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⚔️ supreme leader miffy kylo ren 💫
ADAM DRIVER as MILLS Every ADAM DRIVER scene from 65 (2023)| Part 73
🦕 Commander Mills x female reader 🔞 NSFW ⚠️ CW // skinny dipping, praise, waterfall sex ✏️ 2.8k words
-
Between securing shelter, exploring your surroundings, and running from creatures you still can’t believe exist in this world, it has been an endlessly stressful, restless three days since the crash.
"This way," Commander Mills says. He marks another tree as you both turn right down a semi-clear path lined on either side in trees, palms, shrubs. You follow and walk together for another half-mile or so.
You hear it before he does.
"Oh my god," you gasp, reaching for his wrist.
Mills steps in front of you, gun ready. "What?"
His instinct to protect you makes your body vibrate. A warmth spreads throughout you that you haven't felt in years prior to crashing in this god-forsaken place. You know it's wildly inappropriate fantasizing about a man who spends every second of every day and night protecting you and trying to get you home...
"Through here," he says, using his corded forearm to push a palm frond out of the way for you.
...but then his eyes do that thing when they look at you, and then that sexy strand of hair falls into his eye, and his hands are just so /so/ big.
"Mills," you gasp, but he's already a step ahead, slipping out of his gun strap, and dropping it to the ground.
Before you... is paradise.
It's a blue lagoon shaded by a canopy of palm leaves and lush, greenery. It's crystal-clear water and ample protection provided by the mountain behind. It's several thin streams of rushing water cascading from the cliffs above and into the pool below. It's...
Mills's chiseled back as he strips his shirt while approaching the water.
He falls to his knees at the shore and cups water into both of his massive hands, then lifts them to his mouth.
"It's fresh," he announces, looking over his shoulder. "I think it’s a cold spring."
He turns back to the oasis and you take the opportunity to drop your own pack, your gun, your knife.
He must hear you unzip your pants because he turns to look, but stops himself.
"S-sorry," he mutters, his attention returning to what he can gather in his paws and slurp down. (It's a lot).
"Don't mention it," you say, shucking your shirt and padding toward the water in just your bra and panties... the same ones you'd been wearing since the crash.
And you know a bra is impractical in a post-apocalyptic, dinosaur infested, Jumanji-land, but... surely he'd notice that despite the heat, humidity, and relative discomfort of this location, your nipples are consistently as hard as diamonds.
"How is it?" he asks as you wade deeper into the lagoon.
You turn, just as your breasts disappear beneath the cool water, and clench when you realize his eyes are mid-snap from your chest to your face. Despite the naturally cool spring, you're warm all over again.
"It's perfect," you moan, dunking your head under.
"I'll keep watch," he says when you resurface. "Enjoy."
"No, come in!"
He clearly wants to. A bud of hope blooms inside of you that the cool water isn't the only reason he's considering joining. "I can go after you're done."
You frown and without warning, slap your hand across the water to splash him.
Mills feigns offense as you do it again and he wastes no time in unzipping his own pants.
You squeeze your legs together like you do when you talk yourself out of letting your hand wander at night. When it's his turn to sleep and you're taking watch. When his soft snores consume your thoughts and make you wish you were lying next to him, against him, with his arm caging you in, keeping you safe.
His black boxer-briefs and happy trail disappear beneath the water as he wades closer. You float onto your back, close your eyes, and attempt to picture anything over than the definition and contour between each abdominal muscle.
"Please tell me you remember how to get here," you say, dropping your feet to find the sandy bottom. It's a bit shallower than you remember, and standing upright, the water only reaches your ribs.
Mills's eyes drop and his jaw clenches when he takes in your soaked bra, water droplets racing over the swells of the tops of your breasts, and getting trapped in the lace at the top.
All things considered, if you were doomed to one bra for an apocalyptic eternity, at least you're wearing a cute, lacy black one.
He clears his throat and looks at your face. "Yes, I remember."
His voice is low, eyes dark. You don't hide beneath the water.
The closest waterfall is just off to the right and as much as you'd love to stand there and have the sexiest man you've ever seen ogle your t!ts, a natural waterfall might be just what you need to truly cool you down.
"Where are you going?" he asks as you swim away.
"To check this out!" you reply, reaching the cascading water and giggling as it beats down on your head. The sandy bottom supports your feet as you tip your head back and let it pull your hair away from your face.
He smiles and makes his way over before placing his hand beneath the cascading water to catch it in his palm. Then, he ducks his head under, groaning as it beats down on his head, neck, and back.
You practically watch his tension melt away as his shoulders drop away from his ears.
You swim a little closer.
You crouch down until the water reaches your neck and take some into your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you spit it out. He watches you intently but must not notice your arm bent behind your back because as soon as the cups of your bra float to the surface, his eyes widen.
"Is this okay?" you ask, removing the straps from both arms. "I'm just sick of it."
"Yeah," he says immediately. "I get it. I mean... I don't but... fine. 's fine."
His voice breaks when he says 'fine,' for the second time and you begin to wonder what he thinks of you.
Admittedly, when you fling your bra onto a nearby rock, you hope he thinks you have nice tits.
Mills clears his throat. "Any chance you're sick of your panties?" He jokes.
"Now that you mention it," you say, already working the elastic around your hips.
He notices your arms shifting. He says your name. His gorgeous mouth over-pronounces every syllable. "I was kidding, I... it was a joke. I never want to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," you assure him, kicking your legs free.
You lift your panties out of the water with one finger before tossing them to the side. The tiny garment clops loudly against the rock and he clears his throat.
"They're pretty wet."
"Yeah, well," you start. "The lagoon is only partially to blame."
That's all he needs.
Suddenly, you find yourself wrapped around him as he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you close. His body is so hard, so solid.
"Commander!" you say with a smirk.
Mills growls, pressing his face to your sternum, his nose preventing his lips from reaching your skin.
"Tell me. What else has you so wet?" he asks as you lock your ankles around his lower back.
"I think you know," you whisper.
"Say it." It's a command.
You swallow and look into his eyes. "You."
Mills groans and lifts his head to kiss your lips.
You can't help it. A moan immediately escapes from deep in your throat as your body processes what's happening:
Mills's big body holding yours secure, his plush lips working yours open so his tongue can find yours, his hands digging into your hips and pressing you down so your bare pxssy rubs against the bulge you'd spotted earlier.
"Please, Mills," you beg into his mouth, shaking from how desperately you need him, as you pull away.
You dip down to capture his mouth in another kiss and his hands immediately roam to your ass, making you whimper as he squeezes you, holds you steady with one hand, and lets the opposite wander up your torso to cup your breast.
His mouth catches your moans as he massages your flesh and gently pinches your nipple. You're helpless as you grind your center against him, desperate for some semblance of friction to ease the incessant ache that shouldn't even be there considering you've been fighting for your life the past three days...
But there's something about him.
"Mills," you gasp as he releases the hold on your breast and shifts down to rub between your legs.
"You're fucking soaked," he says, fingers slip-sliding through your folds.
"Uh huh," you agree, grinding down onto him.
"Who did this to you?" he demands.
"You."
"Did I?" He smirks. “I only kissed you, Baby.”
"Thinking of you," you amend.
"Thinking of what?" A finger grazes your entrance and you gasp as you attempt to line yourself up. He manages to pull away, his teasing finger shifting to trace the crease where your thigh meets your hip.
"Your hands."
"My hands?"
"They're so big and strong," you admit. "And your fingers are so thick. Makes me wonder what they're capable of. And how they'd feel..."
"Where?"
"On me. In- inside me."
He hums thoughtfully as a finger finds your entrance once more, barely applying pressure.
You moan. He smirks.
"These fingers?" Mills confirms. "Here?"
"Yes!" you gasp.
"Fuck," he groans into the crook of your neck as he slides a fingertip inside. "So tight, Baby. Not sure how we're gonna get my cock in this tight little pxssy. But we'll make it fit."
It's embarrassing how close you are, considering he's barely touched you and only has half of a finger inside of you. But between the stress, the chaos, and the inappropriate pining, your body is so /so/ ready to feel good.
"Please, more," you moan.
A second finger joins the first beneath the water and you gasp, moan, and cry out all at once when he pulls them back and thrusts them inside.
He keeps his rhythm consistent as he kisses your neck, your collar bone, your breasts. You've more or less surrendered your entire body to whatever he wants to do to it, so you're grateful he's holding you tight.
"Come for me, Baby," he coos when you start grinding against his hand. "I can feel you're close... squeezing my fingers with this perfect, hot, tight pxssy. Fuck, Baby. My c0ck is so jealous right now."
That does it.
"Ohh!" you cry out as his fingers curl forward toward your front wall and the heel of his hand rubs your c|it just right. Desperate to keep the angle, you lean into him, grinding down on him, moaning, panting, heart racing, as your orgasm tears through you, sending pleasure into every last bit of you.
Mills slows his hand but keeps moving, bringing you down from your high as your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to wrap his hot mouth around a nipple, sucking at it and injecting more pleasure into your already convulsing, overwhelmed body.
"Atta girl," Mills coos against your breast, lifting his eyes to look up at you. "Think you're even wetter after that. Wish I could taste ya, Baby."
"Later," you say hurriedly as you reach between you for his underwear. He shucks them down one-handed as best he can and as soon as your hand wraps around his thick, hard, ready c0ck, you gasp.
"I told you we're gonna have to make it fit," he says with a smirk.
And something about this talented, protective, humble man admitting he knows he's got a huge d!ck just… does something to you.
"Please fuck me," you purr in his ear, letting him shift your pelvis back so he can line up his length. “Commander.”
He growls when you nip at his earlobe and the tip slides inside of you.
"Fuck, Baby. I'm gonna split you in two," he says, taking a bracing step backwards.
Suddenly, you find yourselves beneath the cascading waterfall, clinging to his shoulders, and giggling as he kisses you, pressing in a bit more.
He stops to look around briefly and ultimately decides to carry you up onto the shore at the backside of the waterfall. You groan as he slips out of you and he chuckles. "Gimme one second, Baby. I gotcha."
Carefully, he lays you down in the sand and crawls between your legs, planting a hand on each knee to spread you wide. Instinctively, you want to close them. He's staring so intently, you almost feel self-conscious, but then he presses his thumb to your slick flesh and swallows as his eyes scan your body.
"You're beautiful," Mills tells you. "Fucking gorgeous, I'm... I can't believe you're letting me touch you like this."
Your back arches and the sand collecting in your hair will be well-worth it.
"You can touch me anywhere," you tell him. "Everywhere."
He slides his middle finger inside of you and it feels thicker, longer than it had in the water. When he pulls it out, it's covered in your slick, and he makes eye contact with you while popping it into his mouth.
He savors it while you remain laid out in front of him, your own gaze locked on his huge, hard c0ck bobbing, teasing.
"So sweet, Baby," he says.
Then, he's wrapping his arms around your spread thighs and yanking you closer. His massive hands support your ass as he lifts you to line your entrance up with his c0ck.
"Ohh, god. Yes," you pant as your walls struggle to contain him.
The stretch as he bottoms out is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.
It’s a tight fit, especially when he plants a hand on your lower abdomen and allows you to truly feel the pressure of every movement.
"Don't stop," you tell him as he picks up the pace, both of you keeping an eye on the bulge in your lower abdomen. "Do this to me forever."
He chuckles as he readjusts, planting one hand on the sand next to you and keeping the opposite on your ass so he can pull your body in every time he thrusts.
He's hitting you so deep, you're not convinced he isn't hitting your lungs. At least, it feels that way, with the way he's forcing air out of you.
"So good, you... you feel so good, Commander," you purr and he seemingly loses his mind at that.
Mills's eyes darken as seemingly every muscle in his body bulges simultaneously. His fingers dig into your ass cheek as he thrusts harder into you. Spray from the nearby waterfall mists you both as his body pleasures yours, leaving a shiny sheen across your skin.
"You feel fucking incredible," he grunts as the sand beneath you caresses your body.
You can tell his rhythm is faltering a bit as he picks up the pace.
"Can you come again?" he asks, panting.
"Uh huh."
"Do it," he commands. "Touch yourself, Baby. Come on my c0ck."
Mills gaze is focused, intently zoned in on his c0ck as it slides in and out of you, and your fingers drawing circles into your swollen, throbbing c|it.
"That's it, Baby. Doing so good. You feel perfect.... I'm close, Baby. I'm close. Come for me..."
With his encouragement and deeper-than-ever thrusts while he chases his own release, you soon find yourself barreling over the cliff of pleasure as your orgasm crescendos. Your intimate walls squeeze his c0ck tight as he fights to stay inside of you, uses every ounce of strength within him as his face turns red, his jaw falls open, and the veins in his neck bulge over you.
"Yes!" he roars, accentuating each word with a deep thrust. "Fuck... Baby... god... so... fucking... good... UNGHHHHH."
You moan as his hips fuse to yours and hardly pull back before pushing deeper, deeper, deeper. The pressure is insurmountable but your waiting c*nt takes all of his warm cum as deeply as possible until he collapses over you in a hot, glistening, panting heap.
"Mmmm, Commander," you purr. "That was-"
"Yeah," he agrees, still out of breath, but suddenly more desperate than ever to kiss you.
"Aren't you glad you joined me instead of taking watch?" you tease, dragging your nails up and down his back.
He chuckles against your sweaty neck and presses a kiss there, too.
“So glad, Baby,” he coos, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll be joining you every time.”
— the power of the dark side.
dark reylo au;;
He sees her in his nightmares. In the darkness.
She’s changed. Broken from losing him.
my intrusive thoughts won and made me draw this lol
🎲 Charlie Barber x Female Reader ⚠️ babysitter/client relationship, age difference (reader 18), inappropriate use of Scrabble tiles, hand kink, Daddy, cunnilingus, p in v ✏️ 3k words -
Henry's been asleep since before Charlie got home.
Since putting him to bed, you’ve managed to put away almost all of the night’s activities and start the dishwasher. You’re heading into the living room, sights set on picking up the game of Scrabble (in which Henry insisted ‘gleeba’ is a word) when the front door opens.
“Hey, Mister Barber,” you greet from the floor as you slide the tiles from your letter racks onto the board.
He approaches with a smile on his face and stands over you—tall, towering, his hands on his hips. You swallow and continue tossing tiles onto the board so you can more easily funnel them back into their bag.
"Wanna play?" Charlie asks. "Or do you need to get home?"
Even as he asks the question, he takes a seat on the floor, clearly confident in what your response will be.
He’s right.
"I can play," you say, dumping the tiles onto the carpet as Charlie flips them with thick fingers.
Desperately attempting to focus on anything that isn’t those hands, you spend an unnecessarily long amount of time straightening his wooden tile rack, ensuring it’s perfectly placed.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his two massive palms covering practically all of the tiles as he swirls them around, mixes them up, and you stop breathing when your own fingers graze his.
You choose seven wooden blocks.
“Ladies first,” he says with a smile, voice so deep, it shakes your core. You place your tiles across the star to play ‘CATCH,’ and then take five tiles to replace them.
Charlie keeps score, tallying up your points for you on the pad.
Such a dad.
“How was your meeting tonight?” you ask so you have an excuse to look at his face.
He shrugs, face laced with concentration as he anticipates his next move.
“Fine. Boring.”
You smile. “Hopefully this is a bit more titillating.”
Charlie looks up at you. His eyes fall to your chest as he considers your word choice and you clench as your heart rate speeds up.
“It definitely is, Sweetheart,” he says, voice deep, as he returns his own focus to the letters in front of him.
You’d been babysitting Henry since you were 16, even before Charlie and Nicole broke up. Conveniently enough, you live in the apartment above them and over the years, you’d grown attached to Henry. He’s smart and funny, he always remembers you and doesn’t need Charlie to reintroduce you. And he’s a good kid, easy to hang out with. You never mind canceling plans to help out the Barbers.
Well, to help out Mr. Barber.
Besides, Charlie pays incredibly generously and as you’ve gotten older, you’ve come to appreciate everything about him: his size, his demeanor, the way he’s such a dedicated father. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way you catch him staring at you since you’ve turned 18.
You know you shouldn’t have a crush on the man who pays you to watch his son. You should be interested in guys your own age but… there’s something about your 6’4” client whose hands appear as though they could wrap around your entire waist in one go. And you’ve tried to think of anyone else with your bedroom door locked, and your tiny fingers between your legs–like the captain of the football team, or the guy who sits behind you in Calc, but Mr. Barber always worms his way into your thoughts right as you’re about to come.
Charlie plays the word ‘VEIN’ and you can’t help but clench at the sight of his own veins rolling over his knuckles as his hand flexes, the tendons straining when he reaches for his pencil to document his score.
“Sweetheart?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d been trying to get your attention for a while. “Are you okay?”
You can’t tear your eyes off of his hand as you apologize.
“It’s okay.” He smiles, his perfectly crooked teeth peeking out from behind his plush, pink lips.
When you look up at him, his eyes flick up to meet yours, his features laced with guilt as you catch him staring at your chest again.
Then you play ‘WIDE.’
As you reach to place your tiles, you bend a little further than necessary, so more cleavage is revealed to his clearly hungry gaze.
He inhales sharply.
“We could uh… we could make this more fun,” he says. “If you want.”
“Okay,” you say immediately. “I want.”
Charlie swallows, looks you up and down, his gaze scorching as he takes in your tiny denim shorts.
“Whoever plays the lower scoring word for the round… removes an article of clothing.”
It’s always warm in his apartment, so it’s not like you have a ton of clothes on to begin with, but you nod anyway, and you’re not sure if he purposely plays a word that scores him lower than yours, but he slips his cardigan off his shoulders without prompting and you smirk.
The following round, he’s delighted when ‘CLOSE’ earns him 24 points.
You arch an eyebrow.
“Shirt.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, eyes dark and focused. He watches you cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and he inhales deeply as you tug it up and over your head, revealing your lace bralette. It’s not completely see-through, but your nipples ache and are desperate for attention. They’re clearly visible as they strain beneath the fabric.
The second round goes to you and you memorize everything about the way his fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. You’re disappointed to see he has an undershirt on. He chuckles when you pout.
The next round goes to you as well and unfortunately, you have to waste this win on his shoes, but he throws you a bone and takes his socks off as well.
The letters you pick up are less than stellar and when it’s your turn again, you mindlessly drag your ‘W’ Scrabble tile across the bare skin of your chest while you survey the board.
“Fuck,” Charlie mutters under his breath as he shifts his weight and you’d noticed the bulge in his slacks earlier but it must be uncomfortable for him now because he rearranges his long legs for the third time in the past minute.
Still, he plays a word that scores him 21 points and his eyes unabashedly shift from your chest to your shorts, and back up to your chest as he considers his options.
“Bra.” You take a deep breath in and bite your lip as you tug the bralette up and slip your arms out of it, your breasts dropping out of the lace.
His expression is caught somewhere between pain and hunger as he devours your bare tits with his eyes. He sees you squirm where you sit, attempting to grind your center on the floor but it’s not the right angle, and it’s not enough. So you play your turn and win the round. You want his undershirt off desperately but you take pity on him and request his pants, his erection now so painfully obvious; it must be throbbing.
Unfortunately, your replacement letters contain no vowels and your options on the board are extremely limited, so when he scores higher than you on the next round, you both know what it means.
His eyes are on your tiny fingers working the button of your shorts after you’ve stood up but your hands are shaking so violently, you struggle.
“Let me, Princess,” he says, walking toward you on his knees.
He’s so tall, he’s eye-level with your chest. He nudges your legs apart before hooking his fingers into the waistband on either side and freezes, looks up at you. You nod, head moving half an inch but it’s all the permission he needs before his mouth wraps around one hard nipple, and his hands tug at your tiny shorts.
You whimper as he pulls them down your thighs, his mouth siphoning at your tit like he’s sucking a milkshake through a straw, and your panties get hooked with the denim.
You don’t even realize it's happening until Charlie pulls off of you to say, “fuck it, I’m taking this, too,” and yanks your thong down as well, leaving you completely bare in front of him.
“Fuck,” he whispers, free hand climbing up the inside of your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. So gorgeous. So grown up now, aren’t you?” You nod as his finger reaches the apex of your thighs.
You shift your weight back and forth as he strokes your folds, teases the creases between your sex and thighs.
“Mister Barber,” you whimper.
“Is this okay, Princess?” he asks.
You nod. “More.”
He smirks, but applies a bit of pressure and slides that finger through your folds. You can’t help but moan as his thick digit glides effortlessly through your soaked flesh, over your entrance and up toward your clit.
“So goddamn wet. This pussy. Fuck, Princess.”
He gathers some of your arousal onto his fingertip and brings it to your clit. Once slick, he circles the throbbing nub a few times, earning gasps and moans from you. Your hands flail, desperately seeking purchase on his head, his shoulders, anything.
“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He presses his finger to your entrance and slips it inside to the middle knuckle with ease. “Anyone ever touch you like this, Honey?”
You nod slowly.
“Yeah?” he asks. “Bet they didn’t make you feel like I can… will you let me, Sweetheart? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”
You nod.
“Say yes, Baby Girl. I need you to tell me.”
“Yes,” you say immediately, walls clenching around his finger. “Please, more.”
He curls his finger forward toward your front wall and you gasp as pleasure shoots through your system. Then, he adds a second finger.
He pumps them slowly, testing you, watching your face contort to see how much you can take. You groan when he withdraws his fingers, but you get a good look at them when he lifts them to your face.
“Look how wet you are for me, Princess,” he says, painting your bottom lip with your own arousal.
You allow both fingers into your mouth when he prods and you moan as you taste yourself, suck your juices off of him.
Then, you grab his wrist, holding his hand in place so your tongue can make figure eights around and through his digits.
Damn, you never knew that fingers could taste so good, that their weight on your tongue could feel like this, that sucking them deeper into your mouth could cause a surge of arousal to flood your already soaked center.
“You like this, Baby Girl? You like sucking Daddy’s fingers?”
Your knees nearly give out at that. You’d always wanted to say it, to call someone that but… most boys your age hardly want to be called ‘Babe,’ let alone ‘Daddy.’
But it fits him so well, you decide, as this fantasy knocks you off balance.
Charlie sits back on the floor and beckons you down with him using those fingers, until you’re straddling his lap and he lets you continue to suck as his opposite hand plays with your tits. He massages them, squeezes them, holds them in his hand and makes them bounce. You moan when he pinches a nipple and gasp when he twists it.
The ache between your legs is unbearable. It doesn’t help that your legs are spread open so you can’t even rub your thighs together in the way you usually do when you see Mr. Barber.
“Atta girl,” he coos, bringing your free hand to the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “You like sucking on Daddy’s fingers, huh?”
You nod, let your eyes fall shut as you hollow out your cheeks. “Will you do that while you let me fuck you, Baby Girl?”
You whine as he pries his fingers from your reluctant mouth and he chuckles.
“You’ll get them back, Princess. I could never deny you.”
He pulls his own shirt off and you marvel at his chest—the hard muscles and sheer width of him. His soft tummy bulges slightly over the waistband of his boxer briefs and brings you a sense of comfort you can’t explain and didn’t even know you needed.
His broad shoulders flex under your gaze and he smirks. Charlie keeps you in his lap as he maneuvers his boxer-briefs down and grips your waist so tight, his long fingers nearly wrap entirely around you.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head up and capturing your lips with his. You moan as he squeezes you harder and thrusts his tongue into your mouth.
You feel him, hard and thick beneath you. You want to see it, but your bodies are pressed too closely together. You feel too small in his embrace, too powerless to make any decisions for the two of you.
“Mister B-” you whisper-whine before stopping yourself and moaning, “Daddyyyyy…”
“Shh, Baby Girl, I promise I’ll take good care of you, okay?” he coos and you nod. “Trust me.”
And you do. He lifts you slowly, until he’s lined up at your entrance.
“Please tell me you’re on birth control.”
“I am,” you breathe and he releases a sigh of relief as he lowers you onto him slowly. “Ahh,” you gasp as he stretches you out, pressing kisses to your chest and throat to distract you from any discomfort.
“Sweetheart, you’re—“
He doesn’t finish his train of thought. Just lifts you up off of him and you groan as he falls out.
“Daddy,” you whine as he sets you down on the scrabble board and pushes you back.
Charlie hovers over you and kisses you while one of his massive hands explores the curves of your body. You feel so vulnerable, spread open on his living room floor like this.
Kissing his way down your body, he pays extra attention to your breasts—sucking, kissing, licking at your nipples until they’re soaked and pointed.
“Daddy!”
Continuing south, Charlie positions your legs, spreads them the way he wants them and licks a stripe up your cunt experimentally and without warning.
“Yes, Princess?” he asks coyly. His hand appears between your legs.
Your back arches involuntarily as he licks your clit, and explores your folds with his tongue. Scrabble tiles dig into your back as you squirm and Charlie reaches up to pin you with a forearm across your hips.
You nearly scream his name as his tongue works you and he covers your mouth with a massive hand.
“Kid’s asleep,” he reminds you, but you hardly hear him when you grab his wrist and take two of his fingers into your mouth.
As you suck them, he sucks on your clit, his siphons matching your pace until you’re moaning, lips vibrating against his knuckles as your climax builds.
No one’s ever done this for you before. Sure, you’d made yourself come, but the boys you’d fooled around with probably couldn’t even point to your clit, let alone know how to tease it and suck at it.
Back arching, heart pounding, Scrabble tiles jabbing, you thrash across the floor and board as your orgasm wreaks havoc through your system, shakes you to your core.
“Good girl,” he praises, lifting his head off of you. He wipes his soaked mouth and chin on your inner thigh, your hip bone, your ribs, like a dog rubbing its scent, marking its territory.
“You came so well for me, Baby Girl. So good, so fucking good.”
Charlie wraps one of your pliant legs around his waist and you do everything in your power to tighten your muscles and hold it there for him while he enters you for a second time, filling you completely, but this time, it’s so much better.
“Fuck, oh my god, I-”
“Shh,” he tells you again, covering your mouth and refusing to allow you to pull it away. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he thrusts hard and fast into you, the Scrabble tiles nearly cutting your back open.
“Fuck, you’re so tight still. Fuck, such a perfect pussy. Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you,” he babbles as his hips snap against yours.
The friction of his thick cock rubbing mercilessly against your stretched walls renders you unable to think, let alone speak. Whiney babbles escape from between your lips as your body rocks back and forth with the force of his thrusts, your tits jiggling, and legs hardly able to remain locked around his waist.
Your back can only lift so much with his weight over you but as he grinds into you, a second orgasm rakes through your system, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as his thrusts grow sloppy and he spills into you, hitting you hard and deep as he comes. His hand slides off your mouth and he plants it on the floor to lift himself off of you.
“Fuck,” he breathes looking down at your naked body. “That was perfect, Baby Girl. You’re amazing.” He kisses your neck. “You were so good for me.”
You accept his lips when he leans up to kiss you.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, nudging your nose with his.
“Yeah, I just…” you maneuver your hand behind your back and pluck a Scrabble piece jabbing your shoulder blade. “Maybe round two can be in your bed?”
“Round two?” Charlie asks with an eyebrow arched.
“Of Scrabble. After all, we didn’t get to finish our first game,” you tease with a coy smile before dropping your voice, looking up at him through your lashes and whispering, “Daddy.”
Charlie growls before whisking you away to his bed.
Your clothes somehow make it to the room, but the disheveled Scrabble board remains in the middle of the living room floor.
February 2021.4
This artwork also lives here.
I think we’ve all had a go at this image, haha! But here is my attempt at it and I think it looks pretty good. Posted originally on Twitter in January 2022, this one came together really easily because I didn’t have to worry about light or anything. All I needed was a profile from Ophelia and then boom!
They turned out really sexy 🥵❤️🔥
✨JediBen&DarkRey✨
The father of Empress Rey's child has long been a mystery. It has been rumored to be a nobody, but others claim him to be a very powerful Jedi.
Such secrecy only warrants great suspicion, perhaps with time the boy will begin to reveal his true nature?
🦕 Commander Mills x Female Reader ⚠️ Bathing, wounds, naked male/clothed female ✏️ 1.8k words 💕 For @mytbrisgrowing
Mills inhales sharply behind you as he presumably lowers himself into the steaming bath. Water sloshes over the tub’s edges and splashes onto the floor before he says quietly, “okay, I’m in.”
You take a deep breath, fill your lungs, then exhale slowly in an attempt to regulate your heartbeat before turning around.
He needs you to be professional despite the fact that he’s far and beyond the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that you think of him when you’re on your own, sweating and squirming as you picture his head between your thighs.
Or that you swear he flirts with you.
What matters is that he’s tired, he’s wounded, and he’s taken such good care of you since the crash, the least you could do is be an adult and assist him with his bath.
You turn around and although you’ve seen him shirtless many times before, it’s never felt quite as intimate as it does now. And not just because you know he’s naked from the waist down as well.
“I’ll be gentle,” you promise, kneeling next to the tub with a cloth. “Where does it hurt most?”
“Everywhere,” he says with a chuckle, then winces. “Ah, nope. Ribs. Ribs hurt most.”
“Left side?” you confirm as you hang the cloth over the side of the tub and use your hands to scoop water over his shoulders and chest.
Mills nods.
His bicep muscles contract and bulge as you touch him and gently scrub his dirt-covered forearms, and massive hands.
You swallow your desire as you take a giant paw into your own hand, holding it steady to suds up his palm. The muscles in his forearm flex as you flip his hand over and run the cloth over the back, paying careful attention to his split knuckles.
“This okay?” you ask, voice breaking as you bring his pointer and middle fingers together.
“Yeah,” he groans, letting his head fall back against the edge of the tub and allowing his eyes to close.
His hand is so much larger than yours, it’s astounding.
“I’m gonna do your other arm,” you tell him quietly in case he dozes off.
Mills nods as you make your way over and repeat your actions from shoulder to fingertips, desperately attempting to assuage the arousal in your core.
This is not the time but… god, he’s so sexy.
Your cloth makes its way to his chest and he releases a puff of air you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His breath had seemed so even-keeled, you hadn’t even considered he might be nervous, too.
Slowly, you cover his collar bones and sternum in suds before turning your attention to his prominent pecs. You swear they’ve gotten bigger since last time you’d seen them. Though, you’re not sure how that’s possible.
Mills moans. “Mmm, feels good,” he whispers as you take your time dipping the cloth into the water and wringing it out, washing away the soap and watching as the droplets race over his muscular chest.
“Do you wanna lean forward for me so I can do your back?” you ask.
He doesn’t immediately move.
“Mills?” you ask gently.
He cracks one eye open. Then smirks as he lowers his hand to the water. Before you can ask again, he makes a fast fist, sending a small spurt of water over the tub’s edge. You gasp when it hits your face and he laughs.
“I see how it is,” you joke, splashing him back.
He laughs harder and then winces, his hand disappearing beneath the water to clutch his ribcage.
“Ahh,” he gasps. “Don’t make me laugh that hard.”
“Don’t make you laugh?” you ask incredulously, splashing him again.
He smiles and sends another wave your way, this one much bigger than the first. It soaks the front of your white shirt.
“Do you want your back washed or not?” you ask in a ‘now or never’ tone, but your grin gives you away.
“Nah, I’d rather do this.” He raises a hand to the water’s surface and you instinctively pull back.
The damp shirt adheres to your skin with the motion, clinging to the swells of your breasts. Without missing a beat, his eyes drop to your chest and it only makes your already hard-as-pearls nipples even stiffer.
A chill races down your spine when his gaze lifts to find your eyes. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to peer south.
He clears his throat and leans forward.
Your heart falters for a second and when the beat picks back up, it’s faster than you’ve ever felt it. A shaky exhale falls from between your slightly parted lips. Subconsciously, you lick them, waiting for him to lean in a little bit more and kiss you.
“My back?”
“Wh- what?” You’re breathless.
“You were going to wash-”
“Right!” you say, shaking your head. “Right. Yeah.”
His body curls forward a bit more while you position yourself behind him and drag the cloth over the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen.
It must be heaven to share a bed with him, to feel his weight over you as he kisses your neck and spreads your legs. You can only imagine what it’d be like to have those plush lips exploring your mouth, your skin, your cunt.
You feel dirtier than he’d appeared returning to shelter this evening.
And while your masturbatory concerns should not be at the forefront of your mind considering you are the only remaining survivors from a horrendous crash and now spend every second of every day and night scavenging for food and avoiding becoming dino kibble, you can’t help but think: those fingers would fill you up so much better than your own.
The only thing that should be less of a focal point than that are the masturbatory habits of the 6’4”, fit, gorgeous, protective man in front of you.
You are supposed to be assisting him with a necessary task and imagining his cock in his hand is most certainly not helping.
And yet.
As you stroke his back, his muscles bulge, contract, flex, and you must admit: you’re baffled. Mills has muscles that you didn’t even know existed. They’re outlined so clearly every time he shifts in the tub and you’re trying to ignore the triangle of strength beneath his underarm but… it’s just so hard and so there.
You’d taken anatomy and you’re pretty sure this man’s back is an anomaly.
You shake yourself from your thoughts and fill your cupped hands with steaming water.
“I’m gonna do your hair, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Just didn’t wanna drown ya,” you joke, sitting up on your knees.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
It would be so easy to gaze over the top of his head at his long legs, perfectly still beneath the water. Too easy to glance between them so you wouldn’t have to imagine anymore.
Your fingers massage soap into his scalp, earning a couple of moans. His head lolls back into your hands as his shoulders drop.
Fuck.
You whimper when it comes into view: his thick cock standing tall, proud, desperate for a channel tighter and slicker than the tub. God, you want to be that for him. It doesn’t help that he clearly wants you to be that for him, too.
Before you lose control, you make a bowl with your hands, scoop water into them, and rinse his hair.
“I think you’re big- I mean, done,” you stammer. “Done. I… sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Thank you,” he says, voice so deep, it could cause this cave to collapse.
And after the fool you’d just made of yourself, you think that might not be the worst thing.
“I’m uh… think I can stand on my own.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say, your own voice so high-pitched, it could shatter glass. “I’ll um… turn around so you can.”
“You don’t…” He trails off and stops talking.
But you’ve already done so.
Water sloshes out of the tub behind you and you can only imagine the sight of his large, perfect body soaking wet, wet droplets dripping down over all of the best, toned parts of him.
“Alright,” he says, but when you turn around, he’s clad just in a makeshift towel, wrapped low around his waist. “Are you still able to…”
Mills offers his wounded paw to you and it’s so large, taking it in both of your own small hands seems like the only option.
“Of course,” you say, looking up at him.
His eyes drop from your eyes to your lips. He licks his. Then his gaze falls further to your still wet, probably still translucent shirt and your name slips from between his lips, just under his breath.
You’re not sure who moves first. Maybe you move simultaneously.
Regardless, your lips come together in a fiery crash of passion, his wet body pressing against yours. Mills grunts and if he’s hurting, he doesn’t complain. Just cups your cheek with one hand and wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you close.
Suddenly, your arms find their way around his neck and you’re moaning and it’s like exploring a new, beautiful place and coming home all at once. His tongue breaks past your lips and teeth to find your own, teasing you, breaking you, making you melt.
“Mills,” you pant, once the kiss breaks. Both of your chests heave in unison.
He lifts his other hand to cup both sides of your face and kisses you once more before resting his forehead to yours.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I… I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted to do that for… how long have we been here?”
You laugh and nod.
“I don’t know anymore. I’ve lost track of time, but… believe me when I say, I’ve wanted it, too. I… I want you, Mills.”
He growls, leans down to kiss you again.
“I… can’t do much more than this tonight,” he admits. “I want to, but…”
“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, hm? I’ll take watch tonight.”
“No need,” he says. “Sleep in my arms. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
You search his soft eyes and your heart squeezes in your chest. “Okay.”
He takes your hand in his, intent on leading you to his makeshift bed but you don’t move. He looks back at you, confused.
You smirk, reaching for his other hand. “Still want me to wrap this up? Or…”
“Oh.” A rosy hue blooms on the apples of his cheeks and he smiles sheepishly. “Please.”
You giggle and sit him down so you can tend to his wounds.
“You won’t have to turn around when I’m getting in and out of the tub now,” Mills says suggestively and you raise an eyebrow. “Because you’ll be getting in with me.”
“You won't run away from me again, will you?”
🦕 Commander Mills x female reader 🔞 NSFW ⚠️ CW // somno, cunnilingus, p in v, praise, hickeys, possessive Mills ✏️ 1.5k words
-
It's been 11 months since you’ve slept.
Eleven months without his large, warm, protective body beneath the duvet next to yours.
You’d spent your nights tossing, turning, praying, hoping, crying… but nothing helped.
Until finally, finally, he’d returned home to you.
He’s just as large and just as warm.
But his naturally protective nature had evolved into a primal possessiveness. As though you are his lifesource and he needs to spend every second of every day ensuring your safety, your comfort.
Your pleasure.
“Ohh,” you hear yourself moan before you fully come to consciousness.
Instinctually, your back arches up off the mattress and a distinct pressure increases on your thighs.
You thought you couldn’t get any rest when he was gone, but now that he’s back… you’re getting even less sleep than you were before.
“Mills,” you whimper, his nickname rolling off your tongue easier than his first name ever had.
His hair tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as your body gradually wakes, his hot tongue lapping at your core incessantly.
“Go back to sleep, Baby,” he coos. “I just needed to warm my girl up a bit.”
You can hear the smirk in his tone as a thick finger slides inside of you and your eyes blink open only to shut tightly seconds later when his lips wrap around your clit.
You’re close.
How long had he been doing this?
“I need my baby girl,” he murmurs, tongue flicking out against the swollen nub. “So bad. So fucking bad. God, I missed eating this perfect pussy.”
His finger slides out enough that a second joins the first and he holds you steady with his other massive hand on your lower abdomen, keeping you pinned to the bed.
You attempt to adjust to this new fullness, this intense pressure, by tilting your hips but he holds you steady.
“It’s okay, Baby. I know you’re close already. Come for me.” His voice is so deep, so desperate. As though this is the first and last time he’s ever given you an orgasm. “Can feel these tight pussy walls squeezing my fingers, Baby. How do you even take my cock? Fuck… my girl, my perfect girl.”
“Mills, Mills… MILLS!” you scream, hands running through his hair, holding his head steady as your shaking legs frame his head. You’re squirming, babbling, gasping, sucking in your breath and holding it until your scaling orgasm crescendos.
His mouth is relentless, sucking your clit as his fingers pump in tune with his lips.
A gush of arousal floods the space between you as his fingers curl up toward your g-spot and he prolongs your orgasm even further.
Or makes you come again. You’re not sure which.
“I… I…” You’re unable to form words, still partially asleep, but mostly fuck drunk.
“I know,” Mills says with a smirk, kissing his way up your tummy and abdomen, leaving a trail of your essence in his lips’ wake.
He nuzzles his beard against your breast, tickling your nipple, and soaking the surrounding flesh before growling.
“Mine.”
He makes your tit taste like your pussy, then his mouth descends, takes your nipple and most of your breast into his mouth and sucks there, too.
He suckles hard enough to leave a mark, the pain morphing into pleasure as it races through your system and pools in your core.
“Need you, I need you,” you finally manage to gasp, subconsciously spreading your legs even wider for him. “Please… Commander.”
The title stops Mills in his tracks.
When he looks up at you, his gaze is poignant and intense. The darkness of your bedroom pales in comparison to the black in his eyes.
You smirk, but he seems hellbent on wiping that clear off your face when he reaches down to hook your leg in his elbow and presses your thigh to your chest.
Reaching between you, you attempt to help guide him to your entrance, but he’s already there, already pushing in, already stretching you wide open.
“Fuck, Baby,” he groans. “How is my girl so tight when I just fucked her an hour ago?”
You moan simultaneously when he bottoms out, your intimate walls pulsing as they attempt to accommodate his girth. He’s so big, you’re so full, you’re not sure how much more you can take.
Then he starts moving.
“You were fucking made for me,” Mills says, pulling back and thrusting into you. “You’re mine.”
“Yours,” you agree.
With his massive biceps on either side of you, holding up his huge frame, he gets you stretched before pulling out and sitting back on his haunches. Instead of scooting closer to you, he grabs your hips and yanks your body until the bottoms of your ass cheeks are flush with his knees.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his cock in one hand, and your ankle in the other to throw it over his shoulder. “Wanted to see all these pretty marks I gave you.”
Without warning, he thrusts into you all at once and glides his hand up the center of your torso before grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing so hard, his fingertips likely leave even more bruises.
You cry out when he pinches your nipple and whimper when you glance down over your abused breasts and take in the purples, blues, and reds.
“Mills,” you gasp.
“I know, Baby,” he coos, hand stroking your skin as it slides down your abdomen. It’s so big, it covers nearly the entire expanse of your torso until it continues to your thigh, still bent on the bed. Mills pushes your leg deeper into the mattress, and opens you up even more. “Fuck, look at you.”
His opposite arm wraps around your other leg and secures it against his chest before he begins pounding into you with reckless abandon.
A chorus of your slapping skin harmonizes with the constant thuds of the headboard against the wall.
“Yes yes yes!” you gasp. “Harder!”
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips snapping into yours with a punishing pace. “Fuck. So tight.”
“Mills,” you moan, vision blurring as you begin losing your senses.
“Come again,” he orders. “Come on my cock.”
“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Commander.”
Mills growls.
He adds a flourish to his hips to increase the friction of his cock against your front wall. Your breasts jiggle wildly with his violent thrusts and when you lift your hands to grasp at them, he grunts.
“I’m close, Baby. Need ya to come for me. Be a good girl and come on my cock. Come on.” His expression is desperate, thumb unrelenting until you suck in a breath of air and let go.
You scream as he pulls your orgasm from you, your own fingers pinching your nipples while your wail falls silent.
Your voice had already been strained from the past week of making up for lost time, but this likely did it.
“Fuck yes, look so pretty under me, Baby,” he praises, his own voice strained. “Screaming my name so loud, you lose your voice. That’s my good fucking girl.”
Through half-lidded eyes, you watch his biceps bulge as he holds your legs open and where he needs them. Beads of sweat drip down his massive pecs as his ladder of abdominal muscles contract with each motion.
“Pretty pussy squeezing me so tight… good girl. My good girl.. fuck!”
Mills pumps into you hard as his own orgasm peaks, the first ropes of white, hot cum filling your tight channel. His thrusts grow sloppy and desperate as your fluttering walls milk his cock and you take every drop he has to offer inside of you.
“Christ,” he groans, pulling out carefully once his balls have drained.
Mills wraps his long fingers around your calf and presses a kiss to your ankle before gently dropping your leg to the mattress.
“Come here,” he growls, collapsing next to you and pulling you close, your sweaty, heaving bodies colliding. “I maybe went a little overkill on the marks.”
His thick fingers circle and press into the bruises on your breasts, drawing swirls around the darkest ones.
“I like them,” you say with a giggle. “Commander.”
He growls. “Don’t call me that unless you’re prepared to go again.”
You whimper, knowing it’s not an empty threat. His refractory period seemingly disappeared since returning home to you.
You’re tired, but can think of no better reason to stay awake. So you hoist your exhausted body up, straddle his hips and smirk down at him.
“I think I wanna go for a ride, Commander.”
His massive hands find your hips as his eyes take in your gorgeous body.
“Mine.”
// canon divergent au
colder nights made better in your clothes (reylo)
FLIP GIRLIES ASSEMBLE! ❤️🖤