. “I’m fucking inside you.”

Your walls fluttered around him at the words, and he felt it.

“Oh, fuck, you like that,” he rasped, hands sliding up your sides. “You like when I talk to you like this.”

You whimpered.

His hips rocked up — just once, deep and slow — and your whole body jolted.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered. “Tight little pussy, soaking wet, wrapped around me like she knows who I am.”

You moaned, forehead dropping to his shoulder.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Ride me.”

You hesitated.

He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilted your face again. “I want to watch you.”

So you started to move.

Slow at first — shallow rolls of your hips, sliding up just enough to feel the drag of him inside you, then sinking back down, gasping at the fullness.

He watched you like he was memorizing it — every whimper, every twitch of your thighs, the way your lips parted around a silent moan.

His hands never left you. One cupped your ass, guiding your rhythm. The other dragged up your spine, holding you close.

And when you started to speed up — moving faster, your thighs burning, your body chasing the high again — he groaned, bucking up into you with a sharp thrust that made your eyes roll back.

“God, you’re so fucking hot like this,” he growled. “You ride like you need it.”

“I do,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He slammed up again, harder. “Need me to fill you up?”

You nodded desperately, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck—say it.”

“I need you,” you choked out. “I need you to come inside me.”

That broke something in him.

Hayden’s grip turned bruising. He took over — slamming up into you with rough, controlled thrusts, his cock hitting deep, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

“You’re mine,” he gritted out. “You feel that? Mine.”

You cried out, orgasm building again — your body a livewire of overstimulation and need.

“Come again,” he growled. “Fucking come on my cock.”

And you did — for the third time, your body convulsing around him, legs trembling, tears pricking your eyes.

He followed a moment later — with a deep, broken groan, thrusting hard once, twice, then stilling completely as he spilled inside you.

You collapsed on his chest, both of you panting, bodies slick with sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you there like you weren’t just some girl at a beach party.

Like you were something more.

After a long beat, he kissed the top of your head.

“You good?” he murmured.

You nodded against his chest. “Very.”

He smiled. “Told you you wouldn’t forget this night.”

You laughed, still breathless.

“Nope,” you whispered. “Burned into my brain forever.”

You didn’t move for a long time.

Neither of you did.

The only sounds were your shared breaths — heavy, quiet, full of something deeper than just sex. The windows were fogged to opacity, the outside world forgotten.

Hayden’s hand rubbed slow circles on your bare thigh, your ruined panties still clinging to one side. His other hand stroked up and down your back beneath your shirt, lazy and soothing, like he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and real now — no teasing, no heat. Just concern.

You nodded into his neck. “I’m so okay.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, kissing the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” you mumbled, breath catching. “You completely wrecked it in the best possible way.”

That made him smile. You felt it against your skin.

He shifted slightly, slipping out of you with a soft groan. Your body clenched at the loss, and you instinctively tightened your thighs — his hand immediately went to your hip.

“Shh,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “I’ve got you.”

You sat up slowly, legs trembling, skirt bunched around your waist. Hayden reached for your panties — still tangled to the side — and gently helped guide them back into place, his fingertips light, reverent. Not rushing. Not smirking. Just kind.

He leaned in, placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Sorry I made a mess of you.”

You looked down at him, dazed and dizzy and glowing.

“Don’t be,” you whispered.

He grinned, his hand still warm on your leg.

You shifted back into the passenger seat, wincing slightly as your thighs pressed together. He fixed your skirt for you. Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. And then he reached for something on the center console.

Your camera.

You blinked, watching as he turned it gently in his hands, flipping the power on like he already knew what to do.

“What are you—”

“Pass me my phone,” he said, nodding toward the dashboard.

Still half-buzzed from the high, you handed it to him, unsure of what he was doing.

Hayden typed something into the screen — quick, one-handed — then held it up.

His phone number. Clear and bold across the glowing screen.

He angled it toward your camera lens.

“Take the shot.”

You blinked, heart stuttering.

He gave you a soft smile, the kind that didn’t belong to the Hayden Christensen from magazines. It was real. Crooked. A little shy. But underneath, something else shimmered — something certain.

You lifted the camera slowly. Clicked once.

He held your gaze, voice quieter now — barely a whisper.

“I think you’re the one.”

[kb4g3]

obsession •

stepson!anakin x stepmom!reader

mdni 18+ ~~~~

word count - 3k+

warnings- reader met anakin when he was a minor, age gap, stepson/stepmother, perv!anakin, unprotected piv, praise, sub!anakin/dom!reader, breeding kink, overstimulation, forcing, multiple orgasms (anakin), oral (f recieving), cheating

info - marrying a skywalker definitely wasn’t on your things to do, but when working led you to meet kahn skywalker. your life changed.

until his perv of a son lets you know just how much you mean to him.

not proofread.

dating kahn was fun, you guys have been casually seeing each other for about two months now. nothing serious. just a fling you thought. until kahn mentioned how he wanted you to meet his son, you were taken aback.

"kahn are you serious?" you question.

he smiles, "yes, i want him to know the woman i'm going to marry."

you felt odd, you guys have only been together for maybe two months, this wasn't appropriate.

"kahn, maybe it's too soon" you trail off, peeling at the hangnail on your pointer finger.

kahn's smile falters, "oh" he looks down at his lap, "i'm sorry i didn't think"

you feel bad, he obviously cares about you, and for him to want you to meet his son. he must think of you as special.

you start to smile, "okay, i'll meet him. when do you want to do it?"

kahn lifts his head up, smile plastering his face, "right now?" he says.

again, shock hits your face, "my son should be home from his mothers house any minute now"

you couldn't believe it, he was going to make you meet this kid no matter your answer.

you were mad, rightfully so, but before you could say anything this door swings open.

"dad i'm home"

"anakin, my boy, how are you?" kahn jumps up to greet his son with a hug, releasing the hug kahn turns to a very red faced you sitting on the couch. in a not so "meet the son" outfit.

you had on some short shorts and a tight baby tee.

you were mortified.

"anakin this is the woman i've been telling you about, y/n this is anakin" kahn says not seemingly to notice the discomfort on your face.

you stand to shake the boys hand, not ignoring the fact his eyes rake over your entire body, taking in every curve and arch.

if you weren't embarrassed before, you sure were now.

-

it's been about three months since meeting anakin, and he's been nothing but friendly. you're happy the meeting went so well. you've been spending more time with him. coming over after work when he texts he's having trouble with his calculus homework.

being a 17 year old in high school is hard, he'll say the entire time you try and explain an equation to him.

you would laugh and tell him to focus and get it over with. he'd laugh and turn his attention back to his homework, not forgetting to glance over his arm to watch as your chest moves when you slouch back into the dining room chair.

"ani, im home" kahn's voice is heard from the entry way, "oh honey, i didn't know you'd be here" he says kissing the top of your head.

"little ani here needed help with some homework"

you said, turning to look back at anakin and you swear you saw the grip on his pencil tighten after hearing you use his nickname.

"well, i'll get started on dinner for three. rather then two" kahn says walking back to the kitchen. setting his keys on the island.

anakin finishes his last problem before putting everything away, you get up and start walking to the kitchen to be with your boyfriend before feeling a slight touch in your wrist, turning you face anakin.

his eyes are on the floor, fidgeting with his fingers, "can you come upstairs? i want to show you something" he says with a whisper.

you nod and follow him to his bedroom, the farthest room from the stairs.

stepping inside you take notice to all the knick knacks placed around the room, all the scattered clothes and papers.

you step in first, heading to sit on the end of his bed.

"what's up ani?" you question as he doesn't turn from the door.

you're confused, and question the boy again.

he finally turns to you, eyes a darker shade of blue, something you haven't seen before.

"ani?" you say quietly, but loud enough he hears.

a small groan escapes his throat, "say it again"

"what? anakin what is going on?" you're confused, this isn't typical anakin behavior.

he grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs across your own.

"please say it again mommy" anakin says just above a whisper, hands gripping just a bit tighter on yours.

you're shocked, in utter disbelief. never once has anakin called you mom, never have you asked him either. this shouldn't be happening.

"ani? what are you talking about?" a soft moan leaves his mouth when you say his nickname again.

"you do crazy things to me" he says, eyes still not meeting yours.

you don't say anything, too confused and shocked to even think of words at this moment, anakin takes notice

"i'm sorry" he says, tears brimming his eyes, looking to the floor

"hey anakin, it's okay, come here." you say bringing him into a hug.

you feel unsettled by what just happened, but to an extent you understand. he's a horny teenager.

"i won't tell your dad, okay?" you say grabbing his chin to make him look at you. his eyes are filled with tears as his face is completely red. tears threatening to fall, "thank you" he says pulling you into another hug, inhaling deeply to never forget your scent.

-

the wedding was beautiful, you never expected to get married to someone so quickly, but kahn skywalker just has that effect. he proposed to you during your seventh month together. getting married very soon after that.

honeymoon was amazing. you and kahn travelled all through greece for a month, before returning to your shared home, with your now stepson.

as soon as you guys stepped in the door, anakin was there to greet you guys, not hiding the fact he went to hug you first. despite his fathers arms out, wrapping your arms around anakins shoulders, you can feel him squeeze slightly as he inhaled deeply.

"missed you so much" he whispers into the crook of your neck, before pulling away and hugging his dad.

you didn't want to admit it, but the butterflies in your stomach was something you enjoyed.

anakins birthday came and went and you had an 18 year old in the house.

he was still the same anakin, sweet and shy, tending to follow you around the house like a lost puppy.

"ani, im gonna shower, i'll make dinner when i'm done" you say to the boy on the couch in front of the tv. he gives a sound so you know he heard you and you went upstairs.

walking to the bathroom, with a change of clothes, and a towel. turning the shower on and stepping in.

you needed this shower after the day you had, work was hell, your manager was berating you all day. you couldn't seem to do anything right.

thirty minutes into the shower you decided it was enough and got out. getting dressed and doing all your nightly routines. you got to grab you dirty laundry, something missing from the pile.

you look around everywhere for the pink pair of panties you were just wearing, were you wearing them?" you question as they are seemingly gone.

not wanting to keep anakin waiting any longer for dinner you throw your clothes in the hamper and head downstairs. anakin gone from his spot on the couch.

cooking dinner was easy, you decided on something quick tonight. some chicken alfredo noodles.

dinner was done, warming on the stove to keep warm until kahn got home from work.

you haven't heard anything from anakin in the time it took you to cook. you go to look for him.

stepping to his door, reaching for the handle. you stop.

moans and whimpers fall quickly, you're about to walk away, not wanting to disrupt, when you heard you name fall from the boys lips.

you stop, frozen.

"nghh y/n mommy please" can be heard, your name being said like it's a prayer.

your thighs press together, this is wrong you think to yourself, yet you don't move. placing an ear to the door to hear better.

more moans and whimpers are fallen from the red and swollen lips of anakin. your name being repeated over and over again as he rubs his leaking cock with your used panties. 

you listen for a few more minutes before the sound of his hand grow louder and more erratic, whimpers falling from his lips as it gets harder for him to be quiet while reaching his climax.

few seconds later and your name is being said as all motion stops.

he came to the thought of you while using your dirty underwear.

you quickly rush from the door, down the stairs to the kitchen to finish plating diner as kahn should be getting in any minute. 

do you tell your husband what you heard?

you couldn't, you didn't want to get anakin in trouble.

dinner was good, beside the fact all you could feel was anakins eyes on you, and the feeling in your stomach.

this is so wrong.

you needed to stop this.

-

you decided the week kahn would be on a business trip was the best to confront anakin, better to have his dad away so he doesn't find out.

it's a little past 9pm when you walk to anakins door, knocking slightly.

"ani? can i come in?"

your met with some shuffling before the door is open, and a tired looking face greets you with a small smile.

"oh did i wake you?"

"no, was just laying in bed. what do you need?"

"can i come in and talk?"

he moves from the doorway to allow you in, you walk towards his bed. him following after shutting his door.

the only light in the room is his bedside lamp, illuminating a nice orange hue.

"ani, i need to talk to you about something"

he nods

"a week ago, i came up here to grab you for dinner but i stopped when i heard noises coming from your room." you started.

anakins face instantly grew red, and his face dropped to the floor.

"i went to walk away, but then i heard my name, ani you can't be having these thoughts about me"

you stopped talking, giving anakin a second, you just embarrassed him.

he doesn't speak, so you continue "i'm your dads wife. this isn't appropriate"

he looks up at you, teary eyed, " 'm sorry " he slurs out, obviously fighting back crying.

your heart broke, you didn't want him to feel bad for what he did, "hey, anakin. it's okay, im not mad at you" you say grabbing his cheek, wiping his tears.

he leans into your touch, with a slight whimper.

"i'm sorry, please don't leave me" he says, grabbing your wrists.

"i'm not gonna leave you ani, please calm down"

he's still crying, "i just love you so much, i need you" he's now practically in your lap, your rubbing your fingers through his hair.

"ani, i'm your step mother"

he cries more, grabbing at anything he could.

"mommy" he sobs out, bringing his head up to look at you, he's broken. face red and puffy with tears.

your heart breaks, you little ani feeling this bad, "ani it's okay, stop shhh" you try and soothe him.

you lay him back on the bed, letting him rest on you as you cuddle him.

thirty minutes pass, he's calmed. hiccuping in your lap now.

"wanna talk?" you say running your fingers through his hair. he nods and sits up to face you.

"i'm so sorry y/n" he says, grabbing your hands, "please don't hate me"

"i could never hate you, it's okay"

he stares at you, eyes wide, so innocent.

"please let me be a good boy for you"

you tilt your head, "ani no, this isn't appropriate"

"i hear the way you moan with my dad, how fake it sounds, let me show you how much you mean to me" he says, his once blue eyes, dark and lidded.

he listens when you and his dad have sex?

such a naughty boy.

his hands go up your arms to your shoulders, "please let me be good for you mommy"

you can't deny the heat forming, this shouldn't turn you on.

but to have anakin, sitting in front of you. BEGGING for you, crying for you, it's something you'd never imagine.

"ani.."

he stops you, "please, i've loved you since i met you, look" he jumps up to grab his camera off his desk.

he flips through all the pictures, you doing normal things, you cooking, you showering, and worst of all. you sprawled out in your bed, dildo in hand pleasuring yourself.

fuck

this is insane, you thought. this is wrong. he's been watching you??

he wasn't done, he pulled a box out from under his bed.

all your missing underwear, you knew the washer wasn't eating that many.

"see, i want you. i crave you"

he says. on his knees, infront of the bed.

you can't deny the throbbing in between your legs, this was disgusting.

but you loved every second of it.

you knew anakin was attracted to you but you didn't think he was a pervert.

"such a dirty boy anakin, what do you do with all this?"

he moaned, "i touch myself" he says shyly.

how can he be so shy after showing this to you.

you loved it.

"show me"

his head jerks up, confusion on his face. but your serious. sitting back to make room for him on the bed.

"be a good boy anakin, show mommy" he waste no time in undoing the strings to his pants, pulling them down and climbing on the bed.

god he was big, much bigger then your husband.

"oh ani, you're so pretty baby"

you moans, before grabbing his throbbing cock, red angry tip leaking precum. just for you.

his pace is slow, agonizing, he's wanting this to last for ever.

"baby you can do better then that, i want you to cum for me. think you can do it?"  you say running your fingers through his hair before reaching the base and jerking.

the moan that fell from his lips, was nothing but sinful. the pace on his cock increasing, rubbing himself raw.

you say nothing but praises, letting the boy know how well he's doing, and how you're so proud.

you can tell he's getting close when your movements become sloppy and erratic. whimpers escaping his mouth, before his release shakes his entire body.

you help him through it, kissing his head and rubbing your hands on him to help ground him.

he's on cloud 9, he feels so good and to have your hands on him. he's soft cock, slowly getting bigger again, the thought of your sweet pussy engulfs his mind.

the sweet smell he's gotten from your panties, he wants the real thing.

"m-mommy need your pussy, please" the redness on his cheeks, the mess he's made on his stomach. is all too much for you to keep your composure.

"since you've been such a good boy, you can eat mommy out"

you barely finished your sentence before your pants and underwear are being thrown off and his head his between your legs, lapping up all your sweet juices, inhaling your scent.

he takes you clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, inflicting a harsh groan from your throat.

he's eager and eating like this is his last meal, he starved. wanting nothing more then your pussy in his face.

"oh ani, you're so good to me" you moan out cause him to rut against his mattress. he’s pussy drunk, letting his tongue touch every inch of your soaking pussy, you’ve never felt this good.

you didn’t think it get better, until you feel a warm finger entering you. your back arches, god he is making you crazy.

“anakin, oh my god” the right coil in your stomach burning. anakin continues his actions, curling his finger as his lips are attached to your clit.

“ani, im gonna cum, keep going, don’t st-“ you were cut off by your own orgasm, ripping through your entire body. you’ve never came this hard.

anakin moans, face soaked with all your juices, lapping up what he could.

“mommy did i do good?” he asks with innocence in his eyes, you brush his blonde curls out of his face, “so good baby”

he climbs up to lay with you, cock still painfully erect, taking notice, you reach down and touch him so gently. he moans and thrusts into your hand.

“should mommy help you baby?” his head nods frantically, hoping you’d give him what he wants.

“lay down on your back” you say pushing his chest till he’s laid flat. climbing up to hover above him. his cock so close to you, he could feel the heat radiating from you.

moaning as you grab him, guiding the tip through your folds, pushing it slowly into you as you sink all the way to the base.

he stretched you so well, reaching every part of your body. loving how full you felt.

he looked beautiful under you, absolutely stunning. hair all disheveled, lips red and puffy, tears staining his face, you wanted to ruin him.

lifting yourself so slowly, feeling every inch of his beautiful cock, humming as you sing back down, with more force.

picking up pace, bouncing so heavenly on his cock, anakins brain cannot think straight. his mouth agape as the only thing falling from it is moans, sweet boy can’t even think straight.

fucking yourself, using anakin as if he was just some fuck toy, he loved it. his hands finding your waist gripping it so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises. loving the thought of him leaving marks on you drove you to bounce harder wanting to reach your climax.

anakin became frantic, “mommy gonna cum, inside please, fill you up” he’s ranting.

“hold it anakin, not yet” not wanting to lose your own orgasm. fucking your self harder, ignoring his pleas.

anakin cums, cums hard inside you. filling you up, making such a mess. his eyes open wide, “mommy, im so-“

“disobeying mommy, what a bad boy” you say still with his cock buried deep inside you, rocking back and fourth.

“too much mommy” anakin says, lightly pushing you. you hold yourself firm on him, “baby mommy’s not done, mommy wants to cum around your pretty cock. you’ll do that for me right?”

his head shakes, wanting nothing more then to please his beautiful mommy. “yes yes let me make you feel good” you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

you slowly pull off, and lay down at the head of the bed, “come here baby, make me feel good” motioning with your hands.

he climbs on top of you, eager to please, you spread your legs so he fits so perfectly. you nod your head, giving him permission to re-enter you.

he does so with a fast thrust, beginning his relentless pace, wanting nothing more then to make you cum around him. feel as your pussy flutters, squeezing his cock.

“mommy” he rambles, “so good so good”

you’re in bliss, he’s fucking you so good. your husband long forgotten. he’s never made you feel this good, you never knew this much pleasure was possible.

“oh baby, you make mommy feel so good” he moans into the crook of your neck, loving hearing how good he’s doing. making you feel so good. he lives for it.

your close, the way his cock is abusing that spot inside you, has your toes curling. you tell him how close you are, he’s holding out for you, you can tell how he so badly wants, no needs to cum.

“such a dirty boy, fucking his mommy like a bitch in heat” you couldn’t help but toy with him. edging him on.

few more thrusts and he’s coming again, filling you up for a second time.

“ ‘m sorry mommy” anakin says, slowly thrusting into you, not wanting to upset you.

“baby, it’s okay, we can stop-“

“no, need your cum”

he thrusts back into you, cock rock hard.

how does this sweet boy have this much in him, you didn’t question it when he started pounding that one spot, with his hand moving to you clit rubbing it in slow circles.

“ani” you moan out. “please like that”

he just moans as he continues his rapid pace, bringing you to your climax, squeezing down on his cock as your juices spill making a mess of his bed.

his fourth orgasm isn’t long after, chanting about filling you with his cum.

he slumps down on your chest, soft cock still inside.

“such a good boy for mommy, you did so good baby” you say while rubbing circles on his back.

he sits up, and pulls his cock out, watching all his cum ooze out of you. mesmerized in how you squeeze down on nothing.

he takes his finger and pushes his cum back inside of you, leaning his head on your shoulder, “want you pregnant with my baby” he whispers into your ear

who knew he could be so dirty.

he lays next to you, cuddling into your side, arm wrapped around your waist.

“i love you mommy”

you smile, dragging your fingers through his hair, “i love you too baby”

“i made you feel better then my dad?”

“yes, god yes”

you could feel the smirk on your skin, “is this a one time thing?” he asks so shyly. as if he wasn’t just pounding your pussy with such disrespect.

“no baby, you’re mine forever. understand? you’re all mine.”

he smiles, pleased with your response.

“what about dad”

you completely forgot about your husband, what the fuck were you gonna do?? your just fucked your stepson.

his cum still leaking out of you, you realize how fucked you were gonna be.

“guess this has to be our secret, okay?”

anakin nodded, half asleep. absolutely exhausted from his multiple orgasms.

you sighed, pulling the blanket over the two of you, drifting to sleep yourself.

wishing that hopefully, your husband never finds out so you can keep fucking his sweet innocent son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n :

WOAH

first post, please tell me what you think.

i just love the thought of anakin being so whipped for you, he’s so submissive.

[kb4g3]

Four moments

bf!sam monroe x gf!reader au

summary- in which Sam’s little brother lives with you two. the longer he’s there, the more Sam is convinced to have kids of your own

wc- 3158

warnings- fluff, foul language, kissing, smut (unprotected piv, breeding kink, fingering, grinding, dirty talk, sam being kinda aggressive (but not rly), cum, cream pie) lmk if I missed anything

Before you, Sam never batted an eye at the thought of having kids. After you, however, after all the things you had been through together. His mind started to stick to the idea of having a few little ones running around.

Recently, since you all had taken in his little brother, Adam, his mind started to wander further, somewhere deeper, darker. He thought about you pregnant, swollen with his babies. Pumping you full of them, whenever you’d allow, of course.

Four moments. Four moments that made his pants tighten, four moments that replayed in his mind daily.

~

1

You had put Adam to sleep hours ago. Now, you and Sam lie in bed, slowly drifting to sleep, when soft rapping pulls you from your daze. “(Y/n)?” Adam called.

You slipped from Sam’s arms and went to the door, opening it and allowing Adam to steal your attention. “Adam, honey, you're supposed to be asleep.” You scooped him up.

“Can’t sleep,” He yawned as you held him in your arms. “Can I sleep with you and Sam, please?” He pleaded, whining a little. His little head falls to your chest.

“Yeah, honey.” You ran your fingers through his dark hair and slipped back into bed. Your back was pressed against Sam's chest as Adam curled into your chest, clutching at your shirt. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, Sam's arms wrapping around you.

~

The next morning, Sam woke up to the sight of his little brother curled into your chest, clutching at your shirt in his sleep, your hands still wrapped around him.

“Baby?” He brushed some of your hair out of your face. “What's this?” His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“He couldn’t sleep,” You whispered, “He suckered me.” You let out a breathy laugh.

The sound of your laugh went straight to his core. The desire to make you mom fills him, “You'd be a good mom.” He subtly dropped his hint.

2

It was early, and you and Sam lay in bed making out. His rock n roll music was locking out the soft sounds of the morning. That soft tapping at the door again, Adam.

“Sammmmm.” He whined, “Please let me in, Sammmmm!” His knock never wavered.

You pulled away from Sam, his hands becoming tighter around your waist, pulling you back against him, "Don't, he’ll leave if you ignore him.” He protested.

You pulled Sam's hands away from you, sliding from underneath the sheets, and towards the door. When you opened it, Adam was sitting outside playing with his toy cars on the floor.

“What's wrong, honey?” You asked sweetly, kneeling next to him.

“M’Hungry,” he whined, “What were you guys doing in there? You took so long.” He drugged out the ‘so’ for effect.

You shook your head at his words, “You wanna go make some breakfast?”

He nodded rapidly, standing up just as quickly. He grasped your hand and pulled you towards the kitchen. Excitement was written all over his face. He let go of your hand for a split second to open the pantry and retrieve the waffle mix. He held it up in front of you like a prize. You nodded, taking the waffle mix in your hands.

Sam slowly shuffled into the kitchen, still partially asleep and rubbing his eyes. His messy hair stuck up in all directions, and he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

The sight that greeted him was both endearing and surprising - you and his little brother making breakfast together.

He leaned against the doorway, a sleepy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you both. "Well, this is a sight for sore eyes," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

You hummed, planting a kiss on his lips, “He was hungry,” you explained, adding a shrug.

Sam's sleepy frown instantly melted away at the sound of your voice and the feel of your kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair. He pressed a kiss to your hairline, his eyes still half-closed with sleep. "What are you two making?"

“Waffles!” Adam squealed, throwing his hands in the air, some of the mix dusting his face and clothes.

A lazy smile spread across Sam's face as he heard Adam's excited response. He reached over and ruffled the little boy's hair affectionately, messing it up even more than it already was.

"Waffles, huh? Sounds delicious," he said, finally pulling away from you to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He leaned against the counter, watching you and Adam working together. The sight was incredibly domestic and heartwarming, despite his half-asleep state.

Once Adam had forfeited his mixing job, you took over. Finishing stirring the ingredients and pouring them onto the hot waffle maker. You grabbed some utensils out of the drawer, calling out to Adam, “Adam, honey, can you set the table?”

Sam watched as you handed the bunch of cutlery to Adam, instructing him to set the table. The little boy eagerly took the forks and dashed off to the dining table.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. You had a way with kids, always knowing how to keep them occupied and engaged. It was yet another thing he adored about you.

Sam pushed himself off the counter and moved to the cabinet to gather plates and napkins. "You're a natural with him, you know that?" he teased, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You should've noticed it earlier, really, the way he looked at you that morning as you ate. As if you sculpted the world, split the seas, like he was going to devour you.

3

Later that day, they all sat outside in the backyard, soaking in the California sun. You sat in a lawn chair, reading your favorite book as the boys played tag in the yard.

Your ears perked up at the sound of Adam's cries. The piercing noise immediately drew your attention away from the book you were reading.

You quickly set the book aside and got up from your seat. Your maternal instinct kicked in, and your heart skipped a beat with concern.

As you walked out into the yard, searching for the source of the commotion, you spotted Sam and Adam a short distance away. Adam was on the ground, clutching his knee and crying, while Sam knelt beside him, looking worried.

“Want (Y/n).” Adam cried as Sam tried his best to shush him.

“Adam, honey, what happened?” You knelt to him.

As soon as Adam saw you kneel next to him, he outstretched his arms towards you, tears streaming down his face.

"I-I fell," he sobbed, wincing in pain as he showed you his scraped knee.

Sam was crouched beside him, his hand resting gently on his back. A hint of guilt flashed in his eyes, likely feeling bad about not watching his younger brother closely enough.

“Okay, it's okay, honey.” You scooped him up in your arms, “Let's get you cleaned up.”

Adam clung tightly to you, burying his face against your shoulder, still crying softly. The pain of the fall and the fright of the situation had him shaken up, and he found comfort in the safety of your embrace.

Sam followed you inside, his expression still carrying a tinge of guilt. He knew he should've been more careful, but accidents happen, especially with an energetic kid like Adam.

As you headed to the bathroom, he walked alongside you, watching you soothe his little brother. You set Adam down on the counter, rummaging through the cabinets for the first aid kit.

As Adam sat on the counter, his small legs dangling and his tears slowly subsiding. He wiped his damp eyes with the back of his hands, still sniffling a little.

Sam leaned against the bathroom doorway, watching you rummage through the cabinets. His gaze was focused on you, silently admiring how natural caring for his little brother seemed to you. The sight of you taking charge and comforting Adam stirred a mixture of affection and trust in him.

“Here we go,” You stood back up, bandaids, Neosporin, and peroxide in your arms. You handed Adam the box of fun Band-Aids, and his eyes widened as he started digging through the box.

“Okay, honey, hold Sam's hand, this may sting a little.” You explained as you popped the cap on the peroxide, preparing to clean the scrape.

Sam immediately stepped forward when you gave the instruction, understanding the potential for some discomfort. He reached out and gently took Adam's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Squeeze as hard as you need to if it hurts," he told his little brother, his voice soft but firm. "I can handle it."

Adam nodded, albeit a little nervously, and gripped Sam's hand tightly in anticipation of the incoming sting.

“Okay,” You started, pouring the liquid over the wound. Adam's eyes widened as you poured the peroxide over his scraped knee, the liquid bubbling and fizzing as it came into contact with the raw, damaged skin. He couldn't help but wince and let out a small whine.

Sam squeezed his hand, trying to provide a comforting presence. "It's okay, buddy. Just a bit of a sting. Hang in there.”

“Okay, all done.” You chirped, drying the area off, applying the Neosporin and his ‘cool’ bandaid he picked out over top of the scrape.

As you finished applying the bandaid, Sam let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the immediate crisis was over. Adam's tears had dried, and the pain was being dulled by the soothing Neosporin.

The little boy looked down at his knee, admiring the tiger-themed bandaid that now adorned it. He wiggled his leg a bit, testing the mobility.

Sam ruffled his hair affectionately. "Looking good, little man."

You slipped your hands under Adam’s armpits and lifted him off the counter, “There you go, honey.” You patted his back before he ran off to play with his toys.

Sam looked over to you now, his eyes filled with love. “That was pretty motherly of you,” he smiled, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you into him.

Your arms moved to circle his neck, “Getting baby fever, Monroe?” You hummed, pecking his lips.

But this was far from baby fever. This was pure possession, something he had never felt before, sheer need fueling a fire deep within him.

4

The final straw was when they were invited to one of Adams' school friends' pool parties. Your body is clad in a skimpy black bikini, which already leaves little to the imagination.

You carried him out to the pool, Sam following closely behind you two. His presence was a constant, casual warmth at your back.

“Where are your floaties?” You asked Adam.

There was a flash of childish excitement in Adam's eyes at the mention of floaties. He loved being in the water, but he was too young to swim without some assistance.

He wriggled in your arms, trying to get down.

"Sam has them," he said, pointing towards Sam. You crouched down and let him slip out of your arms. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Adam dashed toward Sam. Sam chuckled, watching his little brother with fondness in his eyes.

Adam had busied himself with trying to put on his floaties with uncoordinated little fingers. “Adam, let me help you, honey.” You took the floaty from him, helping him in it. “There you go,” You said softly. Adam took that as his sign; he grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the pool.

Sam watched with open amusement as his little brother enthusiastically dragged you toward the pool, the orange ring bobbing in the water at Adam's side.

"Looks like he's got you hooked," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk as he followed behind.

“Maybe,” You smiled and pecked his lips.

Sam responded to the quick kiss with a lazy smile, his arm snaking around your waist as he murmured, "Can't blame the kid."

He pulled you closer, his hand possessively sliding across your lower back. There was a hint of possessiveness in his gaze, as if he wanted to remind everyone present - though mostly himself - that you were his.

“Sam, there are other people here.” You reminded, Adam had fallen back at your side, tugging at your arm.

The pool water was cool against your skin, a refreshing contrast against the summer heat. As you splashed into the water, Sam followed suit, wading into the pool up to his waist.

As soon as you were in the water, Adam was all over you, his small arms wrapping around your neck. He clung to you like a little koala, giggling and chattering a mile a minute.

Sam watched the interaction between you and Adam, that familiar possessiveness flaring in his eyes. It was obvious that his little brother had a strong attachment to you, much like how Sam himself clung to you whenever possible.

He found himself both amused and a bit jealous of how well you handled his little brother. It should be him clinging to you like that, not Adam.

"You're a natural at handling him," he commented, wading through the water to come closer. His eyes were focused on you, appreciating the way your wet hair clung to your skin and the swimsuit that left little to the imagination.

“Maybe this could be us one day.” You teased, not knowing the inner turmoil Sam seemed to be facing.

Sam's smirk deepened at your comment, his eyes locked on yours. He could feel that possessive flame inside him ignite further, the idea of having kids with you one day stirring an unfamiliar but intense emotion within him.

He moved closer, closing the distance between you, his hand finding your waist under the water. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent claim of ownership.

"You want kids, princess?" he asked casually, his gaze roaming over your features, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, “especially if he’s as cute as you.” You smiled

Sam scoffed, trying to play it cool, but he couldn't help the smug look on his face. "You're damn right he'd be cute," he drawled, pulling you closer, his hand sliding to the small of your back. "And stubborn. Just like his old man."

He smirked, clearly enjoying the mental image of you carrying his child. The thought of you pregnant with his child, belly swelling with life, stirred a primal sort of possessive satisfaction within him.

“One day,” You promised.

"One day," Sam repeated, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly. There was a hint of determination in his tone, as if he were making a silent promise to make that day happen.

He couldn't deny the way his heart quickened at the thought of it - you, pregnant with his child, his family growing and thriving. It was a future he could very much get behind.

As you moved through the water to play with Adam, Sam lingered for a moment, watching you both with an affectionate expression on his face.

He loved seeing how well you got along with his little brother, how easy it was for you to engage with him and make him happy. It filled him with a mixture of pride and possessive desire - you were just so damn good with kids, and that made him want you even more.

Little did you know that the day you had promised was coming sooner than expected.

~

You and Sam had plans for your mother to keep Adam tonight, to get some well-deserved alone time with each other. You planned for a peaceful movie and dinner night, Sam, on the other hand, planned to get you pregnant.

As soon as they entered the house, Sam pounced on you. Kissing you with fervor as you made your way up the stairs. He nearly threw you on the bed, “Sam,” you gasped, “what's going on?” You asked in between kisses.

“So pretty,” He grinds down against you, “Treat Adam so well, need to be inside of you.” He started kissing down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, his hands sliding up and down your sides.

“Sam,” You moaned as he ground down against the thin fabric of your bathing suit. He continued to move down your body, untying the string of your bikini bottoms.

He slipped his fingers into your dripping pussy, “So wet for me,” He mumbled, his body moving up yours as he continued to finger you.

“Sam, need you.” You gasp, your hips bucking into his fingers. He untied his swim trunks with his other hand, and he let out a hiss as his erection sprang free against his stomach.

He slowly swiped his tip in between your folds a few times, tantalizingly slow, a primal need overtaking his body as he slipped into you. You gasped simultaneously at the pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” You moaned as he bottomed out in one quick motion.

Your hands reached around to his back, trying to find something to cling to. You looked up at him, his eyes nearly black. “You gonna let me fill you up?” He taunted as his hips started to roll against yours.

Your nails dug into his back, “Sam,” you moaned, “feels good, please.” You begged, mind going blank as he spoke. Your hips bucked into his again, your back arching off the bed. His hands immediately shot to your hips, pinning them to the bed. He fucked into you slow and deep, tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.

Your boobs bounced every time his pelvis became flush with yours, “M’gonna fill this pussy up.” One of his hands moves to your clit, “You're gonna be swollen with all my babies.” Your cunt fluttered with each word spoken, “Oh, you like that, baby? Want me to get you pregnant?” He teases.

“Sam, gonna come.” You moaned, your hand moving to the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He swallowed all your moans as you came hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head, pussy fluttering around him, panting against his mouth.

“I'm gonna come, baby, fill you up, make you a mommy.” He whimpered as he felt you clamp down on him, the pleasure becoming too much. His body went rigid as he spilled his seed inside you with a small, ‘fuck’.

They lay there, breathing heavy as they both came down from their shared high. “You mean what you said?” You asked, “You want me to have your kids?” You breathed.

He places his forehead against yours, nodding. “However many you're willing to give. However much this pretty body can make.” His hand slid down your stomach. “I love you, baby,” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you.

a/n- i feel like Sam would be so jealous of Adam. Anyways feast babies

[kb4g3]

Is it bad I lowkey like finding pics for my writing rather than writing it. I feel like it just brings the whole thing together.

Also I’m conjuring a Sam Monroe oneshot rn. Sooo be on the lookout🎉🎉

[kb4g3]

Insomniac

brotherbsflanakin x reader au

wc- 3885

warnings- crying, fluff (so much fluff), angst, foul language, slight age gap (reader is 18, anakin is 19-20)

part one, part two, part three, part four

The darkness of the night before nearly engulfed you. Another sleepless night caused by the events. The sadness came in waves; at some points, it felt as though the tears were never ending.

Your mother quietly entered your room, her heart breaking at the sight of your tear-streaked face. She gently sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to gently brush away a few stray strands of hair from your face.

"Hey, sweetie," she murmured, her voice filled with a mother's concern. "You haven't slept at all, have you?"

You didn’t answer; you didn't have to. Your mother already knew the truth. Your mother sighed softly, her heart breaking at the sight of your obvious pain. She didn't push you for a response, knowing that sometimes words wouldn't do much to ease the hurt.

Instead, she just sat there in silence for a few moments, her hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It'll be okay, baby," she whispered, hoping the simple reassurance would offer some comfort.

You shrugged her off. You couldn’t bother with… this right now. You just wanted to be left alone. You silently begged that your mother would take the hint and leave.

Your mother hesitated for a moment, her heart clenching at your cold refusal of comfort. It stung to be pushed away like this, but she knew that sometimes people needed space to heal.

She sighed softly, giving your back one last gentle pat. "Alright, sweetie," she said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "I have to go to work now. I'll be back around 5, okay?"

She slowly got up from the bed, casting one last glance back at you, her heart heavy with worry. She knew that leaving you in this state was not ideal, but she also had responsibilities to attend to. As she stood, her eyes lingered on your tear-streaked face, and it took all her willpower to turn away and walk out of the room.

"Try and get some rest," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

Your eyes lingered on the wall next to your bed, expression blank, body numbed by pain. “Love you too,” You whispered.

Your mother's heart lightened slightly at the whispered response, her worry slightly eased by those three simple words.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking at your curled-up form on the bed. She wanted to say more, to offer more assurance, but she knew her presence was no longer welcome.

So she simply nodded, even though she knew you couldn't see it, and quietly shut the door behind her.

You heard the garage door open, watched as your mom pulled out of the driveway. It was like a dam had broken. Alone in the quiet of the house, you finally allowed your emotions to overwhelm you. The sobs came in huge, uncontrollable waves, shaking your body with each ragged breath.

For a while, you just lay there, the pain and heartbreak washing over you like a tidal wave. Your fingers clenched the sheets tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow hold your shattered heart together.

As you lay there, the pain of the night washing over you, your thoughts inevitably turned to him. The idea of calling Anakin was almost uncontrollable; your heart broke every time he plagued your mind.

But each time the thought crossed your mind, it was like a fresh jolt of pain to your already aching heart. The sound of his voice, the way he'd laugh, the way he'd look at you... It all made your heart shatter all over again.

You forced yourself up and out of bed and towards the bathroom. Your stomach physically hurt from all the heartache you endured in the last day. You started the shower, hoping to rinse some of the suffering away.

The hot water cascaded over your body, the steaming sensation providing a small distraction from the emotional turmoil inside you. For a few minutes, you simply stood there, letting the water wash over your skin, your mind in a haze.

The pain lingered, though, refusing to be completely washed away. It was a deep, throbbing ache in your chest, a reminder of the disappointment and loneliness that hung over you like a dark cloud.

The idea of going to see Anakin only became stronger as you sat in your thoughts. The water added some extra courage. Once you finished your shower, you got ready as well as possible. The necessities, brushing your hair and teeth, and getting dressed. You didn’t bother with makeup; you were sure the dam would break again the moment you saw him.

~

You chose to walk to his house; the fresh air was something you needed to clear your head and ready yourself to face him.

When you got to his door, you hesitated for a second before knocking. Your hands shaking at your sides as you waited for someone… for him to open the door. Your mind goes back to two nights ago, when you were standing on his porch in this very position.

He heard the soft knock on the door and froze, his heart instantly leaping in his chest. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating the sound, that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But then he heard it again, the gentle rapping at the door, and he knew it was real. He swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Part of him had hoped you would come, but he hadn't dared to truly believe it.

He crossed the room, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor, and opened the door.

The sight of you standing on his doorstep filled him with a mix of emotions. Relief, hurt, worry, and above all, love. He soaked you in for a moment, taking in your presence like a drowning man gasping for air.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice soft and low. It was all he could manage in that moment, his mind still struggling to process the fact that you were actually in front of him.

You looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Can I… um… can I come in?” You asked softly.

His heart tugged at the vulnerable note in your voice. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to hold you close and soothe away the pain he could see etched into your face.

But he restrained himself, giving a small nod in response. "Yeah," he replied, his voice tender. "Yeah, sweetheart, come in."

He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. You stepped in, turning around to face him, tears already forming in your eyes.

“I um… I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”

The sight of the tears welling up in your eyes sent a pang to his heart. He wanted to reach out, to wipe those tears away with the gentle brush of his thumb, but he restrained himself.

He shook his head, his expression softening. "There's nothing to apologize for," he assured you quietly. "You don't ever have to apologize for coming to me."

You nodded, “I uh… I came to maybe talk about last night.” You avoided eye contact, knowing as soon as you looked into those damn eyes, you'd break again.

The mention of the previous night sent a wave of mixed emotions through him. He knew exactly what you wanted to talk about, the memory of the night before playing on repeat in his mind. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "Yeah, we probably should talk."

“Let’s sit?” Anakin led them to the couch. You sat down first. Anakin sat down close to you, his thigh brushing against yours. The proximity was almost too much and yet not enough at the same time. The desire to pull you into his arms and hold you tight was nearly overwhelming, but he refrained, knowing you needed to talk first. He waited in silence for a moment, giving you time to gather your thoughts.

“I um… I don’t really know where to start.” You finally looked at him, your voice breaking slightly as you spoke.

His heart ached as he watched the pain in your expression and heard the crack in your voice. He longed to reach out, to offer comfort with just a touch, but he kept his hands clenched in his lap, restraining himself. He kept his gaze on you, his voice soft and gentle. "It's okay," he murmured. "Take your time."

“I guess maybe I just want to say… I wish we could undo last night…”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut. The mention of undoing last night… it was both the thing he wanted the most and the thing that was impossible.

He shook his head slightly, a mix of pain and regret in his eyes. "God, me too," he replied quietly, his voice filled with a hint of despair. "You have no idea how much I wish I could rewind and do things differently."

“But… I want you to know… I don’t regret spending that time with you. And I hope you feel the same. I don’t want this to be the end for us… not when we just got each other again.”

His heart lurched in his chest, the weight of your words sinking in. It was everything he longed to hear from you, a reassurance that your time together hadn't been a mistake.

He reached out then, unable to resist the urge any longer. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours firmly. "I don't regret it either," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "Not for a damn second."

You nodded and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

The feel of your hand in his, the soft squeeze you gave, sent a flood of emotions through him. He squeezed your hand tight in return, as if trying to hold onto this moment, this connection between the two of you.

He looked into your eyes, his expression filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. "So where does this leave us, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, the question hanging heavily in the air.

You shrugged, “Where do you want it to leave us?”

His heart skipped a beat when you asked that question. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, ready to burst forth with an immediate, desperate, "I want you...” But he held himself back, knowing that this conversation needed more than just that.

He took a deep breath, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. "I..." he started, his eyes never leaving yours, "I want us to be together. But I need to know... What do you want?"

“I want that too.” You said simply, the fact that nothing had changed eased your achy heart ever so slightly.

The simple admission of your desire, the way your words fell so easily from your lips, sent a wave of relief and hope through him. He tightened his grip on your hand, the corners of his lips turning up in a slight smile.

"Then we're on the same page," he murmured, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders. "But sweetheart... there's something we need to talk about."

The change in his tone, the slight flicker of seriousness in his eyes, was enough to immediately snag your attention. His hand clung to yours, the contact almost desperate, as if he was seeking reassurance even as he spoke.

"We can't keep sneaking around like this. It's not... It's not fair to you. I'm tired of hiding how I feel, of pretending we're just 'friends' in public..."

“Yeah… yeah. I know.” You sighed. He hated seeing the sadness in your face, the resignation in your voice. It was the same feeling he'd been grappling with for days, the frustration of hiding his true feelings, of keeping your love a secret.

He squeezed your hand again, his expression pained. "It kills me, sweetheart. Hiding my feelings, hiding how much I... need you. Pretending you're not my whole damn world..."

“Me too.” You smiled.

His heart practically sang with happiness. The feeling of being this close to you, knowing you wanted the same thing, was overwhelming. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you fully onto his lap, his arms encircling you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and savoring the closeness. "We're doing this," he murmured, his voice filled with determination and excitement. "We're telling everyone about us."

You giggled softly, a stark contrast to your sorrowful emotions from earlier.

The sound of your laughter, that lovely, melodious sound, brought a sense of contentment that nothing could compare to. He raised his head slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he nuzzled your neck.

"I love that sound," he murmured against your skin, his arms tightening around you. "Your laugh is so goddamn beautiful."

He lay back on the couch, pulling you down with him. “Now, get some rest, baby. I know you worried yourself sick last night.” Anakin petted your head, smoothing out your damp, disheveled hair.

As he pulled you down onto his chest, his arms encircling you protectively, a wave of comfort washed over him. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand continuing to stroke your hair soothingly.

“I'm not going anywhere." His words pulled a yawn from your lips as you settled in his arms. Your exhaustion from the night before, catching up with you.

He tightened his embrace, feeling the way your body relaxed against him. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back, hoping to soothe you to sleep.

"Just close your eyes, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Rest. I'm here. I've got you."

Your body seemed to melt into his. You hummed as you finally drifted off to sleep.

He held you close as you drifted off to sleep, his heart swelling with tenderness at the feel of your weary body finally relaxing in his arms. He continued to stroke your hair, his fingers tracing small circles on your back, as he watched you sleep.

A soft smile crept onto his face as he observed your peaceful, slumbering face. He could spend hours just watching you like this, the rise and fall of your chest in his arms and the soft, even breaths leaving your parted lips.

~

Hours later, Anakin’s father walked through the front door. “Hey anak-…” he paused. Something bordering on confusion was plastered on his face. He tilted his head.

Anakin stirred as he heard the front door open and his father's voice call out. He lifted his head, turning toward the door.

He knew he must've looked like a mess, with you snoozing in his arms, but he didn't care. He sent his father a somewhat defiant look. "Hey, Dad."

“What’s this?” He asked, he wasn’t mad, he was somewhat thrilled that they had finally given in to each other

His eyes flicked down to you, sleeping peacefully against his chest. A small, somewhat smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He returned his gaze to his dad, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "What does it look like?" he countered, his tone somewhat defensive.

“Looks like you finally made a move.” He winked, patted Anakin’s shoulder, and pulled out his phone to snap a photo.

“Dad…” he groaned

Anakin watched his dad pull out his phone, already knowing what was coming. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, letting out a sigh of mock-exasperation.

"Dad, come on..." he protested, though there was no real malice behind his words. He knew his dad well enough to know this was just how he showed his excitement and affection.

His dad chuckled, snapping the picture before pocketing his phone. "Relax, kid," he chided gently, his tone laced with affectionate amusement. "I've just been waiting for this for a long time. Can't I have a little photographic proof?"

You stirred in his arms at the sound of the conversation. “Ani?” You whispered.

His heart leaped at the sound of your sleepy, half-awake voice. He looked down at you, his expression instantly softening as he saw your eyes flutter open.

"Hey sweetheart," he murmured, his hand smoothing down your hair. "I'm right here."

“Who’s here?” Your eyes fluttered as you shifted in arms slightly.

He chuckled softly at your disoriented, half-asleep state, finding it endearingly cute. "It's just my dad, sweetheart," he replied, a fond smile on his lips. He continued to brush his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe your sleep-addled mind.

“Hi, Mr Skywalker,” you mumbled, a smile on your face.

His father chuckled, charmed by your drowsy, half-conscious greeting. He walked over, taking a seat in a nearby chair, his eyes watching the two of you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

"Hey, kiddo," he responded, his tone warm and friendly. "Finally got some shut-eye, huh?"

You nodded against his chest. You were trying to be respectful, but the events of last night had sucked the life out of you. You felt like you could sleep forever.

Anakin's heart swelled in his chest as he felt you nuzzle into him, trying so hard to be polite despite your obvious exhaustion. He gently traced small circles on your back, his touch meant to be soothing and comforting.

His dad chuckled softly again, clearly finding your half-asleep effort endearing. "Don't force yourself on my account, kiddo," he said kindly. "You look drained."

And before you knew it, you were falling into deep sleep again.

He watched as you slipped back into slumber, a soft, affectionate smile on his lips. His arms pulled you closer, holding you protectively against his chest.

He looked up at his dad, a hint of fondness in his eyes. "She's exhausted," he muttered, gently stroking your hair.

“I’m glad you two have each other,” his dad said, standing up and patting Anakin’s shoulder.

His heart warmed at his dad's comment, a wave of gratitude and contentment washing over him. He looked down at you, sleeping so peacefully in his arms, a feeling of fierce protection swelling within him.

"Yeah," he said softly, his eyes never leaving your face. "Me too, Dad. Me too."

~

As the night went on, Anakin decided you’d be more comfortable in a bed. “Sweetheart?” he stroked your hair.

You stirred slightly at the feel of his fingers stroking through your hair, your mind slowly emerging from the realm of sleep. You mumbled something unintelligible, your eyes still half-lidded and groggy.

He continued to pet your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "Sweetheart, it's time to move, alright? Let's get you to a real bed."

He slowly shifted your body, carefully lifting you into a sitting position. He stood up, keeping you close against his chest, his arms encircling your waist to support you.

"I'm gonna carry you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and firm. "Just hold on to me tight, okay? I've got you."

You held on as tightly as your sleepy form would allow. Anakin carried you up the stairs and into his room, settling you into his mattress. He lowered you gently onto his bed, careful to support your tired, limp form. He pulled the covers over you, making sure you were completely comfortable and cozy. The smell of him overwhelmed your senses, even in your dazed state. The scent of him seemed to settle you further into the sheets.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes not leaving your face as you settled into the mattress. He couldn't help but reach out, his hand carefully brushing a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate.

All of a sudden, he felt a buzz vibrate the bed. Your phone was ringing shit, please don’t wake her up he thought. He fumbled around in your pocket for a moment before finally retrieving your ringing phone. He grimaced when he saw the screen, realizing it might wake you up. He silently cursed himself, hoping it wouldn't rouse you from your well-earned sleep.

He quietly answered the phone, keeping his voice low as he brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

“Anakin?” Your mother questioned.

He recognized your mother's voice immediately, and a pang of guilt washed over him. He knew she was probably worried sick about you, and here he was, answering your phone in the middle of the night.

He swallowed, keeping his voice steady and calm. "Um, yeah, it's me," he replied, casting a glance towards your sleeping form.

“Is (Y/n) over there? She’s missed curfew.” Your mother explained.

He sighed, realizing that he had inadvertently confirmed your whereabouts. He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still on your sleeping form.

"Yeah, she fell asleep here," he admitted, his voice low and quiet, still mindful of not waking you. "She was exhausted, and I didn't want to wake her."

“Yeah…” your mother sighed, “she was super upset when I left this morning. I take it you two have made up?”

The mention of your emotional state tugged at his heartstrings, and he let out a soft sigh, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently run his fingers along your hair.

"Yeah, we talked," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "We're... we're okay now."

“Good, she can stay over tonight, if she’s still asleep.”

He felt a small weight lift from his shoulders as your mother agreed to let you stay over for the night. He glanced down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips at the sight of you, still sleeping peacefully.

"She's still out," he confirmed, his hand continuing to brush through your hair affectionately. "She's pretty wiped out."

“Okay, Anakin, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized your mother was satisfied with your whereabouts. He replied quietly, his eyes flickering back down to your sleeping form.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," he said, before ending the call and gently setting your phone on the nightstand.

He sat there for a moment, silently watching you sleep, your soft, steady breaths the only sound in the room. A wave of tenderness washed over him, his heart expanding with love and protectiveness.

He shifted, carefully swinging his legs onto the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. He lay down beside you, his arm gently encircling your waist and pulling you closer, your body instinctively gravitating towards him. His head rested on the pillow, his chest right behind your back.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Anakin said softly.

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your body shifting unconsciously towards him. He could feel your warm, sleepy form pressing against his chest, seeking his comfort even in your slumber.

He gently tucked you closer, his arm around your waist, tightening possessively. He placed a soft, tender kiss on the nape of your neck.

“I love you,” Anakin whispered into your neck before falling into the well-deserved sleep.

a/n- we sure did a lot of sleeping for insomniacs lol. anyways I hope you guys liked this series. sorry it took me so long to get this part out but here you go… FEAST🍽️

[kb4g3]

can we get "a man who yearns is a man who earns" with hayden christensen x young!wife

—🎀🩰

A Man Who Yearns Is A Man Who Erarns ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Summary: Hayden spends the day yearning for his teasing young wife—and when he gets home, he earns her in every way.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x young!wife!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Fluffy porn, Age gap, Oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Praise kink, soft dominance, possessive behavior, Teasing, yearning, emotional intimacy, domestic fluff, , Hayden being a hopeless romantic and pussy-whipped husband

Note: Writing this request was such fun for me! Thank you for the great idea, and I hope I met your expectations and that you like it! Love, xoxo ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

The sunlight slips in slow, draping the sheets in pale gold. You’re warm under the covers, limbs tangled with Hayden’s, your bare thigh resting over his hip. You can hear the low hum of the ceiling fan, the occasional chirp from the tree outside the bedroom window. It’s a summer morning, but the air’s still a little cool — and the first thing you feel is his hand on your back, stroking gently, like he’s been awake just to touch you.

You shift against him, arching your spine a little as you stretch. Your leg drags over his body — and that’s when you feel it.

He’s hard.

Again.

A slow, smug smile curls at your lips.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, voice still syrupy with sleep.

Hayden lets out a soft laugh, rough and low, his fingers dragging lazily down your spine. “Yeah, I noticed.”

You open your eyes. His hair’s a mess — flattened on one side, sticking up on the other — and he hasn’t shaved, the stubble making him look even more rugged than usual. But his expression is boyish. Soft. Caught.

“Let me guess,” you whisper, crawling a little higher on his body until your chest is pressed to his, “You were staring at me while I slept again.”

His hand smooths over your bare ass, cupping you possessively. “You make it sound creepy.”

“You make it easy.”

You kiss his jaw, just under his ear. You feel him twitch beneath you — all of him. His breathing stutters. His arm tightens around your waist.

“You really can’t help yourself, huh?” you murmur against his skin. “Always thinking about me. Always wanting me.”

“Of course I do,” he says, without hesitation.

And there it is — that honesty. That thing about Hayden that still knocks the wind out of you, even after almost a year of being his wife. He doesn’t play games. He doesn’t posture. When he wants you, he lets you feel it in every part of him. When he loves you — and he does, deeply, achingly — he lets it burn right through his eyes.

“I wake up thinking about you,” he says softly, hand sliding up your back, slipping into your hair. “I go to sleep thinking about you. I don’t even try to stop anymore.”

You pull back enough to look at him — and god, he’s beautiful in the morning. All sleepy eyes and scratchy voice and smitten, helpless adoration.

You tilt your head.

“Poor baby,” you coo, dragging your hips just barely against his cock, still pinned between you. “Bet it’s exhausting being so obsessed with me.”

“It is,” he says, dead serious. “It’s a full-time job.”

You laugh, but it comes out a little breathless, a little wanton. Because underneath the teasing, you’re melting for him. For how much he wants you — always.

“You know what I think?” you murmur, grinding against him again, just a little harder this time.

“What?”

You lean in, lips brushing his. “I think a man who yearns…”

You suck gently on his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth.

“…is a man who earns.”

He groans into your mouth. His hands are gripping your hips now, pulling you down onto his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers and your panties. The pressure is hot, steady, dangerous.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice wrecked.

You kiss him — slow, messy, sweet — and when you pull back, your eyes are heavy-lidded, lips damp, heart fluttering.

“Then die happy.”

You sit up, straddling him fully now, your panties soaked, your body warm and ready and aching for him. You grind down harder, watching his jaw tighten, the way his eyes lock onto you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“You want to come inside me, don’t you?” you whisper, rocking your hips in little circles. “You’ve been hard for me all morning, baby. You earned it.”

He hisses between his teeth. “Fuck—don’t tease me.”

“But I like teasing you,” you say sweetly, dragging your fingers down your own stomach, your thighs, watching him watch you. “You look so pretty when you’re desperate.”

He sits up suddenly, hands framing your face, kissing you hard. You moan into his mouth, body trembling as he presses you down against him, cock straining between you, hot and thick and leaking through the fabric.

“I’ll beg,” he growls. “You know I will.”

You laugh — because you do know. He has. On more than one occasion.

But today, you’re feeling wicked. Playful.

You pull back, palms pressed to his chest, hair a little messy now from the way he kissed you.

“Not yet,” you whisper. “Not until I’ve made you earn it.”

He groans again, head falling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. He looks like he’s suffering. You love it.

You start to move — slowly, sensually — rolling your hips while you’re still clothed, letting the friction build, letting him feel every bit of your soaked panties rubbing against him. Your hands trail over his chest, his shoulders, his stomach. You whisper things to him — soft, dirty things — about how hard he is, how needy, how fucking good it feels to be wanted like this.

His hands never stop touching you. Your thighs. Your waist. The dip of your back. He keeps looking at you like he’s memorizing it all.

And just when he’s panting, just when his hips start to jerk up involuntarily —

You stop.

You still completely, biting your lip as you lean down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you murmur innocently. “You want coffee?”

His eyes snap open.

“What?”

You giggle and slide off of him, legs a little wobbly, your panties sticking damply to your thighs.

“You heard me.”

“You’re seriously leaving me like this?”

You pause in the doorway, looking back at him — flushed, half-naked, rock hard and completely ruined.

“You’re the one who said it’s a full-time job,” you tease. “I’m just giving you overtime.”

He groans into the pillow.

And behind your smug smile, your heart is full. Because god, you adore this man. And nothing feels more right than knowing he’ll still be here — hard, desperate, in love — when you come back.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Hayden doesn’t stop thinking about you — not even for a second.

You’re just at home. Curled up somewhere in his shirt, probably sipping iced coffee and leaving lipstick stains on the rim like you always do. He’d kissed you on the forehead that morning before heading out — whispered be good in your ear like he was the one who needed to be reassured.

And now? He’s useless.

He’s supposed to be running errands — something about dry cleaning, groceries, a new filter for the AC — but all he can think about is you. The way you’d teased him that morning, those soaked panties pressed against his cock, your breathy giggle when you walked away like you hadn’t just wrecked him.

He shifts in the driver’s seat, adjusting his sweatpants. Still hard. Still aching.

God, he’s pathetic.

He grips the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the red light as it ticks down. He doesn’t even notice the girl in the car next to him staring — sunglasses perched on her head, lips slightly parted in recognition.

Not until she lowers her window.

“Are you—oh my god—Hayden Christensen?”

He turns, smile automatic. Polite. “Hey.”

She beams, leaning further out. “I thought that was you! I’m such a fan. Star Wars was my entire childhood.”

“Thank you,” he says, distracted. His phone buzzes in the cupholder. His heart kicks.

The girl giggles. “You look really good, by the way. Like… really good.”

He glances at her — twenty-something, bold, clearly hoping for something more. He gives a tight smile.

“Appreciate it.”

The light turns green. He nods and pulls away before she can ask for a photo.

His phone buzzes again.

He grabs it at the next stop.

One new message from: Wife ❤️

miss u already. look what you could be touching if you weren’t running errands like a responsible husband 💋

Attached: a photo.

He swears under his breath, unlocking it fast.

You’re on the bed — his side — in nothing but one of his old black t-shirts, pulled up just enough to show the curve of your bare hips, the tops of your thighs. Your hand’s between your legs, fingers just teasing the edge of your panties. Your mouth is slightly parted. You look smug. Wanton. Sweet enough to ruin him.

His cock twitches instantly.

Another buzz.

hope that dry cleaning is worth it

He throws the phone in the passenger seat, dragging a hand down his face with a low groan.

Fuck the errands.

He turns the car around.

You don’t even hear the door.

He always moves quiet when he wants to.

You’re on your stomach, scrolling on your phone, still in his shirt and your now-sticky panties. You grin as you hear the unmistakable sound of keys hitting the hallway table, the door clicking shut.

“Dry cleaning already?” you call out.

No answer.

You twist around — and he’s there, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

His eyes are dark.

Dangerous.

You shift, arching your back just a little, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

“Hi,” you say innocently.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you for a long, heavy moment — like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

Then he speaks.

“Take them off.”

You blink. “What?”

“Your panties. Now.”

Your stomach flips.

You push up to your knees slowly, watching him the whole time, and slip your hand between your thighs, tugging the ruined fabric down and off. You toss them aside — deliberately, dramatically — and stretch, letting his shirt ride up.

He walks toward you like a storm.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” he says quietly. “Had to tease me. Had to send that photo. Had to sit here touching yourself like I wasn’t losing my fucking mind just trying to drive home.”

You’re grinning now, flushed, heart pounding.

“I didn’t even touch myself yet,” you say softly. “I was waiting for you.”

He groans — low, wrecked — and his hands are on you before you can tease again, grabbing your waist and pulling you down onto your back. His mouth finds yours in a bruising kiss, one hand already tugging the shirt higher, the other gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip.

“You’ve been driving me insane all day,” he growls against your lips. “You want me desperate? You want me fucking obsessed?”

“Yes,” you breathe, smiling even as your voice trembles.

He kisses you again — slower this time, deeper — like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. Like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

“You have no idea how much I yearn for you,” he whispers.

Your breath catches.

Because he means it.

He always means it.

And in that moment — even before he touches you again — you already feel owned.

He doesn’t rip the shirt off you — he peels it. Slow. Reverent.

Like he’s unwrapping something sacred.

You feel the way his eyes drag over every inch of bare skin, pausing at your nipples, already hard. His hands trace the sides of your ribs, the curve of your waist, the dip of your stomach. Gentle. Obsessive.

And then he kneels between your thighs and presses a kiss to your hipbone.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs. “You. Spread out like this. Mine.”

You arch into him when his tongue trails just under your bellybutton. One hand fists in the sheets. The other reaches down, sliding through his thick, dark hair as he moves lower.

“I waited for you,” you whisper, breath catching. “Like a good girl.”

That wrecks him.

His eyes meet yours, so dark and hungry you feel your heartbeat between your legs.

“Then let me reward you.”

And then he buries his face between your thighs.

You cry out, hips jerking, back arching off the bed as his mouth seals over your cunt. He eats you like he’s starved. Like you’re all he wants, all he’ll ever want.

His tongue is everywhere — slow at first, teasing your folds, then flattening against your clit in long, firm licks that make you whimper. His stubble scratches in that perfect way that leaves you burning.

You try to close your legs around his head, overwhelmed, but he growls and grabs your thighs, pulling them wider, pushing them down to the bed.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says, voice rough with hunger. “Let me taste my wife.”

You whine, trembling, fingers tugging his hair as his tongue dips into your entrance, licking you up and down like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had. It’s filthy. Wet and loud and worshipful. You feel his breath, the heat of it, his low moans vibrating through your core.

“I’m already so close,” you gasp.

“Good.”

He presses two fingers into you slowly, curling them just right — and when he sucks on your clit again, it’s over.

You break.

Your thighs shake, your moans fill the room, and he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking you through it, swallowing every drop, gripping your hips when you try to twist away.

“Hayden—”

He groans your name like a prayer.

You blink up at the ceiling, dazed and ruined and nowhere near finished.

He crawls up your body slowly, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your breasts. Sucking gently on one nipple, then the other, leaving your skin marked and shining. When his face is finally above yours, you’re panting.

“I love you,” you breathe, hands cradling his jaw.

“I know,” he whispers. “I love you more.”

He kisses you like he’s trying to give it all back — tongue slow, deliberate, tasting you with reverence. Then he reaches between you and frees himself from his boxers.

You look down.

He’s already leaking — thick and hard and heavy in his hand.

“You’ve earned it,” you whisper, voice teasing and sweet. “Take me.”

He lines himself up and sinks in slow.

You both gasp.

“Fuck,” he breathes, head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel—god, baby, you feel perfect.”

You clutch at his back as he bottoms out, your walls clenching around him.

He stays there for a moment, fully inside, not moving. Just feeling you.

Then he starts to move.

Long, slow thrusts. Deep enough to feel in your throat. His hips rock steady, body covering yours completely. He keeps one hand between you, rubbing circles against your clit, keeping you right on the edge.

“Hayden—oh my god—”

“I know, I know,” he pants. “You’re doing so good for me.”

His eyes never leave yours. You can feel the way he’s holding back — trying not to lose it. His jaw is clenched, sweat beading at his temple, every muscle in his body flexing as he fucks you through another orgasm.

Your second.

You cry out, nails dragging down his back, eyes rolling back as he grinds into you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing your neck, your jaw, your cheek. “My beautiful wife. My perfect girl.”

Your body goes limp, trembling beneath him, but he doesn’t stop.

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and thrusts deeper.

You choke on a sob.

“Too much?” he asks instantly, voice full of worry.

“No,” you gasp. “More.”

He growls and fucks into you harder — still not rough, but desperate. Possessive.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth as your third orgasm hits you like a wave. It crashes over you, hot and dizzying, and he fucks you through it until you’re shaking again.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he groans. “Where do you want me?”

“In me,” you breathe, nails digging into his back. “Please, Hayden—come in me.”

He lets go with a broken sound — hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you. He kisses you as he fills you, breath stuttering against your lips, hand cradling your face like you’re too precious to lose.

You hold him through it, legs still trembling.

You don’t realize you’re crying until he pulls back, brushing his thumbs under your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks softly. “Baby. Talk to me.”

“No,” you whisper, voice thick. “You just love me so much it breaks me.”

He laughs — not mocking, not amused. Just overwhelmed.

“I do,” he says. “I love you so fucking much.”

He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

You’re a mess beneath him — thighs sticky, hair wild, lips swollen. But he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He gently slips out of you and presses a soft kiss between your legs. Then he moves up the bed, pulling you into his arms, holding you close.

You nuzzle into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, still fast, still a little wild.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper. “Ever.”

“You’ll never need to,” he says. “I’ll spend the rest of my life earning this.”

You look up at him.

“You already did.”

And when you fall asleep in his arms, it’s with his cum still inside you and his hand resting protectively on your stomach — like even in dreams, he can’t stop touching what he yearns for most.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ BONUS SCENE. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

The bedroom still smells like sweat and sex, but the sheets are cooling and your muscles are beginning to complain in that delicious post-love ache. Hayden kisses the crown of your head, then nudges your shoulder.

“Bath?” he murmurs, voice low, tender. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, smiling, too warm and floaty to form real words. He slips from the bed, pulls on his boxers, and disappears into the ensuite. A moment later you hear water rushing, the soft clink of glass as he lights a candle by the tub. When he returns, he scoops you up bridal-style—even though you could walk—and carries you toward the steam-filled room.

“You know I can manage,” you tease, arms looped around his neck.

He grins. “Indulge me. A man who yearns—”

“—is a man who earns,” you finish for him, giggling as he sets you gently on the edge of the claw-foot tub.

Warm lavender-scented water laps at porcelain. He tests it with his wrist, then peels away what little fabric remains on both of you. You step in first, sinking to your shoulders, sighing at the heat that loosens everything. He follows, settling behind you, long legs bracketing yours so you can recline against his chest.

Silence hums—comfortable, loving. His fingertips trail lazy lines along your arms, mapping freckles and faint water droplets. Beneath the surface, his big hands cradle your thighs, thumbs stroking circles that tingle but don’t push.

“You okay?” he whispers near your ear.

“Better than okay,” you answer, tilting your head back so you can see him. “You?”

“I’m a little in pieces,” he admits with a shy smile. “But every piece is happy.”

You turn just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“Why does yearning make you feel like you have to earn me? I’m already yours.”

He looks thoughtful, thumb skimming the inside of your knee under water. “Because the wanting keeps me humble. Every time I ache for you, it reminds me not to take you for granted. The yearning’s the spark. The earning’s the promise.”

Your chest goes warm—not from the bath, but from him. “You’re so sappy.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” you say, biting back a grin. “Almost as much as I love when you’re… not sappy.”

His laugh rumbles through your back. “Noted.”

He reaches for a washcloth and unscented soap, lathering it until suds spill over his fingers. Gently, he lifts your arm and begins to wash you—shoulder, forearm, wrist—so thoroughly it feels like worship. You close your eyes, melting into each pass of soft fabric over skin.

“You spoil me,” you murmur.

“I told you,” he says, kissing the spot just behind your ear, “full-time job.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

[kb4g3]

BIMBO READER TEXT WITH POLY BARRY & RAFE

Inspired idea by @tinythebunni 🐰🩷

The Warning : Suggestive Content & Comments mainly from Barry and briefly Rafe. Both of our favorite menaces. Including some fluff if you squint and little comedy.

Author Note : I’ve put some thought into writing about this poly relationship and will write more in the future. Enjoy🫶🏽

divider credits to the original owner. (I’ll give proper credits once I find the account shortly)

[kb4g3]

Insomniac

brotherbsf!anakin x reader au

wc- 4979

warnings- fluff, angst, hurt/ no comfort, alcohol issues, language, kissing, slight age gap (reader is 18, anakin is 19-20)

part one, part two, part three, part four

Early the next morning, the sound of shuffling pulled you from your deep sleep. You groaned, looking over at your phone, Anakin’s name still lit up the screen. “Ani?” You whispered.

He had stayed on the line the entire night, his phone held against his ear as he listened intently to the sounds of your breathing. He had barely slept, too content with hearing the soft sounds of your sleeping presence.

As soon as he heard the sound of your voice, his heart skipped a beat, his thoughts snapping to attention. He chuckled softly, his voice groggy yet fond upon hearing your groggy whisper.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice sleepy but filled with affection. "You're awake? How'd you sleep?"

“Did you sleep last night?” You ignored his words, his well-being becoming of interest to you. He chuckled, knowing full well that you were going to focus on his sleeping habits instead of your own. Your concern for him was both endearing and slightly amusing.

He shifted on the bed, a small sigh escaping his lips. "I managed to get a few hours of sleep in," he confessed, his tone a mix of sheepishness and reassurance. "But I mostly stayed awake. Just wanted to be sure you were sleeping well." He added a soft, teasing edge to his words. "No need to worry about me, sweetheart. I'm tougher than I look."

You hummed “I’m sure you are…” letting out a little moan as you stretched. “Are you still hanging out with (Y/b/n) tonight?”

He smirked at the sound of your moan, his mind instantly drifting to the image of you stretching in bed. It sent a small jolt of arousal through him, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, knowing that it was far too early for that.

The question snapped him back to the present, and he groaned internally. "Yeah," he confirmed, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "He's expecting me later. Why?"

“I was hoping maybe… we could hang out… once he went to sleep?”

His annoyance at the mention of your brother immediately faded upon hearing your suggestion. The thought of being able to hang out with you, just the two of you, without any interruptions, was incredibly enticing. A small smile tugged at his lips, his heart swelling with affection. He replied without hesitation. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'd love to. As soon as (Y/b/n)'s asleep, I'm all yours."

With a grin on your face, you nodded. “Okay… I’ll see you tonight.” You said into the phone.

He smiled to himself, picturing the satisfied smirk on your face as you agreed. The thought of being together again, alone and without any distractions, was making his heart pound in his chest. He responded with a warm, affectionate tone. "I'll be counting down the minutes. See you later, sweetheart."

Your heart fluttered at his words, “See you later, Ani.” You said before pressing the red ‘end call’ button.

He felt a pang of longing as you ended the call, the sound of your voice lingering in his mind. He knew he had to endure a few more hours before he could finally see you again, but knowing that you were waiting for him and looking forward to their time together made it all worthwhile.

He let out a sigh, a small smile still playing on his lips as he set his phone aside. "Just a few more hours," he muttered to himself, his anticipation growing by the minute.

You lie on your bed for a while, staring up at your ceiling, a smile plastered on your face. Finally, they could openly express their feelings, well, sort of… sneaking around (Y/b/n) was going to be a challenge.

The hours seemed to pass by torturously slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Anakin tried to distract himself by busying himself with menial tasks, cleaning up his room, reading a book, even doing some homework, but nothing could keep him from thinking about you. His mind was constantly wandering, imagining all the things he could do with you later that night, and he found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes. He hoped with all his might that your brother would go to bed early.

You had done the same: cleaned your room, picked out a few outfits, cleaned your room again, did your makeup, and watched some TV. You looked over at the clock; it was finally time.

As the time finally approached, Anakin's heart began to race in anticipation. He quickly freshened up, took a quick shower, and changed into a fresh outfit. He checked his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his damp hair, and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

He picked up his phone, opened his messages, and typed out a quick text.

'*Heading over now. Can't wait to see you*’

You felt your phone buzz next to you on your bed. You opened the message from Anakin, a smile stretching across your face.

’ yay!’You replied

His heart skipped a beat as he saw your reply on his screen. Seeing that single word, 'yay,' filled his chest with a mixture of excitement and affection. It was a simple response, but it told him everything he needed to know — you were just as excited to see him as he was to see you.

He chuckled softly, his fingers quickly tapping out a reply.

‘Be there in 5.’

You loved the message and threw your phone down onto the bed. Huffing out a few breaths. It’s okay, it's just Anakin, You talked yourself up in the mirror

He slipped his phone into his pocket, a smirk on his lips as he thought about your reaction to his last message. He found it endearing how excited you sounded over a text, all to see him.

He headed out the front door, his footsteps quick and light as he made his way over to your house. In only a few minutes, he was standing at your doorstep, his heart thudding in his chest with impatient anticipation.

He walked through the door, greeting your mother, who was in the kitchen making dinner, and your father, who was on the couch watching the daily news.

As he stepped inside and saw your mom cooking dinner in the kitchen and your dad watching the news, he made his way over to them, respectfully greeting them with a smile and a small nod. "Good evening," he said, trying to be polite even though he was itching to see you.

He was relieved that they seemed relaxed and not suspicious in any way. Your parents had always liked him, but he still couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that he was about to sneak around with you behind their backs.

“(Y/b/n)’s not home yet; he had to pick up an extra shift from work, but (Y/n) is upstairs, I believe.”

He nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, despite the way his heartbeat quickened at the mention of your name. He responded with a polite smile, trying to feign a casual tone in his voice. "Ah, gotcha. Thanks."

His mind was buzzing with thoughts as he turned away from them and made his way up the stairs. Each step he took brought him closer to you and the secret alone time he had been looking forward to all day.

He knocked softly on the door, opening it. You ran to him and jumped into his arms. Your arms wrapping around him, and your face burying into the crook of his neck.

He couldn't help but chuckle as you jumped into his arms, your body colliding with his in a sweet embrace. He stumbled a bit at the unexpected impact, but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

His heart thumped loudly against his chest as he held you close, the scent of your hair and the softness of your skin against his sending a jolt of affection through him. "Miss me that much, sweetheart?" he teased, his lips close to your ear.

As he slowly let you down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He let out a low, contented hum as he felt your lips press against his, the contact sending a spark of pleasure through him. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked at you, his hands still resting gently on your waist.

"Greedy little thing..." he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

“We have a lot of time to make up for.” You laughed, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes

He chuckled softly at your words, his heart swelling with affection. It was true, the stolen moments and stolen glances they shared over the years had only fueled the fire within him.

"That we do," he agreed, his voice low and affectionate. His eyes locked onto yours, drinking in the sight of you with a deep, hungry gaze. "And I plan on making every second count. You're mine tonight."

You hummed and leaned in to kiss him again. He responded to the kiss instantly, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction as he deepened it. His lips moved against yours with slow, sensual motions, his tongue darting out to gently tease your lower lip.

He pressed closer to you, his body pressing against yours in a subtle sign of possession. His hands moved to grip your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles on the curves of your hips.

“As much as I’d love for this to continue… I think we should go help your mom with dinner. Wouldn’t want your brother to catch us up here kissing like this, would we?” he teased.

You shook your head, pulling away from him. He chuckled softly, reluctantly pulling away from you. Your heart was still pounding with eagerness, but you knew he was right—you needed to maintain appearances in front of your family.

He followed you silently down the stairs, a sly grin on his face as he looked at you from behind. The way your hips swayed as you walked made his mind race with impure thoughts, but he pushed them aside for now.

“Hey, Mom. Can we help with anything?” You chirped.

Your mom was slicing vegetables at the counter, glancing up as you entered the kitchen. She smiled warmly at both of you, clearly pleased by your offer to help.

"Oh, hello, you two," she chirped, gesturing towards the pile of vegetables on the counter. "Sure, that would be lovely. Could you help me chop these up, please?"

You nodded, “And Anakin, if you could set the table, that’d be lovely.”

He nodded, taking a step forward. "Of course. Happy to help," he said with a polite smile.

As he moved to the cupboard to grab the plates and silverware, he shot a glance at you. He couldn't help but feel a little flutter in his stomach at the domesticity of it all. Here he was, setting the table with you and your mom, pretending to be nothing more than a close friend. The thought sent a twinge of frustration through him, but he pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand.

As they set the table and fixed dinner, (Y/b/n) walked through the door. “Oh, hey bro, sorry I had to pick up an extra shift at work. You wanna go upstairs?”

Anakin froze, his heart skipping a beat as your brother walked in through the door. He tried to remain calm and casual, shooting your brother a quick smirk.

"Hey," he greeted him casually, setting down the utensils in his hand. "It's all good, man. No need to apologize. And yeah, sure, I'm down to hang out."

He cast a subtle glance in your direction, silently cursing the timing of your brother’s arrival. You smiled at him before focusing on the vegetables at hand.

(Y/b/n) took no notice of the silent exchange between you and Anakin, his mind focused solely on getting upstairs. He stepped towards Anakin, patting him on the back. "Let's go then."

Anakin nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from you and your mom. He knew he had to play it cool and go along with his brother, even though the idea of leaving you behind was like a knife twisting in his chest.

~

Around an hour later, dinner was ready. “(Y/n), can you go get the boys, please?” Your mom asked

“Yeah,” You chirped, running up the stairs. You knocked, “dinner time, let’s go,” you said before going back downstairs.

Anakin and your brother were in the middle of a game when the knock came. They both looked up, pausing the game. Anakin's heart fluttered as he heard your voice on the other side of the door, his mind momentarily drifting from the game. He stood up from the bed, shooting a glance at his brother.

"Time to eat, I guess," he said, his tone nonchalant despite the eagerness he felt at the thought of seeing you again. You all took your normal spots at the table, which just so happened that you and Anakin were sitting right next to each other. You squeezed his hand gently, under the table, as you picked up your fork and started eating with the opposite hand.

As you all sat next to one another, Anakin found himself stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye. The subtle squeeze of your hand sent a ripple of pleasure through him, his heart fluttering in his chest.

He tried to focus on the meal, but it was hard to concentrate with you sitting so close to him. He could feel the slightest brush of your thigh against his under the table, and it took all his willpower not to reach out and touch you in some way.

~

After dinner, you stayed and helped clean up as the boys went back upstairs to finish their game. You smiled softly at the thought of last night's endeavors with Anakin, your mother, ever the observant one, noticed the soft smile dancing on your face. She chuckled softly, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

"Someone seems pleased tonight," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice as she continued drying the dishes. “How’d that go last night?” she whispered.

Your grin widened at her curiosity, and you nodded, silently letting her know that things went well. She chuckled knowingly, sensing the silent communication that passed between the two of you. Her eyes sparkled with understanding, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she continued drying the dishes.

She was well aware of your fondness for Anakin, and it amused her to see you so secretly happy. "That's great, honey," she said softly, drying a pan and placing it on the rack.

You nodded, giving your mother a small smile, and finished up the last of the dishes. She gave you a warm smile before placing her towel down on the counter. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” She kissed your head softly. You leaned into the kiss, before you pulled away and headed your separate ways for the night.

While you were getting ready for bed, Anakin and (Y/b/n) continued their gaming session, beers scattered across (Y/b/n)’s desk, their hands gripping the controllers tightly as they played in a heated competition.

Anakin's mind was only partially focused on the game, his thoughts often drifting back to you. His eyes kept flitting over to the door, his mind wondering when you were going to make an appearance.

You showered and slid into your bed, praying that (Y/b/n) would be too beat from work to stay up late. After another hour, (Y/b/n) finally tossed the controller onto his bed, a huff escaping his lips as he declared his defeat. "That's it, bro, I'm done. I gotta go to bed."

Anakin smirked, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "You're just sore you lost," he teased, taking a swig of beer.

(Y/b/n) rolled his eyes, a small pout on his face. "Psh, whatever," he grumbled, standing up from the bed. "I just have better things to do than play games all night."

Anakin chuckled, a sly look in his eyes as he set his beer down. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you need to tell yourself."

(Y/b/n) gave him a small shove, a smirk on his face. "Whatever, you're just lucky I'm tired. If I were feeling up to it, I'd wipe the floor with you."

Anakin chuckled again, waving his hand dismissively. "As if. You couldn't beat me even on your best day." Anakin stood up, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be back.” Although he had no intention of going to the bathroom at all, and every intention to go and see you.

(Y/b/n) nodded in acknowledgment, his attention already fixated on his phone. "Yeah, yeah, cool," he drawled, scrolling through social media. Anakin waited for a few seconds to make sure (Y/b/n) wasn't paying attention before slipping quietly out into the hallway. His heart was already racing with excitement and anticipation as he started towards your room.

He moved silently through the dark hallway, his footsteps light and almost inaudible. He tried to make as little noise as possible, knowing that the last thing he needed was your brother catching him in the act.

Finally, he reached your door. He lingered there for a brief moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to control his excitement. Then, after taking a deep breath, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

“Ani!” You squealed, slipping out of bed to meet him.

He chuckled softly and immediately put his hand over your mouth. "Shh, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice low and playful. "You're gonna wake the whole damn house."

“I’m sorry… I just missed you.”

His heart skipped a beat as he heard the words leave your mouth. The feeling of possessiveness and protectiveness washed over him, and he pulled you closer by the waist. "I missed you, too," he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the dim light.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him, but pausing for a moment. “Have you been drinking?”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he held you close. "Maybe a little," he admitted with a smirk. "I had a few beers with your brother."

He then leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice low and sensual. "Does it bother you?"

“No… but, how much has (Y/b/n) had?” Your eyes filled with worry.

He shrugged, his gaze shifting towards the door. "He's pretty buzzed. I think he's about to pass out in a few minutes. He's had a few more beers than me." He then turned his attention back to you, a sly smirk on his lips. "Why? You worried he's gonna catch us in here together?"

You shook your head, your grip on him loosening slightly, “He… he kind of gets… out of control when he's drunk. And I'm sure catching us together wouldn’t help.”

He nodded, understanding the concern in your voice. He knew (Y/b/n) could get a bit rowdy when he was drunk, and the thought of him discovering the two of them together was less than ideal. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, protective and possessive. "I get it," he said quietly. "We'll have to be careful then. We don't need your brother busting in here like a bull in a china shop."

“Yeah,” you smile, looking down.

He gently lifted your chin with his fingers, his eyes locking onto yours. He could see the worry and trepidation in your gaze, and a wave of protectiveness washed over him once more.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "Don't look so worried. I won't let anything happen, alright? We'll be careful."

You nod, “yeah… yeah okay.” You finally agree.

He let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling reassured by your agreement. He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him. He leaned down and gently kissed your forehead.

"Come on," he whispered, taking your hand in his. "Let's get in bed before your brother decides to do a late-night bathroom break."

You nod again and pull him towards your bed, slipping into the covers, Anakin following closely behind. The soft sheets cool against his skin as he cuddles up next to you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him.

As the warmth of your body pressed against his, he let out a soft sigh of contentment. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "God, I've missed being near you like this," he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning into him. He pulled you even closer, his arms around you almost like a vice, as if he wanted to absorb you into him. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, savoring the feeling of your body against his.

"You have no idea how much I wanted this all damn day," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. "Being close to you, touching you… It's like a goddamn drug."

“Ani…” you mumbled, reaching to cup his cheek, your eyes darting between his.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt your gentle touch against his cheek. The feel of your palm on his skin sent a ripple of desire through him, and he couldn't help but lean into your touch. He met your gaze, his eyes darkening as they lingered on your face. "Yeah, sweetheart?" he replied, his voice hoarse with barely contained need.

Your gaze flickered to his lips before leaning in and kissing him. He responded instantly, his lips meeting yours with a hungry fervor. It was as if a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire and longing that had been building up all day suddenly came flooding out.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue sought entrance to your mouth. He kissed you deeply, his touch rougher and more insistent, a manifestation of his need to taste and claim you entirely. He pulled you into his lap, gasping as you felt him underneath you, kissing him with equal intensity.

The feeling of you straddling his lap, the way your body pressed against him, ignited a fire within him that was almost overwhelming. He groaned into your mouth as you deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over your ass possessively.

He could feel every curve and contour of your body against him, and it was driving him wild. He broke the kiss long enough to speak, his voice breathless and filled with a desperate need.

"God, I want you so goddamn badly, sweetheart…."

You opened your mouth to respond, a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts, before you could respond to the intruder, your brother poked his head in, “(Y/n), have you seen Anak-…” he finally looked up at the two of you.

Anakin's heart dropped into his stomach as he heard (Y/b/n)’s voice. He reflexively tensed, his arms still around you as he looked up at your brother in the doorway. He knew how it must look, with you straddling him and the two of you obviously in the middle of a passionate moment. The last thing he needed was to get caught like this by your damn brother, of all people.

You stood up quickly, walking over to the door. “(Y/b/n), I can explain…” You tried, standing in front of him, as if that would help.

(Y/b/n) crossed his arms, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. He tried to take a step closer into the room, but you blocked his path. "Explain?!" he repeated, his voice rising. "There's not much to explain. I can see exactly what's going on here."

Behind them, Anakin stood silently, watching the scene unfold with a hint of trepidation. He knew that (Y/b/n) was not likely to take this well…

“Stop, you’re gonna wake up mom and dad,” you whispered-yelled.

(Y/b/n) scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to you. "Who the hell cares if I wake them up?!" he hissed, his voice low and sharp. "This is more important!" His gaze flicked past you towards Anakin, who was still standing by the bed, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“And you…” He seethed, finally getting past you, pushing you into the wall. Red-hot pain shot through your body at the impact. You let out a soft wince before your eyes shifted to the scene before you. (Y/b/n) now stood chest to chest with Anakin before he started throwing punches, “You're supposed to be my best friend!”

“(Y/b/n)… stop!” you cried.

Anakin had the upper hand now, pinning your brother down.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

Anakin's mind was racing, his heart thudding in his chest as he wrestled with your brother on the floor. He never wanted it to escalate this far, but your brother's violent reaction had left him with no choice. He tried to maintain control, restraining your brother as best he could, but it was a struggle. "You need to calm down, bro!" he grunted, sweat beading on his forehead. "You're acting like a damn fool!"

You gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks. Their parents finally filed into the room at the commotion. The sight of their parents entering the room added a new layer of tension to the already volatile situation. Their father's eyes widened in surprise and concern as he took in the sight before them. "What the hell is going on in here?!" he shouted, his voice booming in the small room.

Your brother, still struggling beneath Anakin on the ground, made a feeble attempt to explain, but his words were mostly incoherent, lost amid his rage.

Their mother, eyes wide, looked on in shock. "Someone, please, tell me what the hell is going on!" she demanded, her voice shaky with worry.

Anakin took a deep breath, knowing he needed to be the voice of reason in this chaotic situation. "Your damn son just barged in here, saw us together, and started throwing punches."

“Saw you together?” Your brother scoffed, “She was on top of you!”

"And that gives you the right to attack me?!" Anakin snapped back, his anger flaring. He tightened his grip on your brother in frustration, his fingers gripping his shirt tight. "You could have just talked to us before getting physical, damn it! You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, you drunk bastard!"

Your mother and father knew right then and there what the real issue was. Your brother was drunk again. Your parents exchanged knowing glances, their expressions hardening as they realized the state (Y/b/n) was in.

"Are you drunk, (Y/b/n)?!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with disappointment and anger.

Your brother, still struggling in Anakin's grip, tried to brush the accusation off with a scoff. "I had a few beers," he muttered, his speech slightly slurred. "What's the big damn deal?!"

“We’ll deal with you two later,” her dad bites, “(Y/b/n), let’s go.” He pulled your brother up by his bicep and nearly dragged him to his room, your mother sticking around for another moment.

“Anakin, I think you should go,” she said.

Anakin's heart sank as he heard the dismissal in your mother's voice. He knew there was no point in arguing, no way to rationalize their way out of this.

He nodded silently, a pang of disappointment piercing his heart. He shot a quick glance at you, his expression filled with unspoken emotions. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. With one final look at you, he reluctantly made his way toward the door.

You couldn't even look at him as he walked away. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sat there in disbelief.

Anakin's heart ached with each step as he walked out the door, his mind plagued by the look of pain on your face. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he knew he couldn't. Not now, not with the events that just transpired. The best he could do was hope that things would cool down, that he would get a chance to see you again soon…

As he stepped out into the night air, he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. The cool breeze did nothing to soothe the turmoil within him, his mind replaying the scene over and over again. He leaned against the door, his head thudding against the cool wood.

"Goddamn it.." he mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and despair.

Meanwhile, you closed your bedroom door softly, sinking against it, pulling your knees to your chest, tears streaming down your face.

Time ticked by slowly for you as you sat with your back pressed against the door, the tears streaming down your face. Your thoughts were filled with a jumble of emotions: disappointment, frustration, hurt, all swirling together in an overwhelming storm.

You longed for comfort, for the safety of his embrace, but he was gone, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces of your shattered night.

a/n- so much angst omg😭🌧️🥀 I think next chapter will be the last, I will give the comfort you deserve!

[kb4g3]

this next chapter yall… 😭😭😭

[kb4g3]

Insomniac

brotherbsf!anakin x reader au

wc- 3841

warnings- fluff, language, kissing, slight age gap (reader is 18, anakin is 19-20)

part one, part two, part three, part four

The cool evening air blew against your face as you jogged along the street, the sound of your sneakers hitting the pavement keeping time with your racing heart. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a mix of nervousness and anticipation coursing through you at the thought of seeing him again.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you arrived at his doorstep. Your hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment, hesitating for just a second before pressing it.

His father answered the door, “(Y/n), sweetheart, what do you need?”

You immediately plastered a smile on your face, trying not to let your nervousness show. "Hi, Mr. Skywalker. Is Anakin home by any chance?"

You tried to sound casual, but the rapid beating of your heart betrayed your anxiety. You fidgeted with your fingers, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, he’s up in his room.” He raised a brow at you. “Did something happen? He came home pretty upset.”

Your heart sank. “Yeah, I know… I’m just… I’m coming to check on him. He and my brother fought.” You lied. Mr. Skywalker's expression softened at your words, his concern evident in his eyes. "Oh, I see... I figured something had happened.”

He stood aside, gesturing for you to enter. "You can go on up and check on him. His room is the second one on the right." You nodded, sliding past him, up the stairs, and to Anakin's room. You knocked softly, a stark contrast to how loud your heart was beating.

“Ani?” You said sweetly. He had been lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. Hearing your voice snapped him out of his brooding. He sat up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your soft knock.

He took a moment to collect himself before responding, his voice slightly hoarse. "Yeah? Come in." You slid through the door, your back pressing up to it once you were in the room. You took a deep breath before you even looked at him. He watched as you entered, closing the door behind you and leaning against it. He could sense the tension in your body, the nervous energy radiating off of you. His own heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing with questions and unspoken words.

He sat there, his eyes fixed on you. "(Y/n)," he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and anticipation.

“Anakin… I have to tell you something.” You finally looked at him. His heart rate picked up as you looked at him, your gaze meeting him. He could see the seriousness on your face, the determination in your eyes.

He sat up straight on the edge of the bed, his attention completely focused on you. "What is it? You can tell me anything." You took a deep breath before walking over to him. You stood right in front of him, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you, for my brother's sake. I don’t care anymore. I need you,” You rambled. His eyes widened slightly as he listened to your words, his heart fluttering in his chest. He had hoped, secretly, that you felt the same way he did, but he never imagined you would be the one to confess first.

He reached out, taking your trembling fingers in his, his gaze holding yours. "(Y/n)... are you serious?" he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. He stood up in front of you, your gaze rising with him, until your eyes landed on his. He took a step closer, closing the small distance between you. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind struggling to make sense of the situation.

He looked down at you, his expression a mixture of astonishment and longing. "You really want this, with me?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with both hope and disbelief. You nodded, your arms slowly coming up to circle his neck. His breath hitched as you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing even closer. His body reacted instantly, his arm around your waist pulling you flush against him, closing the remaining distance between your bodies.

He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the scent of your perfume making his head spin. His gaze searched your face, as if looking for any hint of uncertainty or doubt. His hand on your waist started tracing small, gentle circles on the small of your back, his touch soft and intimate. His other hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin gently.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. "God, I've wanted this for so long." You nodded against him, finally filling the space between them and connecting your lips. A small gasp escaped his lips as your lips met his, the feeling of finally being able to kiss you sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

He pulled you even closer, his hand on your hip holding you tightly against him. He returned the kiss with equal fervour, his tongue gently exploring the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You hummed into the kiss, cupping his cheek. You pulled away breathlessly. He chased your lips as you pulled away, his body immediately yearning for more. He panted softly, his eyes half-lidded.

He leaned his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged and shaky. "I've wanted to do that for so damn long," he breathed, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip.

“Me too,” You whispered. His gaze darkened, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in every detail. "You have no idea how hard it's been to resist you all these years," he muttered.

“Almost slipped up this morning,” you laughed, your hands taking purchase on his chest. He chuckled softly, his hand covering yours, pressing your hand against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, the speed increasing as you touched him.

He recalled the moment earlier in the day, the near slip-up on the porch, and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, and I nearly lost my goddamn mind."

“My mom knows about us,” You blurted.

“She told me,” He said simply.

“Wait… what? When did she tell you?” His lips curled into a small smirk as he recalled the earlier conversation with your mother. He moved a hand to cup your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"This morning on the porch, after you threw your little fit, she said she knew something was going on between us.”

“She’s a smart woman, I’ll give her that. But also I… I told her. Before I came here.” His eyebrows raised in slight surprise, his grip on your waist tightening once more. He hadn't expected you to admit your feelings to your mother so openly.

He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours, trying to read your expression. "You told her about us?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“I was upset…” You looked up to him. “I didn’t know what to do. She’s the one who told me to follow my gut.” His expression softened as he heard your words, a mixture of affection and appreciation evident in his features. He caressed your cheek gently, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin.

"Your mom always gives good advice," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "So you decided to listen to her, to finally stop fighting your feelings for me?"

You nodded, “Technically, you should be thanking her, right now.” You laughed.

He chuckled, his hand moving to the side of your neck, gently stroking the skin with his thumb. "I think we should send her a thank-you card," he said sarcastically, his lips curving into a wry smile.

He pulled you even closer, his body pressing against you, leaving no space between your forms. His other hand traced down to your hip, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.

You hummed, “Let’s just… can we just lie down?” You asked sweetly. His heart skipped a beat at your words, and he nodded, his gaze softening even more.

"Of course," he said, his voice gentle. He took your hand and guided you towards the bed, crawling onto the mattress first before pulling you down with him. He settled himself on his back, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you against him, pressing your body closely against his side. You laid your head against his chest, listening to his slowing heartbeat. He ran a hand through her hair as you stared at the ceiling dreamily.

You slowly drifted off in his arms, something insomniac you never thought was possible. But now, now that you had it, It felt amazing. His chest ached with affection as he held you in his arms, your head resting against him. He could feel the tension leaving your body, your breathing evening out as you slowly slipped into sleep.

He continued stroking your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. He couldn't help but feel a wave of possessiveness wash over him, protective instincts kicking in as you slept peacefully in his arms.

He leaned his head down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he whispered. "Sleep, sweetheart. I've got you." You hummed and moved a little closer, your hand reaching up to intertwine with his free one. He smiled softly as you snuggled closer to him, your hand finding his. His heart felt heavy with affection, his fingers intertwining with yours.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving your face. He watched the peaceful expression on your face, marveling at how beautiful you looked. He gently pulled the blanket over you both, his arm around your waist, keeping you firmly against him.

~

You slept soundly for hours, hours longer than you had in a long time. As it neared curfew, Anakin dreaded that he needed to get her home. He gently stroked your hair. “(Y/n),” he whispered, “it’s time to get up.”

You groaned in response, not wanting to move from the comfortable position you were in, still wrapped in his arms. You muttered something unintelligible, your face buried in his chest.

He chuckled softly at your stubbornness, finding it quite adorable. "Come on, sweetheart. You have to get up. It's almost curfew." He tried again, his hand still stroking your hair.

“Ani…” You groaned. He couldn't help but chuckle at your sleepy protest. He found your groggy, tired demeanor adorable, his heart swelling with affection.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, his arm around your waist pulling you closer. "I know you don't want to move," he said, his voice soft and tender. "But we have to get you home before we get into trouble."

Your eyes finally fluttered open, stinging with sleep. You lay there, your face smooshed against his chest, staring at the wall. He watched as your eyes finally opened, your gaze meeting his. He couldn't help but find it endearing, the way your hair was messy and your face still showing signs of sleepiness.

He lifted a hand, gently brushing some strands of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. "There you are," he said softly, a small smile on his lips. "You look adorable when you're sleepy, you know that?"

“I’m always tired,” you laughed, “but thank you.” You sat up slowly, yawning. He chuckled at your words, his hand sliding down to your back as you sat up.

"I know, I know. You're always exhausted." He said, his tone playful.

He propped himself up on his elbow, watching you as you slowly came fully awake. You looked over at the clock that read 11:48 pm.

“Ani,” You whined, “why’d you let me sleep that long… I’m gonna be late.” He bit back a smile at your whine, finding your groggy, half-awake behavior adorable.

"I tried waking you up earlier, but you refused to cooperate." He said, his voice filled with faux-exasperation. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, turning to face you. "Come on, we need to get you home before your parents start worrying." You put her shoes back on and stood in front of him. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you in between his legs, admiring you for a few seconds before standing up and interlocking your hands.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice filled with both affection and slight reluctance. You nodded, looking up at him. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his grip firm yet tender. He couldn't help but notice again how adorable you looked in your half-asleep state, your hair messy and your eyes still drowsy.

He led you towards the door, his hand still holding yours. "Let's get you home before your parents call the cops on me." He said with a slight smirk.

You scoffed, “My mom’s probably happy I finally made a move.”

He chuckled, unable to hold back a grin at your response. "Oh, I bet she is." He replied, his tone filled with amusement. He opened the front door, the cool night air greeting you both. He stepped out first, pulling you gently along. "Come on, you sleepyhead." He teased affectionately.

They slipped into his car, riding along the neighborhood road. The trip was short, but worth it to spend a few extra minutes with each other. He drove, his focus mostly on the road but stealing occasional glances at you as you sat beside him in the passenger seat. The drive was relatively quiet, with the hum of the engine and the sound of the radio on low volume.

The way the streetlights illuminated your face made his heart skip a beat each time they passed one, and he found himself wishing the night would never end. When they arrived at her house, it was nearly midnight. They moved to the porch and said their proper goodbyes, wrapped in each other's arms. He held you tightly against him, his grip on you almost possessive. He relished in the feeling of your body against his, finding it hard to let you go.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his voice low and gentle. "You better get inside before your parents come looking for you, sweetheart." He whispered, his hands still on your waist.

“I know,” You whisper, leaning up to kiss him. “I’ll see you soon.”

He returned the kiss, his lips gentle against yours. "Of course, you will." He whispered, his hold on you tightening just a fraction.

He knew he had to let you go, even though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to keep you close. "You should go in, sweetheart." He said softly, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You nodded before walking into her house, right on time.

~

You were damn near giddy as you entered your room. Jumping up and down, thinking about the night you and Anakin had shared. Even if it was just sleeping, you were okay with that, as long as it was with him. Your phone buzzed, once, then twice. You looked at it. ‘Anakin’ popped up on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his name flash across the screen. A mix of excitement and butterflies took over, and you quickly opened the message.

The screen lit up with his words:

'Hey sweetheart'

You lay down on your bed, kicking your feet as you replied:

‘Hi’

The response came almost immediately, his message appearing on your screen just seconds later.

'I'm glad you haven't gone to sleep yet. Can I call?’

You nodded eagerly, even though he couldn’t see you, responding quickly:

’ yes please’

A small chuckle escaped him, his fingers already hovering over the dialing button. It was endearing how eager you sounded through text, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of affection.

He didn't hesitate to press the call button; the phone pressed against his ear as he waited for you to pick up. “Hi,” You chirped through the phone. He found himself grinning like an idiot at your cheerful greeting. The sound of your voice alone was enough to send his heart into a frenzy.

"Hey, sweetheart." He said, his voice soft but filled with affection. He leaned back against the headboard, his phone comfortably pressed against his ear.

“I missed you,” You admitted. It’s only been 20 minutes. Get it together. A small, almost amused chuckle escaped his lips as he heard your words. He knew he was being silly, missing you after just a short time apart, but he just couldn't help it.

"Already?" He teased playfully, his eyes closed as he rested against the headboard, picturing your face in his mind. "It's only been 20 minutes, sweetheart."

“I know, but…” He heard the hesitation in your voice, and a small smile formed on his face. He knew exactly what you were going to say, and he found it both sweet and slightly humorous.

"But what, sweetheart?" He asked quietly, his tone filled with affectionate indulgence.

“It’s really been since middle school, huh?” The mention of middle school immediately transported his mind back to a different time, a time when you were both young and carefree. He chuckled softly, a mix of nostalgia and reminiscence filling his chest.

"Yeah, it has." He replied, his voice a little quieter. He propped his head up on his pillows, the phone held close to his ear. "Feels like ages ago, huh?"

“Yeah,” You laugh softly.

The sound of your laughter, even through the phone line, made his heart flutter. It was a sound he never tired of hearing. He found himself smiling, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he thought about the many times he'd heard it before.

"I remember how shy you used to be." He mused, chuckling softly. "You barely even looked me in the eye back then."

You smile at the memory, “You didn’t make any moves either, did you?” You asked in a teasing tone.

He couldn't help but laugh at your words, his eyes rolling fondly. He had to admit, you had a point. He was just as shy and hesitant as you were back then. "Touché, sweetheart." He replied, his tone filled with amused embarrassment. "We were both hopeless idiots back then."

You smile, rolling over in a comfortable sleeping position, your phone now on speaker. The sound of your movements through the phone made him picture you lying in bed, getting comfortable, and he found himself wishing he could be there beside you, holding you in his arms.

"You getting settled in bed?" He asked softly, a hint of tenderness lacing his every word.

“Yeah,” You nodded. He imagined you snuggled up in bed, your hair sprawled out on the pillow, the sheets wrapped around you. The image made his heart yearn for your presence even more.

"I bet you look adorable all snuggled up in bed." He whispered, his voice low and filled with affectionate longing.

“I wish you were here.” You admitted. His heart ached at your words, the confession echoing in his chest. Oh, how he wished he could be right there with you, too. His hand clutched tightly around the phone, as if it could magically transport him right into your bed.

"Believe me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish I were there with you too."

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Keep talking.” You hummed, feeling drowsy again, something you hadn’t felt in years. He chuckled softly, a small grin on his face as he heard the drowsiness in your voice. It warmed his heart knowing that he was the reason why you felt comfortable enough to let your guard down and feel sleepy.

He settled further against the pillows, making himself comfortable, and started speaking again, his voice smooth and soothing. "What do you want me to talk about, sweetheart?" He asked, his eyes closed, his mind solely focused on your presence on the other end of the line.

“Anything…” He smiled at your vague response. You just wanted the sound of his voice, and he knew it. It filled his heart with a strange sense of pride, knowing that he could soothe you with his mere voice alone.

He took a few moments, contemplating what topic to pick, but then something came to mind. "You know what I was thinking about earlier?" He asked, his voice soft and intimate.

“Hmmm?” He chuckled softly, picturing your cute, sleepy expression on the other end of the line as you made that hum of response. It was endearing, and he couldn't help but find it adorable.

He continued, his voice gentle and low. "I was thinking..." He paused for a beat, his tone filled with a hint of amusement. "Why do girls always steal all the blankets?"

You scoffed, before laughing slightly. “We were practically on top of each other.” You reminded. He chuckled, the memory of the two of you snuggled up closely together playing in his mind's eye. It brought a smile to his lips to think about the way you had been earlier — your bodies intertwined, your warmth radiating between them.

"Good point," he conceded with a soft, amused chuckle. "Still doesn't change the fact that you're a blanket hogger." You hummed again, shifting to find a comfortable position. He listened to the subtle sounds of you moving around on the other end of the phone, picturing the way you probably nestled into the bed, trying to find the perfect sleeping position. The image alone made him yearn for you even more, and his voice came out in a soft, affectionate whisper.

"You comfortable, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone dripping with warmth.

“Yeah.” you whispered, your body relaxing into your bed, slowly dozing off. He smiled softly at the sound of your voice, the slight slur in your words indicating that you were slowly dozing off. His heart ached with fondness, knowing that you felt safe and relaxed enough to let your guard down and sleep.

"Good," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. I'll be here the whole night, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded although he couldn’t see you. “Goodnight, Ani.” You mumbled. He chuckled softly, finding it endearing how you were slowly falling asleep while still trying to stay coherent and talk to him. The image of you in bed, mumbling a sleepy 'goodnight' while dozing off, tugged at his heartstrings.

He spoke softly into the phone, his voice filled with tenderness. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

a/n- this is lowkey a filler chapter, idk. I like how she only sleeps with w him.

[kb4g3]

Insomniac

brothersbsf!anakin x reader au

wc- 4479

warnings- some foul language, angst, slight age gap (reader is 18, anakin is 19-20), I think that’s it

part one, part two, part three, part four

The insomnia had kicked in, so here you are in the kitchen in the middle of the night pouring yourself some water. The whole house was quiet and dark everywhere, except for the moonlight that shone from behind the curtains.

"Boo." You immediately recognized your brother's best friend's voice as he said that right into your ear, laughing quietly in the meantime, in an attempt to scare you. Anakin always liked teasing you, but it was never rude or disrespectful. He was always there and always cared for you in times like this, when you couldn't sleep. It wasn’t that surprising to see him in your house at this hour. He and your brother always managed to sucker your parents into staying the night, doing God knows what as darkness overtook the sky. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like his presence here.

“Hey, can’t sleep either?” A slight smirk appeared on his lips as he heard your voice. He liked hearing it; it sounded soft and calming. A stark contrast to your disheveled appearance, aching for just a minute of good sleep.

"Insomnia as usual," Anakin answered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms on his chest. You nodded, taking a sip from the glass.

“Yeah… same.” You added, placing your glass on the counter.

"You look exhausted." He stated, studying your facial expressions. Your usually cheerful demeanor was replaced with tiredness, and dark circles were visible under your eyes, which Anakin didn't like seeing at all.

You feigned offense. “Well, thank you.” You laughed softly. “I am.”

"When did you last sleep?" He asked, sounding more like a concerned friend than anything. He always worried about you. He knew you often had problems with sleeping and staying asleep throughout the night.

“Mmm…” you thought, “last night. Not very long though.” You shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

"Damn…" he muttered, running a hand through his dark, messy blonde hair. "You need to sleep, you know. It's not healthy."

He pushed himself off the wall and walked closer, standing right in front of you now. He placed his hand gently on your cheek, looking into your eyes with concern written on his face. You looked up at him.

“I know, ani.” You shrugged, “I just cant.” You admitted. His thumb gently traced small circles on your cheek, trying to soothe you. He could see how tired you were and could tell that you needed sleep.

"Is there something on your mind?" He knew that even the smallest worries could keep you up at night.

“N-…” you thought for a second, “no.” He raised a brow at your hesitation, knowing you too well to believe your words fully.

"Come on," he said softly. "I know you better than that. You can talk to me."

His hand that was still placed on your cheek moved downwards toward your chin, tilting it up so you would look at him properly.

You shrugged again. “I don’t know… I guess I’ve been thinking about us.”

"Thinking about us?" Anakin repeated, surprised, but curious. He could probably guess what you were thinking about, but decided to ask just to make sure. His hand stayed gently on your face, still slightly holding your chin.

“I just… I know it’s wrong. And it would hurt my brother.” He was right; he could tell what exactly was on your mind. For a split second, his heart ached. He knew you were right. Your brother wouldn't appreciate the idea of his best friend dating his little sister. Anakin let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair again. He closed his eyes, seemingly frustrated.

"It is wrong. And it would hurt him. I know," He quietly said. You nod, throwing your head back, running a frustrated hand down your face. Despite agreeing with you, a thought of just throwing away everything and not caring about consequences was still in the back of his head. But he quickly pushed that thought away, not wanting to make a mess in your family life.

Anakin moved his hand away from your face and instead placed it on your shoulder, softly squeezing it in an attempt to comfort you a little.

"He would be damn pissed if he knew," he said, and it was an obvious fact.

“That’s why… we can’t, right?” You looked up at him, searching his face. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, sighing once again. Hearing those words from you hurt. But he forced himself to nod his head in agreement.

"Yes. We can't." He looked at you, his eyes filled with regret and a hint of pain. It was clear that saying those words was difficult for him as well, which only made it all harder for both of you. You secretly wanted him to disagree. To tell you, he didn’t care what your brother thought. Instead, you nodded to his agreement and walked past him back to your room.

He watched you go to your room, his chest tightening painfully. Anakin wanted to call your name and tell you that he didn't care. He wanted to pull you close to him and kiss you like he always dreamt of doing. But he knew that wouldn't be right, and he didn't want to put your relationship with your brother at risk, so he stayed silent and watched. He stood there for a few moments after your door closed, feeling terrible about the situation. When you were finally in the safety of your room, you sank against the door, knees pulled to your chest, and placed your head in your hands. Not to cry, but to think.

After staying rooted in his spot for a few more moments, trying to compose himself, Anakin ran a hand through his hair once again, letting out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to go to you, knock on the door, and talk to you more. He had to stop himself from doing that. It was too risky. It was wrong. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, closing his eyes before heading back to your brother's room for the night.

You stayed in that position for more than half the night. You couldn’t shake the feeling. And you definitely couldn’t go to sleep now.

Anakin wasn't able to sleep either. He tried, spending an hour tossing and turning on the couch in (y/b/n) room, but all he could think about was you. He remembered your sad and tired expression, your voice, and the way your skin felt under his touch when he touched your face.

He was worried, knowing you were probably overthinking things too. He bit his lip, conflicted, once more fighting himself, tempted to go over to your room. After drowning in your thoughts for nearly three hours, you moved to your bed to mindlessly scroll through your phone, something you did often when you couldn't sleep. As the hours slowly passed by, the sun started rising, painting the sky with beautiful red and golden colors.

Anakin, on the other hand, was still awake, staring aimlessly at his ceiling, his mind occupied with thoughts of you. He was exhausted, having spent most of the night wide awake, but sleep simply refused to come. He looked at the clock on his bedside table and grimaced, seeing the time that read 6:14 am.

You decided you would go out and watch the sunrise. You padded down the hallway and into the kitchen, making yourself a fresh cup of coffee before heading to the back porch. It was still somewhat chilly in the air, but the beautiful colors of the sky created a serene atmosphere. Unfortunately, Anakin had the same idea, needing to distract himself from the thought of you.

Anakin finally managed to force himself out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and decided to go out for a smoke. As he opened the back door, his eyes immediately landed on your figure sitting on the porch, sipping at your coffee. You looked back at him, your eyes darting away as soon as you realized who it was. A pang of pain hit his chest as he saw you look away from him, avoiding his gaze. He felt like a part of him was shattering into pieces.

He stepped closer, his footsteps quiet on the wooden porch. Without a word, he sat down a few feet away from you, taking out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his hoodie.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. He looked at your profile, noticing how you were looking everywhere but at him, and it made his heartache even more. His hand gripped the cigarette a little tighter as he took out one from the pack, placing it between his lips.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he responded, his voice rough and a bit hoarse from both exhaustion and the lack of use.

He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag of it, letting the smoke slowly escape his lungs and creating small white clouds in the crisp morning air. You nod, looking down at your coffee. You felt like you had made things awkward between each other. He smoked in silence for a few moments, his eyes roaming over your features, studying your face. In the soft, warm light of the sunrise, you looked beautiful, and that only deepened the pain he felt in his chest.

"Could I ask you something?" He finally spoke, his gaze still on you. He wanted to reach out and touch your cheek again, to caress your skin, but held himself back.

“Yeah,” You finally looked at him, your eyes filled with a little hope, like maybe he would just say ‘fuck it’ and kiss you, forgetting everything, like there would be no consequences. He could see the hope in your eyes, and it made everything even more difficult. But he couldn't give in. He wouldn't.

He took another drag from the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. He looked away, staring at the slowly rising sun as he asked, "Do you regret what you said?" His mind and heart were fighting a constant battle, trying to hold back and do the right thing.

You shook your head. “No, I just… I feel like I made it awkward.” You shrugged, looking over to him.

He exhaled another puff of smoke and shook his head slightly. "You didn't."

His eyes met yours again, his expression soft. It was killing him, being so close to you and yet not being able to touch you the way he wanted to. He wanted to grab you, pull you onto his lap, and press your bodies together, to hold you in his arms, to show his affection.

Instead, he averted his gaze once more, looking at the half-burnt cigarette he was holding. You nodded again. I definitely did. He can’t even look at me. You groaned internally.

“Can I get a drag?” You asked, reaching for his cigarette. He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by your request, but he didn't hesitate to hold the cigarette out to you.

"Sure," he replied, watching you take the cigarette from his hand and place it between your lips.

His eyes were now fully trained on you as you inhaled the smoke. He couldn't help but admire the way your lips wrapped around the cigarette; a slight pang of jealousy for the damn object in your hand flared in his chest. You blew the smoke into the air and passed the cigarette back to him.

“Thank you.” He accepted the cigarette back, his fingers lightly brushing against yours in the process. It was such a small, insignificant touch, but it sent jolts of electricity through his body.

He inhaled another drag, his eyes still on you, studying your features, and noticed how you avoided his gaze again. He didn't like it, but he also understood it. He was in a constant internal conflict, wanting to be closer to you but knowing it was wrong. They sat in an awkward silence for about two minutes before (Y/n) broke it with something stupid. “The sunrise is pretty today.” He exhaled a short, quiet laugh as he heard your words. He knew you were trying to make the situation less awkward, and he appreciated the effort.

"It is.." he agreed, taking another drag of his cigarette and looking up at the beautiful, colorful sky. The sun was now almost fully visible, casting warm, golden light on everything it touched.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of irony. Here they were, admiring nature's beauty together, while their situation was nothing but complicated and messy. Despite the tension hanging between them, a small, genuine smile formed on his lips as he glanced at you again. The situation was far from perfect, but sitting here with you, watching the sunrise, still felt strangely... good. It reminded him of simpler times before things became messy.

He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt on the ground, crushing it with his foot. As he leaned back against the railing of the porch, he spoke again, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

"You know, I've always liked the sunrises more than the sunsets."

“Me too.” You blurted embarrassingly quickly. You internally smacked yourself. “Well, you know… because I’m always up for them,” You stuttered out awkwardly. He chuckled softly at your eagerness and slightly awkward response. It was adorable, but it also made his heart feel heavier knowing he couldn't simply scoop you up in his arms and kiss you like he wanted to.

He leaned his head to the side, looking at you with a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I guess you are always awake to see them, aren't you? Insomniac," he teased softly, trying to keep the mood light. You smiled back.

“Yeah,” He returned your smile, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of your lovely smile. Seeing it, he had to hold himself back from doing something stupid, like reaching out and caressing your cheek or pulling you into his arms...

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes still fixed on you. "Maybe we should get you some sleeping pills or something," he suggested jokingly, his tone light. He wanted you to be able to get the rest you needed, even if it meant he would have to fight back the urge to comfort you in other ways.

“We tried… a couple of years ago. They gave me crazy nightmares.” You wanted to smack yourself again. Now, you were just spilling your guts. shit. You thought. He raised an eyebrow at your response, his smile faltering. So, you have had trouble sleeping for a while now. Years, you said. The thought made his chest feel tight, knowing you had to deal with it that long. It was like a punch in the gut.

He nodded slightly, trying to maintain a casual tone despite the growing worry inside him. "Crazy nightmares, huh? Yeah, that doesn't sound too fun."

He wanted to ask more, to know everything about your insomnia, when and how it started. But he held himself back.

“It’s not.” You said, taking a sip of your coffee. He could see the tiredness in your eyes, the dark circles under them visible even in the soft light of the sunrise. It was clear that the lack of proper sleep was taking its toll on you, and it made his heart ache.

He shifted slightly, his body turning to face you more directly. He couldn't stop the next question that slipped past his lips, his voice laced with concern. "How long has it been since the last time you slept properly?" You thought for a second before realizing that you couldn’t even remember the last time you slept a full night. You shrugged,

“I don’t know.” His heart sank as he heard your response. Not knowing how long it had been since you had slept properly was a clear sign that your insomnia was getting worse.

He leaned a little closer, his eyes studying your face, taking in every tired line and dark circle.

"You can't keep going on like this, you know," he said, his voice filled with worry. "You need rest. Your body needs sleep."

“Anakin,” you sighed, “I’ve tried.” You looked away again.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "I just... I'm worried about you. You look tired and worn out, and it kills me seeing you like that. You need sleep, (Y/n). Your body needs it to function properly."

“I know, I know.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning. The sight of you rubbing your face in exhaustion and frustration tugged at his heartstrings. He hated seeing you like this. He wanted to reach out and pull you into his arms, to hold you and comfort you, to reassure you that everything would be okay.

But instead, he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He could only sit there next to you, feeling powerless to help, forced to watch as you struggled with your insomnia. “We’ve tried everything,” You admitted. He nodded, knowing they had already attempted many remedies in the past. From natural supplements to sleeping pills and even hypnosis, but none had provided any lasting relief.

He kept his gaze fixed on you, a mix of concern and sympathy written on his face. "I know. And it's frustrating, isn't it? Nothing seems to work. No matter what you do, your mind just refuses to rest." You looked over at him, big mistake. You cursed yourself.

His eyes bore into yours, the way they shouldn’t, the way he knew they shouldn’t. The moment your gaze met his, it was like electricity was coursing through his body. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt his breath hitch. Looking into your eyes, seeing the mix of exhaustion, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite identify, was both painful and addictive.

He held your gaze, his eyes roaming over your face, studying every detail, taking in your beautiful and tired features. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't. His body was frozen under the intensity of his desire. Your eyes flickered to his lips and then back to his eyes, his eyes doing the same. You leaned in slowly. He mirrored your movement, leaning in closer, his body moving on its own. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind screaming at him to pull back, to resist, to not give in, but his body ignored all the warnings.

His gaze was locked with yours, his breathing getting heavier as the space between them dwindled. He could feel the magnetic pull, the overwhelming desire to close that last distance and taste your lips on his. But then the sliding glass door behind them opened. You pulled away quickly, placing your head in your hands again.

He looked back to see your mom. “Anakin, where's (Y/b/n?)” She asked. He was jolted back to reality, the moment between you shattered by the sound of the sliding glass door opening and your mother's voice. He quickly composed himself, doing his best to push back the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him.

"He's still asleep," he responded, his voice a little hoarse. He turned to look over his shoulder at your mother, forcing a casual smile. "Probably going to sleep the whole day away." She gave a little laugh to his words,

“You’re right, that boy is always sleeping.” She said, You stood up and walked back into the house, embarrassment trailing behind you.

Her mother’s eyes followed you up the stairs. “What’s wrong with her?” He watched as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your retreating form, the ache in his chest growing stronger.

When your mother spoke, he turned his attention to her, a slight pang of guilt coursing through him. He forced a casual response, trying to downplay the situation.

"Oh, she's just tired. Didn't sleep much last night, you know." He tried to sound nonchalant, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him.

She nodded, walking out to the porch and taking a seat next to him. “You know, she really likes you.” She looked at him. “And I can tell there’s something there.” His eyes widened slightly at her words, surprise and a hint of panic passing over his features. He hadn't expected her to be so observant.

He tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but his heart started racing in his chest. He forced a chuckle, trying to play it off. "Me and her? Nah, it's nothing like that." The denial was automatic, more a reflex than the truth.

“Okay,” she said softly, smiling like she knew he was lying, placing a hand on his shoulder. Helping herself up and walking back into the house. He watched her leave, her words and the touch on his shoulder lingering in his mind. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

He knew he had lied, and it was obvious that she knew it too. But what was he supposed to say? Admit the truth, confess that he was hopelessly in love with her daughter, all while being best friends with her son?

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, his heart heavy with the weight of his secret feelings. He stood up and headed to (Y/b/n) room. He needed time to think. To regroup. He packed up his stuff and started to head out of his room.

You were coming out of your room at the same time. Your gaze fell to his bag. “You’re leaving?” He paused, bag in hand, as he saw you emerging from your room. The sight of you made his heart ache, but he forced himself to maintain a casual exterior.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a bit gruff. He knew he needed to put some distance between them, to give himself space to sort out his tangled feelings. "Got some things to take care of."

“Yeah,” you looked down, nodding. He couldn't help but notice the visible disappointment in your eyes, and it tugged at his heartstrings. But he had to be strong, for both of your sakes.

He forced himself to look away, gripping his bag tighter. "I'll, uh, see you later." He started walking towards the front door, fighting the urge to turn back and pull you into his arms. You didn’t say anything back, a little frustrated that he was seemingly running from the situation.

You walked right back in your room, slamming the door. The sound of your door slamming echoed through the hallway, and he froze in his tracks. His heart ached even more at the sound of your frustration, at the thought of you shutting him out.

He stood there for a moment, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the strap of his bag. His body was screaming at him to drop everything and go knock on your door, to talk to you, to make things right. But he held himself back, forcing himself to take a deep breath and continue walking.

~

After a couple of hours, you finally emerged from your room. Finding your mom in the kitchen. “Mom?” You cried. Your mother, who was in the middle of preparing lunch, looked up as she heard her daughter's voice. She immediately noticed the distress in her daughter's expression and the unshed tears in your eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart? What's wrong?" Your mom asked, setting down the knife in her hands and giving her full attention to her daughter.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do.” You threw your hands up, sucking in a shaky breath. Your mother's expression softened as she saw the visible turmoil her daughter was going through. She wiped her hands on a towel, walked over to her daughter, and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on," she said, her voice soothing and reassuring.

“Anakin,” You said simply, “I like him, like a lot, but I don’t know what to do about (Y/b/n). I don’t want to hurt him.” Your mother's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and understanding in her expression. She had suspected something was going on between you and Anakin, but hearing it confirmed and seeing how torn up you were about it confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh baby," she said, her voice soft and compassionate. "You're worried about causing hurt and pain by pursuing your happiness, aren't you?"

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds dumb,” You mumble. Your mother chuckled lightly at your response.

"Honey, it's not dumb. It shows that you care about your brother and don't want to hurt him. But you need to understand something." She reached out and gently took your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. "Your happiness is just as important as his. You can't sacrifice your feelings just to avoid causing him pain."

“Anakin’s worried about it too.” Your mother nodded, not surprised to hear that Anakin was also concerned.

"That doesn't surprise me. He cares about you, and he cares about your brother. He's probably torn between his feelings and his sense of loyalty to your family." She placed a hand on your cheek, her expression soft. "But sweetheart, you can't live your life based on everyone else's expectations or concerns. You need to decide what you truly want."

“I know,” you nodded. “Can I go see him?” You asked.

Her mother studied your face, seeing the determined look in your eyes. She knew there was no stopping you when your mind was set on something. She sighed softly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Alright, sweetheart. But promise me one thing."

“Yeah, anything.”

Her mother's expression softened even more, her voice taking on a firmer tone. "Promise me you'll be honest with yourself and with him. Don't let your fears or doubts hold you back from what you want. You deserve happiness, sweetheart."

You nodded before running back up the stairs, preparing yourself to admit to Anakin what you were feeling. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ran back up the stairs, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thought of confessing your feelings to Anakin both terrified and exhilarated you.

You entered your room and quickly checked your appearance in the mirror, smoothing down your hair and taking a deep breath. "You can do this," you whispered to yourself, psyching yourself up before leaving your room and heading to Anakin's.

a/n- this is definitely gonna be a series. and I’m gonna get back into writing. request are open!

[kb4g3]

Request for fluff or smut of Sam & pregnant f!reader having sex. While in missionary Sam feels the baby kick his lower stomach and FREAKS out! Just totally stops & jumps off the bed, kind of reaction! Then swears they are NEVER having sex again until after the baby is born. Reader just thinks he’s being over dramatic, as usual.

(yes this is a thing that commonly happens)

You weren’t even halfway through your sentence—“You can go deeper if you wan—” When he obeyed; something so rare in SAM MONROE's behavior. One slow, solid thrust. He groaned low in his throat, hand slid up your side as he settled his body on top of yours, letting his lips graze your cheek. “Like that?”

“Mmhmm…” you nodded lazily after letting out a delighted sigh. Legs wrapping themselves a little higher around his waist. He leaned in to kiss you again, just barely brushing his lips over your mouth, so gentle it made you shiver..and not only you. Because the next thing you can feel is a sharp little kick

He blinked. Slowly pulled back. Looked down at you. “...Was that you?”

You snorted. “No. That was your child.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, eyes wide, pulling out and leaping off the bed like it was on fire. “Nope. Nope. Not doin’ this.”

You burst out laughing, watching him pace around the room, fully naked and very distressed, dragging both hands down his face.

“He kicked me. While I was inside you.”

“He always kicks when she’s excited.”

“Don’t say that!!” He turned, nearly tripping over your slippers, then pointed at your belly like it was the problem. “You are just making it worse! He’s in there! He’s in there and he knew!”

"I should have put an end to this earlier - sex is CANCELLED until birth. We are DONE.”

He pointed dramatically at your belly. “This little parasite is unwell. He’s in there like ‘square up, dad.’”

“He probably just felt the pressure, baby. Doctors say it's normal!”

“I felt his little heel, y/n!! He’s in there roundhouse kicking like Bruce Lee!” Sam shouted, pacing shirtless at the foot of the bed like he just got traumatized. “I don’t wanna scar him! What if he remembers this in the womb?? What if he comes out and just looks at me like ‘you sick fuck.’”

You were crying laughing now. “You are so dramatic—”

“I am protective. There’s a difference.”

You held out your arms, trying to ease the erupting situation “Come back to bed.”

Sam looked horrified. “With the baby?? After what just happened?? You are out of your mind. I am tell you, y/n, this aint normal. I dont care whoever claimed it may be. It is not. And im done with it”

[kb4g3]

River; James Kelly x Reader

You've got years of history neither of you talk about and a thousand ways you still love eachother without saying it.

It's always been him. And it's always hurt like this.

warnings & tags: female reader, angst, eventual smut, cursing, he's kinda possesive here.. but also rly sweet.. oops, vaguely toxic relationship, smoking, alcohol, arguing, some crying during sex, car sex, fingering, oral [f recieving], unprotected p-in-v, creampie, etc!!

word count: 2.7k

note: hi im mainly just a star wars writer but i cant stop listening to certain songs and thinking about james kelly. so.. uh yeah made a whole seperate blog for this.. yeah. #rabid

The porch light flickers like its bulb might give out any moment now. You're already halfway up the driveway after slinking out of the passenger seat while your heels are in one hand as you drunkly giggle at whatever stupid thing the idiot dropping you off said.

Then, there's just the sound of a car door slamming behind you—the random guy from the club who drove you home in a Mustang. He doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t wait. Just peels off down the street like he’s late for something that doesn’t even exist.

You're wobbling on the porch steps when your toe catches on the lip of the concrete, causing you to stumble.

“Fuck,” you mutter, regaining balance, barely. You try and dig through your purse. Lip gloss. Lighter. Compact mirror. No keys.

That’s when the door across the street creaks open.

“You’re gonna wake the whole fucking street up,” James Kelly mutters, crossing the street like it's nothing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he didn’t once fuck you in the backseat of his mom's car years ago.

Like he doesn't think about you every waking moment.

You look up at him. Your mascara is smudged, lips swollen from kissing the wrong mouth all night

“Thought you weren't speaking to me," you slur out.

He doesn’t say much at first. Just leans against your porch. One shoulder against the frame, a matchstick between his teeth.

“I wasn’t,” he shrugs. “Or I hadn't planned on it. Then I saw that dumbass peel out like he owned the street.” His voice is all gravel and resentment, and god, you’ve missed it. You missed it when he stopped coming around and stopped making up bullshit car excuses just to have a reason to see you.

And especially when he just up and vanished for a while.

James is closer to you on the porch now. His hands on your arms, holding you steady. His touch is rough yet weirdly tender, like he’s mad that it still means something.

Your keys jingle as he fishes them out of your purse, unlocking the door like it’s his house, like you’re his. Even after all this time.

“Thought you were mad at me,” you hiccup, half-teasing.

“Still am,” he says at first. And then he continues, his voice so soft now it makes your heart flutter, “but I don’t want you getting hurt out here.”

You blink up at him.

He's always like this.

“And you're drunk” he adds, unamused.

You whine and he fondly rolls his eyes.

He helps steady you like you're something delicate and breakable. Keeping his eyes on you as he quietly says: “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me,” you try to say, but it comes out soft. Tired. Like maybe you do.

He doesn’t respond. Just presses the keys into your palm and helps you inside, guiding you gently.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When you wake up the next day, it's just past noon and the sunlight pours through your bedroom window. Your mouth is vaguely dry, your head is pounding, and your heart is still beating too fast from a dream you don't even remember anymore.

When you step out onto the porch, James is already in your driveway. He's under your car hood, just like he always used to be back then.

He doesn’t look up when you pad down the porch steps, wearing one of his old flannels that you stole three summers ago. He just shifts a wrench in his palm and mutters something about needing some other tool.

“You sure you’re not just breaking it worse to keep coming over?” you tease, voice light.

He quietly chuckles but doesn't say anything.

You lean against the car, arms crossed under your chest. The shirt you’re wearing dips low, the hem brushing your bare thighs.

You know he notices—he’s always does. And not once has he ever been subtle about it. But he doesn’t say anything yet. Just pulls a cigarette from behind his ear, balancing it between his lips.

You linger beside him and watch his clenched jaw. The way sweat gathers on his temples. Stepping in between his legs, you reach around him and pull the lighter out from his back pocket.

“Don’t burn me,” he mumbles.

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Shut up.”

You strike the lighter and gently place it against the end of his cigarette, cupping your hand to block the wind. The tip flares and his eyes meet yours over the flame.

You both adore and despise the fact that if you hold eye contact with James Kelly for enough time, the memories start flooding back to you.

Like looking at him now. You’re sixteen again, sneaking beers in the shed behind his place. You’re seventeen, lighting a joint off the same cigarette. You’re eighteen, riding shotgun in his shitty car —the one from before the Camaro— bare legs up on the dash.

Execpt now.. you're older. And this feels softer. Sadder.

He exhales smoke.

You take the cigarette from his lips and take a drag yourself before asking, "You ever think about how many times we’ve done this?”

He furrows his eyebrow. “Smokin’ in the driveway?”

You shake your head. “This. You. Me. Summer. Pretending we’re just neighbors.”

His hand, though hesitant for a beat, lands on your hip. “Not pretendin’,” he says low. “I always knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was never gonna be just that.”

Your throat tightens. His thumb strokes absent circles through the flannel. You can see it in his gaze and creased brow, he's holding back from his emotions again.

“You’re still mad about last night,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“No,” he says. “I’m mad someone else got to hold you when I couldn't.”

You don’t reply. Just look at him. Really look at him. The way his eyes have always held too much. The sweat clinging to the back of his neck. The little nick on his knuckle.

All of him.

You pull the cigarette from his hand again, and blow the smoke right past his lips. There's a brief moment in the silence then where he just presses his forehead to yours.

“Stop smoking,” he grumbles finally, taking the cigarette from your hand.

You grin, too bright and too broken, “Says you.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It’s too hot inside the bar.

The A/C’s busted, the fans are lazy, and your drink is mostly melted ice now. You’re flushed from the heat, lips glossed over. The short dress you dug out from your closet earlier clings to the curve of your spine. Your hair sticks to where his hand used to rest back when he still touched you in public.

But you didn’t come here with James.

Though you knew he’d show up anyway.

You’re halfway through another drink, laughing at something dumb another guy just said. Some man who feels too tall, too charming, with his hands brushing the small of your back like he’s got permission. You don’t stop him.

Across the room, James sees it. He's standing near the bar with his arms crossed and jaw taut. He hasn't looked away since you walked in.

But he hasn’t moved, either.

So you let the guy’s hand linger and you laugh a little too hard at his stupid jokes. You make sure not to flinch when his fingers brush your bare thigh.

James still doesn't do anything.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Later on, when you're two and a half drinks in and feeling suffocated by the noise, you swiftly excuse yourself and head outside.

The night air hits you like a slap, it's thick with humidity and regret.

Trying to breathe, you lean against the brick wall, picking out a stray cigarette sticking out from your bag. You try digging for your lighter out of your purse with shaking fingers but it's all so overwhelming.

Trembling still, you try to light your shaky cigarette but miss.

You try another time, you miss again.

By the third time you're cursing under your breath.

Then—

“Didn't I tell you to quit this shit already?” James' voice is low, but sharp. Cutting.

You don’t even look at him. “Why? You got something to say?”

He takes the lighter and cigarette from your hand, sticking it between his lips. “You looked real cozy in there,” he growls under his breath.

You scoff. “Don't act like you still care"

He laughs once, short and bitter. “You really want to do this right now?”

You round on him. “Do what? Talk? Communicate? Like normal fuckin’ people?”

“You let him touch you.”

“You let him!” you yell. “You stood there and let him!”

He steps in closer. “You think I didn’t want to fucking kill him?”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you’re not mine anymore!” he spits back.

That shuts you up.

Your chest heaves. His fists are clenched but he's still trying keep his temper. There's just piercing silence and crickets ringing out around you two for a while.

“You were,” he says, quieter now. “You were mine. I lost that.”

You shake your head. “You left! You got caught up in stupid shit. Again. You gave it up.”

He looks at you with those sad eyes he's constantly trying to hide behind his stoicism. Then, low and trembling, he says: "You’re still the only thing I ever think about... to get through everything.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You don’t make it far from the bar.

James' hand is on your wrist, the other already fumbling for the handle of the car. He shoves the back door open like it’s muscle memory.

James drags into the backseat like he’s forgotten how to be gentle, but then he lays you down like you're something fragile and breakable anyway.

You fall back first onto the sticky leather seats, breath caught in your throat, dress bunched up around your hips. The door slams shut behind him, muffling the world outside.

The windows are already fogging.

He’s on top of you before either of you speak. Mouth on your neck, one hand pushing your thigh aside like he can’t even wait to ask. His fingers find your panties, already damp, already clinging to you.

“I hate you,” you gasp, fingers tangled in his hair, voice breaking already.

He groans against your skin, breath hot and uneven. “I know.”

Your back lifts off the seat when his two fingers slip inside you, slow and deliberate. His palm presses against your clit, just enough pressure to make you cry out.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, dragging his mouth back to yours. “You let anyone else have you like this?”

You can’t even speak. Just shake your head, glassy-eyed, whining against his lips. “No. Only you. It’s always been you.”

He freezes for a second.

And because you're embarassed at the sudden confession, you reach for his jeans to undress him, but he stops you. He nudges your hand away and drops to his knees on the floorboard between your legs.

“Wait,” he says roughly, eyes locked on where your panties are already soaked through. “Let me taste you first. Please.”

You blink down at him, lips parted. “Ja—”

His fingers hook the lace of your underwear down to your ankles, slow and deliberate. His breath brushes your inner thigh, and then he groans at the first sight of you bare like that.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re dripping.”

You try to say something back. You really do. But then his tongue is on you. And you can’t think at all.

He starts slow, teasing—long licks up your slit, soft flicks over your clit. He's already gripping your thighs, keeping you down to meet his mouth.

He groans like this is the part of making love with you he missed the most.

Your hands shoot to his hair, hips jerking, breath coming in ragged gasps. He keeps eating you out like he knows you. Like he remembers everything. That spot right by your clit, the angle you like. His tongue circles you once, twice, then seals his mouth over you and sucks.

Your thighs clamp around his head.

Your voice breaks.

And he fucking smiles into you.

James keeps licking, kissing, dragging his tongue through your pussy like he’s starving, like this is punishment and worship in equal measure.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he pants between strokes. “You let anyone else eat this pussy?”

You can’t even answer. Can’t form words. You’re grinding down on his face, thighs trembling, moaning his name like it’s the only thing you remember.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you for a moment, his lips covered in your slick. His eyes drink you in like this, the way you always come undone under him.

He dives back in and this time, he doesn’t stop until you come hard. Until you're crying, shaking, and sobbing his name over and over like a prayer. He groans into your pussy like he’s coming too, like getting you off did something to his soul.

When he finally pulls back, his chin is damp and glistening. His lips are red. He looks wrecked. He drags two fingers through your slick, still watching you unravel, before he slips them into his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Mine,” he whispers.

Then he unzips his jeans and his pants are shoved down in one frantic motion. He barely gives you time to blink before he’s lining himself up, sliding the blunt head of his cock against your entrance.

You claw down at his shoulder blade, arching into him. "P-Please." you whine.

With that, James pushes in slowly, inch by inch. Until he bottoms out and you swear you can't breathe.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel like fuckin’ home.”

You’re already shaking and clenching around him.

“Why does this feel so good,” you whimper, your nails biting into his skin, “when everything else about this.. us.. hurts?”

He starts to move in long, slow thrusts that drag against your walls and make your vision blur.

“‘Cause you’re mine,” he breathes. “I know I fucked up. But no matter how long we're apart or who touched you, no matter what I said before.. you’re mine.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in deeper and harder. He keeps fucking into you like he never stopped being yours.

Your bodies slide together with the heat and sweat of summer, the car rocking steadily. He braces one hand beside your head while the other tangles in your hair, kissing you like he wants to crawl inside your lungs and stay there.

Your eyes start to brim with tears and James says your name like it's something holy. He softly kisses your tears when they start falling down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you sniffle, lips brushing his. “I missed you every fuckin’ day.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry—god, I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”

His thrusts get rougher and deeper. You clench around him with every slam into you, gasping, crying, shaking.

“I don’t wanna do this with anyone else,” he breathes, voice gone and desperate.

And when you come, it’s devastating. You're choking on a sob while the shockwaves wrack your whole body. His cock is buried in you while your mouth falls open and you sob against his shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his neck like if you let go, you’d fall apart.

He follows right after and comes deep and hot inside of you. Spilling into you like he means it, like he wants to stay there forever.

James' breath against your neck is heavy and erratic while one hand holds the back of your head like a promise he’s never kept before.

Afterwards, you don’t really say anything. Just run your hand through his hair and kiss his face all over.

He whispers, too quiet to mean anything but too honest to mean nothing:

“I love you. I just never know how to do it right.”

♡ (end) ♡