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honestlywtfisgoingon · 2 years

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The Purest Love: An HoM One-Shot

OBI-WAN KENOBI x PADAWAN!READER

description: obi and little one’s first time 🥺 (towards the end of chapter 50 in House of Memories)

warnings: smut. like the whole thing plus a tad of fluff. also no protection (wrap it before u tap it guys) but i figured they weren’t that careful since…spoiler… oh and btw mention of ewan’s canonically huge dick

a/n: ahhh this was so fun to write! i literally could not stop thinking abt little one and obi during this scene and ty @meshlasolus for ur blessing lol. *words in bold are excerpts from the og fic*

words: 2,307

"Obi, I know I want this. I know I want you," you said, beginning to push his vest off of his shoulders. "I have trusted you with my mind, I have trusted you with my heart... And now, I'm trusting you with my body."

"I will take care of you, I promise..."

Obi-Wan was not only a man of his word, but a man who loved you; that meant not only would he keep his promise, but he would bind himself to it until the end of his days, and all the days after, just as he had bound himself to you.

you; who now lay beneath him in your barest form, not a single thread keeping him apart from experiencing every inch of your body. It was nothing short of ethereal, the feeling he had as he felt the softness of skin he had never touched before, fingertips grazing the very top of your inner thigh, so close to where you were inviting him tonight. You gasped loudly when he finally made contact with the heat in between your legs, your eyes widening.

The talk you had beforehand let him know that you didn’t want him to stop even when that flicker of nervousness showed on your face. It wasn’t that you were afraid, no, you were excited.

He introduced his touch carefully by drawing small circles on your clit. The way your eyes fluttered at the contact had him groaning already. Encouraged by your reaction, he sped up his ministrations until you felt a sort of tingling feeling. It flared up and down inconsistently between his kisses, frustrating you who was so close to being sent over the edge with this feeling you had never experienced before.

“Obi,” you called him

“Yes, my love?” he said while gazing down at your starry eyes and glowing cheeks.

“more,” you pleaded before lifting your head slightly to meet him in a kiss. While your lips were still on his, he honored your request and slipped his fingers between your folds. When he inserted his middle finger into you up to the knuckle, you moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Maker, it’s like a song,” he whispered in awe while placing small kisses across your face. You let out a small giggle at his compliment that was cut short when he curled his finger inside your pussy. You reached out and gripped his upper arm which was flexed as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you, adding another and stretching you out even further.

“I want to make sure you’re ready,” he whispered as though he didn’t have you dripping on the sheets already, your body clearly aching to take him. He knew how painful it could be, but he wasn’t sure you were.

As you and Anakin’s guardian, he was obligated to give you two “the talk” but he gave as little detail as possible, preferring to be ran over by a bantha than have to explain the intricacies of sex to his padawans. He never expected that he would fall in love with the grown woman you became, and he would be the one to show you what it was, properly, with love and care. The thought of you in pain was the last hurdle in his mind before he let himself go into you completely.

“I am,” you nodded gently and squeezed his bicep for reassurance. He sucked in a breath and kissed you deeply, as though he needed you like air. In truth, he wasn’t sure that sentiment was entirely wrong.

He wrapped a hand around your waist to pull your body flush with his. You felt his heart beating against your chest, the rhythm vibrating through your pores and syncing up with your own to where you could barely tell them apart.

He lifted himself so that he could see you, wanting to look into your eyes as he finally made love to you. The image he was met with would be the death of him; your hair splayed out across the pillows, creating a halo that, combined with the moonlight caressing your features, made you look like a goddess. And he was going to worship you like one.

Obi-Wan used a hand to brush a few strands of hair off your forehead then cupped the side of your face with it. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, his freshwater eyes never leaving yours as he used his other hand to reach down and position himself.

He slid in slowly, but his hands, although large, could never have prepared you for the sheer size of him. You hissed out as his length pressed tightly against your walls. He added more of himself, inch by inch until pain quickly turned to pleasure. You almost found it a miracle that you were able to take all of him when he finally bottomed out.

His head fell in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath and continued to move. With every thrust, your reservations ebbed and gave way to a plethora of sounds you never knew you could make. When Obi sucked on the skin just underneath your earlobe, you couldn’t control the whimper you let out, or the way you bucked up your hips. The sudden movement on your end made him groan loudly…so you did it again. He met your thrusts and you continued to move against him until he placed a hand on your hip, pressing you into the bed.

“let me, my love,” he whispered before you let your hips relax, opting to pull him down for a kiss. This was something you were more experienced with, and you knew he liked it when you slipped your tongue in ever so slightly. He opened his mouth and greeted you with his own tongue, both of you enjoying tasting each other.

Obi’s hand slid from your hips to your thigh, bringing it up so that it was hooked on his waist. The new angle gave him access to a spot inside you had you throbbing around him every time the tip of his clock brushed against it. You tightened around him, every ridge of his dick imprinting your walls. He felt so good that it made your fingers pressed against his back retract, which no doubt scraped the broad plane of skin. You felt his brows furrowed against your forehead when your nails pressed into him.

You apologized profusely through your open connection with him in the force, but he wrapped his signature around you in reassurance. After all, he had sustained far worse than a little scratch, the evidence painted on his body through the scars you now traced.

A force bond was something you’d never thought you’d use in the bedroom, until now of course. Both of your minds were open to each other, and you knew he was thinking the same. Not only was the communication helpful, but it was beautiful, the way your bond had created a language only you two could understand. What was being spoken right now was more than I love you. Those three words weren’t even close to describing what was being exchanged by way of your dyad at the moment.

You saw flashes of images, and you realized they were memories of you and Obi from your mingled perspectives. The first time you kissed, one of the many times you crawled into bed with him after a nightmare, even the time you made him cry. Every single one was filled with love. The good and the bad, because there really is no bad with a love like yours. He was going to memorize every detail of this moment to add it to the mosaic of memories, the first out of many times he would make love to you.

Maker, felt him up to your stomach, filling you up so completely, so perfectly, as if your body had been waiting for him since long before this moment. He made your back arch and your toes curl as sparks once again crept over your body. It seemed he was feeling the same as he pulled your other leg up so that you both were wrapped around his waist, opening you up to him so that he could chase both of your pleasures. As he pumped himself in and out of you, you laced your fingers in his hair and used it to tug him down into a kiss. It worked better than you imagined, spurring him on with such fervor to where a sheen of sweat began to cover both of you.

His hand cupped your breast gently, his fingers then moving to circle your nipple as he did with your clit. Your mouth made a small “o” as he stimulated a new part of your body. You didn’t know if it was the way he was touching you, or the fact that it was him touching you, that made you feel like you were floating.

While his hands were busy, you dipped your head to the side, placing soft kisses all over his neck. You felt the subtle scratch of his beard. You loved that you could be a little buried in his facial hair when you kissed him there. He groomed himself to where it was soft and the perfect place for you to find comfort besides his chest. You felt his cheeks drag upward as he smiled at your affections. You traced your kisses from his neck up to the side of his face, stopping to brush the tip of your nose up and down with his as your eyes closed, savoring the moment. It wasn’t long after that they were rolling back into your head as he pinched one of your nipples.

Your breath caught in your throat and he dipped his head down to capture one of them in his mouth. You looked down and he was staring up at you with such intense adoration you couldn’t help but blush. It was funny, how he still made your heart flutter even though you had gone far past the beginning of a relationship, and had given yourself to him completely.

As he swirled his tongue around the bud of your breast, you sighed satisfactorily, your fingers lazily grasping at the sheets to ground yourself when the pleasure made you feel almost dizzy. As he moved back up to kiss your lips once more, he dragged his tongue up and along your sternum, leaving a wet trail that gleamed in the moonlight. His hands traveled with him, sliding along your arms and eventually lacing his fingers with yours. He held your hands to bring them up on either side of your head. You squeezed his hands, finding that holding them was your preferred form of finding stability while he made your hips roll and your back arch underneath him.

“such—a good girl. You’re doing—so well—little one,” he said the words between kisses placed in the shell of your ear. Although his breath was warm, it sent a wave of chills over your body. An incoherent sound of joy was the only response you could manage, and he wouldn’t deny he was rather pleased with the fact; that he was making you feel as good as you truly deserved.

His own words were lost as his hips stuttered from the creeping up of his orgasm. You were close to the edge as well, meeting his thrusts as he lost the will to hold your natural reaction down. With his last couple of thrusts, he found the will to say one last thing before your bodies fell off the tip of your building bliss.

“I love you,”

“I love you too,”

With your proclamations, both of you became completely overwhelmed by the euphoria that flooded your bodies. There was no possible way to hold back yours and Obi-Wan’s myriad of affections and moans. With his last bit of sense, he crushed his lips on yours, muffling the two of you, but the shared vibrations on your tongues only added to the experience. Every muscle tightened and every nerve sang as you felt Obi-Wan’s white-hot pleasure spill into the very deepest part of you. The legs you had wrapped around him pulled him close so that you might have every last drop.

When the adrenaline gave way and there was feeling back in your fingertips, you used them to brush Obi’s hair out of his face. The slick of sweat held the strands back for a moment before gravity caused them to fall again as he continued to hover over you. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before rolling off of you and onto his side. He propped himself up with his forearm and gazed down at you who was gracing him with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Your lips were plush and wet, eyes glossy post-orgasm, and yet you still looked the picture of innocence. Nothing was lost this night, only given freely. The purest kind of love.

“I’m so proud of you,” Obi said softly and tilted his head with a small smile. His words made your heart swell, and you replayed them in your head as you watched him get up to go find some water and a cloth.

He'd made sure you were cleaned up before pulling the sheets over you both and hugging you tightly to his chest, unwilling to let go for even a moment. Nothing compared to you, he was convinced. You'd given him the greatest pleasure he ever felt, and you weren't even trying to. That was the power you had over him, the bewitchment that he did not struggle against.

"I love you, little one," he whispered against your hair, kissing it and focusing his energy on lulling you into sleep along with him.

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi #star wars #obi wan kenobi x y/n #anakin skywalker #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan smut #house of memories #HoM #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan fluff #obi wan kenobi fluff

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sirendeepity · 7 months

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[ Nessian Week, day 5: Home ]

A/N: Another day, another "I don't really know if it fits the criteria, but here it is anyway". Pretty sure it was supposed to be a lot more heavier on the "emotional side" and very less literal, buuut it's been sitting in my drafts for ages, and I needed a valid enough excuse to publish it even tho I don't even have a second part ready (or any idea how it will end, because it could be a very easy, mostly Nessian thing, or it could drastically and dramatically change the course of everything and be as not Nessian centric as they come. So it's either peace of mind or complete annihilation. No in between. I personally love the drama, so there might be a big one coming for you.)

@nessianweek

W/C: 1.7k

T/W: the House is in danger, natural cataclysm, mention of possible injuries? (I don't know how to write trigger warnings without spoiling everything, just know that it's bad, or it's going to be)

“Please, spare my life, oh cruel, blood-thirsty warrior!”

Cassian huffed once more as Mor and Feyre’s mocking laughs followed him through the glass doors of the shop. A shop he’d just got out of with an extra-large sized teddy bear holding a “Hug Me!” sign between its chubby paws.

He tucked the furry thing under an arm as he kept the door open for the two ladies.

Ever the gentleman, Cassian, he thought to himself, wondering what would be Nesta’s reaction to the gift.

She’d laugh too.

Which was a very possible, almost certain scenario.

“Never, in a million years, I would have pegged my sister to be the helpless romantic,” Feyre said, catching up to him. Mor was still giggling a few steps behind.

“She’s not,” was Cassian’s reply. “Not in the way you think, anyway.”

That 4’9 feet tall plushie was not exactly a cheesy gift. It was a necessity. Well, it was a healthy mix of both.

Things were not great in Illyria, so Cassian often needed to fly there early in the morning only to come back home Gods knew when - if he managed to come back at all.

A few times now Cassian had come home from the camps in the middle of the night, tired to his very bones; all he wanted was to take a bath and snuggle in his bed, hug his wife close to his chest, and never, ever let her go again. That had been the plan, at least, until he’d opened the bedroom door and found his beautiful mate curled around a pillow. His pillow.

Cassian knew better than to ask Nesta straight-forward and expect her to answer with her heart bleeding and bare for him: she’d made huge steps, but it was a hard wall to knock down at once. Nesta Archeron was not built for vulnerability. But she was trying - doing her best, really - and that was all he cared about. All that mattered, really.

So he had waited for Nesta to open up about what was really going on - about her missing him, about her being so used to having him by her side every night that she’d felt the need to fill the empty space on the bed in a different way.

The first time he’d been welcomed by that view, Cassian was almost sure his heart had shrunk a size and slipped through his ribs, ending up somewhere around his ankles. He had felt the urge to wrap his arms and wings and every molecule of his being around Nesta and tell her not to worry anymore because he was finally home, home, home.

Yet, he had found himself unable to move, not trusting his knees to keep him standing if he even dared to take a step in her direction. So he’d stood by the door and took her in. How Nesta’s nose was buried so deep into the cushion he had wondered how the fuck does she breathe?; how her long hair, free of any braid and band, waved down in every possible direction, covering the silk bed sheets like a second blanket; how her hands were clawing the pillowcase in a white-knuckled grip, as if she was afraid it would go away, too.

As soon as blood came rushing back through his body and Cassian remembered how to function—basic coordination and all of that—, he’d walked toward their bed and woke her up. Nesta had opened her eyes, brows already furrowed as her sleepy gaze cleared and her focus snapped into place. As she realized it was not her mind playing with the darkness.

Cassian had kissed his mate ever so gently. He’d kissed her again and then kissed her once more, as he’d gotten rid of the dirty clothes he was wearing. What had come after was not as gentle—it had started as such, only to turn quickly into something else, something a little more—and neither of them had found sleep until sunrise.

That was the real reason behind the disgustingly big teddy bear.

Pity his High Lady and her Third were currently acting way too childish to learn the truth about it.

“Can we go back and buy another one for Amren? I bet it’s taller than her.”

Cassian turned to Mor, opening his mouth to suggest her next Solstice gift for their pocket-sized demon of a friend, but before a single word left his mouth, the ground underneath their feet shook violently. The plush bear was the first thing to fall as Cassian reached for the two females and shielded them both, his wings spread wide open above their heads. It was not long before silence fell again, the only noise being Feyre’s order to “tuck in that bat wings of yours”.

“It had been decades since we’d had an earthquake in Velaris. Are you all okay?” Mor’s voice was full of worry as she eyed her companions, checking for any kind of injury, hands ready to heal. Cassian knew she would find none on him: all his wounds were inside.

It had happened just a heartbeat later, stealing the air from his lungs and knocking him to the ground, every muscle tensed and ready for an enemy that wasn’t there. The panic and the fear build up to undiluted terror—to pain. And then nothing else.

Feyre was shaking him—or maybe it was Mor. Hard to tell, given that all he heard were distant murmurs, remnants of what should have been words. He couldn’t bring himself to get back on his feet, to take a deep, full breath, to remember where the fuck he was and what had just happened.

“Cassian, Gods damn it, look at me. Tell me what’s wr-”

It’s not me, he said. Not me, not me, not me.

No, he just thought it. Because the females in front of him were looking somewhere else.

The bubble popped as Cassian came to his senses—awareness rushing back along with a cacophony of sounds from all over Velaris.

Cassian gulped air down his lungs and jumped to his feet, turning his head in the same direction as everyone else’s standing in the streets.

It had not been an earthquake.

It had been the House. His House. Collapsed onto itself - dragging the Library, the whole fucking mountain, with it.

“Mother help us.”

[ * * * ]

For a long moment, everything was quiet. Until it wasn’t anymore.

Her ears were ringing. A whistle, constantly playing the same plain note, high-pitched enough to cut through her brain. She couldn’t even think above the sharp, throbbing pain, like a hammer against her skull.

She opened her eyes—or tried to: everything was still dark, so dark Nesta wasn’t sure she did it in the first place.

The Library. I’m in the Library.

Right. Azriel had brought Emerie over and they had both joined Gwyn and the priestesses.

Emerie. Gwyn. The priestesses.

Nesta could have called out their name, could have just whispered them, could have said nothing at all.

She tried to move her arms, found them free of any injury or impediment, and proceeded on with the rest of her body. Just as Gwyn had once told her. Frankly, she’d just half-listened to her friend’s babbling, catching words here and there and nodding along in encouragement. There was a different sort of spark in her big teal eyes whenever that side of Gwyn took control, as if the spirit of a long-deceased scholar had just possessed her body and that was the only relief the poor soul could find after centuries of torments. That was a fun way to put it, anyway.

Neck, nothing.

Ribs, nothing.

Spine…

She wiggled her toes, only to realize she could not. A bookshelf had fallen on her.

Not a bookshelf, Nesta thought, just its books.

Something must have blocked it before it hit the ground.To prove her point, dozens of tomes of every size and texture were on her. Burying her alive. Life had a wicked sense of humor. Nesta moved them away ever so slowly, lest something was not quite right yet.

Once the way was clear, she tried again, just higher: bending her knees, she hold on to what felt like a crumbled piece of wall and pushed herself free from under the now empty bookshelf. The idea of running out of luck and being crushed underneath it did funny things to her stomach. To her self-control in general, given that she was already running low on it.

Spine, legs, feet: nothing.

Sitting up, Nesta started to cough at the cloud of dirt and dust and debris floating through the air. It was hard to breathe and there were one too many reasons why.

Nausea and dizziness hit her all at once, in a rush so strong she barely managed to turn her head to the side before throwing up, emptying her guts.

Nesta could almost hear Gwyn say in that tone as condescending as ever, “That’s called having a concussion.”

“Here I was, believing your skull was the hardest thing to crack open.” That would’ve been Emerie, of course. Never missing a beat.

She needed to find them, but first, she needed to make sure she wasn’t going to die in the process. A moment later, her hands were on her head, in her hair, feeling her scalp and looking for open wounds. She didn’t find any, and yet her fingers were warm, wet.

Mh, strange.

She retreated her hand, squinting as she tried to make out the slickness coating her fingers, to no avail. It was too dark.

Something brushed her thigh, making her startle. It was cold, the whisper of a touch.

And it was warning her. Nesta felt it before it happened, before another rumble shook the ground. It was an aftershock—the first of many.

Her head started floating above her shoulder and her limbs felt so inexplicably light. But Nesta’s existence as a feather was short-lived: she’d flown too high, she’d touched the sun. She was free-falling.

Her knees hit the ground first, the rest of her body soon followed, her marble bones too heavy for her to move, to breathe. Cold sweat pin pricked her skin, and Nesta prayed for luck to kiss her once more. She wasn’t known for her faith, though.

And then the ringing began.

I’m sorry, the phantom wind whispered against the shell of her ear. She could hear it clearly over the screaming and the shouting of that noise inside her head. It was a faint embrace, but Nesta reveled in its familiarity for as long as she could.

I tried.

#dee writes #house of memories #nessianweek2023 #day 5: home #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta x cassian #nesta and cassian

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