Poisonousrain222 - Lori

LYLE’S SIZE KINK ABSOLUTELY ✋ ESP WITH HIS HUGE MUSCLES?? And you CANNOT convince me he isn’t going to the gym when he can (probably is the type of bf/mate to bring you with him like a giant dork to show off his muscles and strength)

KEKEKEJEHSUSJ HES SO FINE ITS NOT FAIR :””(

Oh my godddddd!!! HE TOTALLY IS TO!!! I feel like he would also be the one to do push-ups over his mate/SO while he works out. Like he knows it’s a sure fire way to get them to blush. Especially if on the way down from time to time he kisses them😩.

He would also be the one to grab the heaviest barbells and do arm curls just to show off his muscles. Like he ensures that his love is watching him as he’s doing it. He knows what he’s doing and he’s such a little shit.

I LOVE HIM.

He dose this to us on purpose I swear 😩. 

ZAAMMMMMNN

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YESSSS

Once again procrastinating school work by drawing him

HE’S SOOO

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly. 

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

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drooling (and stuff)