#forearm muscles 😖

[mmso-notlikethat]

comfy, socks and all

[darthmaulification]

honey and milk | shaak ti x reader

A/N: *breathes in* I LOVE WOMEN SO MUCH!!! 😩😳😖🥵🤲💞💞💞💦💦 

i did it. i wrote the one (1) self indulgent shaak ti soft smut body kink stuff that i wanted to do. i made it sapphic, i made it queer, and i’m finally content and the harvest is good. 🤲😌 finally, something to contribute to the CRIMINAL lack of shaak ti content.

also, i’m so swamped with college schtuff, and most of it’s writing, so please excuse any absolute incoherency this may have, my brain is running off of FUMES, i tell ya. 💀 so i am sorry i’m not spitting out much content! 😖

hope y’all enjoy! 💗

content: sapphic smut (ish), wlw, body worship, exploring each other’s bodies, implied angst bc relationship has to be hidden :(, reader is force sensitive and a jedi, reader is also implied afab but i didn’t use any pronouns/gendered terminology, forbidden love type beat, can y’all tell i like women?, greek mythology references bc i’m a gay, also semi-religious stuff? idk i use divine imagery

word count: 1,899

There is something so pure in touch, in how two beings can close the gap between their bodies and make the infinity of space more tolerable. When it’s Shaak Ti, your adored secret lover, who stands so close that you smell the wine on her lips, touch is even more sacred.

“Will you allow me to remove your robes?” You ask Shaak Ti, safely within the confines of her room, where the three white marble walls and the one glass one concealed by closed, floor-length mahogany curtain protects the images you both must maintain. Outside of this room, Shaak Ti sits on the Council and is regarded as the wisest among them. Outside this room, you are a respected Jedi Master and formidable ally to the Republic’s cause. Inside, behind the closed door, the drawn curtain, and the mellowed atmosphere of Naboo’s evening; you are both simply in love.

“Yes. Always.” Shaak Ti replies and her voice is the heaven all the Maker’s angels sing of, and immediately your fingers reach the mustard yellow hem of her cloak, where you stop briefly to thumb at the stitching on the underside, where you had sewn your name years ago. Shaak Ti hums, hearing the memory of the moment playing in your mind (always open, for her) and smiles, the quietly happy one you adore. When you meet her gaze, her tired dusky eyes soft with love, you smile too, pulling the fabric from her shoulders.

“You are my heart and soul.” You murmur, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as more and more of her brilliant, tiger lily red skin is revealed. The strong curves of her shoulders, the delicate slopes of her biceps, the dip of her elbows, and then the lean muscle of her forearms, all unfurled to your sight like a flower opening it’s petals to the sun. Shaak Ti’s cloak falls to the floor with a shallow thump when you let go of it in favor to grab her wrists, where her skin fades to the pale pink of her hands.

“And you, mine.” Shaak Ti purrs, and the Force coos like a newborn infant, whispering louder when her curious lekku brush their midnight tips against your knuckles. You laugh gently at the sensation letting go of her wrists to bring your hands to the expanse of skin that teases her chest. Placing your palms atop her sternum, you internally bless the rhythmic thumps of her heart before you guide her to turn around.

“Allow me to unlace you, my lady?” You ask in a teasingly lilted tone, one that makes tender mockery of the handmaidens that a Naboo noble had assigned to both of you earlier. Shaak Ti laughs at the poor impression of the workers, and nods her head, montrals twitching in amusement. 

“Of course, my dear.” She speaks, voice thick with amusement and you kiss her bare shoulder, marveling at her soft skin. Your love sighs happily when you plant kisses to the third lek that falls and aligns with her spine, alternating between kissing the creamy white and the midnight blue. Expertly, your fingers undo the laces that hold her bodice tight to her torso, and it goes slack when you untie the final knot.

“Have I told you how much I adore your skin?” You ask as Shaak Ti shimmies her hips to shake her dress from her body, voice almost catching in your throat when the fabric falls past her shapely buttocks. Of course you have, you had the first time she ever got bare before you, when she first entrusted you with the sight of her soft carnelian skin, skin made unique by the swooping white markings on her back, sides, and thighs.

“Have I told you how much I adore yours?” Shaak Ti fires your question back at you as she turns around, and she is a goddess; fully nude and beautiful like Aphrodite arriving at Cyprus in the company of Love himself and all the ocean nymphs. The smile that pulls at your lips grows when Shaak Ti steps out from the pile of her skirts at her feet, giving you a wonderful show of the sway of her hips and the bounce of her breasts.

“You are my everything.” You breathe, sighing when Shaak Ti presses her body to yours, warm and tall, montrals wrapping themselves around you like a second pair of arms. Briefly, she doesn’t respond, too entrenched in the heightened senses given to her by her Togruta biology and the Force to reply with anything salient. Though Shaak Ti collects herself quickly, offering you an almost drunk looking grin before placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I do believe you are wearing far too much clothing.” She speaks, her hands finding the edges of your cloak much like yours had earlier. You hum in reply, watching as her delicate yet strong fingers undo the clasp at the front. It’s palpable, the quietness that settles between the both of you, but it allows you to grasp at the Force, pluck it gently like the string of a harp, and have the sensation reverberate to your bones and quiver the air around you.

“Allow me to unwrap you, my gift?” Shaak Ti asks, both saying the question aloud and sending the implication of the thought to your mind. There’s nothing else for you to do but agree with a silent nod. Shaak Ti lets go of your cloak, and it flutters to the floor like a leaf from a tree in autumn. She leans in to you, and you tilt your head to welcome her lips that make a home with yours. As you kiss, Shaak Ti’s peach colored hands start to pull at your unassuming beige robes.

“When I dream of you, you are sunlight.” Shaak Ti whispers against the soft curve of your cheek after she pulls out of the kiss, the Cupid’s bow of her plump upper lip touching your skin. You shiver, and the Force around you does too, and when her palms slide down your shoulders taking your clothing with them, you’re lost to her touch. The heavy, tawny brown fabric falls to the floor, landing in a crumpled crescent at your feet.

“Beloved.” The endearment escapes Shaak Ti’s lips in a breathless sigh, sounding as though she was wounded by the sight of you. Her long fingers dance across the skin of your arms as they travel up to trace your collarbones, and then rest upon your neck. At the beginning, you would have found yourself somewhat bashful at having your bare, uninhibited body stared at so intensely, but now you bask in the stare of your lover’s dark eyes, which have never held judgement, never criticism— Only love.

“You are beautiful.” She says, and you place your hands on the swells of her hips to balance yourself when her traveling fingertips tease the delightfully sensitive parts of you, and you shake your head. You slide your hands up the smooth curves of her waist, thumbs extending to touch the tips of her lekku.

“No, you’re beautiful.” You reply, smiling cheekily when Shaak Ti gasps when one of your hands abandon her waist in favor of wrapping around her lek and stroking the sensitive appendage. In retaliation, she glides her hands down your sides and reaches around your back to squeeze the globes of your ass. You gasp and squeal, body lurching into hers at such a forward action, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade.

“Shaak Ti!” You reprimand with no true conviction behind it, only laughter and the deepest parts of you begging for her to do it again. She grins broadly, the rare one she does when she’s feeling extra playful, and you shiver at the promises it can uphold, the things she’s done with those dusty rose lips and pointed canines.

“Perhaps we are both beautiful.” She concedes, and those lips with all their wonderful memories are on yours again. Shaak Ti kisses you like your precious and you kiss her the same, alternating from dominating her mouth with your tongue, to allowing her to claim full reign of you as well. At some point, with all the fervor and lust clouding your senses, you find yourself in her arms, her large breasts pressed to you, heavy lekku slung over your shoulders. Your thumbs rub circles on her hip bones the way you know she likes, and the Force positively sings.

Somehow the both of you, still so engrossed in each other, manage to find the bed, where you lie side by side, entangled and ensnared by each other. Your legs interlock together, your calf resting above Shaak Ti’s, the meat of her thigh above yours. You moan into the kisses she gives, and she moans into the ones from you, and your hands greedily pull her closer, and her fingers wring in your hair.

The silken sheets below you feel as though you have Shaak Ti giving you her all as you give her yours on a cloud, as if you’re both floating in the air as you swallow all the little noises from the both of you. And it still feels like your amongst the clouds when, only minutes later, your fingers explore the most sacred part of Shaak Ti, the sanctuary she offers you between the apex of her thighs, where you bow your head and drink her nectar until she weeps your name. You give her libation again and again, three times for each word in “I love you”.

The clouds you stay in when she gives you that same worship, when she skillfully collapses the cosmos around you when you dip into orgasmic bliss, when her fingers and mouth are akin to the golden apple gifted to the fairest one by Paris — desired, purposeful, and dangerous. When she brings you over that peak three times all while you grip her montrals and repeat her name like incantation, gasping and moaning and trembling until you know only her name, and the sting of the marks she makes all over your skin.

The Force is still buzzing by the time you’ve both exhausted yourselves, found your bodies pulsing and aching with the aftershocks, but reveling in the afterglow. It may be midnight, or even later, but you will forgive the roughness of waking up in the morning when it means spending the night with the softness of Shaak Ti.

It’s quiet, and she is still wrapped around you as you are her, and there’s something so pure in touch, in making the night one of love and something more, reveling in touches that so rarely happen lest you warrant the suspicious gazes of your fellow Jedi and the consequences to your love should it ever see the light of day.

“I love you.” You murmur half asleep against Shaak Ti’s breast, where you rest your head listening to her heartbeat. She hums, the hand that she’s been rubbing the soreness from you pausing as she too starts to slip beneath the spell of slumber. 

“I love you.” She sighs, and it’s then the Force stills its trembling to a dull flow, like gentle waves rolling to and receding from a shoreline, perhaps the one your goddess walked upon, fully formed, accompanied by Love. You fall asleep to that heartbeat.

[imisstevansm]

I need this Mann I bet he’s like a big giant teddy bear 🥺🫶🏼

comfy, socks and all