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torawro · 8 days

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WHEN BLADES CLASH, SO DO HEARTS. ( r. z. )

roronoa zoro & bounty hunter!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman who is on the thicker / curvier side but you do not have to imagine it that way ! you are free to imagine the reader how you wish. canon divergent au (lowkey implied post-timeskip -> zoro is still a bounty hunter and never became a pirate). bc it's canon divergent, zoro will have both eyes (i know, i know). mentions and descriptions of alcohol consumption. canon-typical violence (i.e., mentions of weapons). light(ish) descriptions of blood & injuries. so much [sexual] tension between reader and zoro that it's palpable. contains sexually explicit content including smut (descriptions of it from an omniscient pov). gets kinda poetic at the end but y’all already knew that was coming. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 4.8k

notes ━━ ! my first published one piece fic on my blog . . . you'd think the first one would be about law since my current theme revolves around him but alas, this swordsman was prominent in my mind…i did lose motivation at some point but i still pushed through. this fic was originally something i drafted up to serve as the prologue for a much longer fic i'm writing (no hints, sorry < 3). and i thought writing this purely for contextual purposes would help with that longer story, but in the process it just turned into something else all on its own skskkskks so this is a modified version of that blurb. obvs this is also my first time officially writing for zoro so i’m a little nervous and to be honest, i’m not sure if i even like how this turned out…..regardless, i hope i portrayed him well enough (pls be gentle with me) >< also wanna dedicate this fic to naj, a mutual of mine who became a friend, but unfortunately deactivated her blog some time ago. she's been helping me with this drabble and the longer story i plan to write and i really appreciate her. reblogs + commentary are GREATLY appreciated ♡!!!

SHAKING OFF THE GRAVELLY SAND that haphazardly clung to the fabric of your pants, with little effort and practiced precision, you swiftly returned a large metal rod back into a black carrying bag before swinging the straps over your right shoulder. Rolling your arms to relieve some of the tension that resided in them proved to be a little painful, leading you to conclude that you most likely pulled a muscle somewhere when fighting the unknown men who had just attacked you.

Said men were now lying unconscious on the ground, hardly breathing and within an inch of their lives.

You didn’t kill them ━no, of course not ━ that would be a fruitless endeavor. Besides, you were well aware that your energy would be well-spent elsewhere, like searching for the next poor soul that had a bounty looming over their head. You were like a hunting dog, the scent of your next target set in front of you by the wanted posters littered around in each city or island you traveled to. Much like how the grim reaper awaited in the shadow of someone who stood inches away from the gates of death, you too would bide your time until the right moment to strike.

You took pride in the fact that the glint of your weapon would be the last thing that reflected in the eyes of your target.

The end result of your fight, if you could even call it that, was as chilling as the evening breeze that was brought forth by the wading waves of the ocean. You have made your mark on the flesh of these men, reopening some old wounds and creating new ones that would certainly scar forever. On levels of the skin and of the spirit.

With a heavy sigh, you adjusted your bag again as you walked towards the cluster of little lights nestled beyond the trees, within them existed this main island’s largest town. Your facial muscles didn’t so much as twitch as the pointed heel of your boots dug into the skin of your unconscious assailants— thinking nothing of their drowsy, muffled grunts of pain or the stark contrast between stepping over doughy bodies versus stepping on the hard earth.

The waxing crescent moon only slightly illuminated the dirt road as you made your way to the populated village, occasionally swatting away a fly or two. Soon enough, the mouth of the semi-dense woods opened up to reveal a wide gravel road. Across the opening was a bridge that stood over a flowing stream, and beyond that was the town. It was a cluster of buildings of varying heights lined up neatly street by street.

Lamps hung on every corner, street pole and ledge that would allow it, bathing all that rested under them in a pale yellow glow. It was quite pretty at night if you were being honest; and judging by its looks and atmosphere, you were sure that they’d have a nice inn around somewhere.

But first, a drink. And some food, you added as an afterthought, but mostly a drink. Your body could use a bit of external help to unwind after spending the last few days at sea.

It didn’t take you all that long to find out where the town’s bar was located, and you wasted no time ascending the steps that led to the double swinging doors. The clacking of your boots against the wooden floors upon entering the establishment were more or less drowned out by the chatter of the rugged-looking individuals who more or less made themselves at home.

And yet, despite the dozens of conversations that bounced off the walls of the tavern, the stares of everyone whose line of vision you crossed seemed to be louder. Much louder than any fit of raucous laughter or profane shout that surrounded you.

Your ears were even able to pluck out a few conversations. Hushed inquiries of familiarity, musings of what could possibly be in that bag dangling on your back, how the pants you wore emphasized the fat of your ass just right━ all things you let roll off your back and pretended not to hear.

If it weren’t for your more reserved nature, you would have slashed that the throat of the man who made that salacious comment the moment it left his dried lips.

You took a random seat at the bar, not really paying attention to who sat on either side of you. Placing the cowboy-style hat you wore next to you and your belongings at your feet, you patiently awaited for the bartender to make her way down to where you sat.

As you waited, you crossed your legs, one fleshy thigh over the other, absentmindedly twirling one of the bulky silver rings that encased your middle finger as you wondered what drink you were in the mood for today.

It wasn’t until several moments later, when your body and mind stilled enough, that you’d take notice.

Something felt . . . weird. ‘Off’ was probably a better word for the strange weight that suspended itself over your muscles. Whatever it was, whatever feeling or presence you sensed, it had your fingers twitching towards your bag laying idly against the table. And it only continued to linger in the air as the minutes dragged by.

The sound of the barkeep’s voice pulled you back into the plane of reality and away from the realm of your overactive mind. “What’ll ya be having tonight, honey?” She was an older woman, probably around the age of fifty but looked much younger, had deeply tanned skin, and peppered black and white hair that was pulled into a bun and rested at the base of her neck.

“Hmmm . . . whatever your best cocktail is, I’ll just have that.”

With a nod and an amused smile at you allowing her to have free reign, the barkeep turned around, set a shaker aside, and got to work preparing a drink of her choice to serve to you.

Then, something flashed in your peripheral vision.

It was so fleeting that you could have easily dismissed it as nothing had you not been on somewhat high alert already. It flickered in the reflection of the metal canisters that sat along the back wall of the bar. And whatever it was managed to startle you enough to jump start the pulse in your chest into a panicked overdrive so fierce that you heard it in your ears.

The frantic beating of your heart never showed on your face, however━ your expression remained neutral. It needed to be for a woman in your line of work. Perhaps especially because you were a woman in your line of work.

Without any warning or indication, the cold sensation of polished steel licked and nipped at the warmth residing in your neck. The sharpened end of a blade rested on the jugular of your throat, pressed firmly enough that if you moved forward even a little bit, a stain from your blood would surely blossom on the katana.

“You…” a deep male voice spoke, sounding rough and rugged all around its edges. The rest of the pub seemed to fall silent at the man’s utterance of that one word, rather than his blatant display of threatening you with a sword. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes were the only thing that moved. Slowly, with a frosty gleam underlining your gaze, your eyes landed on the sword’s master, his name immediately flashing in your mind. His reputation as a bounty hunter sent a chill down the spines of both marines and pirates alike. Residents all over the four seas feared his name, and his name alone could cause people to question if the threads of their lives would be severed by the piercing edge of his sword.

“Roronoa Zoro….” Your tone was leveled and held an air of disinterest as you talked. You spoke as if you were tasting the very syllables of his name, taking the time to roll each combination of letters against your tongue. They tumbled from your lips with a smoothness you weren’t entirely opposed to━ it was almost pleasant, if you were being honest with yourself.

A practice you didn't normally engage in.

Upon identifying the swordsman aloud, a short wave of hushed gasps from the customers surrounding you filled the air. With speeds that almost seemed abnormal, the long metal pole resting in your black bag suddenly ended up in your grasp, one end of it hovering several inches away from Roronoa's neck; such speeds even caught the mint-haired swordsman off guard. “Getting a drink, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

Before he could even part his lips to reply, the piercing shing! of steely iron being brandished cut through the thick tension that settled in between you. A long and heavily curved blade abruptly emerged from the blackened rod in your right hand, and oh so conveniently arced around Roronoa's neck, momentarily silencing him.

The weapon you carried was a scythe, one with a retractable blade meant to disarm your opponent’s perception and therefore hinder their judgment. A scythe that was reminiscent of the tool Death used to carry out his grisly duties of executing souls and dragging them to hell.

In this position with the scythe’s blade practically wrapped around his throat, if need be you could swiftly behead him, or at least mutilate him; judging by how quickly he unsheathed his katana, his reflexes were pretty sharp. Still, the potential ease of killing Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro— in addition to the mild bewilderment reflecting in his eyes and the patrons’ silent gasps once they pieced together who you were— caused your lips to tick upwards, but your countenance remained otherwise stoic.

“And I’m assuming you’re here for the same reason. That, or you just couldn’t get enough of me during our last battle, and you tracked me down for more.”

Your previously dry tone had somehow morphed into one with an airy lilt, followed by a quiet chuckle that bubbled in your chest when you saw Roronoa's brows twitch and deepen with ire at your subtly teasing words.

You were referring to the last time you saw the swordsman on some obscure island that took root in the Grand Line; an island whose name currently escaped your memory. With you being a bounty hunter as well, your job was the only reason why your paths have crossed so often, and why you have come to know Roronoa on a more personal level such as this. Each time your gazes clashed, it would always result in an inevitable battle, which indirectly fanned the flames of an unspoken competition between the two of you.

If his current expression was anything to go by, this bar may very well be your next battlefield. “You lost that fight, remember?” He emphasized his point by digging the sharp edge of his blade a little further into your neck, the increased pressure causing your eyebrow to all but twitch, “Or did I hit you too hard last time we fought, and now you’re suffering from long-term memory loss?”

The edges of an insufferable smirk curled at Roronoa's lips— one that conveyed his confidence in his abilities and matched the glint in his eyes that began to grow hungry for a brawl. And now, the corners of your own lips broke into a small, amused smile— or perhaps it would be more accurately referred to as a sneer— and you responded by mirroring his earlier movements.

Pressing the sharp end of your scythe into the back of his neck, the blade was met with the resistance of the corded muscle residing there, and your gaze eagerly drank in the brief glimmer of pain that was but a ripple across his arrogant expression.

“I didn’t lose that fight. It was a draw, at best. Seems like you must not remember the excessive blood loss on your end. But anyhow, tell me something pirate hunter…” You uncrossed your legs to stand up and took one step closer towards Roronoa, careful not to let his sword further nick your skin even though it was already dangerously close to you, “How many bounties have you collected since we last saw each other? Three? Two? One?”

Your voice descended further into a teasing whisper, and Roronoa's indignation only grew with each number you hurled at him.

The samurai didn’t take your tone lightly, and perceived your step forward as something of a challenge, one that his nerves and heart and bones pleasantly vibrated to the sound of. So he too took a step forward, away from the piercing curve of your scythe that hung behind him like a shadow.

Roronoa was a little taller than you were, so meeting his gaze meant angling your neck upwards whilst he simultaneously moved his face an inch closer to yours. “You think you’re hot shit, huh? Try five, sweetheart.”

Your nostrils flared involuntarily at his bold claim, and something . . . something warm prickled underneath your skin at his referral to you as sweetheart. For some reason, that word━ especially coming from his lips━ was a bit harder to ignore compared to other comments about you from this bar's patrons. And what they said was far more conflicting than a simple term of endearment; even if the 'endearment' in question was so obviously meant to be condescending.

“Is that right? You think you're such a badass, don't you?"

"That's 'cause I am."

Roronoa's mocking sneer was punctuated with a step forward into your space this time; any closer and the front of your clothes might graze each other. The swordsman pushed the boundaries once more by adding a little more force onto the grip of his katana, enough to finally break the bonds of your umber tinted skin.

A barely decipherable noise of amusement and veneration rumbled in his chest when your blood dripped on the length of his sword, but your reaction was nothing more than an involuntary clench in your facial muscles.

"Yeah?" You questioned him with a glare and a tilt of your head in the direction of his blade that uncomfortably sat at the opening of your skin. The tightness in your voice was meant to goad him, but it also contained the sparks of a challenge━ and of something else you didn't want to identify━ that ignited in the pit of your stomach with an increasing amount of fervor.

"Yeah." His voice descended a little lower into a place that killed the next sentence on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes then narrowed as you held Roronoa's taupe gaze, his overconfident words floated in the silent air between you like a speck of smoldering ash, ready to burst into something more intense and fierce the moment it touched the ground.

Then you shifted your cold gaze elsewhere, opting to let it lazily roam around the room. Everyone was staring at the both of you with uneasy expressions and anxious stares. You could tell that even at the slightest movement from either you or the swordsman would cause the panic bubbling beneath their skin to flood forth in waves.

If there was one thing about you, you preferred to be to discreet. It made your job a whole lot easier, and more enjoyable in the long run.

A hummed vibrated behind your plump lips and your glare returned to his. "Let's take this outside, swordsman. I'd hate to ruin this nice lady's establishment with scuff marks and your blood."

Roronoa huffed a scoff, the amused smirk from before uncurled into something more animalistic. "That's funny. But sure, I'm down. When I defeat you and spill your blood on the ground, it'll make perfect fertilizer for those little plants I saw outside."

You huffed at his cocky attitude and accompanied it with a roll of your eyes. Your stare pierced him for a moment longer before you rescinding it, along with your scythe that was still outstretched towards him. The mint haired swordsman followed suit after another beat or so.

"That's about as likely as a fish growing legs and walking on land." Your voice was thick with sarcasm as you fished out a cotton pouch from your bag; it was small in size, but heavy with Berry. As you slipped out a couple of bills to pay for the drink that sat idly forgotten at your seat, another hand forcefully placed several bills down on the counter.

That hand belonged to Roronoa. You had to force yourself from letting your irises linger too long, or else you'd start thinking about how rugged, calloused, and veiny it looked.

With a newfound general annoyance at both him and yourself, you proceeded to present the bills to the bartender, who looked as if she was one muscle twitch away from ducking under the table behind the counter. You offered something similar to a sympathetic smile to assuage whatever she was feeling.

"Don't bother." Roronoa called out.

When you turned around to greet his voice, he was sheathing the sword that he previously drawn and made his way to the entrance of the pub.

"What are you talking about?" As you inquired, the swordsman still allowed his back to face you, hardly pausing to properly address you.

"I said, don't bother." he repeated in a stern tone, as if that was going to elucidate exactly what he meant, "Now come on. I'm itching to cut you down so I can go lay down."

And without adding anything further, Roronoa eventually exited the bar and disappeared behind the doors.

You were starting to lose count of how many times you narrowed your eyes at the green-haired man, but your stare━ both equal parts vexed and confused━ rested on the doors he had just walked through as if glaring at them long or hard enough would summon him again.

With a sigh, you turned back to the thin stack of Berry he left on the table, eyeing it suspiciously. You weren't sure what he ordered or how much of it, but it look like quite a bit of money he'd just randomly tossed next to you.

Was he insinuating . . . . that he paid for both of your drinks? Could this be what he meant when he told you not to bother, because he already covered it? Such a gratuitous act of kindness, something seemingly so simple caused that weird fluttering to bounce against the walls of your stomach again.

Picking up your bag, you continued to poke and dissect his actions in an attempt find meaning in them as you tipped the barkeep, once more ignoring the stares of nearly every person in that building as you left.

The moment your heeled boots dug themselves into the ground, your peripheral vision was bombarded with something being swung in your direction at high speeds. Before you could even process what it was, you instinctively leapt out of the way, your neck jerking backwards to further avoid the object.

A grunt filled your ears, already knowing the origin of the sound. "Nice reflexes."

You exhaled an exasperated breath of air, turning your gaze to meet that of the mint-haired swordsman who had begun to unsheathe a second sword out of the three scabbards hanging from his hip.

"Can I at least breathe first? Set my stuff down perhaps?" You asked wryly, almost unimpressed, but you didn't waste any time removing the straps of your bag to set it down on a nearby barrel, still cursing the pirate hunter under your breath all the same.

"Didn't know you were that eager to eat dirt." The familiar hiss of your scythe's blade erecting from the rod sent a pleasurable chill up your arms. You held your weapon tightly at your side, your grasp around its length tightening ever still when Roronoa began to square his stance. Even when you were several feet away from him, you could still clearly see the crease in his brows becoming more prominent; he began to resemble some kind of beast.

But that glimmer in his eyes held no real fire in them━ at least not the one that would lead to anger; one could even say it was one of wild excitement. The swordsman already knew his thirst for a worthwhile fight would be sufficiently quenched once more.

"Shut up." With a grunt, Roronoa pushed off the balls of his feet to launch himself into a powerful sprint towards you. It was clear he wanted to close as much distance between the two of you as quickly as possible. His movements were reminiscent of his brief display of swordplay earlier in the bar, where he was one swipe away from slitting your throat.

He was fast, but the gritty and often dangerous nature of your job honed your reflexes to be faster.

Your spine bended as you briskly leaned backwards to dodge the double swipe of Roronoa's katanas. The sound of the sharp blades cutting through the very air around you. With it only inches away from your nose, it was enough to replace the blood pumping through your veins with pure adrenaline.

Using the momentum from your quick dodge, you allowed your back to curve into a bridge and kicked upwards into a backflip to move out of the way━ the corners of your lips twitched into a satisfied grin when you felt your foot collide with his jaw and chin.

Once you were upright again, you wasted no time lunging forward in a sprint, you body much lower to the ground than Roronoa's was. Your plan was to slash his legs to throw him off balance, but that plan quickly evaporated like smoke due to his quick recovery and immediate realization of what you were doing.

"Tch." Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in annoyance when the swordsman was able to leap in the air in time to avoid your attack. He was high enough that you had to crane your neck to see. With that much height, the next blow was sure to be one with quite a bit of force behind it.

"Two-Swords Style, Nigiri...." The swordsman's orotund voice descended far from where he was suspended in midair, and you braced yourself for his next attack, "....Tower Climb Return!"

The following clash of piercing steel against metallic iron was deafening, swallowing up any other noise that reverberated around you. The sheer impact of Roronoa's attack created a thin ring of dust that encircled both your figures and violently buzzed against the pole of your scythe.

You gritted your teeth to remain footed into the ground, but the force was too much, and that shit-eating grin nearly unfurling at his lips was too annoying. It shook the steadiness in your legs and caused you to tumble back by several yards. By steeling your thighs and calves you willed yourself not to fall, huffing with effort and frustration.

It hadn't even been that long since you've last fought Roronoa, could he really have made noticeable improvements in a short amount of time?

Regardless of the answer, you weren't about to allow him the chance to prove himself.

The both of you then darted at each other again, your motions a bit more cutthroat this time, and a newborn determination to strike down the pirate hunter further fed the burning adrenaline that coursed through your body.

Reaching your arm backwards, you performed a horizontal slash that Roronoa parried almost instantly. With effortless control and graceful dexterity, you reached both arms behind your back and twirled your scythe between your fingers, shifting the weapon from one hand to the other, and attempted to cut him again.

He blocked that attack as well, the tip of the blade just inches away from his left eye. You saw something moving fast in your peripheral vision, and immediately jumped backwards to avoid the katana that was about to release your intestines from the confines of your stomach.

It was always a pain fighting Roronoa because he wielded multiple swords at once, which means battles with him were more drawn out than they needed to be.

You lunged at him once more, and began to administer a barrage of horizontal, vertical and diagonal slashes in rapid succession. Your constant switching from one hand to the other, in addition to its length and the impressive control you exerted over your limbs, you were able to create a variety of fluid, long and short-range attack patterns, barely allowing Roronoa enough time to parry.

The moss-haired swordsman was keeping up with the relentless flurry of your attacks quite well━ for a short while at least. Roronoa lost himself in his own inner monologue of searching for an opening wide enough to immobilize you, and before long, a red cut blossomed on his semi-exposed chest, the injury lazily drooling blood.

The amount of cuts both deep and shallow began to increase, tearing his skin asunder under the weight of your blows. Your scythe repeatedly made contact with the elongated ha of his katana as well as his tanned flesh, but it wasn't enough to deter him completely.

It should have been though, but the many encounters you've had with Roronoa reminded you that he was no ordinary man.

Within that bombardment of the numerous slices and projectile slashes of your scythe Roronoa had found a millisecond of respite, and used that brief pause to leap backwards and put some distance in between you two.

You weren't able to hear the aching cry from the muscles in your arms until after you halted your attack, but the adrenaline flickering in your gaze still raced around your irises unceasingly. Roronoa's own gaze was hard and unyielding, glistening with something you couldn't discern from where you stood. But even so, your body somehow knew to feel like malleable putty under his stare; it's as if it was instinctual.

And again your blades clashed against one another, a steady rhythm rose from the cacophony of noises that were generated from your battle with the swordsman. Your laborious breaths became synchronized with each other, heavy and full of effort. The thin splatters of blood became homogeneous with each other as the both of you took turns cracking each other's skin open. Your limbs moved about and against his in a deft fashion and every nerve in your body reacted to his.

So much so, you didn't even realize when it happened.

Your duel with Roronoa had been in the forefront of your mind entirely that you hadn't actively processed the moment when your ragged breaths turned to breathy pants. Nor did you realize the moment it was no longer a scythe and katanas clashing, but wet lips and warm extremities instead. That same glint that shimmered in your eyes all evening never faded even then; it still twinkled through the murky mist of lust that clouded yours and Roronoa's vision.

Whenever your eyes collided with that of Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, an inescapable battle would always ensue━ it was tried and true, and it felt more like a promise. It was also true, although not externally expressed, that your fight with the mint-haired man was one that neither of you even wanted to evade.

With each brawl you learned something new about Roronoa, and you were repeatedly met with the reality and veracity of his skills, his reputation full-force. And when your brawl eventually led to the languid but hungry removal of each other's clothes, you learned more about Zoro, and the emotions hiding underneath his taut and rugged body. This learning curve was both all-consuming and tenderhearted, and you couldn't help but shiver at the fact you were the only one who could witness it.

And what good is a fight if he didn't learn from and about his opponent as well? Each new thing he unearthed about you was an incentive to further indulge your soft and fleshy curves, and observe how they seamlessly molded with firm, corded muscle. Completely unexpected, Zoro had become utterly fascinated with the warmth that resided under your icy, expressionless glare.

And when Zoro peeled back a new layer, when his lips hovered over an uncharted area of your skin━ hot, breathy, filled with groans of expletives intertwined with your name━ when the grip of his calloused fingers and his heavy cock simultaneously dug deeper into you, one leg dangling haphazardly off his shoulder, when your bodies meshed just like that, you moaned━ you knew you didn't want to stop fighting with him.

Again and again and again with each thrust, each roll of his hips, each sightless grope of your body, you knew you would gladly continue participating in this unspoken competition. You'd proudly don cuts and bruises if it meant you and you alone could have Roronoa Zoro like this. You'd keep at it with enthusiasm if it meant that your hearts would always collide so wholly with each other, not being able to tell where his ended and yours began.

( # ) @icy-spicy @godjo @tetzoro @triangularz @pookiesatoru

#໒꒱ newborn stand ─ sosa’s filez #one piece #op fanfic #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece zoro #one piece smut #black fem reader #zoro x black reader #zoro x female reader #roronoa zoro smut #op smut #one piece x black!reader #zoro x black fem reader #wow it feels so weird posting after a long while that i almost forgot how to do this LMAO

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notapradagurl7 · 2 months

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Thinkin’ Bout You.

BlackFem!/Plus Size Reader x Joey Bada$$.

Summary: You and Joey were roommates in your apartment and coming back from the summer break, he helped you put your stuff up into in your room until he brought up the one-night stand that happened between the two of you on the day before summer break.

Taglist: @henneseyhoe @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @siqueth @caashmoneynae @avoidthings @sageispunk @cvpidvsq @soft-persephone @life-in-the-slut-house @kindofaintrovert @hxneyclouds @meech667 @last-lost-one @lesbiantreehugger @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @euphorichappiness10 @swavydadon @thecookiebratz @kayla-charmanderrr96 @kaywopp @euphoriagrae @blackelysian @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @myadalastdon @desiresiwant @moihasarrived @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @harmshake @vile-harlot @suckmybigtoe2 @browngirldominion @thecapodomme @daprettycancer @ingeniestrance @roeroe-world @babybratzmaraj @kprivqooo

( Requested by @naj-ay444 )

A/N: don't forget to reblog, comment and like to support your favorite writers.

Warnings: PWP, praise, dirty talk, degradation kink, spanking, straight-up fifth, profanity, erotic asphyxiation/choking, nipple play, facesitting, consensual for both parties, confession. Unprotected sex(wrap it up)

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Your deep brown eyes fixed on the brown dresser with your hands steadily moving the small books in place and organizing a few personal items, the subtle grunt from your roommate made you spin on your sock-covered feet. The man walked across the medium-sized bedroom with a box in his hand, the walls surrounding them were painted in sage green and decorated with small framed pictures of art.

“Do you need help with the box JoJo?” You asked in concern, raising your brows at him.

Your black locs were held up a bun, your dark brown skin and brown eyes. Your curvy body, sported a black shirt, sweatpants, and socks that matched in color. Your hands stuffed in your pockets.

You watched Joey carry the last box into your bedroom, he grunted as he lifted the box and your eyes saw his muscles flexing, the moonlight dancing on his dark skin. Butterflies flew in her stomach, your face grew warm from gazing at him.

Jo-Vaughn shook his head and replied, "Nah, I got it. Just trying to be a good roommate and good friend, you know?"

"Well, I appreciate it. It's nice to have some help after coming back from break. I missed our little apartment." You chuckled lightly, your eyes roaming the place.

"So do I, it's good to be back in our domain, I’ll be back shorty, I’m gonna put this box away” Joey mentioned kindly, nodding in agreement.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, your mind racing with memories of that passionate night before summer break. The two of you lived together in the apartment for almost 6 years, it was a comfortable and familiar space.

You worked at your job while Joey was working as well, spent your evenings smoking a blunt or two, shared laughter and late-night conversations.

“Okay, I'll be right here.” You mentioned back to him, leaning against the wall.

But now, as you stood in your bedroom, the weight of that night hung heavy in the air. Would things go back to normal? Could you pretend like it never happened? The questions swirled in your mind, threatening to consume you.

He opened the box and picked the rod and light green curtains, Jo-Vaughn carefully hooked the light green curtains on the sliver pole of her small square-shaped window, gently pulling them apart and closing the curtain.

Jo-Vaughn sported a white tank top with matching sweatpants, and a gold chain swang around his neck. The pants sagged a bit, showing off his boxers.

He thought about that night with you as well, he dicked you down like he had something to prove.

He picked up the empty box and gently folded it thin, walking out of your room. He stepped into the empty room that either of you lived in, setting it down in the back closet, before walking into your room.

Turning his attention back to you. His dark eyes met yours as he walked through the door of your room. The tension hung in the air between the two of you.

“There’s somethin’ I need to ask you Y/N, it’s really important.” He replied in a soft tone, biting down his lip.

“You know you can tell me anything Joey,” You reassured him firmly, having a feeling about what he was going to ask you.

His black locs styled in two-strand twists gradually swayed as he sat down on the edge of your bed, his brown eyes locked with yours.

“Do you remember the night between us at Gemma’s party before summer break?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath hitched at his words, the memories flooding back to you in vivid detail. The way his hands had roamed your body, Joey dicked you down so good, the way his lips pressed against yours, the handprint he left on your ass, You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as you met his gaze.

"Of course, I remember," you replied softly, fiddling with your fingernails. Your eyes moved from the floor then back to him.

You paused, your heart racing a bit as you remembered the night they had shared. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Joey, we said we wouldn't bring it up," you reminded him softly, your voice firm yet gentle.

Jo-Vaughn nodded while pursing his lips briefly, his eyes locked with yours again. But he was falling with you, butterflies flew in his stomach whenever he was around you.

“I know, I know but I can't stop thinkin’ 'bout you, the way your body squirmed under me, those pretty faces you've made while I was eatin’ you out and those moans you made, drove me crazy,” Jo-Vaughn admitted, his voice raised an octave.

For the first time, he was speechless and didn’t know what else to say. Jo-Vaughn was tongue-tied every time he was around you. The admission caught you off guard. You had expected him to brush it off, to act like it didn't matter.

As the memory flooded, you could feel the familiar heat pooling between your thick thighs. You tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on the present moment.

“Being this close to you, it’s driving me crazy..” He murmured, moving his locs from his face.

You have a clear recollection of the party night right before summer break, where both you and Gemma were invited and decided to have a good time before embarking on a trip together.

After consuming a few alcoholic beverages while sitting together on the couch, you rose to your feet and seized his hand, drawing him towards you and onto the dance floor. The intoxicating effect of the liquor had swiftly emboldened you.

You used to be reserved and hesitant when meeting new people, and even among those you were familiar with, you only revealed your true character.

The smooth R&B played through the ebony twin speakers, the smell of weed, cologne, and perfume hung in the air, Joey and you found yourselves dancing closely, the heat of the bodies in the crowded room adding to the intensity of the moment. The way his hands moved along your curves, the way his lips brushed against your neck.

The way his eyes bore into yours, pulling him closer to your face, breath fanning across each other's faces, a subtle mix of alcoholic fruity punch and candy.

Your heads leaned in gradually, lips meeting in a soft, yet passionate kiss. The music faded as the connection between the two of you intensified, lip-locking and tongue-kissed you sloppily, his hands roaming down your curves and gripping your ass with your permission.

Eventually, the two of you made your way through the hallways of Gemma’s house, stumbling through the door with drunk laughter and teasing remarks like “I can't believe we just did that" and "I hope Gemma didn't see us."

Once inside the bedroom next to Gemma’s and clothes were tossed out haphazardly. The sound of your moans and the bed creaking fills the room.

“I'm pretty sure she saw you shoving your tongue down my throat,” You replied in a sarcastic tone, chuckling at him.

“Oh? She did? Can I shove somethin’ else down yo’ throat,” Joey teased back, biting down on his lips.

"Is that so?" You smirked, playfully pulling him close. "Well, you'll have to earn that privilege again."

Joey chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Challenge accepted."

The memory of that night flooded your mind, the way Joey had taken charge and pleasured you in ways you had never experienced before.

After that night, the two of you made your way back to the apartment. Sleeping softly in your bed with Joey, the memories of the night etched in both of your brains. The hangover took over immediately.

Even though you and Joey maintained your friendship and spent time together, you harbored hidden feelings and desired a deeper connection with him.

“I hoped that it wouldn't be weird between us, sex made it worse Joey.”

“I don't just want sex from you, I only want you Y/N.”

He rose from the bed and approached you, maintaining a respectful distance as his gaze traced the contours of your body, lingering on your curves and dips.

You had already crossed the line with him at the party that night, knowing deep down that there was no way to undo what had happened.

"I secretly wanted this to be more with you and I couldn't stop thinking about you either,” you confessed lovingly, her lips forming into a playful grin.

Joey’s grin rested on his face, stepping closer to you, their bodies almost touching. The sexual tension hung in the air, he brought his face a bit closer. His breath fanned across your face, a mix of peppermint and weed.

“What’s stopping you Y/N?” He asked seductively, smirking at the woman.

Your face gradually leaned into his, closing the gap between them, your lips pressed against his, soft and plump just like you remembered. Tilting their heads on opposite sides together, only to deepen the kiss between them.

Wrapping your arms around him as he did the same, his lips were soft against hers, backing away from the wall only to gently plop on her bed, you on top of him which he adorned, he loved how you took control. The kiss ended with a soft smack, his hand roaming up your tank top, feeling no bra underneath.

It didn't block the friction when his fingers tugged at your nipples, “Your nipples are already hard," he whispered, his tongue flicking onto your nipple, wrapping his arm around him.

His plump lips suckling on your nipple while his freehand hand fondled your left breast. Your essence trickling down your thigh to his tip, Joey moaned at the feeling.

Sliding both of their tank tops off and sweatpants, their underwater as well, throwing them across the bedroom floor, now they were out of the way.

His hand roamed between your thighs, “May I?” he asked gently, you nodded quickly, “Yes, baby please..” you murmured, his middle finger and ring finger gently rubbing your wet folds.

You let out a soft moan, feeling your body respond to his touch. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, you needed him inside of you. To feel him again, he was yours and you were his. “You’re grippin’ my fingers already..” He groaned against your neck.

Your hands balled up in the blanket, Joey kissed your neck, collarbone and decorated your dark brown skin with hickeys, his fingers moved in and out of your entrance, and your hips rolled with the teasing pace. he smirked at your reaction. “Jo-Vaughnnn!” you screamed.

“Look at you, pleasurin’ yourself with my fingers. Such a muh’fuckin’ nasty girl, feels good?” He teased again, picking up the pace with his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

“Yes, so fucking good..” You whined softly, pouting in response. His fingers pumping into you at a faster pace, your legs shaking and twitching.

You loved how he stayed in rhythm with each heartbeat, your essence splattered over his palm as he watched it spill, putting him in a trace. “I never stopped thinkin’ bout you, you're always on my mind, Y/N”

The fast pace in his fingers and thumb kept going, guaranteed to make you squirt like the last time. “You make me feel so good,

Your legs almost closed from the intensity until you moaned “J-joey! I-cummin!” you screamed in pleasure, your body plunged between the pillows, and he brought his body weight onto yours. Your breast bounced against his chest, the friction you wanted was there.

“Let it out, lemme have it..” Joey praised through your climax, and whispered in your ear. Licking across your neck and nibbling on your ear. Driving you crazy with bliss.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer to you, his lips suckling on your bottom lip, The pleasure zoomed through your body, and prolonged moans escaped from your lips. “Ohmyfuck! Joey!” Your essence gushed on his fingers, a pool in his palm and on the bedsheets. Squirting undone, wrapping his mouth around where squirted and drank more of you.

A mess that made his dick harden and moaned in response, “Look at the mess you made..” he whispered, rubbing your thighs to help you relax.

Slumping against him, he planted a tender kiss on your lips. “You’re so pretty when you cum on me..” he cooed, letting go of your neck. Withdrew his fingers from you.

You heavily panted from the orgasm and smirked, you crawled away from him, lying on your back on the comfortable pillows, seeing him kneel on the bed. With his dick between his legs, your mouth watered at the sight.

“You missed this pussy baby?” You teased, gently spreading your legs apart. Your middle finger rubbed your clit and moaned softly.

Joey's hooded eyes on you, kneeled on the bed, gripping his length in his hand. He wrapped his hand around your neck,

moaning at his dominance, “Hell yeah, I missed that pussy, I'm comin’ in..” He mentioned, pecking your lips.

Watching him stroke his own erection. Precum pouring out of his tip. He groaned raspily from your pussy clenching. He gently pushed his length between your wet folds, you moaned girlishly from your walls wrapping his dick, inch by inch. “Pussy’s too tight, just for me..” he grunted deeply, pushing his hips.

“Oh.. yes! It’s all for you, that dick is for me right?” You asked while cutting yourself off with a moan, growing wetter by a second.

“Fuck yeah, baby girl..this dick is yours..” He groaned lowly, rolling his hips into you. Smacking your ass while he gripped the other asscheek in his hand.

Stroking into you, hitting your G-spot and you screamed in pleasure. "Ah, Ouu!" You moaned loudly, your nails scratched down his back, smacking your ass with one hand.

His hand wrapped around your jaw, making you gaze at him. The bed creaked under your body movement, his thrusts turned sloppy, "Can't speak, dick got your tongue hm?" he hummed, his eyes on you.

Breathless and trembling, your eyes rolled back but words were caught in your throat. He was plowing into you lovingly, his tip kissing your cervix over and over. “Can't s-speak, dick too good baby..” you mumbled, moving your hips with him.

Your essence gushed on his dick completely and your walls hugged around him, finding a happy home to settle in, you were elated to be with him. “I’m so happy to be yours..” he groaned lowly, kissing you.

Nope, you're not imagining it. He just said it to you, “I f-feel the same way baby,” you moaned in response, and your head fell on a pillow.

Your heart thumped out of your chest and threw your head back. Your voice became raspy, and the passion hung in the room. You were close to your climax, your walls tightened around him again. “Coming!” you moaned in response.

Came undone on his dick, coating him like a blanket and he watched every trickle as he pulled out of you, his tip spurted white and landed on your tummy. “Fuck Y/N..” he groaned, hearing groan your name gave you butterflies, You smirked.

You collapsed beside him on the bed, their bodies still humming with desire. Joey pulled you close, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as they caught their breath.

“I love you Y/N..”

“I love you too, Joey..”

After that intimate moment between you two, it was only right that you suddenly fell asleep peacefully, Joey pulled you close to his naked body and the ceiling fan spun in circles. Taking the darkness around the both of you, your locs hung in front of your face. He smiled at you.

"My girl," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours.

As you lay intertwined in the cozy blankets, your bodies wrapped in each other's embrace and your lips gently touching, a tranquil silence filled the air. The outside world slowly slipped away, gradually fading into insignificance as he too succumbed to slumber.

——————

#black!reader #joey bada$$ × black!reader #joey badass #joey badass fic #black fanfiction #joey bada$$#black writer #notapradagurl7

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megamindsecretlair · 8 months

Text

The King and I, Part 4

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT AND ANGST. Mentions of violence, forceful touching. PIV, Fingering and oral (fem receiving) , all consensual. Doesn't follow canon of the movie.

Summary: You hid in your room unwilling to witness any budding love between King Ghezo and his new bride. You hid in your room until you could not take the loneliness anymore and decided to not let this define you. An unexpected conversation allows you to see things differently.

Word Count: 5,636k

A/N: What a way to come back from being sick, I hope I still got it LOL. This one definitely had to marinate because he needed to come correct! I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @gg-trini @eggnox @naj-ay444 @sheepywritesfics @westside-rot @twocentuar @pinkpantheris @tchallasbabymama @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @abeautifulmindexposed @neawarren @monaeesstuff @blackerthings @melaninpov @1-800anklebully @mogul93 @softimgyu @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @softscorpio17 @theunsweetenedtruth @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @badassdoll @kinginwithbreezy-blog @chrishy973 @skyesthebomb @blackelysian @yayasworldview @wakandamama @thadelightfulone

You hated her. You hated everything she represented. You were sick to your stomach at the mere thought of her hands all over him, her laughter making him smile. At the thought of her sitting in “your spot” with the King, watching the sunrise that she’s probably seen a hundred times by now.

You spent the majority of your days in your room avoiding them. You took your meals in your room and spent your days reading or looking out over your balcony. You didn’t care what people thought.

You were a mountain and no one could scale it if you didn’t wish it so. You were unyielding. You were…lonely.

The King had been a saving grace from that loneliness. You finally belonged to someone and that feeling was invaluable to you. Someone would actually care if you fell off the face of the world. Or so you thought.

Tomorrow was the wedding and you were expected to attend, just like the first wife. Was this why she was so silent? Did she silently hate you that whole time? Forced to concede her spot at the table to someone newer, younger?

You sat on your bed with your knees drawn. You stared at the dress you were expected to wear at the wedding. You hated that dress. You wanted to rip it to shreds and throw it at the King’s feet.

The anger and hate felt better than the burning sadness in your chest. How it burrowed. How it ate at every vein and cell in your body. The sadness took everything. It stole your breath, your dreams, and your very will. You cried yourself to sleep every night this week.

Every morning, the King knocked on your door and begged you to listen to him. To talk to him. He asked you if you would kill him today. You were too sad to entertain your little game.

In one fell swoop, he gave you the greatest night of your life and the worst morning you ever lived through.

You couldn’t get over the embarrassment and shame. How everyone stood and looked at you while he introduced…her. They were all in on it, meeting her, and talking to her. No one ever did anything like that for you.

You were tossed like garbage at his doorstep. There was no grand welcoming. Just a sassy eunuch who saw you for the common village girl you were.

Fresh tears fell from your eyes but you wiped them away. Fuck this. You did not break.

You did not break under your Father’s cruel hands and words. You did not break when your Mother begged you to accept the latest farm owner, sheep herder, or market owner who dared ask your Father for your hand in marriage. You did not break when men put their hands on you when your Father wasn’t looking. You did not break when girls in the village would spit on you, tear your hair, or call you names to your face. You did not break when they would trip you and make you spill buckets full of water. You did not break when you had to turn around and go back to the river to fill them up again. You did not break.

You got out of bed and called for your servant. She entered a moment later, eyeing you wearily. You had been icy towards her and her attempts to help. You apologized and she helped you get dressed in a bright orange dress and wrap your hair up in a scarf. You left the room, breathing fresh air for the first time all week.

You did not care if you ran into the King and his new little bride. Let her have him. You only wished he planted a baby inside of you already so that you fulfilled your duty as a wife and he had no more cause to touch you.

You kept your head held high as you made your way to the training grounds. The sounds of clashing swords met you first as you rounded the corner. Even with all these people in the palace, you were still alone.

You took up your post and watched the Agojie run through their training drills. You watched as they sliced up straw dummies. As they practiced with swords. As they drilled, taking each other down. Their ferocity gave you chills.

After they dueled, they always helped each other stand with jokes and a smile. Through sweat and tears, they continued through, bonding in ways you could only look at. Never participate in.

The sun reached its peak, so you decided to move on. You needed to stretch your bones. Feel the grass beneath your feet. Remember that you were somebody before the King and you remain somebody after.

In the palace gardens, you circled the wide space looking at all of the exotic flowers. They bloomed and stretched towards the sun. You walked around the path, scrunching the grass beneath your toes. As far as sensations went, you preferred the sand. Maybe you could visit the sandy beach tonight.

No one cared where you went or what you did. That thought still made you sad but you could also think of it another way. No one was watching you. There was freedom in that. You could move through the halls with no one to gauge your every footfall.

You rounded the base of a thick tree and nearly stepped on the first wife’s hand. “Oh! I’m sorry!” You stepped back and she looked up at you.

She was sitting in the grass with a baby in her lap. Her other son toddled after a butterfly.

“I’ll leave,” you said.

“It’s okay to love him, you know,” she said. You turned back around and looked at her. She adjusted the squirming baby in her arms. You finally recognized that she was breastfeeding.

“What?” You asked.

“It’s okay to love the King.” She continued to adjust the baby until it latched onto a nipple and settled down. She cooed to him and encouraged him. You looked at her face. She still looked as calm and blank as she ever did. This was perhaps the first time you ever heard her speak.

She was silent during the council meetings. Silent at breakfast. At least this answered your questions on if she could even speak.

You dropped to your knees beside her and absently picked at the grass. “How can you not hate me?”

She smiled at the toddler as it giggled and fell back on his butt. He climbed to his feet, little face concentrated as you’d often seen the King look, and then chased after the butterfly again.

“I have no hate in my heart for something I cannot control. I knew I would not be his only wife, the only bearer of his children. He is a King. He is expected to have many wives to show how rich he is. How prosperous. He is to be surrounded by it,” she said.

“Didn’t you want to tear my eyes out at breakfast?” You asked.

She giggled and it was a light, tinkling sound that made you smile with her. You didn’t feel like you were being mocked or talked down to. In a lot of ways, she made you think of your best friends back in the village. You’d give anything to talk to them right now.

“You were enjoying your marriage. You are supposed to kiss your husband,” she said and shook her head. “Kissing him takes nothing from me. Being in his bed does not mean he will not still come to mine.”

You were not as gracious. The thought of him being in anyone else’s bed made you sick with anger. Like you wanted to light the whole place on fire and let it burn. What she was saying was no different than what the King had told you. He had a special relationship with her as he hoped to have with you. As he will have with…her.

“Why are you speaking to me now?” You asked as you continued to pick at the grass.

“Why did it take so long for you to speak to me?” She asked and shrugged. “In a lot of ways, you are still young. Your emotions pull you through the world. You had to experience all of it before you were open to anything I had to say,” she said.

She moved the baby to her shoulder and placed a cloth there. She tapped on the baby’s back.

A fire boiled in your gut and you wanted to call her names. You wanted to scream and rage that she didn’t know you. She had no idea what all you’d been through to bring you to this point. It wasn’t her damn business what you did with the King. But you swallowed it all back down.

You needed this connection to someone else. To someone who’d been through this already. “Alright then, what is it that you have to say?”

“It is okay to love the King. You may think that you only get a piece of him because he gives pieces of himself to the land, to the kingdom, to the council, to the Agojie, to the Oyo, to me. He gives all of himself to the land, the council, to me, to you. He is who he is,” she said.

You laughed bitterly and rolled your eyes. “Did he put you up to this?”

She smiled. “The King cannot make me do what I do not wish to. I wish to not live in a bitter household with slammed doors and a sad King. I like my King happy. You make him happy,” she said.

The toddler fell forward and began crying. You moved to get up but she held out her hand. “He will be alright,” she said and waved him off. You watched as the baby cried and cried, looking towards the first wife. When he realized that she wasn’t getting up, his cries slowed. Then he sniffled and hiccuped until he wiped his eyes, stood up, and kept moving.

“How can you be so calm about this?” You asked. You were about to explain further, that she seemed so knowledgeable about…everything. But she looked at you and smiled.

“I will spare you the details of how I got here, but you can picture it,” she said. She held out her arm. There were gouges, scratches, and burns marring her skin that made you hiss as you looked at them. “I’ve already survived the worst things men can do to women and I’m still here. I’m happy, I’m fed, I have two beautiful sons. I’m safe.

“But do not think for one second that I am calm. I am expected to push these children out for a man in constant danger from enemies. To political rivals or discontent in the palace. One hint of weakness and they will come for my babies. Or, they will grow up and be expected to give their lives for this kingdom. They will be cut down or full of holes from those bullets the devils brought with them. I am the furthest from calm. Because if I lose my babies, as it stands, the King will lose his hold on this kingdom. You have not given him sons. This new bride may or may not, remains to be seen. And he is the best king we have seen in a long time.”

“So I am to be a broodmare no matter what,” you spat.

“You are to be a wife to your husband! And the only one making it difficult is you! And your childish notion that you are supposed to be the only one he cares for. It is not all or nothing! You cared for your Mother and Father, didn’t you? Your friends? Your family? Some knot-headed little boy who smiled at you from time to time? Did you expect to be the only one they cared for as well?”

It may be childish but it wasn’t a stupid notion. After being picked last your whole life, it was difficult to conceive of a world where you weren’t the only person in your husband’s life.

It was not uncommon for regular men to have more than one wife. The really wealthy ones took more wives to basically create a labor source for their businesses. Some chose to only have one partner, like your parents, and look how miserable your mother was. Perhaps she would have been better had your father had multiple wives.

Then again, your father was so evil, it was a wonder he managed to trap your mother in marriage. He was not capable of love in his heart. And you would not wish him on anyone else. You would have liked to have siblings though. Perhaps you would have learned to share better.

“You’re an annoying older sister I never had,” you told her.

She laughed and it transformed her whole face. She looked much younger and softer as she did so, throwing her head back. “You are a stubborn younger sister I wish I had,” she said.

Your chest swelled with an inexplicable feeling of closeness. She held out her hand and you took it. She squeezed it. “It can start with us. We don’t have to be enemies,” she said.

You told her your name. She smiled. “I’m Ayi,” she said.

Topics moved on to much better things like her children, the Agojie. You did mention some things about your upbringing. Your story became much clearer once she realized that you were an only child. It wasn’t by choice. In fact, it was a constant source of irritation with your father.

The sun was starting to disappear in the sky. You had been out with her all day long and hadn’t realized it. Her sons were growing sleepy and it was time for them to eat and go to sleep. She asked that you at least kept an open mind. She didn’t like seeing her husband pouting into his breakfast.

You did take some pleasure in that. You didn’t doubt his feelings towards you, you only wished that he had been more upfront with you. This self-imposed exile was more for you to get a handle on your emotions. To have time to sift through your thoughts and feelings so that you could examine each one with care.

But you’d be a liar if you weren’t grateful that he hurt, even just a little. It was a rotten thing to wish for your husband, but it was true. You wanted him to feel a fraction of what you felt this past week. The pain, hurt, and shame at being made a fool of.

As if your thoughts summoned him, King Ghezo stood outside your room. His head was down and pressed against the door. His hands were planted on either side. He wore dark blue robes today filled with intricate square designs. His hair looked soft enough to sleep against and your fingertips ached with the memory of running your hands through it.

You stopped short to look at him but he must have heard you because he looked up. He faced you and took a few steps forward but you stepped back. You weren’t ready to face him. You weren’t prepared to see him just yet. You thought you’d see him tomorrow, during the wedding as you tried not to puke through the whole thing.

“I thought you were inside,” he said. His voice was soft. Your chest ached. His voice was one of the things you’d grown to look forward to hearing. Not hearing it these past few days hurt more than you were willing to admit.

“If I interrupted a speech, continue,” you said.

“That was not how I intended you to find out.”

“Did you know that you had already procured another wife while you were fucking me?” You asked.

His face twisted up and he sucked his teeth. “Don’t say it like that,” he said.

“Like what? Isn’t that what it was? Were you not fucking me while you were thinking of getting a new wife as soon as we were done? Fucking a baby into me so that you could move on and make more?”

“Do you want this conversation where everyone can hear?” He asked.

“They hear everything else.” You folded your arms across your chest and wrapped anger around you like a cloak.

The King took a few strides forward and you stood your ground as long as you could stand it. When he got within arm’s reach, you stepped away.

“Will you not even let me touch you?” He asked.

“Answer my questions,” you said.

“After everything we shared, do you think I was only fucking you? Is that really what you believe?” He asked.

It was hard to look him in the eyes because he looked so genuine. So genuinely hurt that you thought so little of him. But words meant nothing to you. They never did. Actions always spoke louder than words.

“How long did you know that she was coming before you climbed in my bed?”

“I have been in negotiations with her father for months before you came into my life. But we had months still before we could come to be allies against the Oyo. When he heard that I married you, he panicked. We tried to assuage his fears but he is…a strange man. He sent her anyway. I had planned to tell you while we were at the beach,” he said.

“So you waited until she was here to tell me?”

“How was I supposed to know that she’d show up the next day or that you would let me touch you that night? What can I say to make you believe me?”

“I want the truth!” Tears were starting to burn in your eyes. You hated this. You hated feeling like you were on opposite ends again when you had found your way to trust him. To love him.

“Have I not given you everything you wanted, eh? You asked for space, I gave it. You asked for patience, I gave it. You said I earned your love and you won’t even let me kiss you. You hid all week from me. I am your husband!”

“You are my King!”

The King reared back as if you’d slapped him. “I am your husband!”

“You are my King!” You stepped away and he followed you until your back hit a wall. You thought you were stepping back in a straight line, but he had backed you into a corner at an angle. Your hands dug into the stonework, hands trembling.

“You want the truth? The truth is that I did not know she would arrive so soon. I thought I had more time. I thought I could spend more time with you, while you looked at me with love still in your heart. I did not know that you would let me touch you, let me take you to bed. That you would share your body with me. If I am guilty of anything, it is being selfish. Selfish with every little bit of yourself you’ve given me. I want more. I want to know your every thought, every smile, every word that crosses your lips. If you wish to kill me, then go ahead,” he said.

He stepped back and took off his robes, throwing it on the ground. His chest heaved with the passion of his words. He opened his arms and looked at you.

“Finish the job we joke about too often.” He slapped his chest. “Stab me in the heart that beats for you. Stab me in the chest so that I can have a wound outside that matches the wound inside at the thought of never touching you again. Never kissing you. I have changed so much about how I do things, for you. I am a King. I do not have to explain myself to anyone. And yet I will explain it all to you if you wish!”

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you watched him and listened to him. You didn’t even know why you were crying. He was offering you everything on a platter and you did not know how to cross the gap to him. As if there were invisible hands wrapped around you, pulling you from him, keeping you from just flinging yourself into his arms.

Your Father always said that you made things difficult. Ayi said the same thing. You didn’t trust when things were easy. If things were, it could be taken away just as easily.

The King got to his knees at your prolonged silence. Flickering candles in the hallway danced across his skin. His eyes were narrowed and focused on you as he looked up at you.

“Do you wish me to beg? To plead? To send her away? Ask me. Ask me to send her away and I will spite a kingdom for you. I cannot explain why you affect me in such ways. But I am here on my knees the night before a wedding, wanting you.”

You got to your knees as well. You scooted close to him and looked him in the eyes. “I want the truth from here on out. I…will get used to you having more wives or children. I won’t like it. But I don’t like to be blindsided and made a fool of. Can you promise me that?”

You were tired of fighting. Tired of trying to remain so strong that no one could knock you down. There was no one here to tear you down. There was no Agojie waiting in the winds to kill you. If you were lonely, it was because you made yourself lonely. And it didn’t have to be like that. You had Ayi and you had the King.

“I promise,” he said. “I vow to you as your husband.”

You kissed his cheek. “Then I will choose to forgive that you waited until the morning after loving me to tell me you’re getting married,” you said.

He sighed and dropped his head. “Can I make it up to you in a different way?” He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “How will you do that?” You asked.

A mischievous glint entered his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed, instantly melting into the kiss. You missed his lips on yours. His arms wrapped around your body as he held you closer, tighter. Your arms wrapped around his neck and clung to him while he kissed you. While you felt just how much he missed you with every pass of his tongue against yours.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there kissing him, but you never wanted to get up. Your knees protested otherwise. You shifted one too many times and the King finally picked you up, never breaking your kiss. He pressed your back into the wall, holding you up and kissing the absolute breath from you.

His hands cupped your ass, squeezing you. You moaned into his mouth. He never failed to ignite something deep within your core. A hunger that simmered just below the surface until you were able to draw it out with his lips on yours. His hands on your body. You’d only had him once and it wasn’t nearly enough.

He moved you, somewhere finding the energy to open your door and push inside. He closed the door with his foot and then walked you to your bed. He placed you onto it, your back hitting the soft cushion.

“Let me give you the wedding night we should have had,” he whispered.

Your balcony was open as it usually was, blowing a soft breeze into your room. It felt amazing over your feverish skin. The candles were lit, thanks to your servant, the covers turned down just waiting for you to get inside. You were thankful that you weren’t in here alone.

You nodded. “Please, I’d like that, husband,” you said.

The King smiled and covered you with his body. He was heavy and you made an oof sound underneath him, but you clung to him so that he wouldn’t let up. You liked being crushed by him. You rubbed your body against him like a cat, needing to feel him everywhere.

He took his time kissing you, content to just lay there with your legs wrapped lazily around his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb lightly rubbing your cheek. Your hands grazed his back, feeling the wide expanse of him. The broadness. You lost yourself in just touching him. Feeling him. He was as close as possible and he was yours.

It could have been hours you spent there kissing him yet it felt like none passed at all. Your lips turned numb from the brutal heat of his kisses. His lips moved downward, trailing liquid fire down your jaw and neck. He planted kisses there as well as his hand moved lower to grab your ass again. Squeeze your thigh.

Your chorus of moans seemed to only pitch higher as he moved his hand back up to unwrap your dress and reveal your breasts. He took his time worshiping them. Squeezing them and suckling them into his mouth. His tongue flicked over your nipples causing your thighs to tighten around his hips. If it weren’t for his body in the way, you’d be squeezing them shut needing some type of relief or friction.

Your clit throbbed the longer he took his sweet precious time with your nipples. He rolled one between his fingers and you couldn’t help moving, stretching, needing him to do more.

“Is there a problem, wife?” He asked.

“More,” you moaned.

He smiled against your breast, licking the underswell of it. He pinched your nipple and you cried out at the unexpected bite of pain. “I think I like you twisting like this,” he said.

“Husband,” you moaned in warning. You would not last like this. This was too much. Too much sensation and teasing and he hadn’t even touched your wet pussy yet. You felt the arousal slowly leaking from you. You needed to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Wife,” he mocked by mimicking your moan. He kissed his way down to your stomach. His hands left your breasts, moving further south to tease at your entrance. His hand played with your damp curls and you hissed, loving and hating that he was finally touching where you wanted him to.

He nibbled on your lower stomach and you moaned, your hands digging into his curls. He lifted his head and looked at you as his fingers moved between your folds and found your clit. Your mouth dropped open as he played with it, swirling your arousal all around sloppily.

“Love that face you make, wife,” he said.

You fought to look him in the eyes and let him see you. See how he was making you feel. You didn’t know what to do or how to make him feel just as good. But that would come in time. You had many years with him. Many years to learn each other’s bodies.

You bit your lip and moaned as he rubbed his thumb around your clit. It was slow and lazy as if he had all night to bring you pleasure. The stirrings of your climax tighten your belly and you flopped onto the bed, unable to keep eye contact. You let yourself feel his hands on you. His lips returned to your belly as you tensed up and let go.

You let go of all that tension and anxiety you had been carrying the past week. The sadness and loneliness that hung around you like a demon. You shed the anger and shame as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back bowed from the bed.

Your breaths shuddered as you calmed down. The King kissed his way down your body and spread your legs open. You didn’t know what he could see, but you did see him smile. The hand he used to finger you, he placed it on your titty and began to massage your nipple with your juices.

“Ouue,” you moaned. Crisp, lightly salted air blew into the room over your wet nipple and your thighs tingled.

“Louder, my Queen,” he said.

His lips descended on your pussy like a cat lapping up milk. His tongue swiped against you slowly, taking long swipes from your entrance to your clit. You moaned and yelled to the ceiling. Your fingers dug into his curls, pushing his face in. You hoped you weren’t hurting him, but you didn’t know how you could stop.

You cried out when he suckled your clit. You felt like you were dying and being rebuilt brick by brick. Every pass of his skilled tongue notched your climax higher and higher, reaching the peak of the tallest mountain.

You pulled on his hair as you came once more, gushing all over his mouth and the sheets. You whined as your legs shook, body moving uncontrollably. The King chuckled as he kissed your thighs, your belly, in between your breasts, and up your neck.

“Are you alright, my Queen?” He asked.

It took you a few deep breaths before you trusted your voice not to break. “That would’ve been our wedding night?” You asked.

He grinned and kissed your cheek. “Every night since then if you’d have let me,” he said.

You melted into the bed. You shook your head. “Liar,” you said. But there was no heat behind it.

“I wish to feel you, husband. All of you,” you said.

“Are you not tired?” He asked. But he was already moving his trousers down, off of his hips. The fabric hit the floor and he was pushing himself up off of you.

“Not of this. Not of you,” you said. You pulled him into a kiss, tasting and smelling yourself on his tongue. It only made you want him more. You liked claiming him in such a small way, only between these kisses.

“I love you, wife,” he said.

“I love you, husband,” you said.

He moved in between your legs, sliding his knees high under your thighs. He pushed you wider than you expected, guiding the head of his dick to your slick folds. He got the tip of himself wet and then slowly pushed into you.

Your hand flew to his chest. “Slow, slow, slow,” you moaned.

He slowed down, slowly pushing his way inside of you. Your body relaxed, letting him slip inside with ease. “You’re so beautiful, wife. Filled up with me,” he said.

“Shit,” you moaned. Your legs shook on him as he began to slowly fuck into you. You were outside of time as he moved inside of you. You stared into each other’s eyes. You were pure feeling.

He kissed you in between strokes. You couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. Whispering in between kisses. How you missed each other. How you loved each other. How you wanted this to work in between you. How he wanted to plant babies inside of you and watch your belly grow with his children.

“I want to keep you, wife,” he whispered against your lips.

The glide of his dick moved easily inside of you. Like he fit there. Like you were made for each other. And for this moment, you let yourself believe it. You were meant to be here in his arms.

Your mouth dropped open, limbs weak, as a powerful climax ripped through you. You cried out to the sky and heavens. You didn’t care if you woke up the whole palace. You cried until your voice went hoarse. You squeezed around the King’s dick.

“I’m yours, my husband,” you said.

He looked into your eyes while he moaned and finally climaxed himself. His dick pulsed inside of you and you savored the closeness of his body. The heat of him. The feeling of him on top of you. He was yours and you were his.

When he was finished spilling inside of you, he dropped to one side panting. He slipped out of you and pulled you toward him. You faced him and he pulled you closer, pulling your leg over his hip. You were completely enveloped into his warmth.

You talked until the morning light. Both unwilling to allow something as small as sleep interrupt this time together. He made you tell him all about the books you read while you were hiding. He tried to make you talk about every thought you had but it was impossible to remember every single one.

You giggled well into the morning, kissing in between, and talking about the things you missed as well. All too soon, it became increasingly obvious that he would have to leave to get ready for his little wedding.

The thought still pierced your heart with an arrow. But you’d try to get over it. You’d try, for your sake and for the sake of the household. Ayi was right. You didn’t want to live in a broken household full of tension and unsaid things. You had enough of that growing up.

“Go, go get ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “No. But you are a king. Who am I to get in the way of that?”

He kissed you, his lips lingering against yours. His thumb caressed your cheek. “My beautiful Queen,” he said. “Will you kill me today?”

“The day is young, husband.”

The Secret King Ghezo Files | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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megumimania · 10 months

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WHY DONT WE FALL IN LOVE ? - jean kirstein

summary: you and jean are brought together by a shared love of music, is that all there is or is there something more below the surface?

warnings: jean x black!reader, fluff, jean is definitely an alt rock/ grunge enthusiast, jean and reader are down bad for each other but won’t admit it, ayesha and corinne win the award for best wing women, get you a man who truly cares, the format is weird my bad

a/n: this was written for @honeybleed’s 90’s rnb event! congrats naj, you deserve everything and more!!

it was another day at the record store, where you worked part time during the weekend. you loved your job, talking with customers and bonding over your shared love for music and records was one of the main highlights of your day. of course there were some customers who were rude and pretentious but you didn’t let that deter you from providing a good experience for your customers.

the faint sounds of dreams, fairytales and fantasies by asap ferg played in the background as you were organising new stock, humming the lyrics to yourself while doing so. you were so deeply engrossed in your task that you didn't register jean's presence near you. jean was one of your favourite customers, he was a world away from the regular customers that you were so accustomed to dealing with.

when you first met him, you immediately assumed that he'd be annoyingly pretentious, condescending and snarky—a characteristic you were used to seeing on the daily. but one day he came up to the counter while you were working and you absentmindedly had your finger ready to point to the 80’s rock section, not registering the look of confusion on his face.

"what are you pointing to?" he asked, brows furrowing in confusion. you felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, “i just assumed that you-anyways how can i help you?" you replied with a smile, trying to break the awkward tension.

he looked around sheepishly, the tips of his ears flushing a faint pink. "uhh... honestly i don't know, do you have any recommendations?” he asked, with a level of shyness which you found quite cute.

his naivety to music/good records astonished you, considering he looked like a cross between a heavy nirvana fan and a country music enthusiast. after a long conversation with him, you gave him three albums to listen to, along with your number because you wanted him to tell you if he liked the songs or not.

since then you've developed a friendship with jean despite your two best friends/coworkers, ayesha and corinne saying otherwise. you’ve always denied it but lately, you’ve started to feel some type of way about him. suddenly you’ve began to notice his dimples when he smiles, the faint freckles he has on his face or how his eyes are more of a hazel colour in the sunlight—friends usually notice these things about each other right???

jean cleared his throat, snapping you out of your reverie. “y/n, you good?” he said, giving you a once over to make sure that you were okay. you felt your face heat up and you silently thanked god that he was unable to see you blush. “yeah i’m good.” was all you managed to reply with.

a minute of tense silence passed between you both, either of you waiting on the other to break the silence between you both. “can y’all stop eyefucking each other, you’re making me sick!” corinne yelled from the counter, scaring you both. the tips of jean’s ears turned a light pink from embarrassment.

“you left your bonnet and your scarf at my place the other week.” he said handing them over to you. “i’ve washed them for you, i’d thought you’d like that.” he said, the last part coming out quieter than intended. “we still on for saturday?” he asked, his gaze locked on yours, “yeah of course.” jean smiled before responding, “cool, i’ll see you then.” he walked off, waving you goodbye which you returned.

you tried to avoid ayesha and corinne for the rest of your shift but they cornered you as soon as you left work, dragging you to a nearby cafe. “so you and jean huh?” ayesha teased, taking a sip of her drink. you sighed and rolled your eyes, pretending to look interested in the menu in hopes that ayesha would drop the question.

“guys, i might order—hey!” you protested as corinne snatched the menu from your fingertips. “there’s nothing going on between me and jean.” you finally spat out after a moment of silence. “we’re just friends.” your friends shared a look that said they weren’t buying it. “so why was your bonnet and scarf at his house then?” corinne pressed further, and you genuinely felt like you were being interrogated for a crime you didn’t commit. “i slept over at his place, its not a big deal.” you said nonchalantly, drumming your fingertips on the table.

“we all saw the way you two were staring at each other, and you really want me to believe that you guys are just friends?” ayesha added, corinne nodding in support. “it’s okay to admit that jean thee pony has got you weak in the knees, you know.” you snorted at her nickname for jean. “i hate you guys.” you sighed, staring out the window dramatically. “and we love you too, y/n!” they said in unison, pulling you in for a hug.

“y/n, your white boy is here!” corinne shouted from the hallway. you were nervous, you’d spent an hour getting ready for today and you were still unable to quell the nerves in your stomach. you debated on taking a rain-check but decided against it. you quickly added the finishing touches to your hair and makeup and headed out. corinne gave you her thumbs up of approval as you left.

jean’s plan to act cool completely evaporated once he saw you. you were gorgeous in a way he couldn’t comprehend, he tried to maintain his composure but as always his face betrayed him, unable to hide the blush that spread across his face. “you look gorgeous, y/n.” was all he managed to sputter out. you were surprised that you had him fumbling over himself like this but you found it cute.

“you look great yourself.” you replied, taking him in. from the fresh trim, to his outfit, to the cologne he was wearing, everything about him made you feel giddy inside. “where are you taking me today?” you said, hopping into his car. his gaze lingered on you for a second before he cleared his throat, “its a surprise.” he said, sticking his tongue out at you whilst turning on the ignition.

the last few minutes of the car journey, jean told you keep your eyes closed. you eyed him weirdly, but did it anyway because you trusted him. his hand remained on the small of your back as he guided you to the destination. “are we there yet?” you asked, becoming increasingly impatient, he responded to you after a moment of silence. “open your eyes.” he whispered in a low voice sending chills down your spine.

you opened your eyes and you turned to him in disbelief “how did you—i’ve been trying to book a reservation here for ages, how!” jean placed his jacket on your shoulders, noticing the way you were shivering. “the owner is a family friend of mine, plus he owed me one.” he said coolly, trying to not make it seem like a big deal. “let’s go inside.” he took your hand in his leading you into the restaurant. the interior looked gorgeous with it being fairly modern as beautiful ceiling fixtures hung above you.

you were led to your table which was on a second floor that away from everybody else. jean pulled out your chair for you letting you sit down before he did. you opened the menu scanning it to see what appealed to your tastes. whilst you were busy trying to figure out the menu, jean kept stealing glances at you. he couldn’t help it, even when he was trying to read the menu, his eyes kept drifting back to you.

you grew shy under jean’s gaze and used the menu to cover your face. jean chuckled softly, gently putting down the menu to the side. “why are you hiding your face from me, beautiful?” your face heated up at the pet name. “you make me nervous, i cant help it.” you said feeling quite bashful, he took your hand in his, tracing light figures on your palm. “believe me when i say i’ve been nervous this whole time.” you both laughed at that, it helped to diffuse the awkward tension between you both knowing that you were both nervous as each other.

dinner flowed smoothly after that as you grew comfortable with each other again, the usual banter and jokes resumed and you truly felt at home with jean. apart from the silence that was shared when you were eating, you were talking non stop and even at times when you felt like you were saying too much, he looked at you with so much adoration, wordlessly telling you to keep going. you’ve never felt so relaxed during a date before it was weird not having to condense parts of you to seem likeable when it seemed that jean liked every part of you.

one of the reasons that you wanted to dine at the restaurant for so long was for its infamous beach views. the moon hung lowly in the distance as you and jean walked down the beach, hand in hand as you talked about everything and anything. he suddenly broke out into a sprint heading straight first to the water, you had no choice but to follow him. you shuddered as you walked into the cold waters trying to find him. jean pulled you towards him making you shriek as you felt his cold hands rest on your waist. “why did you do that!” you smacked his shoulder playfully, he laughed in response. “didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

he pulled you even closer, you were now breaths apart which made the moment more intimate. “how can i make it up to you, hm?” he asked softly, his eyes boring into yours as he held you in his arms. “i think i know just the trick.” he smiled softly before he picked you up and pressed his lips against yours gently and for a moment the world disappeared around you leaving you and jean in your own bubble. his lips were surprisingly warm considering how cold his hands were. “you’re forgiven.” you smiled as you pulled away from him, brushing the wet strands of hair away from his face. “good, because i wouldn’t want to be on your hitlist.” he said, laughing as he finally carried you out of the water.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x black reader #jean x reader #jean x y/n #snk jean #aot jean #jean fluff #this was so fun to write #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot x black!reader #jean lovers unite

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ormspryde · 6 months

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Quietta breeds in Terca Lumireis

This is pretty much entirely HC, so do with it what you will.

Universal traits - eyes glow blue in low light, clawed hooves, omnivorous, nocturnal (necessitating the masks to protect their large eyes)

Can be gelded, mare, or stallion

Possible colors: white, black, green, blue, pink, red, brown, blond, very rarely purple, gold, or grey

Specific breeds:

Szarvasan blue: As the name suggests, this breed tends to have a mane and tail in shades of blue anywhere from an almost teal to midnight. Its body coat ranges from grey to a light, sky blue and shades in between. The Szarvasan blue stands anywhere from 14-15 hands at the withers, with dense bone, high tail carriage, and rather small muzzles; as well as having greater physical strength than might be indicated by its size. They were bred for both speed and endurance, and are used as a general purpose transport breed. They can also be trained to race or trained to the cart and, while not specialized as a war breed, are intelligent enough to be trained for battle as well. This breed originated in the forests to the northeast of Ilyccia.

Kravtaw: Bred for heavy physical labor, this breed has a body coat in shades of brown, blond, or grey, with a mane and tail ranging from rust red to ivory white; and rarely, other shades as well. They're considered a heavy draft breed, with high strength and endurance; used for plowing, drawing wagons or carts, hauling artillery, forestry, and even occasionally towing barges up narrow canals. This breed stands 16-17.2 hands at the withers, heavily built, with a large chest, long head, large eyes, and a heavy, arched neck. They're very easy going, and very occasionally see use as riding beasts.

Swiftheart: Bred for speed, the Swiftheart is almost exclusively used for hunting, racing, or any other application that requires agility or high speed in the sprint. These animals have a rather nervous temperament, and are not a breed for beginner quietta owners. Their body coat varies from a golden color to a light green, while their mane and tail tend towards shades of green or blue - occasionally purple. This breed usually stands between 14-16 hands, with a lean, well muscled body and a short head.

Naj-sadar: Very rare outside of Desier, these animals were bred for speed and endurance in the desert, and therefore require less food and water than other breeds of quietta. They have a strange metallic sheen to their coat; the inhabitants of the desert covering most of the continent of (desier) swear that it helps reflect the sun off them, keeping them cool. Their body hair ranges from golden, to rust red, even to a light grey, while their rather sparse mane and tail tend to be white or light green. They usually have almond shaped eyes, with a slightly convex profile to the head, thin skin, and long ears. As well as being used for desert transport and hauling carts, their intelligence allows them to be trained as show jumpers.

Zopheirian ambler: One of the northern breeds originating in the mountains around the town of Holmsbu, the Zopheirian ambler is friendly, docile, and easy to handle, not easily spooked by whatever might cross its path. They tend to have brown or blond body hair, although some can shade lighter into white, or darker into black; their manes and tails are usually a dark grey, with some hint of green, blue, or red. This breed is rather small, standing at 13-14 hands at the withers. They are well adapted for the cold, developing a thick, double-coated layer of fur during the winter. These animals are stocky, used for pack animals, meat, or riding even across the roughest terrain.

Nyitomy red: A very old breed, the Nyitomy red is favored by both nobles and commoners of the northern towns of the continent of Ilyccia. As the name suggests, the body hair of this breed is almost always a medium rust red, though other shades are possible; the rather long mane and tail of this animal ranges from a medium bright red shade all the way to to a deep burgundy and even darker. They range from 12-14 hands, with a long nose, large barrel, thick legs, and a rather large muzzle. They're a cold hardy, all-purpose breed, used for riding over rough terrain, milk, and meat. They can also be trained for battle, cart pulling, and even racing.

Gardyr: A breed of northern farming quietta, the Gardyr is considered a light draft beast. The Gardyr is a compact, muscular breed, with slight feathering on the legs and a coat that grows in thick in the winter and is usually a light pink or rust color, with a dark feral stripe running down the length of the back. This breed's mane and tail tend to earth shades, although other colors are possible. Even tempered, this breed of quietta is strong enough to be used for plowing or hauling wood, but it's also agile enough to be a good riding or riding beast, or even used in hauling competitions.

Rouncey: The Rouncey is an offshoot of the Szarvasan blue, bred for the use of the knights. They are very similar to their ancestral breed; however, they were also bred to facilitate mounted combat and are considered less intelligent by the quietta connoisseur. They tend to serve as a cheaper breed for the needs of the lower class knights, though they were also bred to have a distinctive appearance from the Szarvasan blue. They tend to have white body hair, with mane and tail ranging anywhere from a forest green to a medium blue.

Destrier: Also known as the 'great quietta', this is one type of quietta bred for the knights, though only the nobility or the higher ranks can afford this rather expensive breed. They tend to be rather striking in appearance; either stark white or black, with long, flowing mane and tail in shades of red or pink - very rarely, purple - and some amount of feathering around the hooves. This breed is agile, with a short back and well muscled hindquarters, an arched neck, short ears, and wide-set eyes. They stand at around 15-17 hands at the withers, and are muscular and agile, with a brisk and high-stepping trot. When they're not being ridden in battle, these animals also serve to draw carriages, and they can also be ridden in tournaments.

Courser: Used by the knights who need to get somewhere in a hurry, the Course has been bred for both speed and endurance, and is capable of holding a trot at high speed for a long time. This breed tends to have a white body coat, and their mane and tail runs through shades of blue or green. Standing from 14.2-16.2 hands tall, the Course has a well-shaped head with a broad, well-defined chest, powerful hindquarters, and a tail set high on the rump. In addition to its use as a speedy riding quietta, the Courser is used in tournaments, especially for show jumping.

Palfrey: An expensive breed of quietta with an ambling gait, the Palfrey is used most often by the nobility so as to not fatigue their heavier warbeasts before combat. Breed for flashy looks, as well as speed and stamina both, this animal is tall and robust, usually standing at a bit over 15 hands at the withers; they have strong legs, with a big head and large eyes. They tend to have either a white or black body coat, with a bright blue mane and tail. Like the more expensive Destrier, these animals are also used to draw carts.

Somneur: The somneur is a breed generally used as pack animals by the knights. Their coat, tail, and mane colors can vary widely, but tend to earth tones, as this isn't so much a breed meant to show off prowess or wealth so much as do a simple job. They tend to stand 14-15 hands at the withers, and are tall, narrow bodied, and rangy, with a sparse mane and tail. Despite their sometimes bedraggled looks, some find use for this breed as more than simple pack animals; rather, they see occasional use as racing beasts, depending on the size and conformation of the quietta in question.

Feral 'breeds':

Wild quiettas: While no longer very common due to the encroachment of humans and feral breeds of domestic quietta, the wild ancestor of the quietta can still be found in and around the Weasand of Cados on the continent of Desier. This breed is usually some shade of blond or brown, smaller than a domestic quietta, and remains a rather shy, nocturnal animal.

Vadállat: Self-breeding from a mix of escaped Szarvasan blue, Somneurs, and whatever other quiettas might manage to escape into the wild, this breed roams forests from southern to northern Ilyccia. They tend to be rather smaller than domestic quiettas, though bigger than their wild ancestors, and can come in a variety of colors depending on what percentage of which breed mixed to make them. They're less shy than wild quiettas, and are sometimes even captured to serve as mounts, after a process of breaking to the saddle.

Vandris: Mostly originating from escaped northern quiettas, especially the Nyitomy red but sometimes the Gardyr, this breed tends to roam the farther northern reaches of the continent of Ilyccia, especially around the Blade Drifts of Zopheir. They're very well adapted to the cold because beasts who aren't don't survive long, and tend to be small with short limbs and long fur, mane, and tail in a variety of earth shades. These quiettas mostly serve as meat animals for the poorer people of the north.

Bete Morais: Originating from escaped quiettas from the region around Zaphias, the Bete Morais is a small but rugged breed. It has a thick mane and long legs, and lives mostly in marshy areas. This breed is nearly as shy as its wild ancestors, and stays as far away from human habitations as possible.

#tales of vesperia #worldbuilding #headcanon #fanfic

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pjunicornart · 7 months

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Screw it, lore dump.

I'm gonna drop some lore about Subject 07 and Soul Carving, because I'm bored, mostly. But also because @miasudare's comic (this one) sort of not really asked what their deal is. So, here's their deal. Under the cut...

Soul Carving Soul is essentially the original NaJ PJ. He was saved by Rosey while he was in a black void, but only barely. Everyone else in his AU was completely broken and unsalvageable, how he managed to escape is beyond Rosey's knowledge. Now under her care, Soul was given powers and a new family. 07 is his little brother, and everyone else in The Playground are like honorary family.

His powers essentially deal with the soul, hence his name. His soul in particular is very unique. It's always exposed, appearing to be in a square-ish hole in his chest. No matter what clothes he wears, it's always visible. While he was in the black void, this is a wound he gave to himself, in an attempt to mend damage done by his original home. Anyway, he has the power to "sense" people's souls. He can do something he calls a Soul Reading, in which he connects his soul to their's. Through this, he can tell... pretty much everything about the person. After all, a soul is the very culmination of one's being, right? He can gather information on their personality, he can tell what kind of pain you're in (physically, mentally, or spiritually), he can sense any trauma that may have happened... he can sense it all, even AFTER the Soul Reading is done. If he does a Soul Reading, and his own soul senses that this is someone he should stay connected to, he'll be able to sense that person forever, no matter how far away they are. Obviously, if his soul doesn't see any reason to keep this person in its "database" so to speak, it'll forget that person by the next time Soul experiences the morning of a new day. 07 is one person he can always sense, seeing that he is his little brother. He always knows when Subject 07 needs something, or is in pain.

Subject 07 07 is another variant of NaJ PJ. He is an experiment which ended with... mixed results. On the one end, his soul was successfully split in two and merged with the half of another person's soul. So he's able to utilize the powers of that person. On the other end, when he came out of the experiment, his mental development was completely reverted. He has the mind of a child. He had to learn how to do everything again. Walk, talk, fine motor skills... everything. Which wasn't easy, especially with a prosthetic leg. However, he was one of their prized subjects, and he persevered. Nowadays, he's mentally around 4 - 5 years old.

Sockits is his favorite toy, which he carries around with him everywhere as a backpack. He's never seen without her, and if he is, something would be wrong. Sockits carries the other half of the person's soul 07's was split with. This means he is forever connected to her. It also means he's the only one who can hear her talk. Speaking of this other person, their powers were very... dark. When 07 taps into that part of him, he grows wings made out of shadow, and he becomes stealthier. He becomes a dark predator. In this state, he is very dangerous. But, luckily, he's too sweet to ever be seen like this, unless somebody hurts the one he loves most. That being his older brother, Soul.

If I missed anything or if you're confused about something, or hey, if you just want me to dump more lore - Ask box is open.

#rosey rambles #lore dump #lore #undertale #undertale au #paperjam #soul carving pj #subject 07

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dejwrldarchived · 8 months

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jfc 😨 i’m soooo sorry deja i never wanted you to be caught in the crossfire PLSSSS

it’s cool naj, it’s nothing new. just racking up the evidence of your original point. anti blackness in fandom spaces on here just weirdddd

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nudystar · 11 months

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okay this is my final statement, cause deadass I’m over it now

for the server thing, I did feel sorry and apologized to WHO I needed to apologize to. if I ain’t apologize to you, then idk what to tell you. apologies to the folks that had roles that we lied about.

to the folks that I ain’t never had beef with me, why are yall tryna make somethin out of nothin ? like deadass, some of yall I haven’t talk to in a minute and some of yall I never even interacted with. yall sayin yall fighting for your friends but I’m the villain when I do it ? please get out my face with that. you starting stupid ass beef when I don’t even talk to half of yall wtf. yet I’m childish ? alright.

naj, you specifically, what problem do I have with you? I want you so specific and let me know what we have going on. I never had an issue to begin with, we was never beefing so why tf are you talking so much shit about me? you trying to act all big and bad when I never had a problem with you. now you wanna talk as “civilized adults”, after dragging my name through the mud FOR THREE DAYS ? yeah no, kiss my black ass and suck my damn clit !

do I feel bad that your friend got a death threat ? yes ! but it sure as hell wasn’t me or my mutuals 🤷🏽‍♀️. unlike yall, we have some couth and don’t be bothering nobody.

y’all constantly say I’m sending high schoolers to fight my battles and paint me as this pussy bitch. meanwhile y’all akeke and laughin with mean girls and damn near bullies, constantly dragging folks names through the mud fa no reason. to this day, yall stay on imani’s ass about a discord server from three months ago, after handing out apologies like an eviction notice. deadass, all seriousness, leave them alone. some of yall ain’t even deserve an apology but hey, whatever helps yall sleep at night

y’all stay coming at me with this “I got high schoolers to fight my battles” and “I got a gang of middle schoolers hyping me up”. boy yall sure don’t know me 😹, yall just assume everything cause some of them have minors in their bio. I got moots that’s my age and younger moots (oldest is 19). on top of that, I’ve met these niggas when I was 17, say it with me SEVENTEEN !

omg, crazy right ? I met them when I was a minor, that’s like so insane ! so if you do the math (correctly !), I’ve known these niggas for two years. I’m sorry that I have a strong ass friendship and I got folks who actually care about me 🤷🏽‍♀️ . meanwhile, yall are mdni blogs interacting with minors. hmm, but doesn’t mdni stand for MINORS do not interact ? or maybe I just miss a memo ?

small note, yall literally lack math, english, and comprehension skills if you think my friend, juice/mypimpademia, is 14-15. not only can yall not spell, yall don’t make sense either. if she had her blog for about 2-3 years and she’s 14, wouldn’t she be 11-12 writing on here ? oh, hm, that’s doesn’t seem right. y’all just be seeing minor and think it means 13-14, oh y’all do not know the definition of minors…..which means anyone BELOW the age of 18, 10+8, 9+9, 14+4. cmon now guys, I thought we were better than this !

speaking of them, yall stay talking about how I got high schoolers as friends yet be so mad that yall are blocked by these same minors 😹. niggas are so pressed about being blocked by these high schoolers, it’s sad ain’t gonna lie. now I ain’t they damn momma or their damn parent, so idgaf what they do and when they do it

also, to think I’m trying to disrespect someone talking is honestly so…wow ! y’all saying I’m correcting her aave when I use aave my own self, you can literally scroll and see it yourself but anyways ! not only that, say I grew up in a white neighborhood just cause I corrected her grammar ? not her aave, her grammar. maybe if she wasn’t being rude asf to the op, nobody wouldn’t say anything but hey 🤷🏽‍♀️.

not only that, aren’t you insinuating that only white folks can talk proper ? that they’re the only ones who can speak properly ? isn’t that pushing a stereotype to a black girl ? hmmm, says a lot about you as a writer, especially as black writer.

to the eren discourse, what’s to say atp ? y’all still gonna romanticize hood love and paint black love as violent and stereotypical as much as you can. yall gonna continue to slap eren as this fake black man and still gonna be blinded to your wrongdoings. y’all still gonna paint onyankapon as this stereotypical black man who ain’t shit, paint him as aggressive asf and only smoke weed. but hey if that floats your boat, it sure asf will sink mine !

in conclusion, I genuinely don’t care if black tumblr don’t fuck with me no more. imma still stand on what I said 😹, yall ain’t making change shit about what I said unless I said something out of line. some of yall did already but I digress !

#( 💭 ) — discourse

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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the way you write ony maybe black love won this round

ur actually so annoying??? I LOVE YOU SM THO NAJ LMAAOOOOO THANK YOU 🧡💛💛💘🧡💘💖💗💗💗💛🧡🧡🖤🤎🖤💚❤️‍🔥💗

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gabrielacrystal · 8 months

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Dressed by ☼ MOGUL

Naj Lace Bodysuit & Anei Low Skirt

At @ Tres Chic https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Tres%20Chic/24/129/74

☼ Black Lotus

Ines rings

At @ WasteLand https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Mount%20Amore/199/45/2172

☼ Vipera

Beatrice Earrings

At @ Dubai Event http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Horizon%20Beach/124/120/23

Music Bluecid by Sevdaliza

#secondlife #sl #lelutka #legacy #fashion #alternative #aesthetic #slfashion #slblogging #slblogger

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megamindsecretlair · 9 months

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The King and I, Part 3

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT AND ANGST. Don't say I ain't warn ya. Mentions of violence, forceful touching. Virginity loss. PIV, Oral (fem receiving) , all consensual. Doesn't follow canon of the movie.

Summary: You continue to enjoy your burgeoning life with the King. Though there is nothing to do and you fear that your life will revolve around him and him only. He shows you more beautiful sights and you decide to take the relationship to the next level.

Word Count: 8,016k

A/N: I don't know what happened. Forgive me! I did not intend for this to be so long, but I turned my mind off and let the story take me where it would. If you need a wind down from Christmas festivities, here ya go! Merry Christmas my lovelies. Or Happy Monday to those who don't celebrate. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

You liked kissing. You really liked kissing. You had no love for your father, but you could thank him for keeping you from this experience until your marriage. You liked closing your eyes and feeling the King’s lips against yours.

The King stole kisses whenever he could. Before and after meetings. During meals. You felt silly kissing him in front of his first wife but she only smiled or directed her attention elsewhere. You wondered if she was capable of speaking. You knew nothing about her and she offered precious little.

The King would settle your thoughts of her by kissing your worries away. His kisses always started soft as a dove’s wing. He would look at you, trace your face with his fingers, and then pull you closer. His lips would press against yours. The first joining was your favorite. When he would linger before going deeper, spearing his tongue between your lips and exploring your mouth.

Then the kiss would light a fire inside you, deep down in your core. Where it felt like you would burn from the inside out. Burn with need. That need would drive you insane but you were always interrupted before things went further. A eunuch would come to collect the King or Nanisca would need his attention or there was some council member who needed to speak with him and they would take him away from you.

One of his eunuchs came up to him now, spoke in his ear. “Already?” The King asked. The eunuch nodded. The King frowned but nodded.

He promised to see you later, but not before one last kiss. He traced your lips with his thumb, looked at your lips as if he were reluctant to leave, and then gave you that smile that never failed to make your knees weak.

Left to your own devices, there wasn’t much for you to do. You did not have babies yet so there was no reason to visit the nursery. The first wife spent most of her time there with her babies. Sometimes you’d catch them walking around the palace garden.

His sons were beautiful. They looked like they would grow big and strong like him. The lines of succession weren’t always so cut and dry. The oldest wasn’t necessarily the heir but you could see that little boy taking over for his father.

All you had was your imagination to keep you company. This afternoon, there was no meeting to attend. So you wandered around the palace with a routine you set for yourself.

You started off wandering towards the training field. The Agojie were intimidating. Sometimes you watched them through the windows. Watched them train and imagined living amongst them. In another life, perhaps you were braver. Tougher. Perhaps you would have been able to stand up to your father sooner.

Growing up in the village, you had heard plenty of vile things said about the Agojie. Old men would lament about a woman’s place and how it was not to wield swords and protect the village. Bitter women would gossip about the mannish Agojie who could not find husbands and now never would.

You admired them from the first moment you heard about them. Fierce women who were strong like men, pretty, and bonded in sisterhood. You always wanted a sister. You wanted the bonds that others seemed to enjoy. Even when sisters bickered and fought, it was out of love.

You were a lonely child. With nothing but your mother and father for company, you learned to escape away in your head. Where you had a house full of beautiful kids, a loving husband who never raised a hand to you in anger, and a life spent laughing too much and drinking too much.

What you never truly imagined though, was life beyond the wedding part. In your many musings, the wedding was part of it. You weren’t picky one way or another about what you would wear, what the feast would look like, what the flowers would be. But you knew your mother would help make it a special day, no matter how much your father would protest about every little detail.

Beyond that…you had no idea what your marriage would look like. The men your father paraded in front of you were too old, too skinny, too ugly, too mean, too…gross. The way they would look at you still made you shudder in revulsion. You could not see a life with them.

You never in your wildest imaginings thought you’d be married to the king. Not only married to the king, but kissing the king. And liking to kiss the king. You laid awake all night thinking about his kisses. His muscles. His chest. What he would look like naked.

You ducked your head and looked around you, at the empty hallway as if your thoughts were projected onto the walls. You had never seen a man naked. Had never cared to. But the more time you spent with the King, the more you found yourself wanting to. Wanting something and having the means to get it were alien concepts to you.

You were forced to sift through your emotions and thoughts as you walked the halls every day. The King was not evil. He was a man with a heavy burden and sometimes had to make decisions that seemed cruel. Kings in the past dealt with hardships, but considering the unprecedented attack across the lands, it was a wonder the King did half as good a job as he did.

Your wanderings took you to the palace gardens anyway. You walked the paths, admiring the rich reds, purples, and pinks of the flowers growing there and lovingly tended to by palace servants. Trees stretched to the sky. You sat on a patch of grass, careful to avoid any potential wet spots.

You laid back so that the sky was completely open to you. It truly amazed you that you were…free to do this. To do nothing. No one demanded anything from you. No one made you speak when you didn’t want to. No one talked bad about you to your face as if you weren’t standing right there.

And yet…you were inexplicably still lonely. There was no one to really talk to besides your servant but her job was to talk to you. The first wife was content to live in her own little bubble and you were content to let her. The last thing you would do was to disturb her peace when precious few women got that in life. You could talk to the King and he was a remarkable conversationalist, but he was still a man.

Your thoughts turned once more to the King. Lately, you thought of him more and more. Not only did he make you laugh, he also made you giddy. He made you think and challenge your thoughts. And you found yourself watching him, unable to tear your eyes away. His clothes were always finely tailored. His hair perfectly coiled and styled atop his head. His strong jaw, wide smile.

What would it feel like if he were on top of you? If he peeled your dress off? If his fingers gripped your thighs…

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

You gasped and sat up in a panic. Your head smacked into something hard and you yelped in pain. The King knelt down, cooing at you.

“I am sorry, my Queen. Surely you will kill me for this,” he said. He prodded at your forehead. You hissed and jerked away from him. He sighed and planted a tender kiss to the spot.

“The day is still young, my King,” you said but there was no real heat. You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I am spared for the moment, then,” he said.

You fixed your crimson red robes and willed your heart to stop thundering in your chest. He could not read your thoughts and you hoped that your face did not betray you. Your hands shook at getting caught thinking something so naughty. The King has done nothing but made you feel safe and heard. But how did you let him know that you wanted to try?

“You did not answer my question. You looked deep in thought and I was jealous your attention was elsewhere,” he said.

You giggled and his smile grew wider. “How can you possibly be jealous of my thoughts?”

“They get to know what you’re thinking and I do not,” he said.

You didn’t want to lie but you also didn’t want to tell him what you were thinking. You raised such a huge fuss about him being in your room on your wedding night, you feared that if he knew he’d take you to bed right this instant. The thought both thrilled you and terrified you.

You drew your knees to yourself, as far as you were able with your tummy in the way, and bit your lip.

“If you must know, I was thinking about you.” You peeked at him and he tilted his head.

“Now you must really tell me what you were thinking. Your king demands it of you,” he said with a grin.

You giggled and shook your head. “And give up my secrets so easily? You must earn them, husband,” you said.

Surprise made his entire face open up. It was the first time you had called him such and by the look on his face, he noticed too. “How may I earn them, wife?” His voice grew deeper. It made your belly do a funny flip.

“I’m sure you can think of something, husband,” you said. This was as far as your bravery allowed you to go. You wished you were more bold. That you could rip off his gold robes and taste his skin. That his hands would roam your body in previously forbidden places and douse this inferno in your veins.

King Ghezo smiled and leaned closer, planting a kiss high on your cheek, near your ear. “I’m sure I can think of something, wife.” Shivers wracked through your body. “Come. I wish to show you something.”

He stood up and held out his hands. You took his and he helped you stand. You dusted your robes and made sure it was still secure around your body. Then, he took your hand and led you out of the palace gardens.

He asked about your day while he pulled you through the palace. There was nothing remarkable about it but he wanted to hear every bit of it. He thought your fascination with the Agojie was adorable. He told you that he liked how animated you were when you spoke about them.

“Should I be worried that you are getting ideas from my Agojie on how to kill me?” He asked.

You shrugged. “I deserve some credit. I would not choose something so obvious,” you said and smiled.

“No, you would not. I will figure it out,” he said. You giggled as you emerged on the other end of the palace, towards the path that led you to “your spot”. He had shared the cliffside view with you many times by now but it was always in the morning or day time.

The sun was setting, the giant resting its eye now as it descended in the horizon. But it was like it couldn’t resist one last peak at the world before it yielded the sky to the moon. You looked overhead. The dark purples and oranges were mixing and stars were starting to poke through.

King Ghezo tugged you to your spot and you thought he wanted to look at the sunset. Instead, he looked back to make sure there were no guards or servants nearby. Then, he moved a heavy branch out of the way revealing a sloping path downward.

“What is this?” You asked.

“Do you trust me, wife?” The King asked.

You stared at his open face. He’s had plenty of chances to kill you by now. In fact, you stopped carrying your knife and finally returned it to the kitchen. You were not in danger of that from him. He had been nothing but kind. If he truly were cruel, he would have shown his true colors by now.

So…yes. You nodded your head. “I trust you,” you said.

The King grinned and squeezed your hand. Then, he descended down the slope telling you to step where he steps. And if there was an area you were concerned about, to let him know. You followed behind him with the darkening sky to your right. It took your breath away. Though to descend the cliff, you weren’t paying too much attention to the sunset.

What was it that he wanted to show you?

At the bottom of the cliff, there was a small beach area. It wasn’t that wide, but there was enough space to feel open and small enough to feel cozy. Your feet sank into the soft sand and you gasped at the sensation.

You grinned at the King and he was already watching you. “It’s so mushy!”

“I found this as a boy and told no one. The guards and Agojie will likely close this off if they ever knew. When I want to be alone, sometimes I come here. I don’t stay for long. If the King goes missing, it tends to cause a fuss,” he said.

He pulled you onto the beach proper. Your jaw dropped at seeing the ocean up close. The sun’s light only reached so far now. The moon was high in the sky, casting a faint glow over the water. You fought tears as you looked out over the darkened water. The King continued to show you sights you never imagined.

He pulled you closer to the water. Where the water touched the sand, your feet sunk deeper still. The wet, squishy sand burrowed between your toes. The waves washed up on shore and over your feet. You squealed when the cold water hit your skin. The King laughed at your reaction.

He took your hand and spun you around in the water. You giggled as you did so, feeling silly, but it was a nice feeling. A freeing feeling. A feeling as close to flying as you could possibly get. You began to feel dizzy and stopped spinning. You swayed and the King caught you. You gazed at him, held in his arms, and feeling…happy. Strangely, wonderfully, magnificently happy.

“My King…” you breathed. You had no adequate words to thank him. This was yet another thing he was able to take for granted and he shared it with you. Distantly, you wondered if he took his first wife here too. But that kind of thinking would only make you feel sick.

“I like when you call me husband more,” he said.

You smiled at him. “Husband it is then,” you said.

“Does this earn me one of your secrets?” The King asked.

Your cheeks were going to hurt from all of this smiling. How was it that he was able to manage the land and still remember silly conversations between you?

“What is it you would like to know?” You asked.

“Have I earned your love yet?” He frowned slightly and you wondered why. You were still leaning into his arms, as close as…well, lovers. There were more shadows now and the quiet lull of the waves on the shore ensured a kind of intimacy.

The moonlight made his skin shine and you licked your lips. It would be okay to admit this in the safety of night. When your face was not fully on display and you didn’t have to worry about how foolish you looked. A wife confessing her love to her husband.

“I do love you, my King. Despite my best attempts otherwise,” you said, with a smile.

“Why attempt otherwise? Am I that undesirable for a husband?” He asked.

“No!” You nearly shouted. How could you put this?

“Outside these palace walls, there are lots of rumors about you. We don’t know you as a people, which is to be expected. And if a father is to throw away his daughter, it is at your doorstep they discard us. Filled with thoughts of rumors and whispers. I expected you to be like any other man. Cruel, greedy, and dimwitted.”

You watched his face, but it was carefully controlled. Watching you with mild interest as you tried to explain your feelings. “But you are kind, smart, and funny. You…you’re safe. And I love you for making me feel safe,” you said.

The King took a deep breath. He grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed both. Then he pulled you into a hug. “I can die happy knowing that I’ve earned your love. I love you, my radiant Queen,” he said.

Your heart leapt in your chest hearing those words. “Husband,” you said and crashed your lips to his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you. You molded your body to his so that no inch of him was not touching your body. You gasped into the kiss as you felt his dick, thick against your upper thigh.

King Ghezo groaned and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer still and kissing you back. Your kisses turned bruising, crashing your lips against each other with passion. Teeth scraped against each other. Tongued dueled. His hands coasted down your body until he gripped your ass in his hands.

He groaned and began to squeeze your ass with his big, rough hands. You felt him lift your ass cheeks and you moaned into your kiss. The back of your thighs tingled. If you had hoped that this raging fire inside of you would dim over time, you were sorely mistaken.

“Husband…” you said when there was a natural break in your kiss.

“Yes, wife?” He asked, his voice slightly shaking and breathy. He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, planting soft kisses along your jawline.

“Take me to bed?”

His kisses stopped. His lips lingered on your jaw, under your ear. “Are you sure, wife?”

“Take me to bed, husband. Please,” you said. The King leaned back and looked into your eyes. You didn’t know how else you could make it clear. If he asked you again, you may lose your nerve and rip his robes off here and now. If he ripped your robes off here and now, you would let him.

Your mind was cloudy with no other thoughts than you were tired of waiting. You were a wife and you wanted to experience your husband. You and your friends would giggle about sex growing up, well out of earshot of your fathers.

You thought it was a trite thing between married partners. Something only done to produce a baby. You never thought that it would feel like this. Like there were bugs beneath your skin ready to burst out if you did not find relief soon. That you would yearn for such a thing.

The King picked you up and you yelped in surprise. “Husband!” You squealed with laughter. He laughed with you but did not put you down until he reached the bottom of the slope. He went ahead of you to make sure you were safe on the jagged cliffside, avoiding rocks and slippery patches of grass.

You followed behind, holding his hand, and trusting that he would lead you to safety. He pulled you to the top of the cliffside, stopping long enough to kiss you. You laughed in between kisses, such joy trying to crack open from your chest.

The King pulled you into the palace, setting a pace that you barely kept up with. You had not thought that he would be so eager to take you to bed. Surely, he got it whenever he wanted from his first wife. But his excitement seemed to match yours.

The tips of your ears burned as you passed servants who smiled politely but likely knew what was about to happen. You shouldn’t be embarrassed to go to bed with your husband. And you weren’t embarrassed to the point that you changed your mind. You wanted to do a good job and please him. You wanted to leave him satisfied and you feared that your lack of experience would make this your first and only night with him.

What if he planted a baby inside you and never touched you again? Your heart squeezed painfully. That would break you. It would break you if your husband never touched you after tonight.

The King found your room with ease. He opened the door and ushered you inside, closing it behind you. You took to keeping your balcony doors open because it became dreadfully stuffy otherwise. The room was perfectly breezy now, the air brushing along your damp skin from the mad dash through the palace.

Standing in the room, the bed seemed impossibly large now. How different it was to stand here, not afraid of your husband or what you were about to do. You were terrified on your wedding night. Terrified that he would take what you were not offering. But he respected your wishes.

Now, your wishes were to see all of him. Touch all of him. A few candles were lit and you silently thanked Mawu-Lisa for that. You were not ashamed of your body, but you liked it better that you would do this mostly in the light of the moon.

The King brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. “I have dreamt of this many nights, wife. I will do my best. You must tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said.

“I promise,” you told him.

There was enough moonlight and light from the candles to point out most of his features. You saw him smile and then he pulled you closer. He dropped his head and kissed you. There was no more rush. The King was back to being sweet and tender, letting you get used to him being in your chambers.

He walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He slowed his kisses down, pulling away from you with a small groan. “I wish to see you, wife,” he said. His gaze searched yours for permission and you nodded.

You were so nervous, you could barely breathe at the moment. Need clawed your insides and it took all of your willpower to stand there while his hands reached for the tie at your waist. He pulled and tugged on it until the robe loosened. You took a deep breath as he peeled the side of the robe open, revealing your naked body beneath it.

You watched his face. His eyes were on your body. Eyes wide and nose flared as he looked at your exposed flesh. He let out a soft curse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he whispered.

You beamed at hearing his words. Many people had called you some variation of beautiful and it meant nothing to you. Hearing your husband say it was a treasure you locked away in your heart. You would trot it out for years and years and relive this moment until the end of your days.

“I wish to see you husband,” you whispered back. He stepped back and opened his arms. His robe was already open, revealing that delectable chest you salivated over. You slipped the sides off of him, revealing thick arms to match his solid chest. Here, you became shy. You knew that his pants would have to come off, in fact you were licking your lips at the thought, but you’d never seen a dick before. You weren’t prepared.

King Ghezo seemed to guess this. Maybe your face showed your fear. He stepped forward, slipping your own robes from your body and letting it pool at your feet.

“I am going to taste you, wife. Would you like that?” The King had a strange note in his voice that you could not name. Like he was enjoying your shyness.

“Taste me?” Did he not already taste you when he kissed you? The King only grinned and directed you to get on the bed. You did as you were told. The King’s hands grazed your ass as you wiggled onto the bed. Your skin tingled where he touched.

He told you to flip over, so you did. You waited for him to take his pants off and climb into bed. Wasn’t that the idea? You had no clue what to expect or do or feel. The bed dipped as he climbed on, his knees sinking into the mattress as he came closer.

He sat back on his knees and grabbed your left foot. He began to massage it and you fell back against the pillow as you sighed with pleasure. “Oh,” you moaned.

“This only works if you are relaxed. I know this is new. But I will be as open as possible, eh?” He asked.

“Okay,” you said. Your eyelids turned heavy as he put pressure on the heel of your foot, hitting a tender spot that shook you down to your bones. You melted into your bed, enjoying this. You wanted to catalog every second of this. If this would be your first and last time, you wanted the memories to keep you going.

He switched to your right foot, giving it just as much attention. Then he worked his way up both of your legs, spreading them wider the higher he went up. Your heartbeat began to pick up, but you were so relaxed from the massage, you screamed at your body to calm down. You did truly trust your husband.

He spread your legs and the cool air from outside hit your damp pussy. You bit your lip, looking away from him. Nothing about this should feel embarrassing and yet that’s exactly how it felt. No one had ever looked there and it made you nervous. Did he like what he saw? Was that a thing? Did it please him that you were wet for him?

A dark light entered his gaze. He stared at the very heart of you. Your pussy clenched and unclenched around nothing, somehow growing wetter under his intense scrutiny. His fingers tightened around your knees.

“Husband?” You asked.

“I’m trying to be gentle, but this is…proving very difficult.” His voice sounded hoarse as if he had been running for miles.

“I am yours, husband. However you wish,” you said.

His eyes snapped to yours. “Do not tempt me,” he said with a wicked grin. Then he flattened himself on the bed, scooting in between your thighs. Your eyes rounded as he seemed to be aiming his mouth for your pussy.

You were about to ask what he was planning to do, when his tongue swiped out and licked your pussy! “Oh!” You wailed. The sensation was completely foreign to you. You had nothing to compare it to. No basis to make you understand.

Your pussy was warm, his tongue was warm, but the minute he retreated, the cold air swooped in and swept across your exposed core. He licked you a few times and you could not stop the avalanche of moans tumbling from your lips. It felt divine. It felt weird. It felt amazing and you did not want him to stop.

“Are you okay, wife?” King Ghezo asked.

“Yes! Yes! Keep going!” You prayed. You prayed with all your might that you would get to experience this many times over. Your fingers played with his soft curls as he went back to licking you. His nose separated your folds as his tongue went lower, to your entrance, and he drank from you there. His slurps were loud in the chamber and you worried about the noise.

You gushed onto his face and you ought to feel some way about that, but all you felt was pleasure. There was tightening low in your belly but you ignored it in favor of feeling his wondrous tongue encircle your pussy. He groaned around you and it triggered your own groan.

When he hit a spot that you particularly enjoyed, you yanked on his curls. You immediately loosened your grip, not wanting to hurt him. He lifted his head from your center and looked at you. “Do what you must, wife. You will not hurt me,” he said.

You giggled nervously as you saw your essence dripping down his chin. All of that came from you?

You nodded and he returned to licking and tasting you. You moaned and dug your fingers into his curls, yanking and pulling. Your curses reached the ceiling and bounced back towards you.

The tightening got worse and worse until it almost felt like you were about to use it on yourself. You became worried that you would do just that, so you began to push at his head. His eyes flicked towards yours but he did not stop.

He kept going, keeping his gaze trained on you while that tightening became overbearing. “Oh, my King, I–”

A tidal wave of pleasure rolled through you and dragged you under. You moaned as that tight feeling dispersed, sending pinpricks of rapture to course through your body. You shook and jerked, your body completely out of your control.

The King moaned as he continued to taste you through it. “Taste so good. Love tasting you,” he murmured into your pussy. Your thighs gripped his head but still he kept going, until the last shiver left you panting against your pillow. Your sweat gathered there creating a weird mix between hot and cold from the open balcony.

“What..was that?” You asked.

“Climax,” he said.

“Climax?” You asked, rolling the word around your tongue.

“It’s what people do when they experience great pleasure.”

“So you will do it too?” You asked. How did people not spend every waking moment doing this? Now that you had experienced it, you never wanted to leave this bed!

He grinned and nodded as he ran his hand down his face, wiping away your arousal. He climbed up your body, planting kisses here or there to your tummy, until he reached your breasts.

“Are you alright, wife?” The King asked.

“Yes, husband,” you whispered. You couldn’t look at him. You were too full of love and basking in that wave of bliss. He chuckled as he kissed your belly.

“I’m going to kiss your breasts. Would you like that?” He asked.

“Yes!” You wanted to experience it all. You wanted all of it. Your hands caressed his thick arms, feeling his muscles bunch under your wandering hands. The King grinned and his mouth latched onto your nipple, suckling it into his mouth.

“Oh! Ouee,” you moaned. You had no idea that they could be so sensitive. When your cycle came, you only knew that they grew heavy and sometimes painful. But sensitive during this was fascinating to you as he rolled your nipple around his mouth. You watched the total concentration on his face.

Your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck while he switched his attention to your other nipple. Your hip jerked violently and your pussy clenched, feeling strangely empty. In theory, you knew what sex was. Your mother had that particular talk with you. You knew that he would stick his dick in there but after everything else, you weren’t sure you could handle that. But you wanted to try.

The King kissed his way up your chest, kissed your neck, and then moved upwards to kiss your lips. You tasted and smelled yourself on him and it caused you to moan. You liked marking him in such a way. That it was your essence on his lips. That you belonged to him as only a wife could to her husband.

“I am going to enter you now, wife. I will go slow, but be patient with me.” You nodded. You had no clue what he was on about but you enjoyed everything else. You were sure you would enjoy that too.

King Ghezo scooted back and got off the bed. You missed the heat of his body instantly. The cold breeze from outside ran over your body and you shivered. The King smirked at you while his hands went to the waistband of his trousers. He lowered them off of his hips and your eyes watched his every movement.

The pants slipped down and exposed him and your jaw dropped open. His dick was huge, wide, with a defining mushroom head that your eyes zeroed in on. There was no way that would fit inside of you. Absolutely none!

He palmed his length, rubbing his hand up and down. “Like what you see?”

“You are…big,” you asked. Not that you had anything to compare it to. Surely, this was above average? Maybe this was why no one did this fifty times a day. If women were getting split in half by the likes of that, they wouldn’t be able to get any chores done! Ever.

The King chuckled as he climbed back onto the bed. He laid next to you. “Would you like to touch it?”

“I won’t hurt you?” You asked.

The King grinned and shook his head. You knew you were being painfully stupid, asking these questions and acting like a skittish animal. How could you not? Why did no one prepare you for this shit?

If you ever had a daughter, you would absolutely prepare her for this by detailing exactly what happened. No matter how awkward and painful it may be for the both of you, you would not send your daughter out into marriage without giving her some notion.

You reached out your hand and wrapped your fingers around his length. You gasped. “You’re so soft!” Yet hard at the same time? The skin was smooth to the touch, with faint veins on the side. Yet his dick was also hard, unyielding. What would it feel like inside of you?

The King began to kiss you while you stroked him. He groaned and moved his hips while you became bolder, gripping onto him harder, and loving the way he responded. He moved on top of you and gently moved your hand away from him.

He gripped his dick and ran it through your folds, coating himself with your arousal. The tips of your ears burned but it felt good and you found yourself sinking down into a more prone position.

He placed his dick at your entrance and took a deep breath. He looked into your eyes as he began to slide in. Your mouth dropped open as he stretched you. It both hurt and felt good as he worked his way in.

“Wait!” The King paused. He wasn’t even partially in but it felt like was stabbing you with a knife.

“It will get better, I promise,” he said.

You nodded and took deep breaths, but fuck! You held onto his wide shoulders as he began to move forward. He retreated until just the tip of him was at your entrance and then he dove back again, getting deeper with each stroke. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving half-moon marks in it, as the stretch was too much for you to bear.

Something wonderful began to happen, however. It hurt, yes, but you were growing accustomed to it. Your body welcomed him in, your arousal helping the slide of him. He was about halfway in, getting deeper and deeper. He hit a particular spot and you screamed, slapping at his shoulder.

“Shh, shh, you have to relax.” He kissed you, trying to take your mind off of the splitting pain inside of you.

The kissing helped and he kept going. His strokes were gentle but you knew instinctively that he had to work himself inside of you. He said it would get better and you truly hoped so.

The King’s arms shook as he held himself on top of you, mindful to not put all of his weight on you. “Are you okay, husband?” You asked.

He huffed a laugh. “I should be asking you. You feel so good. So tight,” he whispered.

You whimpered as he finally bottomed out, fully seated inside of you. He lay still, kissing your jaw, your lips, your cheek. Any area he could reach with his lips. Sweat gathered on his brow and you kissed his forehead when he dropped his eyes to look at where you were joined.

You followed his gaze. Somehow that giant thing between his legs fit inside of you. “I’m going to move now,” he said.

He moved out of you and then slowly pushed back in. This time, it wasn’t as painful. The more he did it, true to his word, the more it started to feel good. Really good.

The mushroom head of his dick glided along your inner walls. It dragged ragged moans from you and King Ghezo dropped his head. “Fuck,” he groaned.

His hips snapped as he increased his strokes. “Oue, oue, more, more,” you begged. You didn’t know what you meant, but he seemed to. He snapped his hips faster. He lifted one of your legs to straddle his hip. It opened you further and you moaned as he sank even deeper inside of you. You felt his dick twitching.

Your belly tightened and you knew now that it was a climax. He stroked long and deep, pulling inhuman moans from you.

“Come on, wife. Come on,” he cheered.

You turned watery eyes to him as the climax finally washed over you. It burrowed into your bones, turning your insides to jelly, and melting you from the inside out. Your body was out of your control, your mind blissfully empty as you focused on nothing but the pleasure in your veins and the way he looked at you. Devoted. Cherished.

He moaned low and deep in his throat before something warm coated your insides. His dick pulsed as he snapped his hips as far forward as possible. He was completely buried inside of you as that warm, squishy feeling filled you to the brim. You felt incredibly stuffed.

Was that his climax? You were too nervous to ask. It was a strange sensation but you loved the feeling of him moving inside of you. He groaned and dropped to the left of you. He kissed your shoulder.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asked. You shook your head. Your body trembled as you recovered from your climax. The King grinned sloppily and kissed you gently. He pressed his lips to yours and lingered.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you responded.

He began to soften inside of you. Wait, so that wasn’t how he was normally?! You felt stupid. There was so much you didn’t know. And who did you have to ask? Absolutely no one.

He pulled out of you and something slipped out right after him. Did you make a mess of yourself? You leaned up on your elbows and looked at your pussy. A white, creamy substance leaked out of you. Your eyes widened. That must have come from him.

You ran your fingers through it and it was silky and sticky. You looked at the King who watched your curiosity like it greatly pleased him. He rubbed your belly.

“Are you truly alright, wife?” He asked.

You nodded. “Will we do that again?” You asked. You flipped onto your side and faced him. He matched you and rested his head on his hand.

“As many times as you wish,” he said with a grin.

You opened your mouth, ready to say something, but a yawn escaped you. The King chuckled and caressed your cheek.

“Thank you. That was…everything,” he whispered. He pulled you closer for a kiss. “Let’s sleep,” he said.

He rolled you over onto your other side, facing away from the balcony. He wrapped his arms around you, one arm going under your head and the other around your middle. He scooted closer to your back, pressing the length of him along yours. His dick nestled into your ass and you wiggled.

His hand flexed on your hip. “Careful. Before I flip you back over.” His voice was gruff. His breath fanned across your ear and neck. You giggled and kissed his arm.

You would get good at this sex thing. You would make sure that he continued to feel good when he was with you so that you could do that all the time. You snuggled into the oppressive heat of his body and drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, you awoke to a cold bed. You leaned up, your bleary eyes scanning the room for the King. It made sense if he had to go back to his own room. A part of you wish he had stayed.

As if she were connected to you, your servant entered the room carrying a green dress in her hands.

“Good morning, my Queen. The King has requested you join him in the council room.”

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“It will be served after,” she said.

You nodded. You couldn’t fathom what the King would want before breakfast. It was unusual to have a council meeting this early. Maybe the Oyo have grown bolder and require more diligence in dealing with them.

There was only one way to find out. You got up from the bed but you were deliciously sore. Your heart was light, airy, filled with so much love you wanted to cry. His spend had dried between your legs so your servant handed you a wet cloth and you cleaned yourself up.

She helped you dress and fixed your hair into something presentable. You couldn’t stop grinning and giggling. You were a bit worried about this meeting. You hoped it wasn’t something mortifying. Like the King announcing that you had sex and was hoping for another baby soon.

Feeling and looking good, you left your room and headed to the council room. You were beyond to see your husband. You were the last to arrive. The King smiled when you entered. He, Nanisca, the first wife, and members of his council were standing in a circle with their backs to you.

Nansica was the closest to you. She turned around and bobbed her head. You nodded back towards her. The King held out his hand.

“Wife, come meet Sade.”

Your throat dried instantly as the King stepped aside and a lovely woman, with long braids stood beside the King. She had deep ebony skin, low cheekbones, and small features. She looked like a doll standing next to him.

Your smile froze on your face as you looked from the King to Sade. Your steps turned wooden as your stomach hollowed out. You stopped a few feet from them both.

“We will be married before the week is out as a union between our kingdom and her father’s,” The King said.

Your stomach roiled with acid. You knew this day would come. You knew that you could not possibly be the last of his wives.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you managed to say around the dry lump in your throat. Tears gathered in your eyes but you blinked them away. You would not cry and snivel like a little girl. No matter how much your world was crashing down around your ears. No matter that your heart beat painfully against your rib cage. You wished to carve it out and throw it away.

You touched your hand to your chest, shocked not to find blood there already. A stab wound would hurt less.

The past few weeks had taught you to lower your defenses and enjoy your newfound freedoms. Had you truly been free? The armor you donned every morning to survive your weak father and ineffective mother and their childish marriage schemes was not needed here. Or so you thought. You pulled on your resolve. You pulled on every ounce of strength you had to look that woman in the eyes.

It was not her fault that she was traded to the King for an alliance. It was always done that way. You looked at her and only saw yourself. In another life, you would have been from a rival kingdom. Sold to a different land with different customs, food, dress, and manner of speaking. Outcast and foreign and you would have looked as she looked. Confused, relieved with such a handsome king, and yet desperately seeking someone to understand and reach out a hand.

You had no hands to give. You hated her instantly at that moment. Your rival. Was this how the first wife felt? You looked to her and she only smiled at you and the King and Sade. How could she stomach this shit?

You looked towards the King. He watched you, a slight furrow in his brow. How could he do this right after the night you spent together? After confessing your love for each other? Would he enter her bedroom on their wedding night and plant a baby so easily inside of her? Or would he wait as he did for you, coaxing you into bed, just so he could leave for the next one?

Your body shook without your permission. You trembled with rage and you hated showing even that much. You placed your hand against your belly as you flushed with heat. If you pressed hard enough, this terrible dream would end. You would wake up in the circle of his arms and laugh this dream away.

“Are you alright?” The King asked.

“I’m going to be sick.” You fled from the room. Fled from the circle of people who welcomed this new bride into your lives. Fled from the stupid, childish notion that he would have stopped with you. That it would have just been you and the silent wife.

You wanted to laugh. You pitied the first wife when you got here. You felt sorry for her that she had to watch you come along, kissing at breakfast like lovesick fools. Now you were asked to do the same. To share the love of your life with another. Someone newer, younger, daintier. You had wished for him to find someone more wifely. Ha! Who was more wifely than someone likely raised with the knowledge that she would be given away for a political alliance?

She was likely raised and taught to speak well, think well, with knowledge of subjects you could only dream of. She likely knew how to run a household, to help ease the burdens of her husband. As a wife to a King? She probably already had knowledge on how to please him. How to make him laugh.

She was completely refined and you were no more than a common village girl who no one wanted. Tears finally streamed down your cheeks as you rushed down the hallways. The pale color of the walls only served to make you sicker, weaker. You ran to your room, slamming the door behind you. You locked it and then ran to your balcony.

You could only see part of the lands from here. The view before you was mostly jungle. You folded your arms around your stomach, trying to keep your insides intact. Trying to keep your emotions in check. You quaked with unreleased grief.

You survived your childhood. You survived your hateful father. You survived disgusting people with wandering hands and twisted words. You would survive this too. It hurt like hell, but you would survive this.

You were not weak. You were not small. You were not so dumb as to believe that you would have ever mattered to anyone but yourself. You were born alone and you would die alone. And that would have to suffice.

The Secret King Ghezo Files | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

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