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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

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One Night| Hunter

Note: Nsfw content,

Warnings: creampies, p in v, facials, squirting, name calling, rough, hair pulling, light choking, smoking 18+ content

Reader: Female

"Thanks again." Y/n thanked the kessel burbon slid to her, sliding credits to Cid, "any more missions?"

"No,those clone boys took the last one I had." Cid spoke, "there won't be any more for a few cycles."

"Clones took my jobs?" Y/n questioned, sipping the hard liquor.

"Yeah! When wrecker through those KT troopers like it was nothing!" Omega cheered as the group walked down into the bar.

"Speak of the devil." Cid spoke, Y/n turning her head.

"Yes Wrecker's strength was acceptionally helpful this mission. Yet Omega's new tracking skills came in handy." Tech spoke.

"And Echo's climbing skills! How do you do that with one hand?!" Omega cheered.

"Pratice." Echo spoke.

Hunter chuckled at Omega's happiness.

"We did good boys-"

He stopped, seeing Y/n casually talking to Cid, sipping on her drink, her hair a mess, a few braids in her short hair making her hair uneven in both long and short length. In baggy black robes a belt tired tigh around her waist. Boots knee high with her baggy pants tucked in. Her eyeliner red and in sharp wings up towards her relaxed brows.

She turned her gaze towards hunter, her eyes a cybernetic white, then her head followed. Her gaze lingering on him as she smiled smally.

"Oh no no no! Watch your eyes dark and broody!" Cid argued, rushing around the counter.

"Don't mind me I'm also looking disrespectfully." Y/n teased getting up from her seat, following behind Cid.

"Uh," Hunter tried to speak, woah was his only thought process, "Your...new."

"Not knew. Just havent seen me before." Y/n smiled, standing next to Cid with a hand on her hip, "names Y/n's and Im presuming you all are the clones that have been taking my jobs?"

"Oh, we are?" Omega looked up at Hunter, who was still at a lost for words.

"What?" Hunter asked looking down at Omega.

Y/n chuckled, walking up to the longer haired male, "Listen, dark and broody, we can be friends. I just want my missions."

She leaned into his face, his face becoming red "Y-yeah..."

"Thanks then." Y/n smiled, his eyes gazing to his banana, "I'll take this as payment for taking my last missions."

With ease she pulled the headband off his head, turning her head half way to talk to Cid she smiled.

"I'll see you late then mom." Y/n chuckled, nudging Hunter as she passed, "Im off to collect some credits Im owed."

"Did she just call Cid Mom?" Wrecker questioned Y/n walking out the bar and up the steps.

"I believe she did." Tech responded.

Hunter was hit in the side with Cid's walking staff, "I'm docking your pay half!"

"What!?" Hunter argued.

"Thats what you get for lookin at my kid like that!" Cid defended, "watch it next time"

"Well if our pay has already been docked. She was quiet pretty. Her eyes especially." Tech repsonded as Hunter nudged him hard.

"Hey-"

"Don't worry, Hunter if you marry her Cid's your new mom!" Wrecker laughed shoving the man.

"I don't even know her!" Hunter argued.

"And that'll never happen!" Cid defended, "now watch it before I dock all your pay! You won't be seeing her again."

"But she took Hunter's bandanna." Omega pointed out, Hunter feeling his head.

"She did?!"

"And I thought Wrecker had it bad for that twilek girl he helped at the market." Echo told.

So there Hunter was, left the whole day with no headband, atleast 3 standard hours he waited, rubbing his head feeling as if he was missing something, well he was missing something.

"Hey! Mom! You'll never guess the load I got this time!" Y/n called out walking down the steps and into the bar, "I beat fifteen of the finest warriors apparently! Yeah right!"

Y/n walked in, gym bag at her side, the boys turning to the girl, stripped down to a tank top and a diffrent set of black pants that were tucked into her boots, a certain red bandana around her thigh.

"Oh you're all still here." She spoke, "I was-"

Hunter stepped infront of her, "I'd like my bandana back."

"Hm? Yeah come on." Y/n spoke, walking around him, "follow me."

"Yeah no sorry- not happening-" Hunter argued grabbing her wrist, "just hand it over."

Y/n ripped her wrist from him, hurting his hand in the process, "well then take it off, its right there."

Hunter kept his gaze away from Y/n's thigh, her ahoulder looking interesting at the momment.

"Well its mine then." Y/n spoke going to walk away but her arm was grabbed, Hunter turning to her as he kept his gaze up, his hands feeling for the band,

She chuckled, "little higher and you'll be at my zipper-"

He sighed looking away as he felt his bandana, his hand reaching around and untying it from her thigh.

"You smell nice." Y/n teased

"I don't see how you're Cid's kid." Hunter commented.

"Not by blood sweetheart." Y/n commented.

There was a chuckle as Hunter turned his head, Tech and Echo going back to there silence Wrecker luckily out and about with Omega. Hunter removed the band finally as Y/n chuckled.

Y/n leaned over, kissing Hunter's cheek as he flushed, "rooms down the hall on your left, we should be lucky my mom's on the upper floors."

Hunter only nodded as Y/n walked away, waving to his two brothers who were playing sabbec at the bar.

Hunter turned around to follow her a few mintues later, "don't be too loud."

Hunter glared at the two but made his leave anyways, following Y/n's instructions. Making it to the last door he knocked the door sliding open as Y/n sat on the floor, a tray in her lap, neon fairy lights on the strung carelessly on the walls and ceiling, weapons littered on the floor, some things hanging on the walls, there was a mess of the bed.

"So you came." She spoke popping whatever she was rolling into a jar, setting it on her nightstand and pushing the tray into the drawer. Standing up zhe grabbed a box of matches, throwing herself into one of the large bean bag chairs, big enough for two people, "lock the door would you?"

He did as asked, "why call me in here?"

"Well...Dark and Broody." Y/n spoke, "sit, come on."

Patting the seat besides her he walked over, "I have a name."

"Okay? Tell me it."

"Hunter."

"Okay Hunter." She spoke, "you seemed tense. So we. Me and you. Are gonna smoke-"

"Smoke? Smoke what-"

"One of these." Y/n spoke holding up the jar, "Kessel herb."

"Spice? Yeah no-"

"No. Herb." Y/n defended, "there's a big difference."

Hunter watched her swish the jar around in front of him, "you pick one for me atleast."

Mentally sighing he did as asked, Pulling out a joint for her she smiled, closing the jar and setting it aside, "atleast this doesn't smell bad, smells like flowers."

Hunter watched her open up the match box, the joint between her lips as she striked the first match, a complete dud, she moved onto the second one, also a dud, by the fourth one Hunter was wondering if she'd ever light the thing.

"Dropped them in water-"

"I can do it." Hunter cut off, Y/n gladly handing him the match box as she leaned over, he striking out on the first match but the second one he got working, the flame bright and prominet despite the red undertone of the lights, leaning over as well he lit the thing easy as pie.

"Thanks."

He watched her take a deep inhale in bowing out through her nose she leaned back, muscles already calming and relaxing.

"Why did you really call me in here."

"I told you to smoke." Y/n spoke, "I know a stressed man when I see one. Shit half the time I am a stressed man."

Hunter watched her take in another puff, "Plus it would ruffle my moms scales."

Hunter chuckled Y/n was right about that much, "yet also wanted to see if you wanted to hook up for a night."

Hunter coughed, not because of the smoke but the abruptness, "I'm sorry?"

"Well I seen you look at me the way you did earlier," she told, "and you're pretty good looking, but you seem to atleast have a good head on your sholders, men I know that look at me usually make a comment right away, you kept them to yourself."

Hunter responded with silence, "it's just a suggestion, an idea." She told him turning to look at him.

Again silence and Y/n contuined to smoke as if it was no problem that he said no, he found it, hot, sexy even. She knew what she wanted and she asked if told no she was okay with that, carrying out through her day.

"Why me?"

"I just explained why, you." Y/n spoke, "its yes or no tense guy."

Hunter shifted, its been a while, he mentally sighed, Y/n returning to smoking casually. Was this a way of teasing? If it was, it was harsh, and it was working. Shifting once more there chlothed and armored touching one another.

Damn, Hunter thought, to have her strong thigh in his hand, his head between her thighs. He looked up seeing Y/n pull the joint away once more, feeling the stare Y/n turned her head

"Wanna try it after all?" Y/n questioned, bringing the joint infront of him, "if not more for me."

Fuck it, the empire rules the galaxy, the republic fell, his brother is trying to kill them, what could he possibly loose from having any fun.

He took it with gloved fingers bringing it to his lips, Y/n watched him take a deep inhale, Y/n impresssed.

"This isnt your first rodeo." She teased.

He leaned in closer to her, if even physically possible, removing the joint from his lips, he pushed closer to Y/n, his lips placed on her's softly, and only for a momment, then pulled away, strings of smoke coming from both there lips now as Hunter's mind felt clear, relaxed.

"Lets do it." Hunter responded, usuing his armor as an ash tray, pressing the ashes to death on his chest plate as the embers died.

"One puffs not gonna get you anywhere." Y/n teased.

"But you will..." he whispered against her lips, pressing furthur once more he kissed her.

The kiss much more passionate than the first, Y/n running her hands through his hair, his bandanna slipping off in the process as she tossed it away.

"Fuck you're so hot..." He whispered into the kiss, Y/n moaning softly, his hands untucking her white tank top from her pants.

"Don't tell Im sharing with someone, thats why you came back all undressed." He teased against her lips, his hands hiking up her t-shirt past her covered breast.

"If sharing means arena fights. Then yes." Y/n teased back causing Hunter to chuckle.

Hunter pulled away, unclapssing his armor as she watched, letting it be tossed to the floor he was stripped down to his blacks. Bitting her lip at the buldge in his blacks, he leaned back into her,kissing her lip's passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth she groaned, his touange pressing against his as they fought.

The kiss ended in a tie, both pulling away panting, Hunter let his hand's find her bare skin in the mean time, traveling up her adoment and covered breast he found her shirt, pulling away he lifted it over her head and arms. About to kiss her again she stopped him, pulling on the edge of his blacks, she pulled his shirt up, he lifting his arms in the process, his gloves rolling off with his sleeves in the process. Tossing the article of chlothing somewhere random. He removing her black sports bra, he kissed her just above her breast.

She humming in pleasure as he did so, traveling up to her neck, kicking her boots and socks off in the process, her legs tensed squeezing together Hunter had found her sweet spot, the space just above her collar bone, where her muscle was tense.

"H-hunter..." she panted, kissing the side of his head as she let out a soft groan, her head rolling back as her fingers tugged on his hair.

"You drive me crazy doing that..." Hunter whispered against her skin, dragging his kisses down her chest, and to her breast, where he let himself take in one of her soft buds.

"Fuck..." he moaned, his hair being pulled once more.

"Maker you're mouths amazing-" Y/n spoke her legs squeeze together tighter, adding to her pleasure as she groaned.

Switching over to give the second one just as much attention his hand cupped her other breast, squeezing her battle scared flesh softly, his other hand slipping behind her waist band slipping into her panties.

Hunter pulled away from her bud with a intoxicated look, "Your soaked..."

Y/n chuckled, "and you're hard as a rock..."

Pulling his hands away from her, she watched him undo her pants, pulling them down as quick as he could, and with her help of kicking them off they were gone.

Y/n reached for the last of his blacks, pulling them off his hips he pulled at them as well, removing his boxers as well. His chlothes barely releasing his length, Y/n's hand wrapped around the base of his aching cock.

Y/n's face laced with warmth and a teasing smirk she let her thumb rub the strip under the base of his cock, he groaned watching her tease his cock. His hand pulling at her panties she raised her hips to help, and he loosely pulled them down enough to let his hand go between her legs.

His finger's teasing her clit softly as she meweled, "Fucking hell..." she whined softly.

Both messes under each other's touches Y/n picked up a pace, her hand starting to milk his cock as he moaned heavily, body both relaxed and tense he gripped her thigh.

"Easy- now..." Y/n whispered to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "Don't wanna finish just in my hand do we?"

Hunter shook his head no, "you better be on something...I'm gonna cum in you till you beg me to stop..." he moaned.

She chuckled, leaning into his ear, "yeah? Am I gonna be sitting in pools of your cum?"

"Fuck yeah you are." He told her, "f-from every fuckin hole, starting with you're mouth."

She was taken back both by comment. He stood up as she looked up at him, his cock in her face, she moved forward, her lips brushing against his cock as she licked his tip, the taste of Pre-Cum now on her touange.

"Salty..." she teased kissing down his shaft, her hand wrapping around his base. Looking up at him his face was flushed, yet still held a determined look of lust in his eye.

Pulling back to the tip of his cock she kissed the tip, opening her mouth she pushed his tip in, her hands resting on his hips.

Fuck does he feel so good down my throat, Y/n thought, her eyes closed as she moaned, bobbing her head almost instantly causing Hunter to groan.

"Easy doll. You don't wanna choke." He teased, watching her bobbing increase he moaned loudly, her pace only increasing, "Maker you know to suck cock- s-shit-"

Y/n pulled away jacking his siliva covered cock off, "H-hunter fill me with your cum please. I wanna be in a pool of your cum."

He covered his mouth, what the fuck., but he wasnt complaining, watching her deep throat him again he groaned, his hips starting to pool back and thrust, and as soon as he knew it he was holding the back of her head, mouth fucking her hard.

"Yeah baby take it all...like a little slut take it all for me." He moaned, " hell- I'm-"

Hunter hit deep inside her mouth, cumming down her throat, mid way pulling out letting the rest coat her face.

"H-hunter!" She meweled, but he covered her mouth, not wanting anyone to hear.

She swallowed his cum, groaning into his hand as he pulled his hand away.

"They can't hear us..." she panted, cum covered her face and mixed with her drool as she tried to catch her breath, "t-the walls are solid concrete..."

"Well then...I suppose I will be making you scream..." he panted as she bit her lip, looking down at her he chuckled.

Face covered in cum, running down her lips and chin, her breast perky, marks already starting to form on her neck, her panties down to her knees as she sat waiting for him, flushed and horny.

"Maker I can not wait to put my cock in that tight pussy of your's." He told her, his thumb holding her chin.

"Then do it. Fuck me till you can't cum no more" she begged, watching him kneel down infront of her, causing him to chuckle.

"I want a taste of you first." He told her.

Pulling her panties off she bit her lip as he grabbed her legs roughly by the back of her knees, spreading them from one another, she shifted in her spot, allowing her legs to spread a bit wider and give him a better veiw. Hunter didn't bother teasing her, her pussy soaked and aching as he dived in, eating at her clit.

"F-fuck Hunter!" She cried, her back arching as she gripped onto his hair immediately.

Y/n was in heaven, Hunter between her legs completely devoring her.

"Baby so sweet..." he moaned into her cunt, licking up every bit of her fluid he could, shoving his touange deep inside her.

"Oh- maker! Fuck me! Please fuck me!" She begged, his fingers joining his touange deep inside her, as an incoherent mewel escaped her lips, his fingers thrusting deep inside her.

"Come on baby..squirt for me i wanna taste it." He whispered against her cunt.

"H-holy shit!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, eating her raw her back arched and her legs squeezed together but he pulled away, spanking her on the back of the thigh.

"Do that again and I'll stop eating you out and fuck you until you're raw." Hunter deamnded, she nodded mindlessly, as he went back to devoring her.

Her pussy pulsating as he shoved his touange deep insider her, his fingers competing for space.

"H-hunter..." she whined, feeling like she was to snap, "H-Hunter- Hunter! Hunter!"

She squirted into his mouth, her legs squeezing together in pleasure.

"F-fuck!" She moaned, back arching as her legs shook, "F-fuck,"

He pulled away from her, flicking her clit with his fingers intesifiying her orgaism. Moaning loudly she watched him getting up to his knees he leaned over her grabbing her face.

"I told you if you closed your legs again I'd fuck you until your raw." He argued as Y/n blushed deeply.

"I'm sorry sir..." she apologized, pussy still pulsating, still completely soaked with a mix of her own cum and his siliva.

"What did you call me?"

"S-sorry daddy." She apologized.

"Atleast you know your place."

Holy fuck, where did this Hunter come from? Not that she knew Hunter at all, but it was still a shock to see the 'dark and broody' man become such a sex addict that liked to be called daddy.

"You either call me daddy or sarge," he demanded grabbing her chin, "understand?"

She nodded in response.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes daddy."

"Good girl..." he praised, "the better you are the more cum you'll get, understand?"

"Yes daddy."

He spred her legs open again, his knees resting on the bean bag below her as he lined himself up with her soaked entrence. Pushing his tip in her she moaned loudly, her feet resting on his hips, he chuckled, grabbing her hips tightly he shoved himself in her fully.

"F-fuck!" She cried out, "Oh maker yes!"

He started beating into her without warning, she crying out in pleasure as her body shook.

"D-daddy so rough! Oh-yes!" She shouted.

"Touch yourself While I fuck you," he demanded, her hand hand reaching between her legs,rubbing her clit while he fucked her senseless, "Good girl, looks like someone wants to be filled with cum."

She moaned nodding her head in the process as he beating balls deep into her, hearing his cum filled balls slapping against her soaked skin.

"F-fuck daddy please!" She begged, one of his hands finding the back of her hair as he gripped it, arching her over.

"Please what baby girl? Come on. Tell daddy what you want."

"P-please cum in me!" She cried drooling in pleasure, he groaned her tight pussy walls clenching around him, "H-Hunter!"

Moaning heavily he gripped her hair tighter, her free hand gripping his forearm as she bit her lip. The feeling built up in her stomach.

"Y-yeah! D-daddy! Daddy make me cum!" She begged, he watched her come unraveled, beating into her roughly her back arched, toes curling as she moaned loudly, soaking his cock as she squirted onto him, he pulled out of her, rubbing her clit intesifiying her orgaism.

"Oh- Shit!" She cried, the quicker he rubbing her clit more she squirted, slipping back into her he delievered a few hard thrust as she cried out, pulling out once more her orgaism intense as she held her legs open.

"Fuck daddy!" She cried.

"Come on baby let it all out." He praised, slipping into her again and fucking her roughly for a few more thrust, pulling out once more as she squirted the last she could.

"H-hunter- Hunter!"

"Shh baby. Shh." He spoke leaning kissing her roughly she kissed back, pulling away he looked down at her, "You still need my cum in you huh baby?"

"Mhmm, yes please." She begged.

"Good girl." He praised, kissing her sloppily as she groaned.

Pulling away she held onto his arm as he pushed his way back into her, causing her to mewel out his name.

"What a perfect little pussy." He told her, starting to thrust into her, his hand rest at the side of her throat as his thumb pulled her chin down, she wore a curled smile with a deep blush, her pupils dialted wide and pupils seemingly in the shape of hearts.

"H-hunter...daddy..." she meweled.

He grunted down a groan, feeling himself starting to become unraveled, "pussys still tight for me,fuck-"

His gripp tightned around her neck, causing her to choke slightly, as his thrust became sloppy, becoming increasingly rougher as her moans grew louder once more. Loosing rythem he pulled his hand away from her neck, his hands gripping her hips for leverage as he pulled them against his thrust, groaning loudly he still beat into her harshly, his cock pulsating in her. She begged for him to creampie her, her hands finding his hair as she tugged and pulled.

"Ah! Fuck! Yeah! Fuck!" He groaned, "Oh! OH!"

He shoved himself deep inside of her keeping her steady as her back arched, his own body arching into her's as he released a massive load of cum into her.

"Oh! Fuck yeah!" He groaned, completely loosing control, contuining his rough thrust.

"H-hunter! Hunter! Holy shit!" She cried out.

"Fuck Im cumming again!"

"H-hunter! Fuck!" A second smaller load was shot into her, filling her womb with his hot seed as he held her hips tight, rocking into her steadily as to make sure he stuffed her. He panted heavily, his ears seemingly ringing as he looked down at her.

Her mouth agape as she breathed heavily, her breast rising and falling with heavy pants.

"Good girl..." Hunter praised, slolwy pulling out of her, Y/n letting out the last of her soft moans.

He panted heavily, his hands spreading her legs as she ended up holding her legs open by her inner thighs, Hunter watches the thick cum leaked out of her, cum covering her pussy folds.

"Good girl." Hunter praised, a few of his fingers scooping up some of the cum as she opened her mouth, letting it sloppily leak from Hunter's hand to her mouth and face, "Now, turn over on all fours, Im not done with you yet."

#sw tbb hunter #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter smut #hunter x female reader #hunter x y/n #the bad batch hunter #hunter star wars #star wars hunter #hunter the bad batch #x reader smut

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darklove9314-blog · 2 years

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Toxic Queen: Part Three

He had never believed the tabloids when they had said that Nesta Archeron was a goddess in human form, but now as she climbed on top of him, straddling him with her powerful thighs, he knew that there were somethings they had been right about.

And boy did she look like a goddess straddling him, her perfect breast just within reach, the view of her damn near intoxicating as he reached up cupping them, as he stroked one with the pad of his thumb making her moan. He loved the sounds she made. Wondered if her fiancé could make her make those types of sounds. Make her nipples erect enough for him.

“Are you sure you want to top? I’d love to worship that body of yours until I’m the only one in your thoughts.”

She ran her hands over his chest, Smiling down at him with a primal grin telling him that he would soon to be properly fucked. She unbuttoned his shirt reveling in the feeling of his chest. Her fingers tracing his scars and tattoos.

“Tempting, but I’d rather be the one to worship your body, especially that cock of yours.” She stated flashing her teeth as she lowered herself to her knees. Making him hold his breath. She looked up at him, a question in her Blue-grey eyes. “Is this okay?”

Cassian nodded, as she took him in her mouth taking his length inside of her mouth until she was nearly down to his balls. He tilted his head back, enjoying the feel of her on his cock. His hands went to that braid in her hair guiding her further on his cock, fucking her mouth. She murmured in encouragement as he continued to fuck her loving the feel.

“Nesta.” He breathed, her eyes meeting his. “I’m going to go insane if I don’t get inside you right now.”

Nesta got off of her knees, Cassian hoisting her up by her hips so she could straddle him, leaning his lips down to her mouth as he whispered.

“Put me inside of you.” He instructed, she gave him a smoldering, seductive look as she grasped his cock lining it up with her entrance and sinking down on top of it, a moan falling from both their lips. Fuck. She felt so damned good.

He rested his hands at her hips, marveling in them, as he looked up at her with a heated gaze.

“Go ahead, Nes, take control.” He instructed as Nesta rocked her hips taking his cock deeper inside of her.

He watched her take control, the sway of her breast as she rode him, taking his length like he was a quest she had to conquer. He loved it, loved her drive to complete a challenge. He knew he was the biggest she had ever taken. Knew he was stretching her out and her perfect cunt was more than happy to accommodate him.

She cried out in pleasure as he cupped her breast leaning forward and taking one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as hard as he could. She gasped at the feel of it, thrusting her chest into the feel of his mouth, his nails digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Nesta looked down at him. A request in her eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” He inquired, his hands went to her hair. “You’re in charge of this, Sweetheart.”

“Take out my stupid braid.” She instructed.

The command caught him off guard, but he grasped her hair taking the braid out as she rode him, concentration becoming harder before her hair cascaded from the braid, floating above him.

She tilted her head back, exposing the tender flesh of her throat that was still marked by him. He leaned forwards, encircling her hips, helping her with her thrust as his teeth clamped down on her throat causing her to gasp in pleasure.

He sucked on her neck, trailing bites and kissing onto it leaving two to three marks on each side of her neck. He grasped her ass, digging his nails in. Her moans getting more prominent.

His hand wrapping in her hair yanking it as he whispered. “You look so damn sexy when you’re fucking me. Look how well you take me, its almost as if you were meant to take this cock.”

Her breath hitched, she rocked her hips harder, quickened her pace. He gripped her hips again, her perfect breast bouncing above him from her pace. How he would love to come on them at some point. How he would to drench her in his essence, but tonight wasn’t the night for that. Tonight he would let her fuck him and maybe just maybe she would be up for a round two later.

“Stay with me, tonight.” He said to her, he was so close. She looked at him bewildered.

Cassian smirked as she continued to ride him, before looking up at her with that intense gaze. “Let me fuck you all night until we’re both spent, because like I said. I would love to worship that body of yours.”

Nesta looked down at him contemplating. He knew what she was thinking, knew that deep down she would love to say and have her pussy filled up by someone who actually knew how to fuck her, but if Eris was back in town. If he found out that she had stayed out all night.

“Okay.” She said making Cassian smile. He thrusted up into her making her cry out. Reveling in the fact that she had chosen him. He would make her feel good, spend the night worming his way into her heart. Making her forget that fiancé of hers with just a swift thrust of his cock.

“Come with me sweetheart, I want to fill every inch of you, but I won’t do it until you do first.”

Nesta’s breaths deepened, before she shattered on top of him, he felt the hot splashes of his release filling her giving her a good amount, more than probably her fiancé had that afternoon. He hopes he covered every trace of him from that beautiful cunt of hers.

When they both were spent, he helped Nesta ease out of him, laying her on her side as she tried to catch her breath.

Cassian’s eyes flickered to her arm, to the bruise that was now forming in it. He traces it with his fingers, a rage he didn’t know suddenly filling him.

“Who did this?” He asked as Nesta glanced down looking at her bruised arm.

“Mother dearest.” She answered him. Before pulling away grabbing her dress and covering her body. Some of him leaking onto her leg. “I’m going to wash up, and then we can do whatever. Maybe eat a piece of that pizza, crack open a beer, and talk.” Her gaze flickered down to his still naked body. “Perhaps more than that.”

Cassian gave her a smile as she headed for his bathroom as he laid back in his bed waiting for her to finish.

When Nesta had exited the bathroom, her hair now in a messy bun now exposing the new hickeys that were on her neck. Cassian smiled in satisfaction as He looked at Nesta’s dress that was still damp from the rain. She was probably freezing.

“What?“ she asked noticing him staring at her.

“You’re going to catch a cold in that dress.” He stated going over to his dresser, pulling out one of his shirts. “You can wear my shirt until your dress dries.”

Nesta nodded taking his shirt, shimming out of her dress and pulling his shirt over her body. The look of it almost bringing Cassian to his knees.

“You look better in my shirt than I do.” He mused,

“I bet you tell all your hookups that.” She teased, as he stepped towards her, his hands roaming her bare thighs.

“You look the best in my shirt.” He stated giving her a kiss, she leaned into the kiss smiling. “Are you hungry?“

“Famished.” She answered. “I bailed out of that stupid dinner before I actually ate anything.”

“Well luckily we now have pizza and beer. Let’s eat.”

Nesta smiled wandering over to the couch and grabbing a slice. Leaning back on it, looking more relaxed than Cassian had seen her since they met.

He sat down next to her, handing her a beer , grabbing one of his own. She took a drink of it gazing at him before she asked.

“Why are you still single? You seem like such a…great guy, and a extraordinary lover, so why haven’t you been snatched up yet?”

“Commit issues.” He offered. “What about you killer? Why isn’t a beautiful woman like yourself married?”

Something passed by her face as she took another drink of her beer, the lie coming out smoothly.

“I guess I just haven’t found the right one yet.” She answered as he focused his gaze on her.

“Well knowing you, you’ll probably find him eventually.”

Nesta chuckled softly.

“You have a lot of faith in me for someone who has only banged me twice.”

Cassian leaned closer to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen from her messy bun.

“They were pretty fantastic times, but maybe we should do it one more time tonight you know just to see if the third time really is the charm.”

She laughed. Leaning into him, climbing on top of his lap and straddling him bringing their mouths together.

“I’d be down for that.” She smiled kissing him again as he pressed her into the couch, she gazed up at him. Want in her eyes.

“What was that earlier about worshipping my body?” She reminded him, a grin coming to his lips as he showed her how a man truly worshipped a woman.

#nesta archeron #nessian #nesta #cassian #acosf #a court of silver flames #acosf spoilers #nessian fanfiction #fanfiction

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hualianff · 3 years

Text

Thrift Shoppers

BY and PX are out shopping at a thrift store. PX waits for BY to try clothes on to show him her outfits. He sees another man lounged on the only couch near the dressing rooms. The man’s long hair is tied back into a long braid, an eyepatch on his right eye.

When BY comes out in her first several outfits, PX isn’t sure how to give an opinion. He’s not stylistic by any means and mostly wears what his mother recommends. (PX comes from a well-off household, only the luxury brands are acceptable.)

As BY goes back into the dressing room with minimal comments from PX, the man with the eyepatch speaks up.

“If you want to be invited to go shopping with your girlfriend in the future, you’re going to have to put in more effort than that,” he says.

PX blanches.

“S-she’s not my girlfriend,” he stutters. The unspoken “yet” hangs in the air.

“But you want her to be,” the stranger says knowingly.

PX deflates a bit.

“Is it that obvious?” He asks. The man clicks his tongue, giving PX a side-eye.

“To her, probably not. At most, you’re giving her three-syllable answers when she asks for your opinion—which she clearly values,” he informs idly.

“I’m not the most knowledgeable with fashion,” PX admits.

The other man now gives him a once-over. “Hmm, I wouldn’t say that. But let me help with the next one.”

The sound of the dressing door opens, but it’s the door to the left of BY’s. Out steps another man in light-wash jeans and a pink knitted sweater.

“San Lang, what do you think of this one?”

“Gege, come a bit closer,” the eye-patched man responds. PX watches with interest as it seems the men had come shopping together. “Hmm, I really like the shade of the sweater. Is it comfortable?”

“Very!” The other man answers, holding his arms out to the side and wiggling happily. PX notices how the collar scoops low enough to expose his collar bones.

Was this considered the latest style?

PX sneaks a glance at the eye-patched man and sees that though his shirt isn’t revealing, it’s incredibly tight. The sheer fabric stretches tightly upon a wide chest, leaving little to the imagination of what is underneath.

PX shakes those certain thoughts out of his head. He tears his eyes away from both men who stand quite close to each other now. The eye-patched man, who PX now seems as “San Lang,” assesses his partner’s pants.

“Can Gege turn around in a circle?”

The other man complies, slow and practiced.

“The pants look a bit tight, but Gege likes them like this, right?”

“Hmm, yes. They’re fine back here-“ the man in the sweater gestures to his backside, which impressively fills out the pants. “-but if I squat down-“

He bends his knees and squats down. Both men on the couch widen their eyes in concern as strong, thick quad muscles bulge the fabric of the pants—threatening to rip at the seams.

“Okay, ahahahah, these are definitely too tight then,” the man says as he quickly stands up. “I’ll try on the next pair.”

He shoots his partner a grateful smile before rushing back into the dressing room.

PX blinks in realization.

So this was the correct way to give one’s opinion about another’s style of clothes? Not that SL was overly critical with his words, but he served as a second pair of eyes that aided his partner to a decision about the clothes.

“Don’t overthink it. Provide compliments, ask questions, and give feedback that you think will be helpful,” SL suggests, spreading his legs as he leans back into the couch.

PX, sitting with a straight back and proper leg position, vaguely thinks he needs to relax a bit.

Before PX can respond, BY’s dressing room door opens up. She steps out in a high-waisted plaid skirt reaching mid-thigh and a white crop-top that accentuates her build nicely.

PX tries to swallow but ends up choking on his spit. Out of the corner of his eye, PX sees the other man duck his head into his hand.

“Pull it together, man,” PX tells himself.

“Pei-ge, how does this look?” BY prompts, doing a cute little twirl so the skirt flares out.

“You look…beautiful,” PX honestly says. He couldn’t find any other words besides beautiful because that’s directly where PX’s mind goes when it comes to BY. He thinks she could even make a burlap sack look great.

(Also, not @ how he complimented BY herself in the clothes instead of the clothes.)

“Thank you! I wasn’t sure if the top would fit to cover enough, but I think it looks good,” BY says enthusiastically. She peers at herself in the full-body length mirrors, then turns back to PX. “I’ll definitely get the skirt. I’m going to try on a few more tops with it.”

BY reaches for the dressing room door handle, but before she can open it, PX manages to sneak in one last comment.

“The black shirt, you know, the one with the long sleeves, I think it would look really good with that skirt,” PX says tentatively.

Except as soon as he says those words, he meekly shuts his mouth. What if BY thinks his suggestions are weird? Or he’s being too pushy?

Don’t get him wrong, PX doesn’t care about his pushiness with anyone else other than BY. With BY, PX would like to be equals. He would never want to force his opinions or make her feel like her own opinions and choices don’t matter.

However, BY’s eyes light up as she takes in PX’s comment.

“That sounds perfect. I’ll try on that one next.” She exclaims. “Thank you, Pei-ge!”

As soon as the door closes, SL gives him an approving look.

“That was better. Giving feedback shows that you’re engaged in your time together. It makes the shopping experience more enjoyable for both of you. Even if it’s not your thing,” SL says.

“Right…” PX mutters.

“And don’t worry, you’ll learn to function with that crush of yours,” SL continues. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

Meanwhile, in the dressing rooms right by each other…

“Hua Lao Shi? How was that?” BY whispers through the thin wall.

“He definitely sounded winded…you probably took his breath away with your beauty,” XL whispers back, feeling like a proud father. “Keep it up.”

BY is a sophomore at the college XL teaches at. She took XL’s beginning environmental science course in freshman year and is currently in his advanced sustainability elective. BY loves XL’s methods of teaching; she hopes to become XL’s TA next year.

BY had run into XL on the way to the dressing rooms. After telling her professor about the guy she’s shopping with and hoping to date, XL suggests they get dressing rooms beside each other. That way, he can guide her in assessing whether PX is romantically interested in her.

PX, who is in a completely different school, didn’t recognize XL or his partner. XL had texted HC about BY’s simulation beforehand. HC, content to coach this child in proper etiquette when shopping with anyone you care about, sneaks a confirming glance at XL as he walks back after another mini-catwalk.

XL and HC know these two will be just fine.

Bonus:

(HC: “Gege, I may have…a crush on you.” 🥺

XL: “San Lang, we’ve been together for eight years, married for five.”

HC: 🥺

XL: “I have a crush on you too.” 😇)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #peiyue #hualian au #peiyue au #ban yue #pei xiu #hua cheng #xie lian #cerdrabbles #slice of life #thrift shopping

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sassyhobbits · 3 years

Note

Part 2 for the living is so much harder than dying/ Aelin going back to doranelle fic pleeaase? I have some ideas! In KOA Rowan mentioned wanting to take Aelin to where he lived with Lyria and said it was close to Doranelle so they could do that. Or they could go to one of the Whitethorn private properties and she could get to know his family better. Or they could visit Mistward again on their way back! Idk anything you do will be perfect! Thank you!

i loved this idea so so much!! so, here you go!! get ready to feel some feelings. i absolutely adored getting to explore and write this idea. enjoy!!

pt 1

~~~

The mountains of Doranelle were a beast.

Although Aelin had grown up surrounded by the Staghorns, hiking up the peaks that surrounded the city her husband had been born in was still an arduous journey. Her thighs ached and her lungs burned from the thin air as they climbed higher and higher in the gray sky.

Normally, the young queen would have complained by now, but in her heart, she knew better, even though Rowan had yet to explicitly say where he was taking her.

Her husband had woken her before dawn that morning, telling her to get dressed. Immediately, Aelin knew something was on his mind. His face had been solemn, lips pressed tight, something pained in his eyes.

So, Aelin had climbed out of the massive bed and dressed in a tunic and a supple bair of worn boots, braiding her hair back tightly. They had slipped silently out of Sellene’s palace as the sun rose, running through the forests once they had gotten out of the city.

When they had come to Doranelle on Sellene’s invitation, Aelin hadn’t planned on a grueling climb up the steep mountains.

Often, Aelin was able to read Rowan’s thoughts as if they had been written on his forehead but today… he had withdrawn deep within himself. She knew better than to pry, though she wanted to know what was going through his mind, why he needed her to hike up the rocky path with him when it would have been much easier for him to shift and fly.

They had been trudging up the mountain silently for a little less than an hour when Rowan paused, kneeling down near the edge of the path where a cluster of wildflowers grew. He picked a few, and continued to pluck any more he happened to find on their journey.

It was then that Aelin began to realize where Rowan was taking her.

Flowers, the mountains… her heart twisted deep within her chest.

When Rowan wasn’t looking, she snatched up a few weather-smooth stones she found, slipping them into the pockets of her trousers.

Soon enough, they crested onto a grassy bluff, situated within a crescent of the mountains. It gave a spectacular view of the forest below, Doranelle a tiny, little speck on the horizon. It was here that Rowan stopped.

Aelin gazed around her, unsure of what she was searching for. She slowly stepped forward, the tall grasses swaying around her in the sharp mountain winds. At first glance, there was nothing there. Barren. Gray. Cold. But then, the toe of her boot caught on what felt like a large stone. Aelin looked down through the grasses and slowly recognized that she was on the edge of what looked like the foundation for a cottage. A little ways away, there was a crumbling fireplace that had nearly been finished off by time. Aelin stepped up into the foundation, imagining walls, a kitchen, a cozy bedroom, and what might have become a nursery if the cottage still stood.

A tear trailed down her cheek.

This had been Rowan’s home with Lyria before he had lost her.

Aelin looked over her shoulder, finding that her husband was now kneeling near the edge of the bluff, head hung low. As she grew closer, she noted the headstone situated before him, the letters carved so painstakingly in the Old Language. Even though Aelin didn’t speak it, she knew what it said.

Silently, Aelin lowered herself to her knees beside him, noting that he had placed the bundle of wildflowers he had collected at the base of the headstone.

For a few moments, nothing was said, only the howling wind to fill the air.

“This was our home,” Rowan rasped at length, the first he had spoken since he had woken her up this morning. “We picked out this spot together, I built the cottage on my own while Lyria set up her garden and…” His voice wavered, fingers clenching into tight fists. “We had a few years of peace here, but not enough. Nowhere near enough…”

The tattoo that ran down Rowan’s face seemed to suck up what light managed to get through the heavy clouds.

Aelin wished she had words that would make everything better, but she knew those didn’t exist. Still, it hurt her to see her mate filled with such sorrow.

And so, Aelin simply took Rowan’s hand and held it tightly, offering what comfort she could. She listened as he began to speak softly in the Old Language, knowing he was telling Lyria about all that had happened since the last time he had visited her grave, just as she did every time she went to Sam’s.

She didn’t know how much time passed, falling into the lull of her husband’s soothing voice, resting her head on his shoulder. Eventually, his story came to an end and he bowed low, pressing his forehead into the ground before the headstone and murmuring a prayer, one that Aelin recognized. The royal family of Terrasen had always passed down prayers and laments in the Old Language.

Rowan sat up, his eyes clearer than they had been, face less tight. Although there was still some sadness in his gaze, it wasn’t as consuming as it was that morning.

Aelin placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, inclining her head towards the headstone. “Do you mind if I have a moment?”

He gave a soft smile and nodded, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before pushing to his feet and giving her some space.

Aelin took a moment, sucking down a deep breath before reaching into her pocket and pulling out two stones: one for Lyria, and one for the babe. She placed them gently on the top of the headstone.

“Hello, Lyria,” Aelin began softly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She swallowed hard, nervous for some reason.

“I know you prefer flowers, but that’s not what we do where I’m from, so I hope you don’t mind the stones,” she continued. “I- I’m not sure how much you know about me, but my name is Aelin. I’m Rowan’s wife… and his mate.

“He’s told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already,” Aelin said with a tiny laugh. “I wish I had gotten to meet you. I think we would have been good friends.”

Aelin shifted her weight slightly, wetting her lips.

“Maeve tried to convince me that what you shared with Rowan was nothing more than bits of her magic pulling at your strings, but I know that’s not true.” Aelin shook her head. “No. Rowan loved you so much. Hell, he still does. I don’t think he’ll ever stop. He still smiles when he talks about you, still regrets that he didn’t have more time with you in his life.

“So… I suppose I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for loving him, and for making him happy. Thank you for the role you played into making him the male he is today, the male I love with every ounce of my soul.” Aelin felt her eyes begin to burn with tears once more, and didn’t bother to try and stop them as they welled and blurred her vision. “I’m sorry you had to suffer for a role in a game you were forced into. I’m sorry you couldn’t get your happy ending.”

She wiped at her eyes, trying to banish the lump in her throat. She sniffed before holding out her hand and conjuring a rose made of flame, burning bright against the gray sky. She placed it down beside Rowan’s flowers, knowing her magic wouldn’t burn them. The flames wouldn’t last forever, but it was the best gift she could think of giving. A bit of Aelin, a bit of Lyria.

The young queen reached out, placing her fingers against Lyria’s name carved into the stone. “One day, we’ll meet properly. We’ll have a grand time together in the Afterworld.” Aelin pulled back with a little smile. “Until then… goodbye, Lyria.”

Aelin bowed her head, quickly murmuring another prayer, before pushing to her feet. She turned to the side, finding Rowan had not wandered far, and he was looking at her with tears running down his face. He had listened to every word she had uttered to Lyria.

Rowan grinned through the tears, closing the distance between them and wrapping her up tightly in his arms. Aelin more than happily returned it, burying her face in his chest and breathing in his pine and snow scent.

For a while, they didn’t say anything, simply holding one another and strengthening their hearts.

“I know Lyria would have loved you,” Rowan whispered into her hair.

“I’m very likeable.”

Rowan’s chuckle rumbled in his chest, pulling back far enough to look Aelin in the eyes. His hand rested on the curve of her cheek before he kissed her softly. “I love you, Fireheart. So much.”

Aelin kissed him again. “I love you too, Ro.”

He wrapped her back up in his arms, content to stay in the quiet, to think and reminisce, for a bit longer at least. They stood together, looking out over the wilds of Doranelle. Rowan whispered stories about the time he spent there with Lyria, Aelin hanging on to every word he said.

They lingered on the mountainside until the sun began its slow descent.

#aelin!! and!! lyria!! would!! have!! been!! friends!!!#this is the hill i die on #rowaelin #my writing #post-canon fic

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rose-animenz · 3 years

Text

ZoroSan 5/11/21 (fluff /smut)

Zoro Wanted to play with Sanji’s hair. It looked soft and was the perfect length to create little braids with. He kept this small wish to himself though, if people knew they’d probably think he’s gay or a perv. It was getting dark out as the crew headed into the dining room on the Merry. It was small but it allowed them to eat together. No one but Luffy fully trusted Nico Robin, but it was the unspoken rule that they always eat together. She entered with no verbal complaints from the crew, but many doubtful looks were shot her way. Luffy, not understanding the tension spoke up.

“Come! Sit by me. Don't worry, I don't bite… unless you're made of beef, then maybe.” She laughed and strolled over to sit by the captain. They dined in silence at first but then again, Luffy couldn't read a room to save him.

“DONE! Sanji! I want more.” Sanji shot him an irritated look.

“Well, we don't have any extra. I couldn’t just leave this poor mademoiselle to starve tonight. Since I made hotpot I couldn't just ‘make more’ so the extra serving that I usually leave for you went to her.” Luffy’s stomach growled as if he hadn’t just eaten a larger serving than the rest of the crew.

Zoro, tired of the nonsense, spoke up, “Here, Luffy. You can have my serving. I'm not that hungry anyway, I've got my Sake to fill up on.” Luffy grabbed the plate from across the table without asking any more questions. Zoro left the dining area and walked around to the back of the Merry, past the tangerines. He sat down, a jug of alcohol in hand, and waited for everyone to finish eating. After what seemed like 15 minutes, he heard the door open and the footsteps of his crewmates. In the distance, he heard a conversation.

“Mmmm-- I'm sleepy guys, should we hit the sack?” that had to be Luffy.

“Might as well, we have nothing else to do.” he assumed that was Nami.

“I’ll start watch rotation tonight, it's been almost a week since I have.” Oh, great. Sanji is on watch. Zoro knew that as soon as everyone went to the sleeping quarters he was going to harass him about filling up on Sake and giving away a good meal. No one objected and he heard the footsteps become distant. Surprisingly, Sanji didn't come to Zoro.

“Maybe the cook finally learned he can't control my habits,” he whispered to himself. He sat a while longer, drinking in silence. He started thinking about braiding Sanji's hair again. Imagining doing little braids with his bangs. He imagined running his fingers through it and seeing Sanji smiling as he did so. His fantasy was interrupted by the click of a door and footsteps coming his way.

“Ah, so he is gonna scold me,” Zoro mumbled. Sanji turned the corner and walked to where Zoro was sitting cross-legged. Zoro looked at the ground already annoyed despite Sanji not saying anything yet. Sanji sat next to him and rather than starting to reprimand him, he set a plate in front of him with a sandwich. Zoro looked up towards Sanji. He was staring out at the ocean, looking calmer than usual. Zoro picked up the sandwich and began to eat silently. They sat there together for a bit until finally Zoro was finished eating. He set the plate down in front of him. They continued to sit together in silence, just staring out at the ocean.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking so much, it's bad for your health,” Sanji said, finally breaking the silence.

“So you did come to scold me! And you can’t talk. Every time I see you, you're smoking! How many packs even is that a day?”

Laughing, Sanji replied, “Okay, fine I'll shut up, and it's three.”

“Three what?”

“Three packs a day.”

Zoro looked at him with eyes filled with concern and fear. He took another large swig from his jug. They continued sitting in silence. He wanted to touch Sanji’s hair again. Maybe he could play it off as trying to get something out of it. Maybe if he gets a chance to touch it he won’t want to anymore and he won't focus on it as much. Maybe he could just ask to touch it… no that couldn't happen; either Sanji would be weirded out and leave or he would use it to make fun of him with the others. Plan A it is then.

He looked over at Sanji and reached his hand out. He grabbed a small lock of his hair and pretended that he was grabbing something small. It was soft, softer than he imagined actually. Sanji turned and looked at Zoro.

“You had something in your hair. It was bugging me.”

“Oh okay, thanks,” Sanji said, looking away, covering most of his face with his arm. It may have just looked that way since it was dark, but Zoro thought his ears were really red. He ignored it and took another large swig.

“Hey, Sanji. I want you to make me a deal.”

“Uh, what are the conditions?” Sanji replied hesitantly.

“Well, I want to do something, but you can't tell the others and you can't get weirded out.”

“And what do I get?”

“I won’t drink alcohol for three days.”

Sanji was interested in seeing how he would cope with that and accepted. Zoro turned his body and raised his hand to Sanji's head. Sanji closed his eyes and expected a slap, but was surprised when Zoro pat his head softly. He started running his fingers through it and separating it into sections.

“What are you even doing?”

“Braiding your hair,” he said in a monotone voice. He continued to section off his hair before starting to twist it into a loose braid. He continued his work until all of the hair on the front half of Sanji’s head was in braids. When he finished he moved back to his original position and took another swig.

“What was that even about…?”

“Just felt like styling it up a bit,” Zoro responded. Sanji didn't ask any further questions as he ran his fingers through to undo the braids. Once again, they sat in silence staring at the sea.

“Zoro, I want to make a deal.”

“Original today aren’t we?”

“Shut up, I’m being serious. same conditions as yours.”

“And?”

“I won’t smoke for three days,” Sanji said hesitantly.

“You literally chose the same template as mine.”

They stared at each other for a second.

“Fine, deal,” he said after a moment. Sanji moved toward Zoro looking into his eyes. Zoro couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Sanji raised his hand and covered Zoro’s eyes. Zoro felt to tired t even question why he did that but then his question was answered with something he didn't expect. He felt a soft peck against his lips. When Sanji removed his hand from over his eyes he looked at the pink tint dotting Sanji’s cheeks. Strangely enough, Zoro wasn’t mad. Why wasn’t he mad? Was there something wrong with him? Why did it kind of feel nice? With these questions circling in his head, he continued to stare at Sanji, who was getting redder by the second. He had to figure out why he wasn't mad, so he leaned in and kissed Sanji. This kiss was longer and had more intensity. Zoro pulled away, seeing the same red color on his ears as before. So it wasn't the dark.

Sanji’s tie fluttered down as he closed the wooden door behind them. Sanji had grabbed Zoro’s arm and led him to the dining room. Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s neck and began to bite his lip.

“Are you sure that you want to? I'm not great at sex.”

“I'm not here for the sex, I’m here because it's with you.”

With that being said Zoro pushed Sanji down onto the floor next to a table leg. He began kissing him, starting from his mouth leaving a trail up to his ear and then down his neck. He began unbuttoning Sanji’s dark navy blazer and his shirt underneath. With his torso revealed, Zoro began biting and sucking on his shoulders. With each nibble, Sanji let out a small gasp. He moved down and began toying with his nipples. He grabbed each one between his index finger and thumb and began to roll them. Surprisingly he heard nothing from Sanji. Maybe guys don't like this kind of thing? He looked up and saw Sanji covering his mouth and face with his arm.

“What are you doing?” Sanji moved his arm revealing the red saturating his cheeks. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wide. He liked it. A lot. Zoro moved back down to continue his work, taking his time teasing them, Sanji was still pretty quiet but Zoro knew how to make him louder. He took his tongue and slid it against Sanji’s erect nipples. Once again, Sanji was silent, so Zoro looked up and found him hiding in his arms again.

“If you want me to continue you’re gonna have to stop that,” he said with a low voice.

“I don't mean to… I just get embarrassed and that my instant reaction…”

“Well, I have a solution then.” Zoro retrieved the discarded button-up and used the sleeves to tie Sanji’s wrists to the table leg that was nearby. The table should be strong enough since they had to nail it down for traveling. Ignoring Sanji’s protests Zoro moved down and began unbuttoning Sanji’s pants. He pulled them down to his knees along with his boxers, freeing Sanji’s erection, which was still growing. He grabbed Sanji’s dick causing his hips to buck a little, searching for friction. Zoro’s body began to heat up. He gave it a light squeeze before stroking it, then he quickly worked himself up to a fast pace. He could hear the whimpers and moans coming from Sanji now that he had bound his hands. A loud moan escaped Sanji’s lips, and Zoro was certain he had never wanted to hear any sound again so badly in his entire life. He looked up at Sanji and gave him a smirk. He used his thumb to rub the tip and that's what pushed him over the edge. Sanji’s cum spilled into Zoro’s hand as his toes curled and his body twitched. Zoro gave him a moment to come down and enjoyed the euphoric expression while it lasted. As soon as Sanji’s body stopped twitching he lifted up his legs.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“Don't worry, I’m just using your thighs. I still haven’t cum.”

He placed his cock between Sanji’s thighs. He began to thrust quickly letting the soft skin bring him pleasure. He moved at a pace that brought him close but not there yet. Sanji seemed to be enjoying the look on Zoro’s face as he enjoyed himself. Finally, he reached his limit and climaxed, letting his cum spill on Sanji’s stomach. He untied the button-down shirt and lied next to him.

“That was great…” Sanji said breathlessly

“Next time, I’m bringing lube.” as Zoro said this Sanji shot up and hit him in the chest.

“Were my thighs not good enough for you stupid swordsman?”

Zoro laid there quietly for a moment before replying, “actually, it was fantastic, I just want to see your reaction to different stimulation.” Sanji laughed mumbling about him being the world’s biggest perv.

1,918 words/ 10,379 characters

notes

first ever time writing smut so uh yeah

xoxo

also thx to that one anon for rec

#ronoroa zoro #one piece zoro #pirate hunter zoro #op zoro #op sanji #sanji #sanjionepiece #zorosan #zoro x sanji #gay #oneshot #one piece #fanfic #fanfic reccomendation #anime #anime fic #anime fanfic #smut writing #fic rec

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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

Smutty one liners- 5

Here ya go, anon! Thanks for the prompt! Set in the universe of my nerdy OLWY babies. Hope that you like it! 5. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

Dany woke to the shrill sound of her phone's email alert, promptly and groggily reaching over and blindly muting it before it had the chance to throttle Jon from his rest.

For a solid few minutes, her sleep-addled mind couldn't determine the reason she would be receiving said notifications on a Sunday, unless it was…

Shit!

She bolted upright in bed, Ghost suddenly jolting with her where he warmed their feet at the end of the bed, half of his face smushed from where it had lain. She gave him a quick scrub under his chin and he resumed his position while, with squinted eyes, she tried to find the suspect labeled URGENT, and thankfully it was sitting right on top of her inbox.

The only time she ever had alerts turned on on weekends was for projects that could potentially be terminated without rapid response, or important work matters that required immediate attention else they lose a deal to a competitor.

As it happened, her eyes hastily scanning the email's contents, this particular affair was both, and there was a video call happening at five a.m. - in four bloody minutes!

As frantically as she could without getting Ghost worked up or disrupting Jon beside her, she scrambled out from beneath the sheets only to be cruelly reminded by the chilly morning air that she had not a scrap of clothing on.

Fuck, she mouthed, positive that her hair was a rats nest at best and there was no clothing in sight; last night they'd been particularly ravenous with each other, and if memory served her correctly, articles of clothing were scattered all throughout the house.

There was no time for a scavenger hunt; given she was at Jon's house, she certainly hadn't thought to bring any business attire, so the only option she could think of off the top of her head was to examine Jon’s wardrobe. And, by some luck, she found a wrinkle-free, plain black button-down on a hanger that was a little on the bigger side, but they wouldn’t be able to tell much. Hopefully.

Everything else...there was no time for. She would have to sit in on the call in only the infamous shirt and nothing else, and hope it didn’t show on her face. In a matter of ninety seconds she managed to brush out her hair, twisted it into a single braid over her shoulder, threw on a quick layer of mascara, and dashed her way down to the kitchen with her laptop. The sight of Jon’s espresso machine had her audibly whining to herself, but there’d be time for that after the meeting.

She switched on the light and propped herself up onto the chair, crossing her ankles, and logged on with seconds to spare. Just before she joined in, she made sure that the camera was well-placed; it was freezing to her warm blood, and the last thing she needed was for her nipples to be on display popping through the thin material. Once all appeared decent, she joined the virtual room where Tyrion, Samwell Tarly, a couple of corporate head honchos, and various other important figures sat.

She felt mortifyingly self-conscious, even if she was the only one aware of her apparel predicament. Still, she carried on as naturally as possible, her voice level and clear and expression not giving anything out of the ordinary away.

Until thirty minutes into some legal jargon, Dany spotted some movement in the next room ahead, peering up over the lid of her laptop to discover Jon approaching: hair fluffed and ruffled, sleepy eyes, lips in a pointed pout while he tried to figure out what was going on, his torse bare and pajama bottoms hanging precariously low on his slim hips. She nearly salivated until she remembered she was on bloody camera. No worries there, since the rest of her body was doing the reacting for her.

She offered as best of a smile as she could without becoming a distraction to the rest of the group, but welcomed his warm kiss once he reached her, just out of camera view. He had gone to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze, and she squeaked, tossing her hand over her mouth and instantly muting herself on the call. Then she remembered she had put her hand over her mouth, lowering it back down, silently thanking herself for not lighting the room too bright so they wouldn’t notice how red her face was...especially since several had curious frowns at their brows.

Briefly, she glanced at Jon, who hadn’t moved, and had a most mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand was still cuffed over her thigh, dangerously close to where she could not deal with right now, else she would probably get fired for some level of indecency.

Dany turned her attention back to the screen, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, tuning back into the conversation. It was actually quite exciting - one more step until Mr. Tarly’s series would be brought to the small screen.

“Dany…,” Jon murmured, and she had to really force herself to pretend she didn’t hear the desire in his voice, responding only with a falsely uninterested hum. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

“I- what are you doing?” She wondered aloud, her lips moving very little despite her audio cut for the moment. She could see her own eyes widen in her camera view as Jon ducked down and knelt before her on his knees, and she about choked when she felt his hands gently pry her legs open and apart.

“Jon!” She whispered sharply, muffling herself as she clasped her fist in her other hand and rested her mouth against it - more as a disguise than anything else, even though he hadn’t quite done anything yet.

Her blinks turned rapid as his hands crawled up the tops of her thighs, undoing the bottom buttons of the shirt, her stomach tightening. His warm lips settled on the side of her knee, his hands curled into the crease of her hips, keeping his voice low but loud enough that she could hear him over whomever was speaking through the speakers (she was only half paying attention at this point). “Want me to hold off?”

The professional side of her urged her to say yes, but the more rational side of her was screaming no, to which she found herself letting one hand slide under the counter to tangle in his hair in encouragement. He grunted in agreement and gingerly tugged her a little closer to the edge of the seat; his breath on her already wet center making her jaw tighten.

First, he used his thumb to glide over her cunt, spreading her mess up to her clit, testing her reactiveness - to which she nearly slid out of the chair and straight onto his face.

“How long have you been like this?” He husked, spreading her apart and tracing every crease and crevice.

A forceful pant blew against the hand she kept firmly perched in front of her mouth, hoping beyond hope she still appeared casual, beginning the slippery slope of losing who was saying what now. Something about legal fees, waivers…

Jon chose that moment to plunge two fingers into her core, and she gripped his hair perhaps a bit too severely, but his retaliation was to pull her clit between his lips, and it took every fiber of her mild consciousness to not throw her head back and scream. But a muffled whimper slipped by, and with every pass of his tongue, or his fingers working in tandem with the heat and slide of his mouth, the only thing she could hear anymore was the thrum of blood flooding her ears. And her face looked so tense in the square box of her video capture that she appeared to be on the verge of crying (which wasn’t all that untrue; her eyes were watering in a valiant undertaking to not inform twelve other people what was happening a mere few inches below her screen).

To give her something, she bit down hard on the inner side of her index finger, and then-

“Er, Daenerys, what are your thoughts?” Tyrion queried, automatically forcing Jon to a halt and her hand flying to her mouse to unmute herself.

“I’m...sorry, can you repeat that one more time? My connection is a little...unstable…,” she laughed nervously, but was screaming internally - partly because it was too close of a call, but also because Jon was sucking a line of kisses along the crease of her thigh, his beard lightly chafing her folds.

At least she disguised her dormant moan with a cough.

“Of course,” Tyrion continued, his face turned slightly downward, but overly curious eyes darted up at her. He reiterated the question she inadvertently missed, and Jon went back to his feasting...and she made a bloody face that was so very clearly one of pleasure, the flat of his tongue swiping up the length of her and landing on her clit again.

Her face was so hot that at this point, she had to assume the rest of the 'room' were professionals at utilizing their poker faces, because if she were them, it would be clear as day what was going on over on her screen.

When Tyrion mused that he was pleased with how enthusiastic she looked over the prospect of the subject at hand, she grit her teeth and squeezed her thighs around Jon's head to trap him there. She needed a minute to recollect her wits, and he was far too talented for her to trust she wouldn't orgasm right on camera. And with her luck, someone will have been recording this session for later reference. She would have to move across the country and change her name and never face those people ever again.

Thankfully, Jon showed her a little mercy, reducing his slow sweet torture to caressing her thighs with his hands. To get Tyrion off her back, Dany expressed her plain enthusiasm for the agreement they were establishing, and fluffed her explanation enough that she knew they wouldn't need to call on her again.

The very second she silenced her microphone, she opened her legs again and Jon dove back in, which was probably a mistake since she'd already been driven close to the brink and he wasn't giving her a moment to graduate into it. Her hand slapped over her mouth, her brow twisting just in time to slam the lid to her laptop down at the conclusion of the call.

Finally, her fingers gripped the edges of the chair and her face turned toward the ceiling, exhaling several lengthy breaths she'd been storing in her lungs for several minutes. Jon's hands roved up her front, popping open the remaining buttons and filled his palms with her breasts, rolling them between his soft fingers.

Jon paused to lift her quivering legs over his shoulders, allowing her to relax them along his back. She sunk one hand through his hair again, the other grasping onto one of his arms as he dedicated all of himself to her pleasure, drawing sharp gasps and gulps of air out of her between his attention split between her clit and her center.

Pivoting her head back down, a pitiful whine passed through her lips seeing his wild bedhead of curls situated between her thighs, his fingers tweaking her puckered nipples. He was plucking every taut string in her body to breaking point; her toes curled against his the smooth skin of his back, wanting nothing more than to be able to lift her pelvis and grind against his face if she knew she wouldn’t fall straight onto the floor. When he lowered one hand and sunk one finger into her constricting walls, she jerked in her seat with a soundless cry, and then he was pumping two at a time, his pitch black eyes drifting upward to latch onto hers. Reading her reactions to measure the pace and the movements that would push her over the edge.

That look was all it took.

Chest heaving, his name spilled from her lips and somewhere along the way, he weaved a hand in hers, all while he brought her down from her high and collected every last drop from her cunt, leaving her as useless as she was a boneless sack of skin and muscle. She could feel how loose her hair had gotten from its hold. Her head found solace on the back ledge of the seat, eyes having fluttered closed when she felt Jon rise, looping her legs around his waist as he braced his hands on the cushion and kissed her.

Keeping her eyes shut, she smiled against him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and trapping him there.

“Good morning,” he greeted gruffly.

Dany hummed in agreement and sucked on his lip before sliding her still-vibrating toes down the sides of his hips and pushed his pajama bottoms down until his flushed cock sprang free. “‘Morning to you,” she returned, reaching between them to stroke him with a feather-light grip. Jon’s face morphed into one of slightly anguished delight, hips surging to seek more.

“I need you,” he murmured, groaning with the squeeze of her hand.

“You can have me,” she kissed him, “if you can get me out of this chair first.”

His arms wrapped around her and in one swift movement he settled her atop the counter.

#jonerys drabble #i did not proofread sooooo 😬#smutty one liners

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weaver-z · 4 years

Text

Birthmark

A short horror story by B.E.

The women in my family have port-wine birthmarks, but none ever had any as strange as mine.

Not even my mother, who had one that stretched across her forehead like a bloodshot eye, the pale sclera-white of her skin visible under the glaze of reddish violet. She told me, when I was very young, that my grandmother had one, too, along the back of her head--she, unlike us, had been lucky enough to have one that could be hidden under a bonnet, though her blonde hair still revealed it in the summertime.

“Can I see the ones on the legs?” Thomas asks, chewing the inside of his cheek like a cow chewing its cud. I allow it, even though I am a girl, because Thomas and I are friends, alone in the center of a field of tall summer alfalfa. I can feel his eyes boring into the marks on me in fascination, as he moves around me to see my arms, at the marks on those.

“I like the winter best,” I say, pulling my skirt up. “Pa hates it. But I like it, because I can cover all of ‘em up with my clothes, even the ones on my arms.”

“They’re not so bad,” he says. “They’re not on your face, at least.

“Guess so.”

He sits in front of me in the clear space between the eden-green strands of the grass, looking down at the marks on my legs. They are strange, wobbling lines, not blotches or patches--the lowest two are at my knees, lines that wrap around the joint like the borders of a county.

There are two more on my upper thighs, though I don’t show Thomas those--he’s still a boy, and even though he looks at my markings with nothing but fascination, I still feel a little kernel of shame rubbing at the walls of my chest. The arms are easier to show to him--there are only two marks, just too low to be covered by my short sleeves, broad and awkward unevenly-stamped lines.

“So you’ve got more? On your back?” Thomas asks, sitting on his haunches, looking at me with intent, dust-brown eyes too large for his face.

“Yes. Almost like a corset,” I say, “like a nice corset, the kind rich ladies wear with their jewels. One on my waist, like a belt. One below my shoulders. Oh, and a line down my back, a kinda wobbly one.”

“Like the laced-up part of the corset,” he says, and I nod, happy that he understands. Most boys who live in these parts wouldn’t. He moves around me, and I sit straight, lifting my long frigid-blonde braid so that he can see the very top of the line that travels down my spine, the source of the splotchy red-and-purple river.

“You ever wish that you could have them wiped off?” He asks. “I heard that God sometimes grants big miracles if you pray for ‘em enough.”

“Maybe,” I say, doubtful. “I’ve tried it. Pa makes me pray each night, but nothing seems to work.”

“Shame about that. Real shame. Maybe God’s busy with somethin’ else--” he says, and suddenly a gunshot rings out in the distance.

He freezes, pupils dilating like a rabbit that hears a hawk, and I scramble for my boots, forcing them on over the crumbles of mud on my feet. We can both hear Pa, coming through the brush, forcing his way through it with snaps and tears and nearly inarticulate grumbling. Thomas is off like a shot, running almost on all fours as he crouches, and by the time my father reaches me, panting and huddled in the grass, my friend is nothing but a mole-trail disturbing distant strands.

Pa is a tall man--though I inherited his height, I’m only 13, and he towers over me, so broad and heavy that I am thin as grass and summer wind below him. I stand, looking up at him with a look that must look shameful, and he lowers the rifle to point at the earth, face still and steely with malice.

“I told you I didn’t want no boys ‘round,” he says, voice thick, like smoke from a bonfire. “Told you I didn’t want you foolin’ round like a little whore.”

“He didn’t do nothin’,” I say, arms wrapped around my chest. “Honest.”

“Who was it, then? And why didn’t he come see me, an’ ask if he could talk to you?” He takes my arm--not tightly, but with such strength that I couldn’t run if I tried.

“He and I met while I was out with the chickens. He was on the road going up to town.”

“Sure he was.” Pa shoves my arm away and laughs, the sound like metal clattering to a dirt floor. “Sure, the devil ‘e was. I heard him talkin’ bout your legs, girl. Didn’t hear much, but I heard that. You think you’re the pick of the meat at the market, don’t you?”

“Pa--”

“Don’t talk, pretty girl. Don’t talk, and don’t you ever try and do this again. You’re gonna pray as long as you can tonight. I want your damn tongue to fall out before you stop praying,” and he begins to move, and now the pain comes as I stumble half-backward with him, held in a vise by my arm.

“Pa, I’m sorry--”

“You ain’t sorry yet, Lu,” he says. He looks back at me, from under the shadow cast beneath his brows by the white sun overhead. “You ain’t sorry, yet.”

---

He makes me pray, that night, for hours and hours, for forgiveness, for something I never did. But the praying he makes me do that night is only meager practice for the praying I do during the winter.

Our chickens die when a coyote pack rolls through in the late days of fall, snarling and barking with a sound like mocking laughter. We salvage what corpses we can, and for a while, we eat well, but not well, because while we dine on fresh meat, the knowledge that something terrible to come hangs over us like the fog of their blood. The cattle start to go soon after, the first to a weak cover over a well (it falls in, it screams for hours), the second to a river, the third to disease, the rest tumbling like the articles like a rotting shelf soon after them.

When winter comes, we have little, so little, and my father tears into his meager dollars to buy us what we can. I am grateful to him, even as the food dries up, even as he becomes silent, frighteningly silent, staring at me above the candle that lights our dinner-table with a face like a haunting.

I am not allowed to leave the house anymore.

I only cook--clean--mend--read the scraps of old newspaper used to patch the walls of the house as best I can. I make what food he finds for dinner, if he finds any, and I give more to his portion, and he says almost nothing to me except to remind me to stay in the home, to keep house and to keep out of the snowstorms and the paths of wild things. He fixes the roof and sharpens the knives--those are the only tasks he does around the house, besides force me onto my knees beside him to beg God for something for our stomachs.

And it is in cleaning that I find the box.

It is a small box, barely as long as my forearm and as shallow as the length of my hand, and it is under his bed, dislodged from a long stay deep in the shadows beneath his cot by a storm that shook the house.

I pull it slowly from beneath--it is unpainted, made of thin wood that leaves little splinters in the flesh of my thumb-joint. I remove its lid and look inside.

My mother is there, first, as I remember her--thin, short, with a look in her eyes like the hollow of a tree, unexplainably empty. The mark is clearly visible in the photograph, as she stands next to my father, mottled and dim. Neither of them are smiling. They are younger in this photograph--it is blurry, hard to make out.

Beneath that is a scrap of newspaper that I have a hard time understanding for a moment.

Mrs. Mary J. Letts, 68; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Letts, wife of Mr. Roger Letts and mother to Mabelle Letts, which took place last Thursday due to a tragic accident involving an injury sustained to her head while riding. She is survived by her husband and daughter.

The paper cuts off there. I don’t recognize the name of Letts, and the paper is old; I continue reading as I find another scrap.

Mrs. Mabelle Dawson, 36; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Dawson, who is survived by her husband, Mr. Arnold Dawson, and her young daughter, Lucy Dawson. Their family has our greatest sympathies. She was killed accidentally as she was cleaning a weapon owned by Mr. Arnold Dawson, who claims deepest regret that

I feel my mouth run dry and my pulse hammer against my skin like stone against a drum. That is my mother’s name--that is my name, too, faint against the paper. I don’t understand why these things are in the box, among other pictures and portraits of my mother, and, unmistakably, my mother’s mother, whose mark is just visible in one small portrait of her, clearly done by an amateur hand. I can imagine how it stretched across the back of her head, branching along her skull--I can see my own mother’s mark, clearly, in the center of her forehead.

I feel cold as the wooden floor under my feet as my eyes trace the border of the mark on her forehead for the first time.

“Lu?” my father calls, from downstairs. “Lucy? Lu-cy?”

The starburst on her forehead is strangely jagged. Unsteady. The shape that a bullet hole would make, if someone were shot close in the head. An accident while cleaning a gun. A trauma to the back of the skull. I hear a footstep on the stairs, almost hesitant, its weight barely masked by the slowness with which my father places it down.

“Lucy?” he says. “I prayed to God for a miracle, and he told me what we ought to do. I need to see you, now.”

I can’t breathe. My throat is choked by a snare as I throw myself back, scrambling across the floor and away from the box. My skirt flies up--my legs are exposed, the lines on them obvious in their purpose.

Summers ago, I went to the village with Pa, and we went to a stall hung with pig carcasses. There, there was a picture of a sow, her legs and sides and ribs marked with uneven lines where the different cuts of meat came from. Here was the thigh--here was the shank--here was the cut you made along the spine and the stomach.

I hear a slow, low rumble of creaking wood as he stops outside the door.

“Lucy?” he says, his voice more paternal than I have ever heard it, and I begin to cry--begin to pray to anything, anyone that will listen, pray that something else kills me before he enters, and nothing does.

And the door opens--slowly, too slowly, as though I’ve had a nightmare and he’s coming to check on me like a good father should--and he sees me with the box, with the tears flowing down my face, with my chest heaving in great stops and starts.

He takes a step forward. In his hands, he holds a sharpened butcher’s knife.

#horror #short story #writing #creepy #abuse tw #FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

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stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

Let These Words Set You Free

Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7,900

Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3

You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.

Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.

You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--

Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.

As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain.

You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you.

The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.

Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.

You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.

“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”

You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.

You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”

Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.

Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.

“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”

You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”

He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”

“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.

Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”

“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”

The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”

Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.

“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”

“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.

For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.

“I could only wish to be better.”

His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.

It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.

The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.

"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."

“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”

“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”

“How long has it been?”

His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”

The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.

He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”

“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.

He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”

‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’

You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.

“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”

“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”

“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”

“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”

You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.

Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.

“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”

He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”

“M-May I ask why?”

His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”

“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”

He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.

You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.

He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."

You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.

"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.

"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."

You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.

"About what?"

He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.

"I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."

Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.

"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."

You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation.

You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.

It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.

“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”

You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.

“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”

You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.

“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”

“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”

Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”

“And I am not that kind of man.”

“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”

“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.

“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”

“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”

“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”

Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”

The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.

“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”

“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”

With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.

“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”

You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.

“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”

“But your helmet--your creed?”

“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”

You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.

A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.

He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction.

After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.

“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”

“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”

The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.

You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.

“What if he--?”

“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”

“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”

You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”

“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”

“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”

“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”

You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.

“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”

“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”

Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.

“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”

He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh.

A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.

“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”

His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”

You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.

“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."

“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”

He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.

For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.

You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.

“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”

“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.”

“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”

“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.

“Even your name?”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”

The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.

You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.

His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.

“Paz.”

His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.

Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.

"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself, "Paz. I… think it suits you."

He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"

You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”

“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”

Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”

Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.

Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.

“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”

You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”

“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.

“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”

He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”

“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”

“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.

“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”

Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions.

“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”

“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”

He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.

You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.

“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”

“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”

“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”

You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.

“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”

You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.

Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.

You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--

The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.

Ner= My, mine

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Saviin=Violet

Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #Paz vizsla x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR THAT LAST LINE #OR THE OTHER QUESTIONABLE PART #I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS #OKAY #my writing

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amethystgelfling · 3 years

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KovJin - Alone with You (Modern AU smut fic)

KovJin smut because i am unhinged and girlbossing my way though my final year of uni and this is my coping mechanism

18+ content! like pure filth :) enjoy! i'll tag the content so if thats not your thing pls just scroll away. im not throwing hands today

Canon x OC content, following a Modern AU

Kovina sighs as she casts her phone aside. It lands on the nightstand with a dull thud and the room is dark again, the hazy glow from the streetlights cast along the wall are the only source of illumination this late at night.

She hates the weekends.

Gurjin works late on the weekends and although she’s glad he’s working amongst friends, she hates eating dinner alone and bitching about whatever trash reality show she’s decided on for the night alone and she hates showering alone and she hates making cocktails alone. She hates getting changed into one of his oversized tees alone and most of all, she absolutely hates sleeping alone.

She turns onto her side with a huff, closing her eyes in a feeble attempt to fall asleep. Even the pillows smell like him and she’s a strange combination of sad and furious. Not furious at him, of course, furious that his shifts are so late and take him away from her so late at night.

She sighs deeply, his scent still lingering when she inhales again. She’s frustrated now, the anger ebbing away as arousal slowly claws its way up her skin; the longer she lets her mind focus on the remnants of his presence the deeper the ache in her abdomen grows.

Kovina lets out a shaky breath as she kicks away the blanket with her feet, letting it fall just below her bent knees. Gurjin’s shirt sits comfortably at her ribcage, deep green fabric covers her hardened nipples but leaves her bare from the waist down. One skilled hand grazes across her clothed nipple, spreading her palm flat as she drags it slowly across the bud. It provides a teasing amount of friction, just enough for her to bite her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. Her other hand has already begun it’s descent along the length of her abdomen and when it finally reaches its destination, the moan that slips past her lips is nothing short of needy.

Her sapphire eyes flutter closed, her back arching into her own hand as she uses her fingertips to rub slow circles across her clit. She follows a steady rhythm for a short while before picking up her pace ever so slightly, the circles becoming tighter.

“…am I interrupting something?” A deep voice asks from the other side of the room.

Kovina pauses, lifting her hand away and opening her eyes. Gurjin stands in the doorway, leaning against it casually, his expression something of amusement.

Kovina sits up hastily, pulling the shirt back down over her thighs.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come home.” She stutters, embarrassed and frustrated. Gurjin tilts his head at her before stepping into the room, finally. He kicks off his shoes before quite promptly kneeling onto the bed at Kovina’s feet, leaning forward so he can hook his hands underneath her thighs and pull her down the bed towards him.

Kovina lets out a small noise of surprise as he settles between her thighs, his lips already placing gentle kisses at the junction of her knee and her thigh. One of his large hands reaches up, pushing his shirt up her body again. Kovina assists eagerly, pulling it up and over her head. She tosses it onto the floor, her eyes locked onto him as his kisses trail lower and lower down her plush thigh.

Gurjin glances up at her once, holding her gaze before he averts his gaze to press a kiss to her clit. Kovina melts immediately, leaning into his touch as a breathless sigh falls from her lips. The first brush of his skilful tongue threatens to undo her right then and she has to take a moment to mentally right herself. He wastes no time, immediately developing a rhythm that has Kovina seeing stars. Her back arches against him, her hips grinding against his tongue as she gets closer and closer to her climax.

“Did you miss me, then?” Gurjin asks between strokes of his tongue, his gaze travelling up her body to admire the mess he’s made of her. Her head is thrown back against the pillows, one hand gently fondling one of her breasts as the other rests gently atop his head.

“I always miss you.” She gasps when he briefly suctions his lips around her clit and sucks ever so slightly. He quickly resumes his rhythm of dizzying tongue strokes.

“Show me how much you missed me, baby. Let me see.” He tells her. It’s a command, she knows it is, but he asks in the firmest, yet sweetest way and Kovina can’t help but cum against his mouth with the next brush of his tongue. Her thighs shake in his gentle grip as she rides out her orgasm, but Gurjin doesn’t stop yet. He offers a few more strokes of his tongue, savouring her taste a little longer before pulling away when she finally stops shaking.

Gurjin crawls up and over her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as his hips press into hers. She moans when she tastes herself on his lips, breaking the kiss to gasp when he rolls his hips against her and she feels how hard he is beneath his sweatpants.

Kovina manages to turn their position over in between desperate kisses and she shuffles down his body to rest between his knees, her fingers reaching underneath the waistband of his pants to pull them down. Gurjin complies immediately, raising his hips and quickly pulling them off. They join the shirt discarded on the floor where they’ll likely stay for the night.

Kovina wastes no time, taking his cock in her hand and strokes a few times. He is hard and heavy, the tip glistening with arousal already. She drags her tongue along his length, swirling around the tip before taking him in her mouth shallowly at first. Gurjin groans in response, a hand finding its way to her platinum locks, grabbing a fistful as she continues to take him inch by inch.

Soon enough, she’s taking him in her mouth at a rapid pace, the taste of his cum coating her tongue. Gurjin moans beneath her, the hand tangled in her hair following her rhythm as he starts to approach his own climax. He pulls her away before he can cum, watching as she parts her swollen lips in confusion. Kovina gazes up at him through half-lidded eyes, waiting for his next instruction.

Gurjin pulls her up towards him, assaulting her lips once more as he rolls her onto her back, his large frame looming over her smaller one. Kovina complies eagerly, her knees bending and her thighs parting to accommodate his hips. Gurjin smirks and chuckles lightly when he feels her legs wrap themselves around his waist. He nudges his hips forward and presses into her wet entrance, slowly edging inch by inch.

He bottoms out eventually, letting out a ragged gasp when he’s fully sheathed inside of her. She feels so soft and warm and so unbelievably wet for him. He’s not going to last long, he can already feel his orgasm building again, but Kovina isn’t going to last long either based on the way she mewls beneath him when he offers a small thrust. He picks up a pace that immediately has Kovina crying out for him, her nails digging into the sculpted muscles of his back.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? Do you want me to make you cum again?” Gurjin asks her breathlessly, his lips hovering just above her ear. Kovina nods eagerly, unable to form a response, merely offering a nearly incoherent chorus of “yes,” and “please.”

Gurjin’s hips snap against hers with added force and she cries out, reaching her second peak. Gurjin groans as he feels her tighten around him, threatening to send him spiralling immediately after her. He holds off for a few more thrusts, shuddering when her hands find their way to his braids, the way she pulls on them sending waves of pleasure through his veins.

“That’s it, you’re so good for me,” He praises her between moans, “you’re going to make me cum, babe.”

Kovina practically begs him for it, for him to finish inside her and that’s all it takes for Gurjin to reach his orgasm and he spills inside her with a deep moan, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he comes down from his peak. Their combined panting is the only sound that fills the room for a few moments, before Kovina sighs with relief.

“I should work later more often.” Gurjin muses, flashing her a grin before finally shifting above her to collapse onto his side of the bed with a tired sigh.

Kovina snaps out of her haze to glare at him for a second.

“You absolutely should not.”

“I absolutely should. You never beg me like that. You never beg.” Gurjin teases, pulling Kovina into an embrace as he pulls the blanket over them both

“… I missed you.” Kovina admits finally, burying her face in his chest to hide her embarrassment.

Gurjin cracks a smile before pressing a kiss to her forehead, brushing away a few stray hairs, “I missed you too, love.”

#dark crystal #dark crystal ocs #the dark crystal: age of resistance #age of resistance #gurjin #gurjin thirst club #daddy drenchen #gelfling oc #drenchen #vapra #the dark crystal #gelfling #smut #smut fic #fanfiction #m/f #big dick gurjin because I'm right and I know I'm right

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fanfics4all · 4 years

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Wedding Night

Request: Yes / No Can you do a Oliver queen wedding and honeymoon imagine please 😜 by the way your writing is amazing @slytherinlyn13

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Oliver Queen x Fem!Male!Reader

Word count: 1939

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

It was finally the day I was getting married. I remember the day Oliver Queen asked me to marry him. It was after a really close call of the world ended, but him and the rest of the supers saved everyone. During the celebration with everyone Oliver tapped his glass, gaining everyone’s attention.

“I’d like to say great job to everyone, but that’s not the real reason I’d like your attention.” He said and I looked at him confused. He placed his glass down and turned to me, gently taking my hand.

“Y/N, the moment I saw you for the very first time will always be stuck into my memory till the end of time, because that day changed my life. When we were paired up together in high school I honestly didn’t think much about you because, well, I was a different person back then. But then when I came back from the dead, as everyone though, I met you again and you helped me so much. You helped mold me into the man I am today without even realizing it. Even before you knew I was the Arrow, you were changing how I did things. I remember benign so scared to tell you about this part of my life, but you accepted it, always being in my corner. You encourage me to get up every morning and constantly help me become a better person in both my lives. You didn’t even bat an eye when William came to stay with us, you treated him as if he were your own. I know he loves you just as much as I do. That is why…” He said and got down on one knee. My eyes widened and I felt tears start to sting as I tried to desperately blink them away.

“I am asking you, Y/N Y/L/N, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked and reviled an absolutely amazing ring.

“Yes! Yes, of course Ollie!” I said and just let the happy tears fall. He placed the ring on my finger and I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a loving kiss.

I smiled as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was dressed in my sleeveless, large dress, white heels, a rose gold necklace, and my white roses with some small purple ones in between. My hair was up in a bun with a loose braid connecting it. For my make up, I kept it simple, a light brown smokey eye, light blush, and a pink lip.

Someone knocked on the door and I told them to come in. I turned around and Felicity looked at me with a smile. She was my maid of honor.

“You look beautiful.” She said.

“You do too.” I smiled back.

“It’s just about time, are you ready?” She asked and I nodded.

“More than ever.” I said.

“Great, John is ready at the door to walk you down.” She said and I nodded.

“Thank you.” I said. She gave me one more smile and left the room. I looked back at the mirror and took a deep breath. I wished my parents could be here, but they unfortunately weren’t with us anymore. I walked outside and saw John standing near the door, just as Felicity said. I walked over to him and he gave me a big smile.

“You look gorgeous.” He said and kissed my cheek.

“You look very handsome yourself.” I smiled. He offered me his arms and I heard the music start to play.

“Ready?” He asked as I took his arm.

“More than.” I said and the doors opened. The two of us walked down the aisle and I kept my eyes on Oliver. John gave me away and I handed my bouquet to Felicity. Oliver grabbed my hands and the priest started with his speech. Finally it was time for our vows.

“Y/N, from this moment, I take you as my best friend for life. I pledge to honour, encourage, and support you through our life together just as you’ve done for me. When our ways become difficult, I promise to stand by you and uplift you, just as you’ve done to me. I promise to work at our love and always make you a priority in my life. With every beat of my heart, I will love you.” Oliver said beautifully.

“Oliver, today we begin our lives together. I promise here before our families and our friends to be your faithful wife. I choose to live with you as your lover, companion, and friend, loving you when life is peaceful, and when it’s painful. During our successes and during our failures. To support your strengths and accept your weaknesses. I will honor your goals and dreams, trying always, to encourage your fulfillment. I will strive to be honest and open with you, sharing my thoughts, and my life with you. I promise to love and cherish you from this day and forward.” I said and he smiled.

“If anyone has any objections to these two joining in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The priest said and no one said anything.

“Then, with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” He said. Oliver pulled me close to him and gave me the most loving deep kiss.

We enjoyed our time with our friends and family. The party was lovely and it was much needed for everyone. But as soon as it was over Oliver and I were off to our honeymoon. Oliver and I decided on going to Bora Bora and we got there when it was night. As soon as we checked in Oliver picked me up and carried me all the way up to our room.. When we entered the suite, the scene was set. The lights were dim and candles were burning on either side of the bed. There were a dozen roses in a vase on the table in the corner of the room. The bed had been turned and the corner of the covers had been pulled back, inviting us to lay in it. Oliver tossed me onto the bed and crawled on top of me. He kissed me and the electricity from his lips made my mind wander to what was about to happen. I felt his rough stubble scratch against my face and I sighed happily. I love him with stubble, more so with a beard, but he didn’t want to bring it back. He kissed me deeply, but gently, taking his time with my mouth, easing me into the thrill of the moment. He brushed a hand against my cheek softly. He kissed the side of my neck and I lifted my head, exposing the full length. He reached a hand up and placed it on my left breast, over the dress I had changed into before we left.

He then moved his hand up to the back of my neck to pull me close to him. I pushed the straps on my dress down and let the top fall, exposing the green lingerie I picked out just for this night. He pulled off the rest of my dress and smirked at me.

“Green?” He asked and I giggled slightly.

“What? I thought it was perfect.” I said and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s just get it off you.” He said and pulled to top off, exposing my naked breasts. He sucked on my nipple, squeezing the bottom of my breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. I looked down at him as he licked, sucked, and rubbed both of them. He worked himself into a frenzy playing with my breast, until he wanted more. He kissed me again and placed his hand over my clothed pussy. He smirked as he pulled the fabric from my body and tossed it to the ground. He started rubbing my wet pussy. He quickly pushed two fingers inside me and I moaned. He kissed my other nipple, giving it the same attention he gave the other one. He was sucking on one nipple and fingering me harder and harder. I was getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate me. He pulled his fingers away and started kissing me down my body. He pushed my legs apart and gazed at my wet and ready pussy. Two fingers spread my lips and his other two fingers rubbed my clit in strong circles. Each circle sent a shock wave through my body. He pushed his mouth on top of my pussy and flicked my clit.

“Oh Ollie!” I moaned as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I arched my back and he pushed me back down. He took his time, enjoying himself. He watched me as I moaned and took pleasure in my every gasp. He kept licking my sensitive nub harder and harder.

“Ollie!” I moaned again. He slid two fingers inside me again and pumped them in and out of me.

“Oh fuck!” I moaned.

“Does it feel good?” He asked.

“Yes!” I moaned. He kept going, continuing to lick, suck, and moving his fingers inside me. I felt myself growing closer and closer with every movement. Then finally, with one hard flick of his tongue I felt it. The sweet release. I came all over his face with a moan, as my body quivered. He pulled his fingers out and removed his mouth as I laid on the bed, breathing heavily. He sat up and I saw my juices glistening on his face. My husband wiped his face and smiled down at me. He pulled my legs towards him and kissed me. He pulled back to undress his top half, I couldn’t believe they were on this whole time. He rubbed my inner thighs, brushing his hand against my tender pussy. He massaged my breasts once more before he finished undressing. His erection pointing straight towards the sky in excitement. He rubbed his tip against my pussy and I whimpered. I spread my legs further apart and he guided his shaft past my soft folds. He filled me and my body tried adjusting to his size once again. It always felt so right having him inside me. He moved in and out of me, slow and gentle. He was leaning on his hands and I looked down, watching his cock moving in and out of me. I threw my head back as his pace grew quicker. I moaned and gripped the sheets beneath me. I looked up at my husband and smiled. He brought his face down to mine and kissed me lovingly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to me. His thrusts went harder and faster, each of us moaning into each other’s mouth. I felt my second orgasm growing closer and I started feeling his thrusts getting sloppy. He kept his pace as best as he could, bringing me to my orgasm.

“Oh!” He moaned with a final thrust. His cock pulsed and I felt him fill me up. Our bodies pressed against each other and we held onto one another. A minute later he pulled out and laid down next to me. Oliver pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply.

“I love you, Mrs. Queen.” He said with a smile.

“I love you too, Mr. Queen.” I said and kissed him again.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @lovelywordsblog

#arrow #arrow imagine #oliver queen #oliver queen smut #oliver queen x reader #oliver queen x fem!reader #fanfic #request #wedding #honeymoon #Smut #arrow smut

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

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Bokuto | Tanaka | Kenma | Nishinoya with an African-American S/O Who Has Traditionally Black Physical Features 🖤

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REQ: can i have like a scenerio with kenma, bokuto, tanaka, and nishinoya with a black s/o with features like a big nose, short curly hair, and bigger boned / thick?

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A/N: These headcannons are for @bananaroach ‘s heartwarming black reader pm request detailing the extent of the bullying, microaggressions and trauma that black women face growing up for our bodies and African features that are often not seen as beautiful.

If you consider yourself an ally to the black community, please make sure that you are checking your ignorance regarding racial micro aggressions toward black females who are not seen as “conventionally attractive” compared to a Caucasian ideal. That being said, I’m so happy to write this fluffy fic and continue to give black hq fans a safe place in this world of anime where a character that looks like us is so incredibly rare. I see you, and I’m with you. Love you ladies. ✊🏾👸🏿🖤

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Kenma Joining Your Wash Day for the First Time 🧖🏾‍♀️

“Y/N, this is the natural state of your hair?” Your boyfriend stood a few feet away from you in his large bathroom looking down at you with curious eyes. You had just put a hair mask in his now shoulder-length hair with a plastic bag over it and he looked adorable.

You used the towel to scrub-dry the other half of your small afro and shyly looked up at him.

“It got smaller than before you wet it,” He ascertained numbly.

You nodded, your heart beating rapidly because this was the first time you were showing your boyfriend your hair unstyled.

“And it.....stands on its own like that? Without the gel that Kuroo uses?”

You nodded again as he stepped closer to you, taking it upon himself to run a hand right through your locks.

“It’s so soft...” he says to himself, leaning forward to bring the shea butter scent of your hair closer to his nostrils. “And smells so good....” he murmurs again to himself.

You place your hands on his waist and dare to ask, “Do you like it?”

Kenma ran another hand through your wet fro before leaning his forehead on yours. “How could I not? It defies gravity without any of those nasty products Kuroo and the guys use. You look hot when it’s coiled up like this. Then when you blow dry it it becomes that big mane again, right?”

You nodded.

“I-I love you both ways, Y/N. You look so beautiful. I’ve never seen hair that can do these things. It’s like....” Your boyfriend stopped to ponder which word he was looking for to describe your natural hair. When it dawned on him, his eyes lit up. “It’s.....no, you’re magic, Y/N.”

You blushed under your boyfriends compliments. Kenma tended to have a monotone voice all of the time—it was just his voice—but when he called you magic, anyone and their grandma could detect the sound of admiration in his tone.

Still with his forehead on yours, he leans in to kiss your wet lips.

You smiled. “Thank you, Kenma baby.”

You reached up to fix the hair strands of his that started to poke out under the plastic bag you put on him.

“Y/N, I want you to walk me through all the steps you do next wash day, okay? I missed some steps because I was playing my game.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, Sure. But, why?”

Earlier today, Kenma had sweetly asked to join in on some universal wash-day steps that you knew all hair textures could do like the hair mask part, but truth be told—his Japanese hair didn’t require all the steps that yours did. It just wasn’t necessary. So why did he need to know all your steps?

Kenma stretched his arms nonchalantly as if the next thing he was going to say wasn’t going to make your heart explode. He blushed.

“One day when we have kids, they’ll have nice hair like yours, right? I want to learn all the steps now. To practice early.”

yep he’s an angel

Hypeman Tanaka Admiring Your Nose 👃🏾

you were standing by yours and Tanaka’s large bedroom window trying to take golden hour selfies

Looking back at them in your camera roll and deleting them, you accidentally criticized your appearance in disgust .... oops

“Babe—you know what I love about you?” Tanaka asked, getting up from the bed to approach you.

“Not this again Tanaka.”

He wrapped his very strong arms around you from behind and chuckled. “I don’t care. I told you that if I hear you complaining about your looks then I get to answer you with all the things I love about you. So that we’re even.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes.”

You gasped because he was behind you so surely he didn’t see your act of attitude. “How did you—?”

He pecked your neck and chuckled again. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years, Y/N. I know all your little quirks. Now...ready?!”

You sighed but inside you were so smitten. There was no use in arguing with him and you knew that because you’d been in love with your boyfriend for years, too.

“Make this quick.”

“Where to start?! I love your eyes, I love your natural hair and your braids, I love your smile, fuck me I love the way you smell....” You giggled when he sniffed your neck knowing you were ticklish there.

Tanaka continued, “I love your curly eyelashes, I love your nose—“

You scoffed involuntarily. Your boyfriend stilled.

“What?” He asked in annoyance.

“You know I hate my nose, Tanaka. It’s huge, flat and—“

Using the same strong arms you love, your boyfriend spun you around so that you were facing him and flush against his body. The movement and the look of extreme sorrow on your boyfriends face stalled your speech. It was rare to see your energetic man so sad.

“—There’s an and? And what?” He questioned.

You closed your mouth.

“And what Y/N? Is it my turn now?”

You just blinked.

Your boyfriend nodded as if you’d said yes. “Your nose is my favourite part about you.” He stared at you intensely so you could see how serious he was. “It’s a natural African-American feature and it completes your face babe. You wouldn’t be you without it which means you wouldn’t be the most gorgeous female to ever grace this earth to me. It’s perfect because everything about you is perfect. Please, stop talking crap about my wife, alright?”

A MAN !!!!!

We stan a praise breddrin

You fought back happy tears because your man was just so magnificent.

Ryuu slid a hand down to your waist. “Now. After that silly interruption. May I continue?”

You nod cutely and Ryuu smacks your ass playfully, returning to his list of things he loves about you.

Nishinoya Loves His Big-Lipped Wifey 💋

your husband Nishinoya and yourself were currently making out in his car like horny teenagers

You had an amazing 1-year of marriage anniversary dinner and Noya only meant to give you a small chaste peck on the lips before starting the ignition and driving home.....

But once his lips met your larger, juicier, much much much softer ones, the other part of his brain took over and before he knew it he was removing both of your seat belts, pressing the button to push his seat back and pulling you into his lap

He couldn’t stop kissing you

Your lips were as soft as silk and he literally just couldn’t stop

He loved everything about his wife, but he can distinctly remember the first time he’d met you because he was docking your boat at the marina he worked at

You were wearing big circular sunglasses and a floppy sunhat, so most of your face was covered, but your lips were on display for him and—it wasn’t fair how much you affected him

Your lips were glossy from the light layer of Vaseline you’d put on and your future-husband at the time was weakened by the look of them

Yes Nishinoya is a horn dog but he wasn’t thinking about your lips in a sexual way when he first saw you, he just thought that was a very attractive part of your face—much like how you’d see a pair of captivating eyes.

On the dock, you had to snap your fingers in front of his face before he fell over into the water

When you had returned the next day for boating help again he got to see you without the hat and sunglasses and he was relieved that you were beyond beautiful. Your impeccable lips were only a bonus

The greatest bonus, because he could kiss them

When you two kissed for the first time after the first date, Yuu found it very difficult to pull away because your lips were so fucking soft

But he had to because he needed you to see him as gentleman

That didn’t mean he didn’t absentmindedly have his finger on his lip when he was driving home, when he was watching tv and before he fell asleep because he was recalling how good your lips felt on his

You left his lips tingling and he’d never experienced that

he would have a make out session with you every hour if you let him

Now, two years later in your husbands car, Noya felt no different—except for the fact that now you knew how much he fancied your lips

“Mm, baby, come back.” Your Nishi whined as you pulled away from the kiss. His eyes were still closed and he looked so disappointed from the loss of contact.

“We’re in a parking lot, Noya....”

He shook his head, eyes still closed. “Think I care?” He grabbed the nape of your neck and brought your head back to him, kissing you so deeply you would have lost your ability to lock your knees if you were standing up. Noya stopped for one second, needing to tell you one thing. “I love you so much, Y/N. Every bit of you, baby. I wish I could marry you everyday.”

You smiled and leaned in to return the same passionate kiss he’d just given you.

Bokuto the Thick Thigh Simp 🤤

“You’re killing me, babe.” Your man groaned and slumped in his waiting chair when you stepped out of the dressing room once more. You were trying on booty shorts for him because you both were going on a trip to the Bahamas in two weeks.

“Bokuto, do you like these ones or not?!”

He looked at you pointedly.

his face was like: duh mf.

“Do I like tight shorts on the hottest girl I’ve ever seen? Turn around.”

You obeyed so he could see the back and you heard your man groan even louder.

“Ugh Yesssss. I love it. Your ass and thighs look amazing. Can I please take you home now?!”

You turned back to face him and placed your hands on your hips. “Bokuto—“

As if on cue, he began his whining.

“It’s not my fault Y/N! You’re shaped like an hourglass! And your thighs.....”

your boyfriend stood up and walked over to you. He didn’t touch you for fear of shoving you back into the dressing room and having his wicked way with you. Instead, he crouched down so that he was eye-level with your dark skin thighs that he worshipped on the daily.

He groaned so loud you could see store workers to the left of you whispering about the provocative sounds.

“Shhhh, Bo, baby....” You ran your hand through his hair, knowing that he was at your mercy right now. He hugged one of your thighs like a little baby would to his mom on the first day of school.

“I can’t shhh, okay?! Didn’t Akaashi tell you when he set up our blind date that I’m a thigh man?!?!”

“More or less.” You muttered, looking down at your little owl. “And did Akaashi tell you I had large thighs?”

“Not well enough, obviously!” He used one large hard to clutch the skin on your thighs and he almost leaned in to bite the smooth skin. “He didn’t tell me that your thighs were this thick or this fucking nice babe. He didn’t tell me that once you’d come out of your house in that red dress that showed your curves you’d own me for life?! I might have ran for the hills if I knew.” He looked up at you from below with a pout. You laughed, running your hands through his hair some more.

“You know when I was younger I was made fun of by classmates or over sexualized by older men for my body, right?”

Your koala boyfriend leaned his head on your thigh as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Any sick fuck who sexualizes an underage girl deserves to run in traffic. I wish I met any of them today I wouldn’t hesitate to break their jaws.” He looked up at you and waited until you made eye contact. “But I’m sorry you went through that, Y/N. You didn’t deserve it. As for all the people who made fun of you.....” Kōtarō stood up to his full height and you had to crane your neck to see him. Even though you were bigger-boned than most women your age, you felt small and perfectly feminine with your fineass man.

“Those fools were just dumb because they didn’t appreciate the curvy figure until it became popular. I, on the other hand, was tugging my dick in the shower to the idea of having a girlfriend that looked half as good as you do.”

“Bokuto! Stop saying stuff like that in public—“

He frowned, not knowing what part was bad. “Sorry. I’m just saying that you were my dream girl before you were the world’s babe. These guys are late as fuck. You’re a 10 based off appearance-only and your personality just takes you off the charts for me. A 500 out of 10, we’ll say.”

You put your hands on your mans strong chest as you backed him up. “Thank you, Bo....” You smiled but you could see his eyes darkening just talking about your body and as much as it made you want to jump him—this was not the time. Nor the place.

He pouted again as you backed him up so you threw your puppy a bone.

“I’ll pay for this and then we can go home and have some fun, okay?!”

Bokuto’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “I love you so much.” He said. “Take my credit card, Princess.”

#nishinoya x you #yū nishinoya #black reader #hq black reader #haikyu requests #tanaka ryunosuke #tanaka x y/n #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu boys #hq headcanons #hq headcannons #kenma kozume #african american reader #black lives matter #black anime

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