#Anakin without his prosthetics

[mamuzzy]

Anakin needs therapy.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Just over here admiring the level of sheer blind trust Echo put into this band of strange-looking clones that he had literally just met, by agreeing to be tossed by a gigantic bear of a man 20 feet (give or take) through the air up to a small ventilation shaft while clinging to the back of the guy who's wearing glasses in an active combat zone.

This, after having just been released from cryofreeze with two prosthetic legs he likely hasn't had any practice actually walking on + a scomp for a hand (meaning if anything goes wrong with this stunt, there's likely very little he can do to save himself).

(May I just add that THE Anakin Skywalker is apparently just standing back watching all this go down before finally saying he doesn't actually need Wrecker's help to reach the shaft because, you know, the Force?)

Of course, Echo's an ARC trooper who had Fives as a squad mate... But he's basically putting his life in the hands of 4 versions of Fives 2.0 on steroids, immediately after waking up from months of torture/coma.

AND THEN within 10 minutes of this, he has to leap onto the back of a winged creature, and does so without any question apart from raised eyebrows.

Mad respect, Echo. Mad respect!

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Okay imagine dilf!Anakin getting you pregnant and despite your controversial age gap shows your bump off whenever he can. Family dinner? He’s personally coming behind you and pulling your shirt back a bit to enunciate your bump. Not allowed to go swimming without him making you wear the tiniest bikini, show off that little bump. Oh and don’t forget the overprotectiveness.

He takes off his prosthetic arm when he’s cuddling you in fear of hurting your bump no matter how big or small it is, he’s completely obsessed. And don’t get me started on how he’d act when the baby finally comes

- 🌺

Author's note: nonnie I've missed you!!! PLS THIS IS AWESOME GIVE ME MORE TILL I PASS OUT also thank you @lacebird for feeding me with this photo above, I'm salivating..

DILF!ANAKIN lives for the fact that he got you pregnant, and he makes it his personal mission to highlight that fact every chance he gets. He's just so obsessed with how your belly swells, how radiant you look every day (even tho you literally vomit, have swing moods - that man loves it all) he can't bring himself to hide it.

So when it comes to family dinners, you barely even sit down before his large hands are all over you, smoothing down your shirt like he’s straightening a pure masterpiece. “Come here, baby,” he murmurs, sliding behind you - palms possessively framing your bump. And he doesn’t stop there since it's Anakin we talk about. Those long fingers lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to expose the gentle swell of your belly before his hands just sprawls all over it, trying to feel you skin-to-skin

But it's worse if he's doing it before your or his family - you’re all mortified, cheeks burning with embarrassment he apparently doesn't feel but it’s not like you can stop him. If anything, the smug grin on his face grows even more when he notices how flustered you are. “What?” he teases but before your pretty lips can even open to scold him, he's all leaning down, pressing gentle kiss to this sweet spot on your neck, mouth by your ear - "c'mon, can't have you hiding all the time now, right? Have to show up my perfect treasure"

Swimming? Do not even think about wearing something that hides you. Anakin has you in bikinis so small you feel naked. He sits by the pool, legs spread wide, eyes locked on you through the sunglasses as if to make sure you're all safe. Hand rests on his thigh, thumb twitching like he’s stopping himself from dragging you back out of the water.

“Turn around, angel,” he calls out, tone of his voice making you blush, spreading this heat over your body. When you do, he smirks like he’s won the greatest prize ever “Beautiful,” he adds

And at night? Oh, you thought cuddling would be normal? Think again. Before you even get comfortable, Anakin’s already taking off his bionic arm. You'd roll your eyes every time, but he's all shaking his head, acting so serious

“No way,” he said “What if I accidentally press too hard? Not happening.” He settles behind you, pulling you against his chest, real hand immediately spreading over your swollen bump. Lips finding your delicate spot on your shoulder and it's where he's all murmuring to the baby, fingers stroking so softly over the curve of your tummy, drawing circles and shapes over the spots where the baby moved lately

“Gonna be the second most beautiful girl in the whole world - right after your momma..One queen, one princess - both already having daddy wrapped around their fingers"

And when the baby comes, he’s absolutely wrecked, usual cocky behavior replaced with something painfully tender. He holds them like they’re the most fragile, precious thing in the galaxy. He holds them so gently yet firmly out of fear to break it or lost it from his arms “Hey there, little one,” he whispers, brushing a finger along their tiny cheek.

Yet he never forgets you. Not for a second. After putting the baby down for a nap, he'd be all yours, pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?” he asks quietly, hand moves to your belly -- still soft and round post-pregnancy -- and he pressed a tender, loving kiss to your forehead, then to your cheeks, lips, nose, eyebrows, eyelids, jawline, neck

“You gave me everything, baby,” he murmurs. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know it.”

And because he’s Anakin, he won’t stop touching you - lips on your temple, hands cradling your waist, fingers brushing over the swell of your belly as if he’s already thinking about doing it all over again. But the most important thing is that he's there - all supportive, all understanding, giving you all the time you want to get back to your state before pregnancy (but let's be honest, his emotions towards you won't change because of your body)

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

[darlingdekarios]

promise not to tell.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,014 content: Anakin Skywalker x f!reader, established relationship, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, nightmares, gaslighting/manipulation, porn with plot, somnophilia, dacryphilia, dubious consent, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, orgasm control], kink(s) [choking, biting, breeding, hair pulling, blood, squirting], somewhat "dead dove do not eat" please read the content tags again!, ends in fluff

Anakin needs to occupy his mind with something other than unrelenting nightmares. it's hard for you to tell him no.

A raging fire. A cloaked figure hidden by smoke and shadow, the presence enough without a face or voice to cause a primal fear - the kind that manifested in one's physicality and tightened your chest until you were certain you couldn't breathe. 

And you - the flames drawing closer as your face stared back at him, unblinking as tears streamed down your face. You were talking - whatever you were saying went unheard, your lips moving in four words repeatedly.

"It will be okay."

Until you stepped backwards, and -

It was as though he had been standing in the fire when he woke, shooting upward in bed with a thin sheen of sweat covering his overheated body, his lungs heavy as if they were full of smoke. Before he'd caught his breath he was on his feet, slipping on a robe to cover his frame before shoving his feet into boots, a destination in mind as he emerged from his door.

He was only going to your room to check on you - to put his own mind at ease of the fears that filled his mind like skeletons in a graveyard. This was the one clarity in his mind as heavy boots fell against the Temple floor, stride increasing with each step as he moved in on your room like a storm. 

From the other side of the door he could focus enough on you to know you were inside, sleeping soundly with heavy, steady breaths. This is where he'd told himself he'd stop, returning to his room to meditate until the Temple rose for the day. 

No matter what he'd intended all along, it was certainly not what he was doing now as he worked open your door as quietly as he could, stepping inside swiftly. He wasn't thinking clearly - not when he slipped his boots from his feet and walked silently to you, his unseen expression softening in the starlight glow of your room as his eyes found your bliss filled face. 

His only focus was finding the only true comfort he could in this moment, and finding it once again in you. 

What could quiet his mind better than the feeling of you responding to him even in sleep? As if it was in your very nature your body shifted backward and closer to his frame the moment he slipped into the space behind you, one of his arms snaking around you like Eden to draw you nearer. 

Had you been dreaming about fires, too? Your skin was warm, the blanket had increased your temperature enough to break you into a sweat despite the fact you wore nothing more than your underwear - a fact he was appreciative for as his hand splayed against your stomach to press you closer. As one of his thighs slipped between yours he licked his lips, the wetness pooling between your thighs now spreading to his bare skin. 

That was all he needed, the promise of your velvet walls already wet too intoxicating a thought to ignore. Pressing his thigh harder against your core he savored the heavy breath that fell from your lips, cautious enough in his movements to ensure you remained asleep. 

His hands first found your breasts, cupping and kneading the soft flesh in his hands as he leaned closer, burying his face in your neck to deeply inhale the familiarity of your natural perfume. Mind hazier than it had been earlier, the reason he was here in the first place long forgotten, one of his hands left your chest to continue downward, toward what he truly sought. 

As his prosthetic continued to gently massage your chest two long fingers ran through your folds, your arousal soaked core offering little restraint. When your walls welcomed in one finger with ease he withdrew to add a second, curling them both against a sensitive spot he often bullied for your reaction. 

From behind you his cock was throbbing in his underwear, the fabric restraining his length to a painful degree - he needed pressure and took it by grinding against you, his fingers pumping into you at a pace indicating he'd forgotten you were asleep. As you stirred awake his mouth connected to your neck, his tongue licking at a spot he often favored near your shoulder.

It was hardly the first time he'd woken you up like this, but you found each time was more dizzying than the last, his efforts and actions increasing each time this occurred. It was becoming a habit, one that had previously been restricted to starships and distant planets. 

Even in your half awake state, the thought of Anakin sneaking into your room in the Temple to defile you only added to your arousal, a quiet moan falling from your lips as your walls clenched around his fingers. You allowed yourself a moment longer before the cloudiness of sleep lifted further, the consequences of what would happen if you were discovered now coming to mind. 

Almost sensing your body's reluctance his prosthetic hand slipped downward to press into your waist, holding you tight against him as he pumped his fingers into you faster.

"Anakin..."

"Shhhh," he cooed, abandoning his attention on your neck to lean his mouth closer to your ear, whispering delicately in a tone that didn't match the ferocity at which he was now driving his fingers into you. Now that you were awake, there was no point in him holding himself back from playing with you how he wanted. "It's me."

"Shouldn't be in here, what're you..."

"Just shush," it was subtle, but you could hear the hint of annoyance in his voice, why you would question him at this point in your relationship always a baffling thing for him. He had never failed to make you feel good before, and if you would shut up and let him, he'd make sure you got better sleep than you would've before. "It's just me, I've got you."

"But if s-someone...hears," you whimpered, the noise coaxed from your throat by the perfect curl of his fingers, the digits rubbing against the perfect spot that started to unravel your anxieties into forgotten thoughts.

"Then I guess you should be quiet then," he cooed, his voice smug as he nipped at the skin beneath your ear. "I couldn't sleep, I needed your help."

"Anakin..."

"Shhhh...just let me take care of you...of us."

His prosthetic hand left your chest to cup over your mouth gently, slowing the pace he was pumping his fingers into you to stroke along your walls slowly, his lips trailing heavy kisses along your neck. 

"I'm sorry...I just...couldn't help myself when I saw how beautiful you looked," his breath was hot and heavy against your neck and you noted the subtle shake to his words, a familiar desperation to his movements and tone. He removed his fingers from you, smiling against your skin when it pulled a whine from your chest, his mocking laugh muffled.

Agonizingly slow he ran his fingers through your folds again, spreading the excess of arousal he was creating from your abandoned hole to your swollen clit. His fingers rubbed a slow circle, ego basking in the way your waist bucked toward him. 

"And you were already so wet..." 

Gently, slowly he slipped one finger into you again, giving you enough to feel desperate for more and not nearly enough to push you closer to the release you were now chasing. He was whispering lowly in your ear, his voice caressing your mind into ease and submission, his tone too honey sweet to deny.

To offer your encouragement you pressed back into him, the thick outline of his cock pressed firmly between your bodies as you turned your head in a desperate attempt to ask him for a kiss. Amused by your shameless display of neediness Anakin taunted you by kissing the back of his hand over your lips, eyes gazing deeply into yours with the intensity of twin suns. 

He shushed you against his hand, waiting for you to nod your understanding until he took his hand away, pushing two fingers into you as he happily pressed his lips to yours in a rough kiss. It was always a bit clumsy, desperate when the two of you found yourself clamoring for one another in the night like this, and now was no exception - tongues overly ambitious and territorial, teeth knocking several times before you figured it out. 

Life didn't award the two of you many opportunities to rehearse this dance, but thankfully you had become part of one another's muscle memory, and it never took long to fall into the perfect synchrony. 

He spread his fingers inside you, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand grasped the back of your head, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure from twisting your neck. You moaned against his lips, perfectly quiet for the situation you were in. He thanked you with his teeth against your bottom lip, a low hum rumbling in his chest. 

"It's been too long...you're so tight."

He encouraged you to return your head forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before burrowing his face in your neck again, his fingers pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace to draw you nearer to the edge. You took it upon yourself to silence your moans by burying your face into the pillow, your sounds of pleasure only loud enough for his ears.

"Good girl," he was kissing your neck again and maker was it a wonder how he knew the exact pressure with which to press a kiss to each spot, having long since memorized his favorite parts of your skin. "If you come for me we can go back to sleep, I just...need to feel you come."

He felt you tighten around his fingers the moment he mentioned your release, choosing then to connect a metal thumb to your clit and circle slowly, the cold searing against your burning skin in a way that set the nerves ablaze. Your walls fluttered again, your hips squirming as you reached one hand back to grip at his hair, begging him for what you needed without ruining your perfect silence. 

But he held you there, slowly his movements and breathing heavily against your skin until he could hear your breathing turn impatient, your waist pushing back into his as you tugged at his hair to beg. Slipping two fingers into you again he curled them, pressing firmly against the sensitive patch you needed him most as he rolled your clit in his fingers. 

"Go ahead."

He continued fucking his fingers into you as you muffled your moan into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as you were taken over by euphoria, certain even when you'd been amongst the stars you hadn't felt this high. He continued to lazily pump his digits until your walls unclenched, continuing to stroke gently through your folds. 

In your blissful state your mind shrouded his actions in fog, his movements hardly registering until you felt the leaking head of his cock rubbing between your folds. Though he wanted to, he didn't push into your velvet channel, instead barely teasing the tip just barely into you. Even that was enough to cause your hips to buck forward and away from him, the sensitivity overwhelming your actions. He only pulled you back into him with a firm hand, grinding his length against your core again. 

"I'm sorry..." he breathed out, lips pressing to the back of your neck gently before he nipped his teeth into your skin again. Dragging his length back and forth through your folds filled the room with the audibly lewd reminder of how wet you were. "I know I said just one orgasm but...I just. I just need you, okay...listen to how wet you are..."

"Anakin..." you whimpered, your tone unconvincingly serious as you shifted your waist toward his further. His fingers twitched at your hip, digging into your skin further to hold you tighter, sucking dark evidence of your time together onto your neck. "We can't...not here..."

"I won't move, I just want to feel close to you," he promised, his tone too sweet and convincing to resist. "I need to be close to you, angel..."

"Okay."

You could feel his lips curve into a wicked smile the moment you relented, your body relaxing in his arms. He reached between your bodies to grasp his cock, giving the throbbing length several pumps before he inserted only the tip, pulling you down onto inch by inch with a hand on your hip until he was fully sheathed inside you. 

"That's my girl," he breathed out, his free hand finding its way to your chest to grip one of your breasts. "Kriff...s-so tight."

"Missed you," you whimpered quietly, trying to steady yourself as to not spur him forward but well aware of the fresh rush of slick that was leaking from you and soaking his pelvis. He released his bruising hold on your hip to wrap his arm fully across your stomach, holding you to him. 

His hold was crushing - you couldn't move if you wanted to. Right now, you couldn't decide.

"Missed...maker...missed feeling you," he managed out, swallowing hard midway through to gather himself, his forehead now resting against your back. His hips rolled, pulling a delicious moan from you that you barely managed to muffle in the pillow. "I'm sorry, I just...I need more."

"Ani..." you whimpered, one of your hands reaching behind to push at his waist gently. It was a feeble attempt...he couldn't help the quiet laugh that rumbled against your back through his chest because of it. "Y-you said..."

"You just make me feel so good, I'm sorry...s-sorry, I can't help it," he had raised his head again to whisper in your ear, pressing reassuring kisses to the sensitive skin beneath it. "You feel too good...promise we can go to sleep soon I just...just need to come."

He was moving then and maker, there was little to complain about when you were reunited with Anakin like this after months of being denied. A blissful sigh slipped past your lips at the next slow roll of his hips, an appreciative groan falling from his lips at the feeling of his length dragging inside your walls. 

Slowly he withdrew from you, forcing himself to wait a moment before pushing back into you, repeating the motion until he'd set a pace he knew you loved. For what it was worth, he was managing to stay gentle with you, hoping you'd come around to the risk of coming together in the Temple the more tenderly he approached.

"A-Anakin, you... feel so good," you whimpered out when his tip rubbed against the sensitive spot in your walls, hands grasping at the sheets in desperation for something to hold onto. Thankfully, he was more than perceptive when it came to your body's response to him. 

With appallingly little effort he had you on your back, his arms moving to press your knees to your chest. Arrogant - there was no other word for the smile that passed his features as his cock pressed impossibly deeper into you, leaning downward so he could claim your lips in a heavy kiss again, the momentary lull in his movements quickly shattered with a harsh snap of his hips. 

You could already feel the bruises forming under his fingertips on your legs where he held you, pounding into you repeatedly at a pace that would make it hard to cover the discomfort you'd feel in training tomorrow. You knew that for him, seeing you struggle to stand would be just as satisfying as it was to put you in that position in the first place.

Instead of thinking about the future, though, you focused instead on now - on him. He was talking against your lips between kisses, his teeth catching your bottom lip between them so frequently you could feel the swell to them. He was beautiful - you were fortunate to be able to see him this way, almost seeming to glow and sparkle as the moon and stars glistened off of his sweat covered skin. 

You reached for him with one hand, leaving the other to rest on his stomach, fingers pushing back his soaked curls before running down the side of his face. The emotion, the tenderness...the physical manifestation of your love for him in every gentle touch - it only made him want you more, a fact that he proved by angling you into the perfect position, your release approaching suddenly and with ferocity as his cock entered you deep - almost too deep, one of his hands now pressing against your stomach. 

He could feel you clenching him, walls fluttering as your eyes rolled back, biting your bottom lip between your own teeth to stifle your moan. With a particularly hard thrust and squeeze from your cunt he replaced your lips with his, surprised to taste the familiar metal of blood. His tongue apologized for the pain, swiping against your lip before he kissed you again, one hand pressing to your stomach. 

Your second orgasm washed over you violently, legs shaking between your bodies as he continued to take what he needed from you, using your lips to muffle moans of his own as your walls choked his cock, squeezing him so tightly he could hardly bring himself to pull out.

"Gonna fill you up."

The warning was barely audible, only moments later you felt the wet heat of his seed filling you, the excess combining with your own release and leaking out from around his cock. The promise of a sight like that pulled him from you, using one of his hands to hold your legs to your chest still as he leaned back. 

You were lost in a haze, not wholly certain you weren't floating amongst the stars, hardly registering the predatory look on his face and the way his eyes darkened as he gazed upon your leaking hole. "Look how pretty..."

Two of his cold metal fingers pushing the liquid back into you started to bring you back to your body, just enough to take in the sight of him licking his lips - his intentions written plainly on his features.

Taking, with no intention to stop.

"I'm sorry, angel, you just...look so good."

He leaned forward, flattening his tongue against your cunt and licking through your folds slowly, gathering as much of the combined spend on his tongue before swallowing it down greedily, his groan vibrating through you. He sucked your swollen, pulsating clit harshly before returning his tongue to your freshly fucked hole, pushing the muscle into you greedily.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, the only movement you could manage, pulling roughly to hold him closer to your core with all of your strength. He was drinking from you - far too busy to concern himself with how hard you were pulling on him. The noise the two of you were creating was forgotten, Anakin's mouth slurping and smacking against your cunt as he moaned in unison with you. 

"Need you to come again, angel..."

His head would stay between your thighs until you did, you knew that. But after two, you weren't certain how much more you could offer.

"'s too much..."

Disappointed in your response he turned his head to nip at your inner thigh, a bruise forming in the wake of his teeth. He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head briefly before kissing the mark, eyes flickering up toward your face. Disapproval flooded his eyes.

"Don't say that," he snapped, taking a deep breath into his lungs to steady himself again. When he continued his voice was calmer, much more seductive, his lips pressing to your clit briefly again. "You know it's not, you can take it. Give me one more."

"I can't..."

He growled, his frustration clear as he huffed out a breath, withdrawing from you. You whined at the loss, a contrast to the reluctance of your words, to which he laughed short and harsh, muttering about how he knew what you needed. 

As he moved to his back he grasped you, pulling you to kneel over him and swatting at your ass to encourage you to crawl forward. Your shaking legs nearly failed you as you did as you were instructed - you wouldn't *dare* deny him what he needed - crawling toward his face until you were kneeling over it. 

His eyes said everything - you may have been hovering over him, but he was still in control. They continued to burn into yours as he pulled you downward, connecting his lips to your clit and slipping two waiting fingers into your cunt with ease. It didn't take long for his wants to click in your mind, his end goal becoming more and more obvious as he relentlessly continued to suck and lick your throbbing clit, eventually adding a third finger into your channel.

The pressure was becoming too much, too blinding, all of your senses overwhelmed and your body seemingly on fire, finding it within yourself to grind against his face despite your increasingly weak legs.

"Ani, I...fuck, I..."

He only nodded, perfectly timed with the rush of fluid that squirted from you, your vision blinded and mind free of all thought as this orgasm wracked through you violently. Anakin's mouth was open and waiting, eagerly lapping at the fluid after you'd finished, drinking from you like it sustained him, unwilling to waste a single drop of what he'd earned - of what he'd known you could give him. 

He caught you when you nearly collapsed, helping you lay back against the mattress again, gazing at you lovingly. The overstimulation had brought tears to your eyes, your face a complete wreck now - crocodile tears on your cheeks, a split lip from where you'd bitten yourself, several marks of his covering your neck. 

This is where he found true beauty. 

He leaned forward, licking one of the tears that had reached your lips before smiling and kissing you again, nestling back between your thighs. From between you his cock twitched again, harder than even before now that you'd gushed on him. His hands were bending you back again, forcing your knees back to your chest again, a hand immediately slipping to your throat when you were positioned exactly how he wanted you.

His free hand was waiting to grasp your hip when you jerked at the feeling of his cock teasing at your entrance again, holding you in place as he rutted against you slowly. You could hear his cock as it slipped back and forth through your folds, your body willing to give into him further even if you felt you couldn't.

"Still wet..."

You opened your mouth to argue but it went unheard as he just barely applied more physical pressure to your neck, combining it with additional pressure from the Force to make it feel much tighter. Your eyes stayed on his, wide and glimmering, universes reflected in them as you surrendered yourself to him. 

"Shhh..." he cooed, slipping his free hand between the two of you to grasp his cock, pumping the throbbing length in clumsy, desperate motions as he gazed into your blissful face. "I know you wouldn't want me to wake up in pain..."

You barely managed to shake your head, relenting once again, his hand replaced with your cunt as he drove forward into you again. The noise your cunt welcomed him home with was lewd - responded to with a groan from him. 

"I know," he breathed out, leaning down to capture your lips in a loving kiss again. You winced, lips swollen and bottom one split, something he showed little regard for as he bit at the soft flesh again. "You'd never want to hurt me, angel..."

Your walls squeezed him tighter, the overstimulation completely clouding your mind and rendering you into one purpose - his pleasure. You felt more tears coming on your cheeks as he began to pound into your over sensitive hole, eyes begging for anything he wanted to give. Content with your devotion he released his hold on your throat, a moan bursting from your mouth which he quickly silenced with a hard kiss.

Thankfully, it was obvious from the sloppiness of his thrusts that he wouldn't last long this round with you - his hips sputtering against yours each time his sack hit against your skin. His thumb found your clit again, pinching the bud roughly and swallowing the wail that came from your mouth. 

"You can take it," he whispered against your lips, forehead dripping sweat now with his hair completely slick against it. "I know...y-you've got one more."

How long had the two of you been going? Long enough now to the point where you were so cock drunk all you could manage was to nod up at him, eyes still wide with tears streaming on your cheek. Each time your bodies came together with pornographic noises he hoped would replace the nightmares echoed, joined by moans and sobs of pleasure from you, thanked with grunts and groans from him.

"Gotta...fill you again," he promised, lips now on your neck as he licked at your skin, picking a completely new spot on your shoulder to bite into. He wondered what you might do if he bit hard enough to scar you with a print that was uniquely his own - a thought for another time, perhaps. "Make sure...it works. Want everyone to know who you...who you belong to."

As his thrusts became impossibly harder and he pressed a hand against your stomach again he lowered his head further, suckling one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around your nipple. It occurred to him that your chest had gone unfortunately neglected in his actions tonight - something he'd happily remedy in the morning. 

He could feel your body begging for release, his cock railing into you repeatedly, the tip slamming into your most sensitive spot with each thrust, his hand pressing hard against your stomach while cool metal fingers played with your clit. As he pulled away from suckling your breast he bit your nipple, the wicked grin you love flashing on his features before he made his way to your face again.

"Again," he instructed simply, leaving no room for disagreement. To accentuate his point he ground his waist into yours agonizingly slowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth that contrasted how rough he was being. His breath was heavy, hot against your skin - you thought you might burst into flames any moment. "You know what I want."

You did, but you weren't certain you could give it to him - until he picked up the pace between his hips and fingers more, using the Force to replace the pressure on your stomach when he removed his hand from it. Grabbing your jaw he forced you to roll your head forward from the pillow again, demanding eye contact. 

Taking advantage of your open mouth he spit into it, watching as you swallowed it down gratefully. The moment he kissed you again both of your dams burst - you gushed around him again, clear fluid reaching his abdomen and creating even more noise as he groaned out, spilling another load in your womb. 

He continued to thrust through both of your orgasms, lazily pressing kisses to your lips, cheek, nose and forehead...anywhere he could reach until he was certain your cunt had taken in every drop he offered. 

It was serenity in moments like this, his mood effortlessly shifting from greed and selfishness and into something much softer, much more in control of himself. When he pulled himself free of you with a groan he leaned downward to press a silent kiss to your forehead, withdrawing to the attached bathroom to retrieve a towel, wetting it in the sink with warm water before returning to your side. 

As he gently cleaned your core he pressed his forehead into yours, eyes closed as he muttered quiet apologies and words of appreciation. When he left again it was brief, movements spurred along by the quiet whine that left your throat. 

Tenderly shushing you now as he slipped into the bed beside you, arms wrapping around your middle to anchor you to him. Happily, with no shred of hesitance your head found its favorite resting place against his chest, your frame melding into his much as it had earlier. 

This time, however, he only held you, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

"Y'had another nightmare, didn't you?"

It was the most words you'd said in a single sentence since he'd stolen his way into your room, and he was appreciative for your delicate tone - for the way you knew how to approach him in ways others were too intimidated to. He savored the way your arms wrapped around him, hands resting on his lower back to offer him some comfort. 

"The same one," he knew that you'd understand from just that, thankful much more needn't be said, his preference on keeping the images locked in his mind showing strong. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I couldn't help myself, I just..."

"Needed me."

The apology he offered went responded to no further, a verbal confirmation of your forgiveness unnecessary. Instead, you focused what little energy remained in your body to brush your fingertips lightly on his back, your affections reciprocated as one of his hands raised to hold the back of your head, silently asking you to stay closer. 

"I love you, angel."

The words he said so little that you craved to hear more than any other, welcoming you back into sleep.

masterlist. star wars masterlist.

[sunderwight]

Time travel fic where Vader gets the chance to go back in time, any time, and change his history.

So he goes back to when he was still a slave boy living on Tatooine with his mother.

He avoids the Jedi. Qui-Gon doesn't get the money for the parts they need, so the Queen doesn't reach Coruscant in a timely fashion, and the ousting of the Trade Federation is delayed. Which sucks ass for Naboo. But, on the other hand, the confrontation with Maul happens smack dab in the middle of the desert, so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan actually overpower him together and neither of them dies.

After the Jedi leave, Anakin uses his future knowledge and expertise in cybernetic implants to remove his and his mother's slave chips. A tragic accident befalls Watto, and a fire in the junk shop destroys most of his records, so no one who inherits the remainder has any knowledge of slaves (or anything else) missing from the inventory.

Shmi knows that something has changed. But Ani's always been a miracle, strange and unknowable in many ways, and yet still her son regardless. She goes along with it, even though she's apprehensive about affording water, shelter, and food as they are.

She needn't have worried.

At every turn, Anakin miraculously seems to uncover things they need, or opportunities for them to explore. Shmi finds decent work in various establishments -- cleaning garages and hangers, and cantinas after closing, mostly. There always seems to be someone willing to hire her on for a while, even if they already seem to have staff. Ani works his magic with scrap parts and whatever better pieces they can afford, when they have enough to spare (which is surprisingly often), and sells contraptions to the Jawas, junk dealers, or other interested parties. If he makes and sells some weapons to some enterprising bounty hunters or mercenaries, Shmi doesn't discern it, and Anakin doesn't volunteer the information.

But mostly, he works in prosthetics.

There's a pretty big demand for such in the Outer Rim, especially Tatooine, where the idea of anyone hopping into a Bacta tank is even less realistic than the idea of public swimming pools. People are losing limbs all the time, and good prosthetics are hard to come by.

Anakin makes good prosthetics. Even with limited parts and visible frustration, by the time he's thirteen, most of the planet knows where you go if you need an "extra hand", so to speak.

It's not long before the Hutts take an interest in monopolizing the resource, and seeing what else this talented young mechanic can build. Even if most Hutts rarely need prosthetics themselves, they like to be in charge of a hot commodity, after all. And it's hardly unheard of for them to lose an arm or two either.

Shmi worries. Anakin doesn't. Somehow, all of the local crime lords start to be met with unfortunate accidents. Their relatives and allies investigate, of course, and no one really believes in coincidences in the Outer Rim. But nothing turns up either. Falling cargo, suicides, misfiring weapons, heart attacks, choking on food, slipping and falling into sarlacc pits, it's all stuff that does happen. It just usually doesn't happen so often, to such a specific group of people, within such a short amount of time.

When Anakin is fifteen, Sidious sends people to fetch him. They approach him with sweet offers and seemingly-generous gifts, at first, as if it's not the most suspicious way they could go about it. His mother too, but it's such a stupid effort that Shmi finds them suspect even without prompting, and senses something off about them. Anakin's mother might not be nearly as Force sensitive as he is, but she is, and she doesn't like Palpatine's people even if she doesn't know who they are.

The next ones just try and abduct him. It's at least less insulting in its directness. They find themselves falling afoul of the many dangers of Tatooine instead. Such a risky place, people disappear out here all the time. Mind the womp rats and the krayt dragons.

Finally, Sidious goes himself.

His ship suffers a terrible malfunction upon its descent towards a planetside dock. A true tragedy. The Chancellor will be missed.

History remembers Anakin Skywalker as a footnote in the development of several innovative prosthetic enhancements, and a semi-obscure abolitionist who also advocated for the rights of clones.

[ddejavvu]

asking anakin to pin you to the wall or choke you using the force 🥵

mei i would BEG him on my hands and knees

so this covers inappropriate uses of the force that go far beyond choking because i have far too many thoughts on the concept and couldn't stop myself there, oops!

obvious cw for choking/restraint, don't read if it will bother you.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

well we definitely know he doesn't have an aversion to force-choking !! he's very tactile, and he most likely already has asked, or you've asked him, to choke you during sex. he loves it. he loves feeling the rush of your blood under his hand, he loves feeling your life sitting completely bare beneath his fingers like that, his hand against your skin. with his flesh hand, which soaks up the heat of your neck as he slowly wraps his fingers around you, squeezing until he can feel your heart thumping wildly through your pulse and smothering his skin into your warmth. with his prosthetic hand, which is chilly and unrelenting without its leather glove, and darkly sexy with it. It doesn't matter which hand he uses, he gets remarkably turned on by the way that you lean into it, the way that you bare your neck- your life for him to use like a plaything.

you'd watched him crumple a can of booze with the Force the other day; something cheap he'd wasted his credits on for the thrill of it. his gloved hand had formed the shape of the can, then squeezed inward gracefully, and the metal had crumpled formlessly into a mangled wreck that Anakin had slipped through a rather narrow trash compactor opening. He'd only done it to avoid getting caught with the liquor, but your throat stings when you think about the way that his black glove had tightened slowly, deliberately, mercilessly around nothingness as the can crumpled.

you have to ask him.

you had meant to have a discussion with him about it, a structured, clear conversation about whether he was comfortable with it, not only the act but the blatant disrespect of the code by a rather improper use of the Force. but he'd gotten handsy after returning from a day of sparring, and when his hand reaches for your throat, hips pumping steadily against your own and driving his cock into you forcefully with each thrust, you reach up to stop it.

You clutch at his hand and pull it away from your neck, eyes pleading as he stares worriedly down at you. He lets you deter him from your neck, thrusts petering out into a slow rhythm when you whine after he stops them altogether.

"What's wrong?" He asks bluntly, because anakin has never beaten around the bush, "Why can't I choke you?"

"I want you to," You clear your suddenly dry throat, ready to explain but yanking his hand back down when he tries resuming his original endeavor, "Wait- Anakin, I want you to use the Force!"

that stops him. your core aches and begs for him to resume his steady thrusting, but he's sheathed himself completely in your cunt, so you're stuffed to the brim while he contemplates your words. You feel bad for putting him on the spot, but his eyes darken a shade as some of the light leaves them, and his brow twitches.

"What?"

"I want you to choke me with the Force," You repeat, craning your neck down to kiss at the black leather pads of his gloved fingers, "Please, Anakin, I- I just want- just like you do normally, but with the Force. I know it's- improper, and- and disrespectful to the Force, but-"

All of a sudden, your lungs freeze in their pursuit of oxygen, and words fail you. Your chest is still, no air entering or escaping, and Anakin's fingers twitch slightly where he loosens his disembodied grip on your windpipe just enough for you to take in a proper breath.

"I am the Force," He speaks through gritted teeth, and his words flood your core with heat just as much as the relentless grip on your throat does, "Holding back would be disrespectful." He leans over you, his hand maintaining both pressure and distance as he fits his body around it. He remains fully immersed in your cunt, his dick stuffed inside of you as you clench around him desperately, and his breath is hot on your face as he towers above you.

"Not telling me what you want, would be disrespectful." He lectures, eyes only growing darker as you feel your lungs burning in your chest. You gasp for air, only able to drag in a miniscule amount as he continues closing his fingers around your windpipe, "I never feel closer to the Force than when I am inside of you. I am the Force, we are the Force, and hiding anything that would strengthen that force would be disrespectful."

You take in another rattling breath, but his fingers cut you off completely, sending a bolt of overwhelming pleasure to your core as the leather of his glove creaks slightly with the twitch of his fingers.

"Understand?" He asks, and you nod vigorously.

"Speak." He commands, loosening his grip so that you can gush, 'Yes! Yes, Anakin, I understand!"

"Good." He seals off your airway once more, that delicious burning feeling transferring straight from your chest to your cunt, your thighs trembling slightly as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

the two of you share intense orgasms that night, both now enamored by this concept. it's a complete power trip for anakin, the fact that he doesn't even have to touch you to have your life in his hands? his hand doesn't need to contact your skin for it to get you hot and bothered, he can turn you on from a mile away.

this might be a problem for you, though. because anakin is nothing if not creative and inventive, which means that you feel invisible fingers gently nudging themselves against your cunt one day. you're at home, anakin's reading through a report while you're curled up watching something, but you startle at the touch nonetheless, eyes peeled for whatever had touched you.

you notice anakin's hand poised with two fingers outstretched, that dark glint in his eyes once more as he leans back in his chair. he nudges his fingers forwards again, and you feel that prodding at your core, an embarrassingly intense gush of raw lust aching below your stomach.

"Anakin..." You warn, but you're not sure if the apprehension is leveled at him, or yourself. warning him to be careful, warning yourself to maintain composure, neither work.

He strokes his fingers slightly back and forth, rubbing down the length of your slit, then ending at your clit. it's such a familiar sensation but unnervingly new at the same time, and you can't withhold your gasp as he pushes ever so slightly to breach the tension of your lips. with a twitch of his finger he rubs against your clit and though you're woefully underlubricated, all he has to do is continue running those tantalizingly invisible fingers over your core and soon enough you're clenching around emptiness that's quickly filled with his nonexistent fingers.

it's a strange sensation, but anakin's eyes are glued predatorily to the way that your cunt widens and narrows with every pump of his fingers, and his hand twitches in mid-air as he brings you towards your climax. he's mesmerized, he's never been able to see such an unobstructed view of your convulsing cunt before, and you'll be lucky to escape from his relentless fingers before you're nearly passed out in exhaustion from cumming so many times in a row. he studies you, gets down on his knees in front of the couch to peer transfixed into your cunt as he finger-fucks you with a hand that isn't there. he's now addicted to force-fucking you, so expect it to happen at rather inopportune times.

another favorite tactic of his is to force your mouth open with just a wave of his hand. he loves to see you choking yourself on his cock but you've both discovered there's something deeply sexy about being restrained, and instead of just kneeling above your face and throat-fucking you, he decides to take your mouth with the Force. he holds it ajar, the perfect circumference for his cock, and fucks your mouth, using that invisible appendage to keep your lips parted as you gag and sob on him. your hands fly up to grab at his hips but you're not trying to push him off, no, you're yanking him forwards, dragging him down, begging him to stuff his leaking, twitching cock even further down your throat. even when he cums down your throat and releases his hold on your mouth you leave it hanging open, panting with the effort of simply breathing, and trying to wrap your head around just how fucking hot what he just did was.

if/when you ask him to pin you to the wall, he's so fucking cocky about it. these insufferable smirks as he pushes you up against it, pinning your limbs in place and leaning in to talk with his nose brushed against yours.

'Yeah? You want me to hold you down, baby? You want me to take whatever I want from you, don't you?'

you nod, the only part of your body still at your free will being your head, and it bumps against the wall in your vigor but you don't care. all you care about is letting him take control of you, is being splayed out on the wall like a trophy for him, and letting him do whatever he pleases.

'Good,' he leans in to kiss you, hot and wet and careless and sloppy, 'Good, angel. Maker, I'm obsessed with you. You're so good, so pretty-" as he trails his hand across your still torso, his thumb dipping between your legs to nudge fondly over your clit, 'you're mine.'

[enbycupcake]

[ID, copied from ALT text: an illustration of anakin skywalker from the star wars: revenge of the sith in an art nouveau style. his eyes are closed, brows furrowed. his prosthetic hand is against his bleeding chest, and his lightsaber dangles from his left hand. in the background are rising flames. graphic circles halo around anakin's head; the text "hero without fear" rests on top of the halo. the second image is the same but with a sephia filter on top. end ID]

a recolor from 2021 from a piece that i did in......2017. do not go looking for the original it was bad

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons that I'm posting just in time for May 4th

Anakin can’t finish a movie or tv show by himself to save his fucking life like something in his brain prevents him from finishing it without someone there to talk about it 

But he’ll try over and over and over again to a point where he will have the first half of the show memorized but still not know how it ends

He needs someone to keep him there and actually pay attention and there’s very few people that actually have the time or determination to do it (Aka Ahsoka) 

Ahsoka and Anakin watching a movie or show together is very different than watching it with the group cause Obi-Wan and Rex need total silence to enjoy a show (they’ve snapped at the duo a couple of times cause they kept asking “Okay so what the kriff does that mean”)

Padme doesn’t mind the talking as much as Rex and Obi-Wan but after a while the constant talking and theorizing and rewinding gets to her as well 

Unfortunately Ahsoka and Anakin need to talk to process media so half the time they just send emotions or questions through their bond to keep everyone happy 

I once saw a post say “do you think Ahsoka remembers how Anakin’s laugh sounded” and that question knocked the wind out of my lungs and made me cry for longer than I’d like to admit  

But it also made me realize that I can’t remember what their laughs sound like cause I don’t think they do so very often which means I get to create new laughs for them 

Anakin’s laugh is a strange and awkward little thing and sometimes people comment that it sounds like it hurts him (because he’s an emo little weirdo who doesn’t like to show he laughs) 

It’s very clunky and sometimes sounds like ill-fitted gears shifting but it’s also weirdly infectious and fills a lot of people with warmth

Ahsoka’s is equally as weird and infectious it’s very animalistic kind of like a fox’s laugh (aka very high-pitched and fucking adorable) she’s very giggly around the people she’s comfortable with 

Anakin would say that Padme’s laugh sounds like a wind chime and that's true for her fake ass senator laugh that’s controlled and most of the time forced 

But her real laugh that she lets out with family is a snorty hiccupy little thing that puts a stupid smile on Anakin’s face 

Obi-Wan’s laugh is breathy sounding sometimes wheezy but otherwise quiet sometimes people will catch him off guard and they get a kinda loud “HA” out of it but that’s the loudest it’ll get 

I know we technically heard Rex’s laugh in the clone wars movie but you can’t tell me this man wouldn’t cackle 

Like fully body doubled over laughter that shakes a damn room Anakin has joked once or twice that Rex has blown out his eardrum which just makes him laugh louder 

There is one person in the whole galaxy that Anakin trusts to fix his prosthetic and that’s Ahsoka 

He didn’t even trust the arm at first which made him take it apart entirely no one asked him questions about how he got the parts to fix it they all just let him fiddle with it because they thought it was his way of coping 

He normally gets pretty twitchy and cagey when people hold his prosthetic (besides Ahsoka obvi) Padme usually gets the best reception and by best reception I mean he doesn’t snatch it out of her hands 

Obi-Wan swears to this day the first time he picked up Anakin’s prosthetic the boy almost dislocated both their shoulders trying to get it back 

The first time Ahsoka fixed his arm was also when Anakin physically couldn’t because he was in too much pain

He talked her through the repair process tho and thanked the universe that he was hyped up on pain meds because he was sure that’s the only reason he was so calm 

Even after he recovered he showed her the proper way to fix the arm and let her take it apart and put it back together a couple of times 

He would never admit it but it is kind of a relief to have someone who can fix it the same way that he does

And everyone else is grateful that it’s kind of given the young togruta something to do when her master is injured because otherwise she’d be restless 

Sometimes when Anakin and Ahsoka want to confuse Obi-Wan they’ll act like he’s their biological father and blame stuff on him and those conversations will go something like this:

“Honestly Soka it’s not your fault you have ADHD” “You’re so right Skyguy the same could be said about you being autistic we both inherited from Obi-Wan”

The first couple of times he didn’t know how to react (because how tf do you react to that) but after a while he would start telling them “You do know we’re not actually related right?”

To which the duo whips out the most overdramatic reactions that entail Ahsoka covering Anakin’s ears and him doing the same to her montrals and they usually take turns to respond with “Master there are younglings present!”

I’m fully convinced that if Tiktok existed in the Star Wars universe Ahsoka would have one and it would be 1. Strangely popular and 2. The weirdest amalgamation of stuff

You’ve got her prank videos (mostly aimed at Anakin), story times (mostly about Anakin Rex and Obi-Wan), get ready with me’s (mostly to hang out with Padme), and her favorite: forcing the boys to dance with her 

The only videos that she has of Obi-Wan dancing are the ones of them dancing at formal events (mostly cause ballroom dancing is the one kind he knows)

Anakin, Rex and the boys are her most frequent victims and my sweet baby angel’s bless their hearts are stiff as goddamn boards

They’ve got a decent rhythm down and they can all pick up routines pretty fast but Ahsoka has had to train them to let loose a little bit 

It obviously took Anakin the longest to loosen up and that process mostly took place in their shared quarters but it also made me think of a hilarious scenario that goes something like this:

Cody was woken up at 3 am by an unexpected message from Obi-Wan well to be specific it was two messages one video and a text titled “Why are they like this”

When he plays the video he sees Anakin and Ahsoka doing some silly little (obviously choreographed) dance in the kitchen as something is baking in the oven (knowing the duo probably cookies)

Cody’s laughter could be heard throughout the barracks that night

When Ahsoka finally gets her hands on that video (because she does get her hands on that video) she edits the clips of her dancing with Obi-Wan and her dancing with Anakin 

With the caption being something cute and lowkey cheezy like “How I dance with my Dad vs how I dance with my brother” which people eat up because it’s fucking adorable 

There are also a couple of videos that she couldn’t post because it’s Rex her and the boys dancing and goofing off as mission lights and alarms go off in the background

[magnusbae]

"Quit struggling, you will only make it worse."

Obikin, pretty please /ᐠ - ⩊ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you 🥰 Now imagine if Anakin fell a few years earlier than in canon, still has his limbs and pretty hair, and is currently serving Darth Sidious while fighting on the Separatist side. Something like that 😊 1,137w - vaderwan

▾▾▾

“Quit struggling, you will only make it worse.”

Vader bares his teeth and snarls. He snarls like an animal, like he’s a Tusken Raider and it’s the only way he knows how to communicate in. The thought fills him with an even deeper rage, makes his stomach turn in fury and sickness. He is better than that, he is better than them. He is Lord Vader, not some animal to growl and bark— he does not give a kark. 

He spits at Kenobi’s feet and glares up with as much hatred as his eyes would permit without burning white blind from it. 

“Kriff yourself.” Vader grits out when all he receives for his efforts is an infuriatingly smug smirk. (it’s sad, it’s sad, it’s sad)(he ignores it).

“I think I shall pass.” Kenobi says in that sarcastic manner of his that he reserves for Darksiders only. It should not sting Vader as it does, to be spoken to as if he was one of many.

He should be more than that, he is more than that. He’d make him, he’d—

“Please do stop thinking so loudly, you are ruining an otherwise lovely force weather.” Kenobi cuts this line of thought with some sort of Bantha Poodoo that wouldn’t make sense even on the best of days, least of all when he is busy tying Vader up like he was a Life Day’s gift. 

“Force Weather? Have you lost it entirely old m— argh-” Vader sucks in a breath when he feels the durasteel wire cut deep within his skin, so tight he can feel the instant numbing, indicating that the blood had effectively stopped flowing into that limb.

Concern spikes within Vader, he already has one prosthetic, and he is not very fond of the idea of more, Obi-Wan wouldn’t…. Would he….? 

There is a moment in which he thinks that he would. Thinks that Kenobi had lost any sentiment toward his old apprentice, even the guilt that had kept him from killing him in all the previous times he had managed to get the upper hand. (Through luck)(It’s luck, nothing else.)

Losing a limb due to Kenobi’s poor tying techniques would not be technically Kenobi deciding on killing him but— “Ngh.” He hisses out, teeth scraping together as Kenobi lessens the punishing grip of the wire.

Relief  flood Vader, scorching in its intensity.

“A little too tight there.” Obi-Wan chirps, all amusement and good nature. (He sounds old.)(He sounds broken.) “Apologies, Sweet.” he says with his characteristic charm, his typical ease. (He sounds as if he’d like to retch.)(he sounds sick.)

Vader hates it. Hates. Hates. Hates. He wants the anger, the hurt, the words of disappointment and fury and passion. (Love, love, of love.) He wants Kenobi to be honest, to be direct, to be him. The him that only he knows, that only he saw. He wants Kenobi to, (his chest fills and hurts, his lungs collapse with an inhale he doesn’t manage to keep, his eyes close and he cannot, he cannot lie—) care. Care, he wants him to karkin care. Even a little, even sometimes. Care enough to hurt, care enough to scream, care enough to hurt him. 

“Up and about now.” Obi-Wan says and hauls Vader to his feet. Even in this Kenobi is careful to not hurt him unnecessarily. Do not hurt prisoners, a Jedi would say. The Codes. It’s all he sees in him. The Codes he must follow in order to fulfill his duties. No, no. No, no and no. Anakin— Vader is more, he is more, he was, he is more. 

Twisting about to face Kenobi without being stopped is hard enough, his balance off with the way his arms are bound painfully behind his back. He manages it. He’s quick enough, skilled enough— determined enough.

Without a single thought, without a moment of consideration, Vader’s eyes lock onto his target. The neck.

It’s exposed just enough, with the layers of robes covering the curve of it an the beard reaching just the top of it, there’s just enough space.

Vader strikes as he always does, without warning, without hesitation. One moment he is standing there, wide eyes alight with orange-yellow, the next his lips are closing around soft flesh, teeth sinking.

It’s all over in but moments, and yet the way Obi-Wan groans, the way his throat tenses and he swallows, the way he shudders when he pushes Vader off hard enough to make him stumble and fall back onto the ground— the way there’s blood on that neck, on Vader’s tongue— it’s all worth it.

Vader will do it again, no matter the consequences, no matter how it might look to someone who didn’t understand. 

He will make absolute sure that Kenobi never forgets, never.

Vader makes a point of licking at his lips as he smirks at Kenobi, tilting his head from side to side in a way he saw his Master do while in a good mood and flirting. On him it looks mocking and he knows it.

He takes pleasure in Kenobi having no smart retort to it, no easygoing banter to masquerade with. Vader got him, he had won. 

He is almost angry when the sound of engines breaks through, hundreds of them, all belonging to Sidious. Or the Separatists, as the Republic still foolishly believes. He will never know what words had died on Kenobi’s tongue as he looked up and then down at Vader, calculating his chances of outrunning a fleet of battle ships while carrying an unwilling Sith on his back. 

“Not in your favor, huh?” Vader asks, laughing, not even bothering to get up, instead he just flops to lie on his back. It pains his arms terribly, but he does not care. He looks at the sky as if it was a starry sky you’d gaze upon, wish upon.

“Run now, Kenobi. You’re so good at it, after all.” He does not look at him, does not want to see that back turned on him. (Again. Again. Again that.)

The silence from Kenobi’s side is a heavy one, a painful one. Then he forces out amusedly (Chokes on it.) “We’ll have to rain check our little date, my Dear.” (He does actually choke on it.) (Vader hears, he always does.)

“So long.” The man who raised him cheers, all good spirits and not a care in the world. Then there’s the sound of Obi-Wan’s light feet as he force-runs towards his own ship. Leaves him. 

Anakin closes his eyes and all the world falls down. 

There’s only the sound of shooting and the flavor of Obi-Wan’s life on his tongue. For now, it’ll do. For now, it’s enough. (It is not.)(It never is.)

[fanfic-obsessed]

Mediation...?

This one I came up with as I walked to work, and so we will all explore it. It is a Post Empire AU. I know, I do not usually go for post-empire, but the horror and humor of this idea spoke to me.  

Let’s take a look, yeah?

The AU part is that both Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker survived through the end of the Empire. So we don’t have to deal with too many changes too early, Obi Wan was severely injured and in Bacta for the entire time of the OT (or he got injured again just before the events of each movie, whichever works better). 

After Vader comes back to the light, he is fitted with prosthetics that actually fit (including being the correct height). He is still required to wear a mask ,but it is more like Plo Koons than Vader (covering his mouth and nose but not his entire face). The burns he got from Mufastar meant that he had no hair, and the suit he wore for those years meant that he was unnaturally pale. As a consequence he no longer looks like Vader (not just because he lost 5 inches in height with the correct legs).  

Most of the galaxy does not know that Vader and Anakin Skywalker are the same person. Anakin was also largely forgotten, and the few who did remember him (without knowing the Vader connection) would quietly muse about how much Vader seemed to hate Anakin Skywalker, the Hero without Fear (there is no doubt in my head that the person Vader hated the most was Anakin). 

The Rebels do know that Anakin and Vader are the same person. Even as they are working to build the New Republic, no one is quite sure what, if anything, Anakin Skywalker should be charged with (War crimes. So many war crimes, they would need to invent new war crimes specifically for Vader-Though to be fair he is not the only living member of the Empire’s ruling body for this to be true). If he does need to be charged, and they could figure out what with, does his fall to the dark side constitute a mitigating factor (some kind of diminished capacity) or an enhancement (like a hate crime)? Where does killing the Emperor fit into any sentence he would have to serve? Is there even a way to enforce any sentence that a court could impose?

All of these questions and more would have to be answered before any trials could commence (including: how far does “following orders” mitigate actions, and how far up the chain of command can that excuse be used?). In the meanwhile Anakin hangs awkwardly around with his son when he is able. 

Luke wants, deeply, to help his father become comfortable around people again. He also does not quite…understand is probably the best term…understand the depth of the horrors that Vader/Anakin created in his 20 years in the suit.  In his mind he knows, and has been told, most of what Vader has done, but to a certain extent he separated Anakin and Vader in his mind so there is a bit of disconnect (Some understandable cognitive dissonance). 

He is at least aware enough that he is not looking to find Anakin friends among the rebels, who would naturally think of Vader first (and thus it would be uncomfortable for all involved). He understands that asking someone like Leia to try and befriend the being that tortured her then blew up her planet is not a good idea. 

But there is one person he knows thinks of Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader as two different people. Obi Wan Kenobi.  Who is decidedly avoiding Anakin (in this Anakin can not blame him, the return to the light means that he does actually need to face everything he has done), but is also low key avoiding most people. Mostly Obi Wan is staying around the clones that still live (both to help those clones with their own guilt over their actions while chipped, the fact that their aging has finally been brought to human normal,  and frankly because he likes them more than most people these days-I imagine at least Cody-CodyWan for the win-, Rex, Gregor, Appo, and Wolffe but there are a good crowd), and the few Force users that survived the Purge. Also spending time with Leia.

Now a few things need to be made abundantly clear at this point. Luke does not know of the horrors Anakin perpetrated, as opposed to Vader (For all that Palpatine labeled him Vader before the march on the temple, I always headcanon that his last act as purely Anakin was the slaughter of the children in the council chamber but even then he did not truly become Vader until after he finds out that Padme died), not really. Few enough who live remember the march on the temple, what it meant that the temple (the home of the Jedi) was pillaged and burned. Fewer still ever knew that it was Anakin that led the march and slaughtered the children.  

Oddly enough, Anakin Skywalker is the only person in the galaxy who knows the true horrific extent of his own crimes. 

So Luke, with all the best of intentions, notices that Obi Wan is avoiding Anakin, and decides he will help his father and his teacher/mentor/uncle/that weird dude that lived in the desert makeup. Luke is attributing the awkwardness to Anakin’s 20 years as Vader (which, if we are being completely honest, is the least of the issues between Anakin and Obi Wan).

Luke decides he is going to hold something like a mediation to bridge those 20 years. Anakin is, at this point, incapable of denying Luke anything and agrees (in spite of the fact that even he can tell this will go poorly). Obi Wan does not actually agree as Luke does not tell him what they are meeting for, but once he arrives is semi blackmailed by Luke (leveraging the whole ‘you told me my father was dead thing/you lied to me my whole life’) which really only works because Obi Wan is also fairly vulnerable to young Skywalker children who remind him of the people who Obi Wan has lost (Satine would have done something similar, Obi Wan think nostalgically). Thinking that an audience would help create a more neutral location, Luke makes sure that Obi Wan is accompanied by a few of the clones (Appo in particular), and that Leia, Han, and Mon Mothma (as one of the few people who remember Padme and Anakin) are in the room. There are others. 

Now Luke has all the best intentions with this, but he is, at best, missing some very critical information. At worst he is taking after one of his father’s worst traits (so sure he can fix a relationship that is not his, and is probably better left broken). 

Both Anakin and Obi Wan silently agree to humor the sunshine boy.  At first they try to keep it to lighter disagreements and misunderstandings  (who saved who and who made the situation worse kind of thing). Anakin brings up at one point being unhappy that Obi Wan hid his children from him for almost 20 years, Obi Wan corrects that he hid them for almost 10 years from Vader, since he believed Anakin actually dead for the first 10, during which Vader maintained that Anakin was dead. Anakin withdraws his objection.

Then Anakin brings up the limb removal on Mustafar (which causes most of the room to go still, no one but the clones-whom Obi Wan had told- knew about the Mustafar fight). Obi Wan shoots back with an slightly irate rejoinder that it was a really measured response considering that Anakin had just: led a group of brainwashed soldiers into their home and slaughtered as many men, women, and children that he could; choked his very pregnant wife; ignored repeated attempts Obi Wan made to end the fight without further violence. 

It was at this point that Appo started to have a panic attack (being one of the few surviving Clones who was actually there in the temple).  Obi Wan looked over at Luke, apologized and said this was not a good idea.  Then left with the clones, all trying to calm Appo back down. 

The entire room is just…dead silence. Like Luke everyone, barring Anakin who did know this was going to go so badly, had sort of forgotten that Obi Wan was more than the weird desert guy who hung around with the clones, and sometimes Leia.  Luke is sitting there, really pale (He did have good intentions).

Like the people who realized the Jedi suffered a genocide when the Empire came into power had mostly died, the few that had survived all these years had buried that knowledge under the subsequent horrors of the Empire (They also largely forgot, or didn’t understand the horror of the chips both in the context of Order 66 and following orders in the Empire). It was not done out of maliciousness, or even ignorance, because the Jedi and the Clones (in that they lost everything of themselves and their culture in a moment) may have been the first genocide of the Empire but it was not the last. 

I’m not sure where it would go from there, other than Anakin is charged with so many war crimes and accepts whatever punishment is determined.

[godmybackhurts]

The Star Wars time travel AU I'll never get around to writing

Anakin had just thrown Palpatine down the shaft, and this time, had avoided most of the lightning. Just as he is about to collapse, there is a flash, as if he had been struck once more. When it clears, he is on Naboo, right as Maul is about to stab Qui-Gon. Without thinking, he calls his lightsaber to him (it had managed to come with him) and blocks the strike. Despite being bulky and slow and unable to even dodge, he's a master swordsman, leagues better than Maul, and more powerful in the Force. So he "kills" Maul, by slicing him in half, right as Obi-Wan gets in (Maul still survives on the trash planet, but now his anger is not directed at Obi-Wan, it is directed at the man in the black mask, the rival apprentice; he never gets his revenge, never gets to make the man hurt, because he has no connections in this life)

Qui-Gon survives, and once he's gotten through the shock, he and Obi-Wan pull their blades on Anakin. They do not know he isn't there to kill them. After all, he's dressed similarly enough to the Sith apprentice who just tried exactly that. And infighting is the way of the Sith, after all, maybe this one wanted a leg up. He does not attack, only defends (he cannot use Soresu as effectively as Master Kenobi ever could, but he can still use it well enough, in conjunction with the force). It takes Padmé arriving to stop the Jedi. Eventually, he is asked his name. He knows that he can never go by Anakin again, so he continues to use Vader. He does not get any improvements to his suit (only to his prosthetics, which he does himself) except for one thing. He has it remade in more traditional Jedi colors. He does not stop his reliance on it, nor the overall design, and with very little explanation, only "So I do not become again what I once was."

[knightotoc]

"Survivor Anakin"

I love Anakin's redemption at the ending of Return of the Jedi, but I've often wondered what would have happened if Luke had been able to save his father's life as well as his soul.

Without the financial support of the Emperor, Anakin couldn't continue to use the failing Vader suit even if he wanted to. I doubt the New Republic would pay for any accommodations beyond the bare minimum he'd need to survive.

As we see with Cliegg Lars, most people even in this sci-fi galaxy can't afford prosthetics. His right arm and both legs were amputated above the joint, but his left arm still has an elbow, so this prosthetic would be the most affordable. I based the design on real-world body-powered hooks.

His new mask is loosely based on oni masks from Japan (the big-toothed demon emoji 👹). Oni are evil creatures who nonetheless protect people from bad luck. While his old ventilator must have been somehow contained in his Vader suit, in real life these take up a lot more space. I imagined R2 would loyally volunteer to hold the oxygen tank and help with transportation.

I originally drew him in a more Jedi-like outfit, but I think he would feel too ashamed to wear that. This blue jacket is inspired by "Naboo herder" concept art by Dermot Power that I found in the Attack of the Clones art book.

Do you guys have thoughts about what would happen next? I think Luke and Leia would profoundly disagree about what to do with him, and this conflict might even tear them apart. The fledgling New Republic justice system would use his trial as a means to establish itself, either as an avenging power or a more merciful standard. Anakin's own incredible grasp of the Force would be humbled, even eroded, by his guilt and status. But perhaps over many years, he would finally find real peace and freedom.

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 9

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

The next morning, the lights to Ben’s office are already on when Satine arrives. Fighting the urge to see him immediately, she opens the door to her office first, discarding her coat and mittens and setting her bag on her desk. Smiling, she finds the contract they’d signed last night where she’d tucked it in the bag’s side pocket, and she transfers it to the book she’s currently reading, placing it next to her desktop computer.

She thinks she has a new favorite bookmark.

There’s a knock at the door with a peculiar cadence, and Satine looks up, knowing Ben will be there. She’s already smiling in anticipation when she meets his eyes.

“Madam,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb, and Satine’s heart nearly stops as she takes in his dress coat and tie, which is, she expects, exactly why he’d chosen that particular combination. She moves around her desk to greet him, and he hands her the steaming mug he’s holding. “I know you prefer coffee over tea, but I haven’t yet stocked your favorites in my office. I hope my usual tea will suffice for today.”

Struck by his gesture, she marvels over his ability to stay kind despite all he’s endured. But aloud, she says, “I should have figured Ben Kenobi’s office would be the barista station of the department.”

Glancing quickly over his shoulder to make sure the hallway is empty behind him, Satine then brushes her lips to his jaw in thanks, taking the mug as she steps back. 

He grins, crossing his arms over his chest, and it ought to be outlawed for him to look the way he does. “The best part of getting tenure was realizing I could finally purchase the expensive electric kettle I’d been eyeing but had felt too guilty to buy.”

Satine sips her tea. “I bet you felt guilty anyway when you bought it.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She snickers, and footsteps approach from down the hall. A second later, Anakin appears in the doorway. Without preamble, he says, “How do you handle a student who’s using AI to do all their assignments? On one hand, the department technically doesn’t yet have a policy on AI use. On the other hand - ”

He looks at his prosthetic hand and chortles.

“If I had another hand,” he amends, and Satine has to set the mug on her desk to keep from spilling it as she shakes with laughter.

“I see what you did there,” she says.

“Crip humor,” says Anakin, grinning. “Anyway, part of me thinks if the students are smart enough to figure out how to use AI to complete the assignments, they deserve a good grade.” He turns to Ben, whose expression is not amused. “I’m guessing you don’t agree.”

Ben scratches his beard. “What I think is irrelevant if you don’t have some sort of policy about AI in your syllabus. Did you add it like I suggested at the beginning of the semester?”

“In fairness,” says Anakin, “I did consider it. But then Padma found out she was pregnant, and I forgot to do anything about that particular consideration.”

“You said the same thing about losing your PowerPoint remote, remember? While I am excited for you and Padma, you can’t keep using that as an excuse every time you forget something, Anakin.” And Ben gestures for his friend to step back so he can lead him into his office.

“Speaking of being happy for others,” comes Anakin’s voice as they disappear from the view of Satine’s doorway, “why does Satine have your favorite mug, Ben?”

Satine hears Ben sigh loudly. 

“Anakin.”

---

Satine sighs loudly. “I fucking hate calculus.”

“Shhh,” says Ben. He rummages through his backpack to find a notebook and scribbles his reply.

No speaking on this floor of the library.

She glares at him.

This particular library has several floors, each successively quieter than the one below it. Satine and Ben are sitting on the ground, hidden amongst the stacks of books, calculus homework spread out around them.

Satine grabs the notebook from him and begins to write her reply. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to take this class. My brain just doesn’t work this way. Numbers and derivatives don’t make any sense to me.

And she shoves the notebook back at him.

Ben reaches for her homework, finding the problem she’s stuck on. He smiles.

“You’re close,” he mouths, and then he shifts closer to her so that their shoulders touch. As she watches, he erases a few strokes of her pencil and then adds a few of his own, and then he hands the paper back to her.

And suddenly, the problem is not a problem any longer, and it makes sense. Satine solves the rest of the problem, and she’s able to tackle the next one on her own. Then the one after that. She shows Ben the paper when she finishes, and he checks her work. He looks up a beat later, sending her a wide grin.

I knew you could do it, he writes in the notebook.

I’d still rather be working with ideas than numbers, she responds. He seems to understand that if she’d been speaking, she’d be grumbling.

The numbers aren’t important, nor is the calculus. Forget it after you get the AP credits. What’s important is the ability to solve problems. Take that with you.

He’s right, of course, but she doesn’t want to admit this.

He continues writing. You’re taking the class now so you can spend less time doing math in college.

Now that is a point she will acknowledge, and she leans toward him to press her lips against his.

She pulls back slightly, gesturing for the notebook.

You said no talking, she writes. So I’d like to propose an alternative means of communication.

He lifts a brow.

Satine sets the notebook to the side, pushing some of the strewn papers out of the way. Then she hooks a leg over his hips to straddle him, and her hands land on his shoulders. She grins at the way his hands instinctively land on her hips, at the tension in his jaw.

She takes her time, peppering soft kisses to his forehead, his brow, his cheeks, before making her way to his lips. She moves closer, and without thinking about it, without planning it, her hips grind into his.

Taken aback at the intense pleasure of the movement and eager for more, she repeats the motion. And then does so again.

“Holy fuck,” says Ben, and Satine covers his mouth with one of her hands. 

Replacing her hand with her lips, she says into his mouth, “Shhh. No speaking on this floor of the library.”

---

On Friday, Ben appears at her office door five minutes before the afternoon seminar is about to begin, announcing his presence with the peculiar knock cadence she’s come to associate with him.

“Can I escort you to the seminar, Madam?” he asks.

“I can hardly say no to such an offer,” says Satine, shrugging back into her blazer. She locks the door behind them, and they make their way down the stairs and to the lecture hall below.

Most of the department is already there, and Satine and Ben sit in the back row of the hall. Ben pulls out the small writing surface attached to the side of his chair, between their two seats, and sets his notebook down. Satine smiles to herself. Because of course the man came prepared to take notes.

Dooku Serenno walks to the front of the room to introduce the speaker, and the hall quiets immediately.

“Welcome to the Department of International Relations’ weekly seminar series!” Serenno begins, his presence commanding and bold. “Dr. Derren Malek is a Professor of National Security Strategy at the National War College, but Georgetown’s Department of Government is fortunate to be hosting him this calendar year as a Visiting Professor.”

Satine glances at Malek, a man roughly Ben’s height and build, as Serenno continues with his introduction. Malek has dark hair, gelled into a somewhat spiky style, and his eyes are similarly dark. Satine leans forward as Malek steps into the spotlight to accept the floor from Serenno to light applause from the lecture hall, and as he raises an arm to gesture to the slide behind him, she tenses.

She’s seen his tattoos before, the ones peaking out from just below his sleeves, just barely visible near the proximal part of the back of his hands. He has similar, red and black circuit-like designs emerging from above the line of his suit collar at the back of his neck, extending into his hair - though it’s impossible to tell if the tattoos extend further over his scalp.

“What is it?” Ben murmurs, sensing her alertness.

Satine reaches for the notebook between them and opens it. Before she can ask, Ben offers her the pen from his breast pocket. Satine begins to scribble.

I recognize his tattoos. That man is an advisor to SecState, she writes, referring to the Secretary of State. I’ve never met him, but he’s part of SecState’s privy council.

She rotates the notebook back to Ben so he can read what she’s written. A beat later, he looks up at her, taking in her alarmed expression.

Ben gestures for the pen. Did he have something to do with what happened to you there?

And he turns the notebook back to her, handing her the pen.

Unlikely, writes Satine. I just wasn’t expecting to run into one of SecState’s council here. I thought I’d escaped that part of my life.

The handwriting of his reply is slightly shakier than what Satine knows his scrawl to usually be, but she tries not to dwell on it. Unlikely, but not impossible? 

Not impossible, she admits, and Ben closes the notebook and sets down his pen. Instead, he reaches below the writing surface to find her hand. His grip is warm and reassuring, and he doesn’t let go.

---

After the seminar, Satine and Ben return to their respective offices to pack up for the weekend. As Satine reaches for her laptop and bag, placing the former within the latter, a dark figure appears at her door.

“Ms. Kryze.”

Satine straightens and holds Malek’s gaze. “It’s ‘doctor’, actually,” says Satine, one hand finding its way to her hip in frustration. “As you’d be able to tell if you’d read the nameplate on the door outside, Dr. Malek.” She breathes out. “I suppose it’s long past time for us to be formally acquainted.”

Hoping to keep any status that her desk provides her, Satine doesn’t move forward to greet him, instead staying behind the desk. She reaches over it to extend her hand, and Malek steps forward. to shake it His other hand rests upon her desk for a moment before he steps back, as if he knows exactly what she’d been trying to do - as if he’s deliberately moved to violate her space.

Satine frowns, suddenly glad she’d worn her heels today, as they give her about an inch of an advantage on the man.

“You and I certainly have similar career paths,” acknowledges Malek. 

Satine’s suspicions that he’d intentionally misaddressed her are confirmed; if he knew her career path, he’d know of her doctorate.

“I hear you’re also here temporarily?” adds Malek.

She hates the way he draws out the last word, drawing attention to it. 

Yes, she wants to scream. How fortunate that you get to return to the War College after your time here while I, as of yet, will be unemployed and potentially without a sponsor for my green card if God forbid I fail my citizenship exam.

Instead, Satine says, “Yes, a writing fellowship. I’m working on my next book.”

“I’ll be eager to read it,” says Malek. “As will the Secretary.”

Satine grips the edge of her desk. “The Secretary has washed his hands of me,” she says pointedly.

Malek smiles, but there’s no warmth to it. “Of course,” he agrees.

They’re interrupted by the cadence of Ben’s knock, and Satine looks at the door gratefully. Seeing her expression, Ben enters the room, already wearing his peacoat. “Dr. Malek, I found your talk on fascism particularly fascinating,” he says, extending a hand, forcing Malek to step back from Satine to shake it. “I’m Ben Kenobi.”

“You’re too kind, Dr. Kenobi,” says Malek. Satine notes the easy use of Ben’s honorific, and her eyes narrow at Malek, who now stands on Ben’s other side, as Ben has manipulated the space so that he is between Malek and Satine. 

“I’m sure there will be opportunity for collaboration during your term here,” adds Ben, “seeing as your department is also housed in the Intercultural Center.” His tone makes clear than Malek is being dismissed.

The corner of Malek’s mouth twists up. “I look forward to it,” he says, and he takes his leave.

Satine releases a deep breath, and Ben waits for a moment before shutting the door behind Malek. “What the hell was that about?” he whispers, moving to stand next to her.

Satine tries to control her breathing. “He was sending a message,” she responds, her tone matching his. She runs a hand through her hair with shaky fingers.

At Ben’s blank stare, she elaborates.

“Malek wanted me to know that Secretary Palpatine is watching me.”

[hannibalzero]

Obi-Wan watching Anakin work on his droid projects with grease smeared all over his arms, which makes Obi-Wan look at Anakin's arms and then Anakin's hands.........

Anakin’s hands were handsome, large and strong. Ten fingers too, a rare sight in the Galaxy. Only four humanoid species had ten fingers.

Even though Anakin lose an arm, his durasteel hand. A ugly practical prosthetic at first, slowly became a work of fine art and engineering. The steel shined as beautifully as onyx with inlays of gold.

Very Anakin.

Obi-Wan might enjoy protocol droids more if they were as well crafted and perfected as Anakin’s arm. 

Anakin’s hands were deep in some rare droid that he found who knows where. The droid had oil of some type in it. The dark crude oil had a strange effect, it almost brought attention to the clean parts of Anakin’s hands and arms more.

Blinking in surprise, when did Anakin’s hands start to look so elegant and confident? Not clumsy but skilled chubby hands? When did Anakin’s once string like arms become large and strong?

“Master?” Anakin called out looking up from his work. “You okay?” He questioned.

Catching himself from jumping in surprise, Obi-wan took a good breath. “Yes, just fine. Simply was caught up watching you work. It never ceases to amaze.” Obi-wan walked over with the chilled tea that Anakin enjoyed when he was tinkering. “Just wanted to let you know I am home, did you enjoy your day?”

Anakin gave a nod. “Yeah I did, but the apartment is too quiet without you and Snipps around.” He gave a grin. “Thanks for the tea.” He took a long drink from the glass.

Obi-wan nodded his head. “Your welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed you’re leisure tine” turning to leave, Anakin playful as ever. Reached over to place a big oil hand print on Obi-wan’s robe right where his ass was. without alerting the Jedi master.

Not everyday Anakin could mark what was his!

A few minutes later…

“ANAKIN SKYWALKER.”

Leaning back into his chair, Anakin smirked.

Well…he lived a good life.

[meiyudo]

Enigma// ch 20

anakin x reader

a/n: i’m not a medical professional so don’t mind in accurate info lmfaooo- there is barf in this chapter only because i’m trying to make it realistic to what actually occurs after these procedures ( plus i kinda like writing whump lol)

The extent of Anakin’s condition is revealed and you wait for him to stabilize

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, emtephobia (barf and stuff…), hospitals, alcohol poisoning

_______________________________

“Ben!” you called when you spotted the bearded man sitting in the waiting room. 

“Y/n, Ahsoka- You two didn’t have to come, I could hav-”

“No, I want to be here” you interrupted. 

“Where is he?” Ahsoka asked.

“He’s still being treated, but they said a room should be ready for him soon”.

“Did they tell you his evaluation? What’s happening to him?” you asked.

“Yes, they concluded it was severe alcohol poisoning, enough to trigger a seizure and enough that he went into an alcoholic coma… I’m not sure for how long, but he definitely could have died.”

“How much did he have to drink to be in a fucking coma?!” Ahsoka exclaimed. 

“I’m not sure, but this is the most he’s ever drank,” Ben answered sadly, “but in addition he must have hit his head when he fell because he also sustained a mild concussion. “

Ahsoka seemed more frustrated than sad at the moment, “Un-fucking-believable!” she huffed. 

“Of course he was fucking drinking. I tell him he needs to go back to rehab or he at least needs some help, but does he listen to me...? No! And now here he is- going into a coma over it”.

You felt awful about Anakin’s admittance to the hospital, but you also understood the frustration Ash was feeling. She crossed her arms aggressively and tilted her face away, but you couldn’t help but hear her sniffles. 

“Ash?” you called, gently turning her towards you. Tears streamed down her face as her bottom lip quivered. 

“Ash…” you sighed, pulling her into your chest. 

“I-I try s-so hard to help him- but h-he…. I ju-just don’t want him to d-ie” she cried into your shoulder. 

Her outburst of emotion hit you in the feels and in turn made you teary as well; Ben came up and rubbed Ahsoka’s arm in comfort.

“I know Ahsoka. I know”.

_________________________________________

Days passed and Anakin was finally released from the ICU to a normal hospital room; it had a nice view of the city and good natural lighting. The room was equipped with a sofa and armchair as well as Anakin’s bed (of course). 

For the past few days you had taken residence in his room; sleeping on the couch and keeping spare clothes in a duffle bag, just to keep an eye on him.

You were the one to stay with him everyday because Ben and Satine had work and Ash had training camp.

Honestly, you only offered since they were all busy and you really had nothing else to do. 

The sofa was definitely an inconvenience for you, it was hard, didn’t have much space, and your back already hurt from the extra weight of your belly. 

You yawned and stretched your arms as you sat up from the couch beside Anakin’s bed.  

Taking Anakin’s reduced body size into account, the effects of the alcohol he consumed were amplified. His coma had lasted for 5 days and they continually pumped his stomach as well as gave him plenty of IV fluids.

Since they had gotten his vitals back to normal (relatively), he was predicted to wake up any day. 

Anakin looked so weak wrapped in the white sheets, a breathing tube sticking out of his mouth, wires connected to him, and tubes coming from every which way.

You had seen him without his prosthetics before, but the harsh hospital atmosphere made it all the more noticeable, you knew he would hate that he was disassembled when he woke. 

You heard a noise coming from Anakin and you saw his eyes weakly opening and closing as he choked on the tube down his throat. Immediately you jumped up and called nurses into the room. 

You weren't sure how conscious he was but you did know he was definitely scared. After a while you were let back into the room and told that he may be vomiting for the next few hours from all of the stomach pumps, concussion, and other shit that had happened. The head nurse told you that it was normal but to notify them if there was blood in the throw up. 

You thanked each nurse for watching over him and entered the room, fully prepared to take care of him.

He was lying in the same position he was earlier, but now he just had an oxygen tube running under his nose instead of the breathing tube.

You approached him and found his eyes were closed- he was probably resting. 

He threw up on and off for the next few hours, but it was the last time that was the worst. 

You grabbed one of the bins they gave you as you wondered if he was even cognizant enough to comprehend what was happening.

The dull room was on the chilly side but you could see the sheen of sweat forming on his brow, he was fighting so hard. 

You grabbed a cloth and went to dab at his forehead when he coughed, your eyes widened as you used your arms to sit him up so he wouldn’t choke. He coughed some more and began to drool, you grabbed a can and held it in front of him as you helped hold him up. His eyes were still closed and his head rested on your shoulder until you leaned him over the bin when he started to retch. 

You really had never been able to be around throw up without feeling sick to your stomach, but this was different: all you could think about was how you wanted it to be over so he could finally rest. 

His head was in the can and you rubbed his back as his body shook with the violent rolls of nausea. 

After a few minutes he finally finished and you put the bin on the ground so you could help him lie back down.

The metal can was definitely heavier than when you had originally given it to him, but you would have to take care of that bag later, now you need to focus on Anakin. 

He was almost about to fall over when you got back from setting the can down so you rushed to his side and grabbed one of the many washcloths the nurses had left in the room for this very occasion. 

His eyes were unfocused and barely open: that answered your question, he was not cognizant.

He groaned as you wiped his mouth and brushed his soft curls back; slick with his sweat. 

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok, Ani” you comforted, helping him lie back down. 

You rolled him onto his side just in case he started again and brushed your fingers through his hair. His brows were kneaded together and he was shaking; this was bad. 

A frown found its way onto your face as you watched him suffer, you never wanted him to have to go through this. 

After a few more minutes you removed your warm hand from him and went to assess the bin- there was no blood, so at least that was a good sign.

You stepped into the hall to call a nurse but there was already one there who had a custodian on the way. You thanked her and the custodian for being so patient with Anakin and you. 

After everything was sanitized you went back to sitting beside Anakin, you scanned his face for any signs of coherency but he was still really out of it.

The only sign of emotion was the small tears that fell from the corners of his closed eyes. 

______________________________________

Anakin tried to open his eyes but there was a blinding light shining down; he tried to speak but no words were forming. 

You noticed his rasping from the chair beside his bed and quickly jumped up and went to his side. He was attempting to pull off his oxygen tube but you stopped him and gently placed your hands on his face. With you blocking the overhead light, he could finally open his eyes. 

“Anakin?” you asked, trying to make sure he was actually up. 

He hummed and glanced around until he saw the IV pole and realized he was in the hospital quicker than you could have imagined his vitals went crazy. You backed up in shock as he tussled around in the bed, attempting to get out. You knew he had PTSD from being in the hospital during his recovery, but you didn’t expect it to be as bad as it clearly was. 

“Anakin it’s alright!” you tried to calm him, but he was too scared. 

Soon a team of nurses rushed in and took over before he could hurt himself; they ushered you out in the process. You texted Ben and Ahsoka to let them know that he was awake.

Once he was settled, you were allowed back in; his bed was propped up so that he was sitting and he had his head turned away from the door. 

Gingerly, you walked towards him as you tried to think of what to say. 

“Anakin?” 

Nothing. 

You sighed.

“Look, I know I'm the last person you want to see right now but putting that aside, I needed to know that you were going to be alright…”

Finally, he met your eyes.

“Did you put me in here?” he asked, more sadly than accusatory.

“No, Ben found you and called 911” 

He nodded, “I don’t remember- I don’t know what happened. I just woke up and you were there with lights shining from behind you”. 

Your face formed a sad smile, “you had severe alcohol poisoning. You were non-responsive…a-and your pulse was gone.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what you were saying. 

“They had to pump your stomach and when they finally got your vitals back up, you had already slipped into a coma” you explained.

“People don't just go into a coma from alcohol, surely it had to be something else” he protested.

“Anakin, you had a blood alcohol concentration of .57…. Your average is .15” 

He looked up to the ceiling and laid his head back onto the pillow. 

“Fuck” he exclaimed. 

“Anakin, you can’t keep doing this-”

“I know,” he interjected with a frustrated tone. 

He took a breath and began to cough; he continued and you stepped closer, “Anakin, do you need your inhaler, I can go get-”

“I'm -” he coughed once more, “fine”.

You took another step closed and laid a gentle hand on the end of his arm stump but he quickly retracted his limb from your reach. You flinched and looked at him with wide eyes, you only meant to comfort him. 

His blue eyes looked more fearful than angry, what was going on?

His gaze traveled from your perplexed face down towards your growing stomach; his pupils dilated slightly before he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Please leave”

“But Anak-”

“Please” he pleaded, refusing to look at you. 

Your teeth gently bit down on your lower lip and you nodded, slowly heading for the door.

At the entrance, you rested a hand on the door frame and caught one last look at the man in the bed; tubes and medical tape all over his body, the hospital grade blue gown, even his sandy curls looked sad.

You had never seen him look so helpless, so dejected; surely he was lost in thought- to him this was probably torture. 

He already hated hospitals, but now he couldn’t even entertain himself with his phone. In addition, the doctors weren’t allowing him to put on his prosthetics yet.

He wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep. 

As for you, you just wanted the father of your child to be able to recover and hopefully reign in his deadly addiction. 

***

a/n: sorry for all the throw up in the chapters lately (i just wanna try and make it as realistic as possible :( ) buuuttt next chapter will heat up emotionally and we’ll start seeing more y/n x ani moments :)) i have so many plot points i wanna do, so i’m not sure how long this fic is gonna end up being…. i hope you stick around though!! thanks for reading :)

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil

[ddejavvu]

ANI THOUGHTS HI IM HERE IM HERE

U want him to spank you because you’ve been so bad!!! teasing him all day!!! but he can’t hurt you too much because he loves you too much??? so after every spank he’s just absolutely tumbling out praises and saying how much he loves you and how you take him so well all the time that you’re confused as to whether this is a punishment or a reward because you’re about to cum just from him speaking to you thank you goodbye it’s late and I definitely have better ideas to present to you my monarch 🧎

send me dirty anakin thoughts <33

my monarch... stop no way i'm on my knees <33 i loved this and i'll definitely enjoy any other ideas you might have to giggle with me about!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

no bc i'm all for absolutely depraved insane anakin but also there is something so special to me about anakin who's so tender and sweet and loving that he just can't fathom hurting you!!! but you've begged him, you tell him that if he doesn't want to he doesn't have to, but you're not going to be upset with him either way and you'd really like for him to spank you a little bit <33 after all that's why you've been so cheeky today? did he not notice? and he starts to flash back to all of the times you'd bent over in front of him or squeezed a little too far up his thigh and it clicks in his head he's like oh. that was you trying to get on my nerves.

but the thing is nothing you do could ever get on his nerves. he's not annoyed that he's half-hard in the middle of a council meeting, his robes cover it anyways and he's just so happy you had your hands on him in the first place. he's not upset that you flashed your cleavage at him and then left without letting him touch you, he's thrilled to have seen your tits at all <3 anakin is so desperate for you that literally no amount of teasing is ever gonna frustrate him it's all gonna be purely satisfactory, bless him <3

but he's willing to at least try spanking you because obviously you want it and he wants nothing more than to make you happy and make you feel good so he's ushering you into his lap so that you can perch on his thighs. he balances you kind of precariously where your ass is hanging off of his knees but you're leaning against his chest, and you're like ani wait i'll lay over your lap- and he wraps his arms around you and goes 'no. i want to hold you, angel, i want to kiss you. i want you near me.' and boy does that work wonders for the butterflies in your stomach!!! so you let him press his mouth to your own and kiss you so so soft and sweet and tender and loving while his free hand rubs gently over the skin of your ass that's hung off of his knees just enough to give him a big enough target. his first slap is honestly pathetic, more of a pat than anything, but he murmurs a sweet 'iloveyou' into your mouth and you grip at his tunic and beg him to do it harder

once he actually gets going, he's good at it. he sets a good rhythm, and always makes sure to rub your sore ass all nice and soft to soothe the stinging sensation of his palm later. but all the while he's spilling praises and compliments onto your tongue, speaking into your mouth and assuring you that 'you're perfect' and that 'you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen' and that 'you're so good for me' and that 'i love you more than life itself''

it's so hard to stay perched on his lap like that!!!!!! you want him to be able to smack your ass more but your cunt is literally drooling onto his knees and they're offering you such firm, delicious friction when you grind against them that you want to lunge forwards and bounce yourself on his dick until you're both seeing stars <3 he definitely fucks you well after that, if you beg for him with big teary eyes he'll kiss away the moisture on your face and pacify you with his cock while telling you that you're perfect and he loves you <333

in future you always request that he uses his prosthetic hand to do it, because whether he's got his glove on or not it's so thrilling to feel either cool metal or cool leather against your ass <3333 butttt of course he uses his other hand too sometimes, because there's something undeniably filthy about the sound of his skin cracking against yours that he can't refuse.