// Hii you can call me Clove. (Or Bimbo). My pronouns are she/her and I’m in my 20s. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked without hesitation.
|| pansexual || my blog is a safe space for everyone except for transphobes, homophobes, nazis, and Trump supporters || My inbox and messages are always open for advice or if you need to talk.
Scorpio sun, Aries rising, Sagittarius moon
> I’ve met Hayden Christensen four times and Ewan McGregor once! || My favorite Hayden Christensen characters aside from Anakin/Vader are Clay Beresford, Sam Monroe, Aj, and James Kelly. (Sorry Leo!)
> My favorite JJK characters are Nanami, Mahito (don’t come at me), Toji, Megumi, Choso, and Gojo <3 Honorable mention is Toge!!
Too many fandoms to count tbh
Emoji anons: 🦇, 🍼, ⭐️
// Requests are CLOSED!!
// Rules here
Hayden-verse Masterlist here || JJK Masterlist here
there’s very few things that drive me up the wall in fandom as much as this weird new assumption that fandom is primarily a space for younger people that older folks are only accepted into in a trial basis if they promise to centralize and accommodate younger fans, and further, anything else is creepy and predatory. IT’S OKAY FOR ADULTS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR OTHER ADULTS.
if I have to read “women in their 30s” used as an insult one more time I swear I’ll - step away from that user and just hang out with the other grownups who consistently create good content because I’m also an adult and too busy comparing car insurance to fight with teenagers on the internet, but goddAMMIT I’ll be annoyed
Warnings : none really, just more filler for the story || me adding in my own bits to Anakin’s backstory || my knowledge of space in the Star Wars universe
AN: Sorry it’s been a little again. Got 4 more chapters and possibly an epilogue before this is finished. Thanks for being patient. I didn’t realize how many people were actually enjoying this series. It means a lot to me truly. I’m quite proud of this. Kisses for each and every one of you <3
Word count: 5.1k
|| Chapter 5 ||
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚
Anakin is woken up by sunlight streaming in through the windows, filtering into your room. He slowly blinks open his eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness as he looks down at you, watching you he blinks the sleep from his eyes. But then it dawns on him.
"Shit," he whispers. He accidentally fell asleep in here. He attempts to slip out from under your hold, careful not to wake you faster than you already are so he can slip out.
He silently and carefully gets off the bed, attempting to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb you. Now that the moment from last night is over, he realizes what a bad idea that was. He should've stayed on the couch instead. But the Force knew he couldn't help himself last night. Being close to you, feeling your warm body against him, it was addicting. And then the guilt starts to creep in.
Him slipping out from your bed doesn't make you wake any faster. Though you hear footsteps in the hallway, which is what causes you to wake up. But your door is shut like it was last night so you think nothing of it. You sit up in bed, yawning. You notice your cat next to you.
"Jeez, you must've moved around a lot or we gotta get you on a diet, big boy," you say sleepily to your cat, assuming the large warm spot on your bed was somehow from him. Why would it have been from Anakin, anyway?
He hears your voice through the closed door, hearing you talk to your cat. He stops and silently leans against the wall in the hallway, listening.
You scratch your cat behind his ears. "Wait... how'd you get in here, anyway?" you ask, looking at your cat. When you went to bed, he was with Anakin on the couch, and to your knowledge, your door was shut all night. Hmm.
Only one logical explanation. "Were you being a nuisance to Anakin last night?" you ask the feline, assuming it would've been that and he just put the cat in your room.
Anakin stands in the hallway just outside your bedroom, silently listening to you talk to your cat. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're wondering how the cat got in here. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're assuming the cat must've been a nuisance to him so he put him in your bedroom. He silently laughs to himself. That is not the logical explanation. But he isn't going to correct you. If that's your explanation, he'll let you have it.
You yawn and slip out from under the covers, standing up from bed. You stretch your muscles, some of your joints popping as you do. Wanting to pee and brush your teeth, you open your bedroom door and jump a little seeing Anakin in the hall. In your tired brain, it looks like he just left the bathroom.
"Oh... good morning, Anakin."
His breath catches in his throat a little at the sight of you in your sleepy state. Force, you look cute with your sleepy eyes and messy hair. He quickly pushes that thought aside, feeling the guilt creeping in again.
"Morning," he says gruffly in response, his voice still rough from just waking up too. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of his sleep creased face.
You give him a small, sleepy smile, too tired to realize the compromised situation he's caught in. You leave your bedroom and shut the door behind you once you're in the bathroom.
He mentally curses, internally groaning at your sleepy smile and the cute way you shut the door behind you. He finds himself unable to stop looking at that closed door, knowing you're on the other side, about ready to shower and change and come back out. He's internally berating himself, frustrated with how he feels. He knows it's wrong, that he should've known better, but he's addicted to you.
Then your cat trots out of the bedroom just looking up at him. He stares down at the ball of pure fluff with an unamused expression, silently glaring at the creature.
You come back out of the bathroom maybe an hour or so later, showered and ready for the day and a hell of a lot more awake. You come out to the living room, offering Anakin another small smile. You still feel a little bad like he dismissed you last night, but you don't comment on it. You walk into the kitchen, starting on some coffee and breakfast for the both of you.
He internally groans a little more at the sight of you, moving around the kitchen. He tries to ignore the feeling that washes over him as he looks at you, his fingers twitching involuntarily at the memory of holding you last night. He has to keep himself in check and not let his feelings for you get out of control, and yet they already are.
He follows you into the kitchen, sitting at the countertop.
You look over your shoulder at him as he sits up a little, and a smirk makes its way onto your lips.
"It looks like someone's feeling a bit better today."
He smirks back at you, his eyebrow raising in amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. He chuckles a little, running a hand through his hair as he tries to brush it out of his eyes.
"Maybe I am," he says, giving you a cheeky look and an even cheekier smirk. "What're you gonna do about it?"
You laugh softly and shrug nonchalantly. "Guess I get to put you to work now. Gotta earn your keep."
He chuckles at your response. You're always so quick-witted and sassy. He enjoys your banter. It's a welcome distraction from all the thoughts swirling in his head, the thoughts he's trying to ignore.
"Put me to work? Sounds like a threat," he says, arching an eyebrow at you in a challenging manner, his smirk never leaving his face.
You laugh softly and then shake your head, turning back to the breakfast you're cooking. "No, I won't do that... unless you really piss me off. But I figured I'd take you to the hardware store to get whatever you need to start fixing your ship."
He forces a smile. He wants to get his ship moving again, to get it done so that he can leave. But yes, the last part hurts him a little bit, but it's the truth. He can't stay here forever.
"Hm, now that's an intriguing offer. A shopping trip with you. Sounds like both a fun and dangerous endeavor."
You chuckle a little bit. "Oh please, it'll be better than our grocery trip. There won't be sweets for you to go crazy over and hopefully no rude workers that you Jedi mind trick. Just a hardware store. Right up your alley."
He chuckles, thinking back on that grocery trip. It had actually turned out to be pretty fun and he quite liked making you laugh with his antics.
"Hey now, that guy back there had it coming. He didn't need to treat you that way and you deserved an apology," he retorts. "But yes, the hardware store does sound like fun. Maybe I'll even teach you a thing or two about mechanics while we're there."
Your eyebrows shoot up. "Oof, good luck with that. I wouldn't hold your breath."
"Yeah, I have a feeling that you'll be a stubborn student with that too. Just gonna have to find a way to motivate you, I guess. Find a way to get you to listen for once."
You sigh and turn to give him a look over your shoulder. There's no real malice behind it, though. "Hey, it's not that I haven't tried to listen to that stuff before. It just doesn't make sense to me, is all. I'm not the analytical/techy type. I'm an English literature type."
"Oh, I'm well aware that you're not the technical type. Don't worry about that. I've got that pretty well figured out by now," he muses, drumming his fingers on the top of the countertop. "And it sounds like you lack discipline. Too much time analyzing literature, not enough time studying something more practical like mechanics."
You roll your eyes playfully at that, plating some pancakes for the both of you and bringing his plate over to him.
"Listen, it just doesn't compute with my brain," you chuckle a little, handing him some maple syrup. "Science is fine. But everything else, especially math, is a no go."
He smiles as you bring his over to him, thanking you. He takes the maple syrup you hand him, pouring a bit over the top.
"That sounds like a skill issue to me. Maybe you should work on that," he teases, poking fun at you. Force, you would've despised his training as a Padawan, there was plenty of math, science, and calculating involved in that.
You scoff playfully at his jab. "Hey, it's not like I have spacecrafts to take care of, so it's fine. If something breaks or needs repair, I can just call a handyman."
"Hm, relying on others to fix stuff when it breaks? Sounds like you live a bit of a pampered life," he teases, taking a bite of his pancake. Then he smirks. "Maybe you should learn to take care of things and fix them yourself instead of having someone else do it for you all the time."
You know it was a playful jab, but it makes your smile falter just a little bit. If only he knew. You didn't have anyone to teach you anything growing up. You were kicked out at fourteen, then in and out of group homes and foster care until you aged out.
"You can think that if you want," you say more quietly, taking a bite of your pancakes.
He doesn't miss the way your smile falters, noticing the change in your tone. He furrows his eyebrows a little, sensing the shift in your demeanor. He realizes that maybe he said something wrong, that possibly he might've touched a sensitive nerve. He hadn't meant it in that way, to call you pampered and sheltered. He was only teasing you, but now he wonders if he accidentally went too far.
His smirk fades from his face.
"I wasn't serious, just teasing," he says quietly.
You shake your head and look up to him. "No, no, I know you were. It's fine."
He can tell it isn't fine, though. Your previous lighthearted and playful demeanor has changed. He hates seeing you get quiet like that.
He watches you look up at him, searching your eyes. He can tell he said something that was a sore spot for you, that it brought up memories.
"Look, I didn't mean it in that way. I don't think you're pampered or sheltered. I was just teasing you," he says, his voice softer.
"I know you didn't mean it that way, Anakin. It's okay. Promise," you respond softly, taking another small bite.
He watches silently for a moment, studying your features. He can tell you're putting on a brave face, but he still feels a pang of guilt. He never wants to hurt your feelings like that, especially not right now.
He can tell there's more behind that memory, something much deeper. He would ask you about it, but he doesn't want to pry too much.
"Doesn't seem like you're okay," he mumbles, more to himself. He looks at you for a few more seconds, watching as you take another bite. "Sorry I said that. I didn't... I didn't mean it like that, really. I was just kidding."
You shake your head. Should you share with him so he doesn't think it's his fault? You guess. He literally shared with you that he was a slave. You owe him this much. You sigh and continue to cut your pancakes, not looking up as you speak.
"It's not your fault, Anakin. I promise. I just... I didn't have a family really growing up. Everything I know how to do, I taught myself. Down to driving."
He falls silent as you speak, watching you and listening intently. He can hear the pain in your voice. He can feel himself begin to internally cringe at the memory of his comment, knowing now how badly it must've cut you. He can tell this isn't something you easily share, and he feels honored that you trust him enough to share this with him now. But at the same time, it pains him to know that you didn't have a family growing up. He can sympathize, knowing that he was in a similar boat growing up, but he had been fortunate enough to have someone to care for him still.
He sits silently for a second, a mixture of guilt and sympathy swirling inside him, before gently replying. "For what it's worth, I admire you for it. All the things you've had to do on your own."
You lift your gaze up to him, not moving your fork anymore. You didn't expect that from him. Or actually, anyone, honestly. You're a bit taken aback.
"I-... thank you... um... you don't have to say that, though."
He smiles weakly at you. "I'm serious," he continues, still eyeing you. "It's impressive, learning those skills all on your own. Most people wouldn't be as strong as you, and I'm sorry you didn't get to have parents teach you. Nobody to care for you and look after you."
Your facial expression softens. You've never been told that before. It was... nice. Unintentionally, you've admitted to him that you have no real ties to Earth at this point, nothing keeping you here. A plan starts to formulate in his mind. You nod your head gently.
"I appreciate that, Anakin," you say quietly.
He smiles a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He notices the softening of your expression. He knows that hearing something as simple as that is uncommon for you, like most people haven't even noticed. It frustrates him. You deserve someone to tell you how incredible you are, not forget about you and leave you all alone. Maybe he can help heal some of the pain you so rarely share. He just nods and continues to talk with you gently.
"Of course. You deserve to be told that. You deserve all the credit for all you've accomplished on your own. Truly."
He falls silent for a second, but his brain is reeling. He's all too aware of the fact you have nothing keeping you here. That you have little to no ties to this place. It isn't like he hasn't thought about bringing you back with him. The thought has crossed his mind many times.
"I do really appreciate that. I'm not sure what else to say," you respond softly.
He smiles back at you, his heart still aching for you a little.
"You don't need to say anything, sweetheart," he replies. He can't help but silently study you. He wants to take you back with him and keep you safe, always.
You give him another small smile to show your appreciation. You both continue to eat breakfast together after that in a more comfortable silence. Should you have even shared that?
Once you're both finished, you clean up your spots. "Ready to go?" you ask him, not realizing the plan he's already starting to formulate.
He studies you as you clean up, his mind still in the same place it was before. He gets up, pushing the chair in before turning to you.
"Yep, yep, all ready to go," he replies, watching as you seem unaware of what's going on through his mind. He definitely has to figure out how to bring you along without you knowing.
You nod your head once and grab your keys before slipping your shoes on. "Good, let's go," you say, leading him out to your car.
He follows you out, running a hand through his curls. He can't stop thinking about everything you've revealed to him. That you aren't even really tied down here. That you have no family, nobody looking after you, all alone in the world.
He's silent as he gets into your car, watching as you do as well and start up the car. The entire time he's trying to think of a way to get you to agree to leave with him. Force, he should stop thinking like this.
The drive to the hardware shop is shorter than the one to the grocery store. Once you're parked, you both get out of your car and head inside.
"I don't know what you need, so I'll just let you lead the way," you say.
He follows you into the shop, taking in the sights and smells of the place. Everything is new and foreign to him, but he nods at your words, gesturing for you to follow him.
"Alright, stay close. I'll show you what I need," he says as he begins to walk through the aisles of the shop. He makes his way over to a row that contains various tools and materials. He begins to look through all the equipment carefully. He has a plan in mind.
You follow along behind him with a shopping cart, allowing him to get whatever various tools and pieces he needs.
He begins to grab several items and place them in the cart. Screws, wires, bolts, cables, a battery, a motor, some tubes. After a few minutes, he's gathered the basics he'll need. He'll need these to make some parts and repair the hyperdrive.
He turns to you for a second. "You sure you don't mind buying all this? It can all get pretty expensive."
You wave a hand at his concern. "I promise it's fine. Besides, I wanna make sure you can get back to your home as soon as possible." The words tasted almost bitter on your tongue. If you had your way, you’d convince him to stay.
He falls silent as you talk, a subtle pang of guilt going through him at your words. He feels bad knowing that you want to just get him out of your hair and get your life back to normal. The thought of that makes him want to stay with you even more. He gives you a half smile.
"Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate it," he says as he continues to look around the shop. He sees a few other things he'll need. He grabs them and adds them to the cart.
You don't want him to leave at all. But you figured the sooner he'd leave, the better, so you don't get too attached like you feel you already are doing. Leave it to you to finally find someone you want to let into your life, and they're from a different galaxy.
"Of course, Anakin. Don't mention it," you say.
He smiles down at you, grateful for your generosity and care. He definitely is already attached to you. The thought that you'd let him leave without you is almost heartbreaking. He'd have to think of a way to convince you to come with him.
"Okay then. I think that should be everything I need," he states as he finishes adding items into the cart.
You nod your head once at him and lead him up to the checkout. The cashier scans everything and you pay before you're both able to head back out to your car.
He feels another pang of guilt. He'd have to repay you back somehow. He follows you back to your car, helping to load everything into the trunk.
Once you're both back in your car, you start it up and you both start heading back to your place.
"So... random question I got for ya," you say.
He gets back into the car, once again sitting in the passenger seat next to you. He fastens his seatbelt before turning his attention back to you. He looks at you, intrigued by your words.
"Okay, hit me with the question, sweetheart."
You get a little embarrassed over the question you're thinking of. You feel stupid, but you're curious.
"Okay, but before I ask, you can't judge me or say anything smartass, okay?"
He chuckles gently at your words, sensing your embarrassment. He raises an eyebrow at you as he studies your expression closely, amused by your nervous attitude. He smiles and nods slightly.
"I promise. I won't judge you. I won't say anything smartass. I won't laugh. You have my word, princess."
Princess? That's a new one. But you like it. You chuckle nervously and nod your head once.
"Okay, well, you said you're human, yes? So does that mean you breathe oxygen too or something else?"
He chuckles at your question before nodding.
"Yep, we're very much human. And yes, we breathe oxygen. We're similar to you in so many ways. In fact, we're so similarly built biologically, you wouldn't even know the difference."
You nod your head slowly, but your eyebrows furrow. You sneak a glance at him before returning your focus to the road.
"Well, then how do you live in another galaxy and travel space with no spacesuit? Earth scientists have said space, well, our space, at least, doesn't have any oxygen, and life on other planets is unsustainable because of that. So how does all that work then?"
He notices you look over at him and he chuckles quietly at your question. Honestly, he forgot exactly how much you didn't know about the galaxy he came from, considering you didn't even really have space travel here.
"Well, we do have space suits, just not all the time. And we're able to live on other planets because there are some planets that do have oxygen. But a lot of our ships are able to regulate oxygen."
"Huh... interesting," you respond. "So then your home planet and the planet you live on now are all oxygen filled planets?"
He nods in response to your question. He smiles at you. "Yes, pretty much all the planets that are habitable have oxygen that we humans can breathe. There are some that are more dangerous. Though we have oxygen, the air is contaminated with other gases or pollutants."
"So then the other alien races you mentioned also breathe oxygen?" you ask, turning onto the road that leads back to your home.
He chuckles a bit in response. It's honestly sweet how you want to know all this. He wonders how you'd react to other info he could give you about different species in the galaxy, but he decides not to mention that yet. There'd be time for that later.
"Yep, almost all the sentient species in the galaxy needs oxygen. We're all pretty similar, just have different traits and physical differences."
You hum in thought at the information. This is fascinating. You wish you'd be able to see things like that one day. "Wow," you respond quietly.
He smiles softly to himself as he watches you process everything. He knows of so many different and incredible things that he could and would show you.
"I know, sweetheart. There's a lot of fascinating things out there. I could probably tell you the craziest stories that would make your eyes pop out of your head," he teases with an amused grin. The idea of showing you around the galaxy and all the different planets and worlds crosses his mind. A part of him is tempted to ask if you want to come with him.
Your eyebrows shoot up in interest. "Really? Well, you can't say that and not share at least one story."
He chuckles as you give him that look, your interest piqued. He can see the curiosity in your eyes. He takes a moment to think before grinning, knowing immediately what story to tell you about.
"Well then, let's see," he begins, pausing for effect. "How about I tell you about the time I almost got eaten alive by a rancor?"
Your eyes widen and you spare a glance at him and away from the road.
"Oh my god, you did not," you respond, obviously concerned for him.
He chuckles at your response, your tone of concern being adorable to him. He knows he'd have a lot of stories to tell you.
"Oh baby, I definitely was," he teases again. "When I was a Padawan, training to become a Jedi, I was put to a challenge to complete by the Council. And part of that challenge was confronting a rancor. Alone."
You shake your head at that. You believe him, but damn. The newest pet name doesn't go unnoticed either, but you like it.
"That's insane. I can't believe they did that to you!"
He shrugs, completely unfazed by what happened. In fact, this was only one of the many times he'd almost died or gotten badly injured.
"It was a test of my abilities. I had to demonstrate that I could defeat the creatures. I was fine, though, sweetheart," he assures you with a gentle smile in your direction.
You sigh softly hearing his sweet reassurance, glancing at him.
"I can see that you are, but still. If I had somehow known you at that point, I would have had a heart attack."
He chuckles softly, his smile widening at the mental image of your reaction. The idea of you panicking and freaking out for him makes him feel warm inside.
"Really? You would've worried about me that much?" He teases.
"I mean, yeah... it was a dangerous situation. Maybe it's a good thing I was born in this galaxy."
A soft smile forms on his face, a part of him loving how much you care for him even if you've only known him a short time. He stays silent as you pull into your driveway, not wanting to tease you more.
"What makes you say that, sweetheart?" he asks, an obvious hint in his tone.
You chuckle nervously and shrug your shoulders, killing the engine.
"Because with how much you've told me, I feel like I wouldn't survive long."
He chuckles softly. The idea that you feel you wouldn't survive in the galaxy he came from sends a pang through his heart. He hates the thought of you being at risk or getting hurt.
He pauses for a moment, thinking of how to respond. "What if I could protect you?" he tries, testing the waters slightly.
You laugh softly. "As much as I appreciate the idea of having a Jedi protector, I definitely think I'd be too anxious all the time. Besides, it's not a guarantee that I would have known you if I were born in that universe," you respond, taking it still as the way you intended it to be, just a "what if I were born there" kind of way.
He chuckles again along with you, although his heart begins to beat faster. You don't seem to be getting what he's trying to hint at. The idea amuses him, though, the thought of you being born in his universe and meeting you. For a brief moment, he wonders if life would've turned out differently. He nods along to what you said, his expression more serious now.
"I suppose that's true. But I would bet that one way or another, I would have found you," he says.
He believes the Force would have led him to you no matter what because it already has, despite being galaxies and light years away. His ship going through the energy storm and being spit out here wasn't a coincidence. It was what the Force wanted.
You give him a small smile, feeling that warmth growing stronger inside of you. You look away.
He watches you carefully as your smile turns to a bashful look and you look away. He can sense your feelings through the Force, a hint of a bond continuing to form between you both, but he doesn't say anything.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the car door. He gets out of the car, going around to help you get the stuff from the trunk.
"C'mon,” you say, “let's get started on fixing your ship,"
Your Franco fic was *chefs kiss* I would love for you to write about overstim with Franco! Maybe some riding until he just bursts out into just babbles and Italian? I just want to push the baby until he can't anymore. I love your writing!! ❤️
Thank yew thank yew for the kind words anon, you get some smooches. I hope you enjoy this. Franco is so whiney and he needs out in his place absolutely <33
Warnings: Franco whining || cum || unprotected sex || afab reader || overstimulation (m receiving) || is this dub con?
Franco's always running his mouth. Even now, with you straddling his hips, he's got that cocky smirk plastered across his face like he's still in control.
"That all you got?" he drawls, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto him. "You gonna just sit there or-..fuck.."
You roll your hips, slow and deliberate, and watch his jaw clench. His fingers dig into your flesh hard enough to bruise.
"Shut up, Franco."
You set a rhythm that's just shy of what he needs, enough to feel good but not enough to satisfy. His hips buck up, trying to take more, but you press your hands against his chest and hold him down.
"Come on.." His voice is already getting breathy, that swagger starting to crack at the edges. "Don't..ah..don't tease..”
But teasing is exactly what you're doing. You rise up until he's almost slipping out, then sink back down in one smooth motion that has him gasping. His cock twitches inside you, and you can feel how hard he's trying to maintain that cocky facade.
You pick up the pace, riding him with purpose now, and Franco's head falls back against the pillow. His mouth drops open, a string of Italian falling from his lips.
"What was that about me just sitting here?" you murmur, grinding down on him in a way that makes his eyes roll back.
"I didn't, fuck,..I didn't mean-..ah ah ah..” His words are breaking apart, that smart mouth of his reduced to gasps and half formed sentences. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gripping desperately like he needs something to anchor himself to.
You lean forward, changing the angle, and Franco whines. It's a high, broken sound that he immediately tries to swallow down, but it's too late. You heard it. You felt the way his whole body shuddered beneath you.
"There it is," you say, and his eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. "There's what you've been hiding."
"I'm not-..shit..not hiding anythin’.." But his voice cracks on the last word, and you can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He's close. So close.
You ride him harder, faster, chasing your own pleasure while watching him fall apart beneath you. His cock is so hard inside you it must hurt, twitching and throbbing with every movement. His hips have given up trying to control the pace, now he's just taking what you give him, his body moving on instinct alone.
"I can't-..it's too much.." he babbles.
"Too much?" You don't slow down. If anything, you move faster, grinding down on him with every thrust. "You can take it, Franco. You're going to take everything I give you."
His response is barely coherent, a broken sob mixed with words you can't quite make out. His chest is heaving, sweat beading on his forehead, and those tears have finally spilled over, tracking down his temples into his hair.
He looks wrecked. Beautiful and completely destroyed.
"N-no..i-..i can't.." His hands are shaking where they grip your thighs, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding on. "..’m gonna die..please.."
You can feel him getting close, his cock pulsing inside you, his muscles tensing. He's right there on the edge, and you know, you know that when he tips over, it's going to destroy him.
"Cum for me, Franco," you command, and his eyes go wide.
"Y-yes..I'm-..ah..AH..”
His orgasm hits him like a train. His back arches off the bed, his mouth open on a silent scream, and you feel him pulse inside you as he comes. But you don't stop. You keep riding him through it, drawing it out, pushing him past pleasure into something that borders on pain.
"N-no, no! C-can’t..I can’t.." He's babbling now, practically incoherent, his hands trying weakly to push at your hips even as his body betrays him, still responding to every movement. "..’t’s too much..can’t-…mmph!"
Tears are streaming freely down his face now, his voice hoarse and broken. He's oversensitive, every nerve ending on fire, and you're not giving him any mercy. His cock is still hard inside you, trapped in that agonizing space between pleasure and overstimulation.
"P-..lease.." It's barely a word anymore, just a desperate sound.
His sentences have completely fallen apart. He's just making sounds now, broken whimpers and gasps and fragments of words that don't connect to anything. His body is shaking uncontrollably, his hands have gone limp on your thighs, and his eyes are unfocused and glassy.
You've broken him completely.
Finally, finally you slow down, then stop, staying seated on him as he trembles and sobs beneath you. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, and he's still mumbling incoherently.
You lean down and press a kiss to his tear stained cheek. "There you go," you murmur. "That's what happens when you run that mouth."
Franco's only response is a broken whimper, his body still shaking with aftershocks. That cocky attitude is long gone, replaced by someone completely undone, wrecked and vulnerable and utterly yours.
Thought of the next Franco request- not sure if it’s as good as the last one because pegging Franco will always be peak but I digress.
Need this man overstimulated as all hell- I’m talking body shaking, face tear stained, and practically begging for release. I feel it’s simply what he deserves with how he be acting in these trials sometimes. Like you don’t get to be talking all this game and then proceed to shoot me tsk tsk- now whether he gets that happy ending or is left to suffer is up to you girly <3
Ahhh I’m sorry this took so long! I’ve lost a lot of oomph to write over the last year or so but I’m trying again. I hope you enjoy this!!
Warnings: gender neutral reader || usage of toys (m receiving) || hand job || mentions of cum || orgasm denial || franco being a whiney baby || pegging with a toy || google’s help with some Italian words || uhh lmk if i forget anything else lol
Franco Barbi has always been good at running his mouth. It was practically an art form, the way he could swagger through a trial, gun in hand, tossing out threats and insults like they were going out of style. He wore his arrogance like armor, all sharp grins and sharper words, never letting anyone see him sweat.
But right now? Right now, he was starting to regret every single cocky word that had ever left his lips.
"What's wrong, Franco?" Your voice was sickly sweet, dripping with false concern as fingers traced lazy patterns down his chest. "You're awfully quiet. Where's all that big talk now?" You coo.
He tries to summon his usual smirk, the one that said he was in control, that nothing could touch him. "You-…you think this is gonna break me? I've been through worse, whore."
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. His wrists were bound above his head, secured to the dilapidated headboard with silk ties found from the trial’s sex shop, that felt deceptively soft against his skin. His legs were spread, ankles tied to either side of the bed frame, leaving him completely exposed. Vulnerable. And he hates it.
But not as much as he hated the way his body was already betraying him. His cock was aching and standing at attention.
"Worse than this?" Your hand wraps around his cock, already embarrassingly hard and give it one slow, torturous stroke from base to tip. Franco's hips jerk involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping his throat before he could bite it back.
"Merda, that's nothing. That's-…" His words cut off into a sharp gasp as your thumb presses against the sensitive head, circling the slit with maddening precision. His cock twitches, already leaking, and Franco wanted to curse himself for being so goddamn responsive.
"Nothing?" Another stroke, this one even slower, drawing out every sensation until his thighs were trembling with the effort of staying still. "You're shaking already, baby. And we've barely started."
"I'm not-..mmph..fuck..I'm not shaking." But he was. He absolutely was, and you both knew it.
Your hand releases his cock, and Franco almost whimpers at the loss. He catches himself just in time, biting down hard on his lower lip. He won’t beg. He won’t give you the satisfaction.
Then he felt it: the slick press of lubed fingers against his puckered hole, circling teasingly before one finger pushes inside.
"Ah.." Franco's back arches off the bed, his bound hands clenching into fists above his head. The intrusion was slow, deliberate, giving him time to feel every inch as your digit sinks deeper.
"There we go," you practically purr. Franco wanted desperately to wipe that smug look right off your face. "So tight. You're clenching around me like you're trying to pull me deeper."
"Shut up," he grits out, even as his body does exactly what you said. His muscles fluttering around that single finger, drawing it in. "Just-..shit..just get on with it."
"Oh, we will. But I'm going to take my time with you." A second finger joins the first, stretching him open, and his breath comes in sharp, uneven pants. You curl your fingers just right, brushing against that spot inside him that makes stars explode behind his eyelids.
"Fuck.." His hips roll down onto your fingers without his permission, chasing that spark of pleasure even as his pride screams at him to stay still, to maintain some semblance of control.
But control was slipping. And fast.
Your fingers inside him work methodically, stretching and scissoring, finding that sweet spot over and over until Franco's cock was dripping steadily onto his stomach, untouched and aching. A third finger presses in, and the stretch burns in the best way, making him gasp and curse in a mixture of English and Italian that he'd be embarrassed about later.
"Look at you," you murmur, and Franco could hear the satisfaction in your voice. "So desperate already. Should I touch your cock, Franco? Should I give you what you want?"
"I don't..fuckin’ hell…I don't want anything from you," he lies, even as his hips jerk upward, seeking friction that wasn't there.
"Liar." Your fingers inside him presses hard against his prostate, and Franco's vision whites out for a second, a broken moan tearing from his throat. "Your body's telling me a different story. You're leaking all over yourself, shaking, practically fucking yourself on my fingers. And you want me to believe you don't want this?" You tut.
Franco clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together as he fights against the overwhelming sensations. He wouldn't break. He wouldn't.
You withdraw your fingers, and before he can process the loss, something much larger pressed against his entrance. The blunt head of a silicone cock, thick and slick with lube pushes inside in one slow, relentless thrust.
"FUCK!" Franco's entire body goes rigid, back arching off the bed as he’s filled completely, stretched impossibly wide. It’s too much, too intense, pleasure and pain blurring together until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
"Too much?" You don’t stop, don’t give him time to adjust, just keep pushing the fake cock deeper until it was fully seated inside him, the flared base flush against his ass. "You can take it, Franco. You're going to take everything I give you."
And then you start to move the toy again.
The first thrust steals the air from Franco's lungs, hitting that spot inside him with devastating accuracy. The second makes his toes curl, his bound hands pulling uselessly at the silk ties. By the third, he was gasping, head thrown back, all pretense of composure crumbling.
"Ah..ah..merda!" Each thrust drives him higher, pleasure building in his gut like a coiled spring. His cock bobs against his stomach, untouched and desperate, and Franco found himself chasing that friction, trying to grind against something, anything.
But there was nothing. Just the relentless pace inside him, hitting his prostate with every stroke, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his entire body.
"You want to come, don't you?" Your hand finally wraps around his cock, and he nearly sobs with relief. "You want it so bad you can barely think straight."
"Yes..please..baby wants it bad.." The words slip out before he can stop it, and he wants to take it back, wants to swallow it down and pretend he hadn't just begged like a desperate whore.
But it was too late. The dam had broken.
Your hand on his cock starts to stroke in time with the thrusts of the silicone, and his world narrows to those two points of sensation. The thick toy splitting him open, the tight grip bringing him closer and closer to the edge.
"That's it," you praise him, voice rough with your own arousal. "Let me hear you, Franco. Let me hear all those pretty sounds you've been trying to hold back."
And he does. He can’t help it anymore. Moans and gasps and broken curses spill from his lips in a constant stream, his voice cracking on Italian endearments and profanities that he'd never admit to saying. His body was on fire, every nerve ending with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
"I'm-..mmph..I'm gonna-.." He was so close, teetering right on the edge, his balls drawn up tight and his cock pulsing in your merciless grip.
"Not yet." Your hand on his cock tightens, a ring of pressure around the base that stops his orgasm in its tracks. Franco's eyes flew open, wild and desperate.
"No no no..please..please.." He was begging now, openly and shamelessly, his pride shattered. "Please please..I-i..I need to..”
"I know what you need." You don’t let up, don’t slow down, just keep fucking the toy into him with brutal precision while denying him the release his body was screaming for. "But you don't get to cum yet. Not until I say so."
Franco's vision blurs, and he realizes with horror that there were tears gathering in his eyes. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear them, but it was useless. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and his body doesn’t know what to do with it all.
“Bastard..," he chokes out, but there was no heat in it. Just desperation. Just need.
You fuck him through it, through the tears that finally spilled over and slip down his temples, through the full body tremors that wrack his frame, through the broken sobs that he can’t muffle. He’s never felt so exposed, so utterly wrecked, and the worst part was that he didn't want it to stop.
"Look at you," you breathe, and Franco could hear the awe in your voice. "So beautiful like this. Crying for me, shaking, completely undone. This is what you look like when you're not hiding behind all that attitude."
"I-..please..please.." Franco doesn’t even know what he was begging for anymore. Release? Mercy? More?
The hand on his cock starts moving again, stroking him with purpose now, and Franco's entire body seizes up. He was going to cum. He couldn't stop it this time, couldn't hold back even if he wanted to.
Your hand squeezes tight around the base again, and he screams. His orgasm hits him like a freight train, but with nowhere to go, the pleasure turned agonizing. His cock jerks in your iron grip, trying desperately to cum, his body convulsing with the force of the denied release.
"No! Please!" He was sobbing now, tears streaming freely down his face, his voice hoarse and broken. His hips buck wildly, trying to fuck into your hand, trying to get enough friction to tip him over the edge, but it was useless.
You keep him there, right on the edge, for what feels like an eternity. Fucking into him, stroking him, keeping him in that limbo between pleasure and pain until he was nothing but a shaking, crying mess.
"You want to cum so bad, don't you?" You murmur into his ear, and he can only nod frantically, beyond words now. "You'd do anything for it."
"Yes..yes anything..just please.." His voice was wrecked, barely recognizable, and he didn't care. Pride was long gone. All that mattered was the desperate, aching need consuming him from the inside out.
"Beg me properly, Franco. In that pretty Italian of yours. Beg me to let you cum."
Your hand on his cock loosenes slightly, stroking him with maddening gentleness, and Franco's breath hitches on a sob. He was so close, so desperately close, his entire body wound tight.
"Almost," you whisper, and Franco wanted to scream. "Just a little more. Show me how badly you need it."
You angle the toy, hitting his prostate dead on with every thrust, and Franco's world explodes into white hot sensation. His mouth opens on a silent scream, his body convulsing, every muscle locked tight as the pleasure crested higher and higher-..
And then you stop. Again.
Completely.
The hand leaves his cock. The thrusts inside him cease. And Franco is left hanging there, trembling and sobbing and so fucking close to the edge that he can taste it.
"NO PLEASE. PLEASE DON’T STOP!” He thrashes against his bonds, desperate and wild, but the silk holds firm. "P-PLEASE..I-I’LL DO ANYTHING!”
"I know you will." You pull the toy out slowly, and the loss makes Franco whine, a high, broken sound that he's never made before in his life. "But not tonight. Tonight, you're going to lie here and think about what happens when you run that mouth of yours."
Franco's eyes go wide with horror as the reality of the situation sinks in. You were leaving him like this. Bound, desperate, his cock hard and leaking and aching for a release that wasn't coming.
"No no..no please..please don’t leave me like this.." His voice was barely a whisper now, hoarse from screaming. "I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.." he babbles.
"Oh, I'm not leaving." You settle beside him on the stained bed, one hand trailing idly over his heaving chest. "I'm going to stay right here and watch you suffer. Watch you shake and cry and beg. And maybe..maybe..if you're good, I'll let you cum eventually."
Franco's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of the denied pleasure. His cock was so hard it hurt, flushed dark and leaking steadily, and every small movement sends sparks through him that make him whimper.
"Please," he tries one more time, his voice small and broken. "..please."
"Shh." You gently brush the tears from his cheeks, and he finds himself leaning into the touch despite everything. "Just feel it, Franco. Feel what it's like to be completely at someone else's mercy. To have no control at all."
And Franco does. He lays there, bound and exposed and utterly wrecked, tears still streaming down his face, his body shaking with unfulfilled need. His cock twitches uselessly against his stomach, desperate for a touch that won’t come, and every breath feels like torture.
He's never been so thoroughly undone in his life.
And the worst part? Some dark, hidden part of him loves it.
"Whore.." he whispers, but there was no venom in it. Just exhausted acceptance.
"That's right." You card your fingers through his sweat damp hair, surprisingly gentle. "And you're going to stay just like this until I decide you've learned your lesson."
Franco closes his eyes, another tear escaping to trail down his temple. His body was still wound tight, still aching, still desperate for release. But he knew that he wouldn't be getting his release anytime soon.
All that big talk, all that swagger and attitude, and look where it had gotten him. Reduced to a sobbing, begging mess, completely at the mercy of someone who clearly had none.
His cock gives another painful throb, and Franco bites back a whimper.
hii i was wondering if u knew any other hayden x reader authors? 😛
my favorite question!!! when i first joined i fckn scoured tumblr for every fic i could find related to hayden lmfao
i have a fics recommended here !!! which most authors have hayden x reader.
authors i know that have a lengthy m.list of hayden x reader (i cannot promise all of these authors are currently updating for hayden, some are, some aren't, just wanted to give options):
@cherrylacuna
@figgisrotten / @rottengrove
@bettyvick
@anisangeldust
@your-resident-bimbo (not entirely all hayden but good masterlist so i'd look anyways lol)
@bloatedandalone04
