#Jedi know how to dance

[saggitary]

Ok I don’t know where I saw it but I saw someone’s headcanon that Jedi learn how to dance for like political stuff. They learn different cultures dances so if they need to attend a formal event during peace times they can respect the different cultures and I really liked that idea.

Masters could pass down certain dances to their students and some lineages might even have a signature style they do really well. They also teach classes at the temple so Jedi can learn dances from the planet and culture they came from.

Fast forward to the war and there isn’t as much time for masters to teach their students so it becomes a required course that Padawans take. The teachers make videos for their students so they can practice on the Venators and perform once they find themselves back in Coruscant.

Obi-Wan is a good dancer and made sure that Anakin knew how to dance. Anakin can dance but he’s not the best at it and doesn’t enjoy it as much as Obi-Wan does so whenever Obi-Wan finds himself on the 501st’s ship, he makes sure to dance with Ahsoka.

Ahsoka likes dancing, she readily picked up on performance styles like ballet, it also helps translate over to her fighting style. She’s always happy when her grandmaster offers to help her with partner dances but he isn’t always around when she needs him. Anakin helped her a little bit but she could tell he would rather be else where so she quickly gave up on him. This left her to turn to her next best option: the Clone troopers.

When Ahsoka first asks Rex if he can help her with dancing, he’s very confused. He never leaned how to dance nor did he think he’d ever need to. However Ahsoka was happy to reach him so he could in turn help her learn. She had to learn a style of partner dancing called Swing Dancing, so she had to teach Rex the leading part first. Other troopers stopped in the training rooms to watch and joke around much to Rex’s annoyance.

After an hour Rex was exhausted.

“Alright thank you Rex for helping me today.” Ahsoka told him.

“Don’t know how much I helped kid.” He huffed with a laugh.

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

“Could I maybe try sir?”

Ahsoka turned to see Echo standing behind them.

Turns out he’d been watching the dance lesson for a while and had begun to pick up on the ques and steps.

Ahsoka was surprised at how quickly the ARC picked up on it once she started instructing him. She could tell Echo was enjoying it as well, which made it more fun.

Once other troopers saw the ARC start to learn, they also asked to be taught, most picking up the skill easily.

Next time Obi-Wan is on board, he’s surprised to walk in to see Jesse waltzing across the training room with Ahsoka.

[satinestales]

❝erotic melancholia❞ | qimir x reader

pairing: qimir x reader

summary: healing your wounds and sore muscles took longer than expected, so qimir decided to offer you his bathtub in the middle of his cave. along with some side offerings.

warnings: this is more of a short scribble so if you decide to jump in, have a nice stay and enjoy the food, starring very soft and gentle qimir - something to relax to i guess, soft physical touch, sensual touches, comfort, massage?

this is very comforting and romantic, i'd say so all you horndogs can move, with love <3 this is how i want osha and qimir to interact once, GIVE ME THEM FOREHEAD TOUCHES

a/n: as i was writing this a fucking spider dropped on me from the ceiling- i may have had a heart attack and i pissed my pants a little

now playing, 13 beaches by lana del rey

The echo of dripping water resonated through the dimly lit cave, mingling with the soft hum of distant waves crashing against the rocky shore outside. The natural formation of the cave walls created a snug, sheltered alcove where a makeshift bathtub had been fashioned from smoothed stones and lined with soft moss. Small glowing crystals embedded in the rock provided a gentle, otherworldly light that bathed the cavern in a warm, ethereal glow.

You stood at the entrance of the cave, your body aching from the skirmish with the Jedi knights earlier that day. Bruises and shallow cuts adorned your skin, and your muscles protested with every movement. Qimir knelt beside the stone tub, pouring a mixture of healing herbs and soothing oils into the steaming water, the aroma of exotic alien flowers, and restorative essences filling the air.

"I think it's ready now," he said, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. He looked up at you with concern etched in his features. "This should help with the soreness."

You managed a weary smile, your gratitude evident despite your exhaustion. "Thank you." You simply smiled, adoring Qimir from the other side of the cave. As much as you appreciated Qimir's work and his loyalty to you, you kept your distance. Even if your heart desired the opposite.

Qimir stood up, giving you space to approach the tub. You noticed he had even placed a new robe and new clothes. Looking at them as you made your way to them, you appreciated he matched your size and taste. You felt a surge of warmth dancing in your chest as you looked at him, his unspoken admiration clear in every thoughtful gesture.

He was beautiful in the dim lit cave, the light reflecting over his sharp features. You didn't want to push him away, but you weren't comfortable taking your clothes in front of him. You didn't mind him seeing you bare, but his stare as you'd take of your clothes made you uneasy and caused a strange feeling in your stomach.

As if he could read your thoughts, which he probably did, he apologised and made his way to the corner of the cave, to make you more comfortable.

"When you're ready, let me know." his voice echoed through the cave, startling you as you carefully took of your robe and pants, gently throwing them on the ground above the tub.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the warm water, the heat instantly beginning to soothe your battered body. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the tension started to melt away.

Behind the corner of the cave, Qimir lingered for a moment, ensuring you were under the water before he spoke again.

"May I?" he asked, tenderness in his voice. Smile creeped its way to your lips, his voice warming you more than the water around you.

You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod. "You may."

As he appeared again, he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar, adorable way.

As he quietly entered the cave, the sounds of the island and the soft hum of the Force filled the space, you sank deeper into the tub. The warmth seeped into your bones, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing you were safe and cared for in Qimir's hidden sanctuary.

Qimir slowly made his way around you to kneel down behind your back. You kept your eyes closed, dozing off in the warm water that melted your pain away. Slowly, you felt Qimir's hand reach your hair, lifting it up and gently braiding it into a small braid. As he finished your hair, he moved it to the side over your shoulder, leaving your back exposed.

"If you won't be comfortable with anything, tell me." He leaned to your ear, whispering, not wanting to startle you from your peaceful setting.

You murmured something back, too distracted by the comfort of it all. The water hugged and caressed your wounds, the chilliness of the cave and Qimir's hands slowly massaging your shoulders. You wanted to melt, and you were sure you were about to.

Qimir's fingers danced their way around your sore muscles, around your neck, and between your shoulder blades. You liked the way they made you feel relaxed and at peace, clearing your mind from intrusive thoughts. When he offered you his tub, you were sceptical at first and didn't want to listen to him. Now you were glad you did as for all the pain and soreness dissapered, melted into the water and Qimir's fingers.

You were so lost in his touch that you were unaware of the noises you began to make, Qimir's lips turning into a soft smile. He felt proud that he made you feel comfortable and safe after the rough day you went through. He secretly wanted to jump inside and enjoy the smells and hot water together, but he respected your privacy, acknowledging you weren't that familiar with each other yet.

He didn't mind. You were close to him, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment.

"Where did you learn to do this?" you asked out of nowhere, wanting to break the silence no matter how comforting it was. Qimir's voice felt way warmer.

"Friend of mine." he replied, not stopping his movements around your right shoulder blade. "She taught me a lot."

A small sting of jealousy ran through your heart as he mentioned the unknown being. You felt ridiculous. He was obviously very charming, and it would be stupid to think he didn't share himself with anyone over his life.

"She died a long time ago," he added, sensing the tension forming around you. If Qimir's hands didn't hold you in place, you'd sink yourself under the water.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, his hands now around your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You didn't hear him answer, and the urge to turn around and apologise again grew stronger with every passing second.

"You mentioned your arms hurting too," he spoke, changing the conversation. "Do you want me to take a look?" he stopped massaging your neck, but his hands never left your skin, letting them rest on your shoulder.

"If it won't bother you," you replied quietly, staring at your feet below the water.

"I wouldn't ask if it did," you heard him smile, his fingers moving in slow circles on your skin.

"You can jump in while you do it." You didn't know what magical force let you say your thoughts out loud, but it was too late. You felt redness overtake your face as the silence kept stretching.

"Do you want me to?" Qimir wanted to make sure he heard you right before stripping himself.

"I want you to fix my arms." You coughed, hoping he didn't marge into your head and read your thoughts as he pleased to do many times before.

You wanted to speak again as another silence took over, but Qimir's hands leaving your shoulders and the sound of his clothes dropping right next to yours shut you up.

At the moment you saw his bare ankles next to you, you dropped your gaze down, nervously playing with your hands below the water. You heard a splash when Qimir sinked into the water, the close proximity melting your thoughts away. You dared to look up at him, choking on the air.

His jawline and high cheekbones prominent in the light, his two small pigtails on the opposite side of his head exposing his forehead and sharp eyes. He was one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen and no matter how cliche it sounded in your head, you didn't dare to deny it.

His chest glittered as the droplets found his way around him, the water reaching to his hips. He was ethereal.

You notice a small smirk on his lips as he lets you brush your stare on him before reaching out for your arm underwater, his eyes never leaving yours. He could have dropped his gaze and look down. He would easily see through the water, but he didn't. Instead, he admired your face, his fingers dancing its way around your arm to find the tense muscles.

"What is your mask made of?" You genuinely wondered, wanting to ask since you saw it deactivate lightsabers. You watched him now concentrating on fixing your arm, his fingers moving in sharp but tender movements.

"Cortosis," his voice low and raspy, his presence intoxicating. He radiated warmth, beating the hot bath he prepared for you. "Like the one we used as younglings." he explained further, his hand reaching your bicep, making him move closer to you. If you'd extend your hand, you wouldn't be able to stretch it fully before meeting Qimir's chest. The proximity and soft touch drove you crazy.

"So it's just you and the Force," you added before he could finish his further explanation. Despite staring at his hands, you didn't miss the acknowledging look he gave you.

"And whatever you bring with you." he whispered, nodding his head, his eyes falling back to your arm. When he finished your right hand, he reached out for your left, but before he could do so, you hid both of your arms behind your back, looking up at him with amusement playing on your lips.

"And what do you bring there with you?" you wondered, your gaze dancing between his lips and his black eyes. His half lidded eyes made you switch position so you could press your legs together. He didn't miss it even tho he acted like he did.

"My partner, I hope." he tilted his head, trying to read your expression. Nodding, acknowledging his answer, you didn't move. You let your eyes drop to his chest, around his nipples, fown to his abdomen. And back up.

Nervously, you played with your fingers behind your back as the silence took its place again. But this time, it was different. The awkwardness vanished, and something else took over.

"Have you found one yet?" Your mind traced back to the person he mentioned a few minutes back, wondering if she was his partner and he lost her. Or maybe he never found one, forever wondering for someone to fill his soul.

"I think I may have." he replied, moving slowly towards you, the water hugging his torso. "But I'm not sure if the person found me."

He was right in front of you. You could swallow his breath. His deep, longing eyesz scanning yours, his lips partially opened. His hair loosened up, falling over his forehead.

"She did," you whispered back, letting his hand caress your cheek before meeting his lips with yours. The softness of his lips made your knees betray you, but his arms were there to catch you. Your hands moved from your back to rest against his chest, feeling his soft glow skin. Your fingers drew shapes around his scars, wanting to love and learn every single one. His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you even closer to him. Wanting to feel every inch of you.

Candles flickered around the cave, casting a soft, golden glow that danced with the shadows. The fragrance of the candles mingles with the warmth of the water, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility.

You leaned back, enveloped by the soothing embrace of the water and Qimir's arms around you. His chest is firm and reassuring, his lips soft and sweet as you imagined clouds would feel. You felt his steady heartbeat, a reminder of their presence and yearning.

In that moment, all pain and worries melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and security. Qimir's arms were your sanctuary, always ready to catch you when you stumbled and to hold you when you needed it most.

The feeling was a blend of love and ecstasy, as if every touch and whispered word from Qimir's lips was a promise of unwavering yearning and affection. The chill in the air around you only enhanced the cozy, intimate warmth you shared, making this moment all the more precious.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the blissful combination of the hot bath, the ambient candlelight, and the tender embrace of Qimir's lips. In his arms, you didn't find just comfort, but a profound, soulful connection that filled you with an enduring sense of peace and love.

[veryrockyraccoon]

So I found a few things like this awhile back but figured I’d share my own thoughts about it.

The Mandalorians thinking of the Jedi as great warriors and to them getting a Jedi in the family was considered a great feat (that no one has managed to achieve yet), they think the Jedi have incredibly high standards, as the great warriors they are should, and continue to follow, flirt with and try to parent Jedi they see.

Meanwhile the Jedi fully believe the Mandos hate them, they specifically warn all younglings to avoid them and it’s one of the first lessons for Padawans.

At one point a Mando sees a Jedi with a Padawan and try’s to compliment the Jedis child rearing skills but they say something like “Your young one is very strong, they would make a great Mandalorian!” Which to the Mando is a compliment and a little bit of flirting, but for the Jedi, who’s already primed to stop someone from kidnapping their padawan because of how popular force-sensitive slaves are (especially those with training who aren’t considered to dangerous, ie Jedi padawans) takes this as a threat and responds with a snarled “Yes they are, and so am I” while projecting every ounce of ‘I’ll beat you black and blue’ they can into the force, the Jedi quickly pulls their padawan close and leaves. Meanwhile the Mando is like “Wow that was hot” and is all proud of themselves for coming up with such a great compliment.

A ton of other shenanigans ensue and it’s great.

Side note I love the idea of the Jedi being very off putting to most others, not in a clear way but a lot of small things (just to fast reflexes, knowing what you’re about to say and responding before you even started etc).

Also here’s a list of reasons Jedi are the perfect spouse to Mandos

They’re great warriors who treat battles as dances, you will never get tired of watching their swirling robes and glowing blades.

They’re amazing with kids, raising their young is a great honor to them.

They stay level headed in the most stressful of situations, remaining competent and calm the entire time.

Their ability to sense danger means they almost always have the upper hand in battle.

Again great fighters, you won’t know true awe until you seen a Jedi cut down a field of enemies in less time then it takes most to fight a small gang.

Anyway these were just some thoughts I had, if anyone has any fic recs with this premise please let me know!!

[jedi-starbird]

A happier galaxy where the disaster lineage is somewhat less on fire constantly and senior padawan Obi-wan has developed a fixation on Mandalorians:

Sometimes Feemor regretted just how much he had given away when he had spent 5 expensive months bribing a traumatised Obi-wan to call him brother when he was 14. His dignity, for one, his access codes and shadow cloaking techniques, another. So he had a very dignified reaction when he was awoken to the shine of his younger brother's eyes in the dark at the foot of his bed. "I wou-stop screaming it's just me-I would like a Mandalorian. How do I procure one?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Obi-wan scowled as if Feemor was being difficult, he wasn't, he wasn't quite awake enough for that yet. "You're a shadow, you're supposed to know things."

Ah, if being a shadow granted you the secrets of the universe instead of just a great many planetary governments, Feemor wouldn't spend so much time wondering what dark rituals Dooku had committed to result in Qui-gon Jinn. (He already knew what regular rituals Qui-gon had committed to result in Obi-wan)

"I know that I'm about to punt you out of my room right now."

"...My birthday is coming up, I believe I deserve compensation for all the traumas."

Obi-wan's eyes were very big now. Feemor sighed. He flopped back down into bed. He resisted the urge to pull his blankets back up and roll over. 'Oh sure when it's time to see mind healers everything's fine but now-'

"Shouldn't you be asking Master then?"

"Master would not approve of how I plan to use the Mandalorian."

He squinted at Obi-wan for a long moment. Obi-wan stared back. He did some quick mental maths and tried not to feel old. Eh. Fine. Feemor swung his legs out of bed. "You had me at 'Master wouldn't approve'."

"Do you think I could get one by walking into little Keldabe and asking very nicely?"

As it turns out, yes he could. A few too many in fact, apparently Jedi, their ancestral enemy, in the Mando district attracted attention, who knew? Feemor knew, Feemor would have known if only he had been properly awake when this semblence of a plan was proposed. He stalked through the cantina towards Obi-wan who was leaning slightly forwards against a pillar, ah...speaking, to a Mandalorian with painted orange armour while surrounded by a larger crowd of Mandos. At least they seem mostly amused. He ignored the youngers squawk as he yanked the back of his robes so that he moved away from the Mandalorian and spun him around.

"You cannot solve centuries of animosity by batting your eyelashes."

"I'm not batting my eyelashes " Obi-wan sniffed," I'm shaking my ass, there's decidedly more effort involved."

"I miss when I was an only child." Feemor sighed deeply. He used the force to scruff the neck of Obi-wan's robes and dangle him slightly in the air. He ignored the shouting from beside him and bowed politely to the staring Mandos. "My apologies for the disturbance, this will not happ-" He considered his brother who was now yelling out his personal comm code with a wink. " Please excuse us, this very probably will happen again, we shall workshop it. May the force be with you all."

I don't have a fully planned AU but it is Codywan!!! cause I love those bitches but have some more dialogue I came up with for this AU. I'm imagining them both as like 20-23, Obi's close to knighthood. He's still a padawan for this because I think him causing Qui-gon headaches is funny. Feemor fully thinks this complicated courtship dance Obi's created is funny, he likes studying his little brother like a bug, he just wasn't prepared for him to just waltz into little kelbade and start hitting on people, though he really should have been.

Hand wavy timeline with Jaster alive but the clones are still clones, Jango was kidnapped and held in stasis or something, Jaster claimed them as Mandos. This is really just about Obi's first and biggest diplomatic achivement being friendly Jedi-Mando relations purely cause he was in his thot era. This also somehow saves the galaxy from the sith.

I like to imagine that Cody's brothers recorded that little exchange between Fee and Obi on their helmets and uploaded it online where it went viral on MandoNet before going viral galaxywide because wait holy shit is that a Jedi saying that????. Qui-gon gets called in for a very weird meeting where the council's like ok so the entire holonet has seen your padawan being horny on main but also this is like the biggest jump in our diplomatic relationship with the Mandos in centuries so like can we keep this up somehow? This results in Obi-wan being holonet famous, first through vode recordings but then he starts a space tumblr and twitter account and he's famous now. Then his friends and other jedi start accounts because wait we're allowed to do that? and those become big as well and this is literally the best PR the jedi have had in hundreds of years. the holonet loves them. the sith are fuming.

Obi-wan, scoffing: What were they gonna do? Shoot me? Feemor: Yes. Obi-wan: I don't believe in blasters. Bly: ...like as a concept...? Obi-wan: No, spiritually.

Obi-wan: I'm sure there's a nice Mandalorian we can find for you Feemor: I'm not sure those 2 words belong together Obi-wan: No of course not, we can't find a nice one, then they'd be all alone, we need to find an absolute bastard of one so that you two match :)

Obi-wan: Oh so Master gets to take in pathetic life forms but I don't? This one's already domesticated! Wolffe: Debatable. Feemor: Cody's a person! Not a stray tooka! Obi-wan: Master takes in stray people all the time! That's how he got me!

Qui-gon: How do you explain this behaviour Padawan ? Obi-wan: The force pushed me towards the Mandalorians Master, it was quite insistent on me developing better relations with them given our difficult history. Feemor: Fascinating, please do elaborate, I'd love to hear the theological implications of a force-assigned kink.

[r3starttt]

FOOLISH

PAIRING: roommates! abby anderson

SUMMARY: Abby being so in love with her roommate

CW: request. fluff. modern au. just some thoughts.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE LINKS DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | - abby taglist: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi

Abby had always been the type to quietly care for you in ways that went unnoticed by most, but meant the world to you.

As your roommate, and after spending most of her so-called alone time with you, she had grown familiar with your every nuance—the little things that made you, you, and the comfortable silences shared late at night. She knew how you liked your breakfast on busy mornings—simple, rushed—and how you treated yourself on weekends, savoring each bite of a more elaborate spread.

Abby paid attention to you in a way that made you feel seen, even when the world turned a blind eye. What had started as strangers living together had evolved into something deeper, something more meaningful.

It all began one lazy Sunday morning. You wandered into the kitchen, barely awake, with your hair in a messy bun, draped in the baggiest clothes you could find, your bare feet chilled by the cold floor. You had been awake for half an hour but remained in bed, listening to the soft noise of Abby moving around, staring at the ceiling, summoning the energy to start the day.

Abby stood by the stove, and the smell of something warm and familiar filled the air, though your sleepy brain couldn’t quite place it. She didn’t say much, just gave you a quiet smile, murmuring a soft "good morning" as she slid a plate toward you. “Thought you could use a break from cereal,” she teased with that small, endearing grin of hers. The way her eyes lingered on your face as you took the first bite spoke volumes, though no words were needed.

Somewhere along the way, she had started leaving little notes around the apartment, simple reminders to drink water, eat, and take breaks. You’d find an extra blanket on the couch, knowing she had left it there because she’d noticed you often fell asleep during late-night study sessions or naps between tasks. These small, thoughtful gestures made you feel undeniably cherished, even though neither of you had ever voiced it aloud.

One evening, after a long, grueling day of studying, you found yourself curled up on the couch, laptop precariously perched on your knees. Abby walked by, her hair loosely falling from the braid she had tied that morning, her steps light and careful. She glanced at you, noticing how exhaustion clung to you like a second skin.

You were in that foggy, half-asleep state when the soft warmth of a blanket settled over your body, rousing you just enough to fight sleep a little longer. “You’re going to hurt your neck like that,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against your shoulder as she gently took the laptop and set it aside. “Sleep for a bit. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” It wasn’t just the blanket’s warmth that made you feel cared for—it was the way Abby always noticed the little things, like when you needed rest but couldn't allow yourself to stop.

There was a quiet trust between you, a silent understanding that she’d always be there to look out for you.

Abby was the type who’d stay up late helping you with assignments, patiently explaining things in a way that made you marvel at how someone could be so brilliant yet so gentle. Her calm, steady voice had a way of making you feel like the only person in the world when she spoke to you. And when she leaned over your shoulder to clarify something, your heart would race, but neither of you acknowledged the subtle shift in the air—the closeness, the barely restrained tension.

You would both awkwardly adjust your postures, too afraid to cross the line that neither of you were ready to admit existed.

Living with her felt easy. It was as if the two of you had always shared this space, coexisting with quiet mornings and sleepy smiles, silently dancing around the unspoken feelings neither of you could name.

Laundry became a low priority in your shared lives, and you had the habit of letting yours pile up until you could no longer ignore it. One evening, you returned home to find the apartment bathed in the soft, orange glow of the setting sun. Abby was on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in her book, but you could tell she was simply waiting for you.

After a brief exchange of greetings, you retreated to your room, only to find your laundry neatly folded on your bed. You couldn’t help but smile—relief and a tinge of embarrassment washing over you. Later, you approached her, leaning close behind her as she continued to read. “You were busy,” she said, not looking up, “I thought I’d help.”

Living with Abby was like being wrapped in a kind of unspoken devotion, her eyes quietly tracing your every move as if you were the most captivating thing in her world. She was an endearing mix of awkward sweetness, intelligence, and a warmth that made you feel entirely safe and seen.

After particularly long days, you developed a routine of taking short evening walks together. The streets were quiet, the soft glow of the streetlights casting soothing shadows as you walked side by side. Abby didn’t talk much during these walks, but her presence beside you was enough to make you feel grounded, and every now and then, your hands would brush together, the silence stretching out comfortably between you.

She had a gentleness about her that was surprising for someone so strong and capable. When she helped with the mundane things around the apartment, it wasn’t because she had to—it was because she genuinely wanted to.

Every now and then, when she offered to run to the store for basics so you could focus on work, she’d return with your favorite snacks tucked in the grocery bags, quietly placing them in your room or on the kitchen counter. It was her way of caring, her way of staying close while still respecting the space you had both carefully maintained.

“Did you eat yet?” she’d ask, her voice soft but tinged with concern. “Need help with anything?” She never asked for thanks—she just wanted to know that you were okay, that you were taken care of. And when she saw you smile or laugh, her eyes would light up, as if those little moments were everything to her. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

Everyone else could see it—the way Abby’s world seemed to revolve around you. Whether it was her shifting her schedule to make sure you weren’t alone during late-night study sessions or remembering the tiniest details about you, like your favorite tea or how you preferred your eggs. And though neither of you dared cross that invisible line, it was so clear to everyone but you two. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how her voice softened when she spoke to you, or how her hands lingered just a little too long when she handed you a book.

Abby made you feel like you were the center of her universe, even if neither of you had ever said the words aloud.

Eventually, you found comfort in sitting together on the couch, watching movies, her arm resting casually along the back of the cushions, just close enough to make you wonder what it would feel like if she pulled you closer.

Sometimes, you’d share a brief, silent glance—everything unspoken, but there, simmering beneath the surface. And in those quiet moments, it was all too clear. Abby looked at you like nothing else in the world mattered. And maybe, just maybe, you looked at her the same way too.

[lovebugism]

Okay maybe Eddie bought a silly couple costumes for himself and r (something cute with “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” and “I’m not wearing that.”) 🩷

ty for requesting lovie! happy fictober! ily! — eddie buys you a costume you don't feel pretty enough to wear and the gang crashes your cuddling session (hints of smut, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.5k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Your bare bodies stick together beneath a decade-old quilt. Eddie’s nice enough to let you use his lanky bicep as a makeshift pillow while you cuddle on the couch. His other hand hovers over your face, smoothing out the subtle furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s this face for, huh?” he singsongs into the heavy, golden, post-sex silence of the trailer. His smile is swollen and crooked and barely there. It’s a very hushed sunshine compared to your distant pout.

“‘Cause I still feel bad,” you confess, voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible. Your feet knock with Eddie’s when your anxious legs entwine with his. “I made you miss that movie.”

“You didn’t make me miss shit,” Eddie laughs, assertive but not unkind. His warm palm spreads over your cheek. His chocolate eyes dance between both of yours. “I stayed in ‘cause I wanted to, alright? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You called me a succubus,” you tease with a gentle giggle.

He had, though he doesn’t have much recollection of it. You looked far too pretty underneath him, and he’d been far too close to his orgasm. 

His hips rutted sloppily against yours, his rhythm gone totally stupid after feeling you gush around him. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” he babbled into the sticky skin of your neck, voice tighter and higher than usual. “You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, baby? Pussy’s so good… I’d fucking— I’d do anything you wanted me to— shit.”

His legs are still numb from the mind-blowing climax he had a moment later.

Eddie’s chuckle is louder and more boyish than yours. It fills the trailer with sunlight. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause you are. Which means I’d much rather be here with you than at The Hawk with all those other schmucks.”

He kisses you to seal his promise — a chaste peck upon your smiling mouth. It’s beautifully innocuous compared to how good he was making you feel hardly more than five minutes ago.

“I know you don’t like those movies anyway, so…”

“That’s not true,” you argue with a very believable pout.

His gaze goes sympathetic. “Babe… You almost cried when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street the other day.”

“No, I didn’t!” You most certainly did.

“You said you weren’t gonna sleep ever again.”

“I like horror movies ‘cause you like horror movies, dummy.”

The term of endearment makes him grin. He likes it when you get all mean, though you never really mean it. “Is that so?” he lilts with raised brows that disappear behind his fuzzy bangs. The ends of the umber strands are damp with sweat.

You nod lazily against his arm. His fingers are starting to tingle with numbness, but he loves you too much to move.

“Mm-hmm. That’s how relationships work. Compromise. I tolerate horror movies, and you tolerate—”

“Your Harrison Ford obsession?”

You lose your firmness and get all sheepish. “Shut up…”

“I’m pretty sure they were showing Return of the Jedi in the theater over, right after Sleepaway Camp,” Eddie observes suddenly, brushing stray strands of your wild hair from your temple. “We coulda had a double feature tonight, but you wanted to stay in with little old me.”

“That’s ‘cause I love you a whole lot more than some guy I’ve never met.”

Eddie beams at your words. His eyes start to glitter like he’s won something, and his cheeks speckle pink with pride. He’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. He’ll never get tired of you loving him.

“I’m flattered,” he singsongs and means it.

You smile and lean in to kiss his grin. The boy gasps before you can. He springs up from the couch at a moment’s notice, climbing over you with naked limbs. He flashes you his bare ass just before he tugs on the crumbled pair of boxers left forgotten on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, eyes narrowed in curiosity and mouth quirked in amusement. You twist on the couch so you’re propped against the back of it. You clutch the heavy quilt to your naked chest.

“I forgot something,” Eddie mumbles, halfway to himself, then sends you a lighthearted glare over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

You still, grinning softly at the boy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. You watch him while he rifles through a plastic bag beside the TV stand. “I got us something while I was at the Halloween store with Harrington earlier,” Eddie explains over the noisy crinkling sound.

“Oh, god…” you murmur.

Eddie laughs and looks at you over his shoulder again. “C’mon, babe. Have a little hope, would you?”

He returns to the couch with a smirk and something he hides behind his back. He grins like a kid when he reveals them to you — two packages of Star Wars themed costumes held in both his hands. 

Pictured on one is a guy who looks eerily like Han Solo — complete with the vest, blouse, and holster triad. The other is an uncanny Leia Organa in a skin-tight white suit, beige knee-high boots, and a flowing cape.

You blink at both of them, then at Eddie. 

“…I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“Our Halloween costumes!” he exclaims with a beam. “See, I’m gonna be Han Solo— ‘cause I’m, you know, charming and sarcastic and handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you joke with a lovesick grin.

“—And you will be my beautiful, hard-headed Leia Organa.”

You glance again at the package in his right hand, at the pretty woman on the cover. You know you won’t look nearly as good in the costume as she does. Your soft smile flickers. 

“Eds…” you mutter in a wavering lilt.

A frown forms between his bushy brows, similar to the one you’d been sporting earlier. “What?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna dress up this year, remember?” you remind him, shifting awkwardly on the couch and clutching the blanket closer to yourself.

“But it’s Halloween, babe! Why wouldn’t you wear a costume?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stammer out an excuse. “Because— I don’t know— I’m too… indecisive. Like, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“That’s why I picked for you!” Eddie grins, totally oblivious.

You laugh. It’s a bit cynical but not totally unkind. “I am not wearing that.”

He pouts, like a child or a hurt puppy. “But why not?” he wonders with a crestfallen inflection.

Again, you stammer. “Because— I mean— Just look at her, Eds!” you gesture to the package he holds with a significant focus to the girl on the front. “I don’t look like her!”

He grows from sad to confused. His brows pinch as he tilts his head to the side. His wild curls tickle his bare, pale shoulder. “Oh… kay?” he mutters, trying his best to understand you but not getting it completely.

You huff. Your chest stings as you explain it all to him.

“I’m… I’m not gonna look like the girl on the cover. You know that, right? I’m not— I’m not Princess Leia kind beautiful, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, seemingly agreeing with you and smiling all over again. “You’re a you kind beautiful. That’s what makes you so damn sexy.”

He leans down over you with the intention to kiss you. 

Still pouting and inwardly aching, you pull back from him.

“Eddie…” you murmur, still gentle but obviously sadder.

He concedes with a small sigh. The couch cushions dip with his weight when he sits down beside you. He leaves the packages abandoned on the other side of him and gives you his full attention. 

“Look… You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, alright? We can stay in for Halloween for all I care. I just… I think it’d be a lot of fun, you know?” the boy rambles with a seriousness that’s typically foreign to him. His palm smooths across your knee over the thick quilt. His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “And I think you’d look… very pretty as my Princess Leia.”

His chocolate eyes twinkle with an undeniable sincerity. It makes your chest feel so warm it burns.

“Yeah?” you mumble, not quite believing him but wanting him to hear him say it anyway.

“Totally,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. He presses a lingering peck to your lips, then melts when he tastes leftover sex upon them. 

A switch flips within him then. His belly twists, and his eyelids get all heavy. His smirk is weighed down by lust as he pulls back from you and shrugs. “I think I could show you better than I could tell you, actually…”

Across the living room, the door busts open. 

Sunlight explodes throughout the dim trailer, making the two of you squint. 

Steve enters first, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival. “Phone’s off the hook,” he observes, pointing to the telephone lying face up on the table beside the front door. 

Eddie had two fingers inside you, and the thing just wouldn’t stop ringing. He grumbled in annoyance when he had to part from you to hang it up.

Steve puts the thing back on the hook while Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle walk in behind him.

Mortified, you watch with wide eyes as your uninvited friends file in. Your grip tightens around the blanket. You use one hand to make sure every inch of your naked body is covered with it.

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as you are. Instead, he huffs in annoyance and spreads his arms along the back of the couch. They were the ones barging in, after all. If they had a problem with his pale, lanky figure and his thin, plaid boxers, then that was on them.

“Oh. Come in,” he hums, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Make yourselves at home.”

Robin’s got a thousand-year stare in her eye and a blue, red, and purple mouth. “Can I use your bathroom?” she wavers, voice strained. Her fists are clenched beneath her baggy flannel. They tremble beside her baggier jeans.

“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

She’s already rushing down the hall before he can get the words out.

The two of you watch her leave and then turn to Steve. He’s an expert in all things Robin Buckley nowadays. He shrugs and tells you, “She had, like, four slurpees while we were waiting on you guys at The Hawk.”

You shift awkwardly like you’re getting scolded. Eddie only laughs.

As all the gang settles around the trailer — Jonathan on the recliner, Nancy on the arm of it, and Steve sitting on the adjacent table — Argyle is the only one without a place to sit. He idles beside the couch, smiling at you with rosy lips and rosier eyes.

“How are you doing today, amigo?” he wonders with a curt nod, as mellow as ever.

You smile up at the boy, not nearly as fazed by the bright style and long raven hair as you used to be. Actually, you’ve grown quite fond of his slurred jokes that don’t really have a punchline because halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten it entirely.

“Good,” you respond, crossing your arms over the quilt you’ve got bunched at your chest. “You?”

“I’m peachy, brochacho,” he nods back at you. He grins, but the bright expression is weighed down by the weed. The skunky smell entwines with his musky cologne, creating a deep earthy scene that’s much more bearable than the weed alone.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you guys showed up—” Eddie starts with an inflection that would imply otherwise, wide eyes flitting around the room. “—But what the hell are you doing here?”

“You’d know if you answered the phone,” Steve retorts with a scrunched nose, flipping through a random car magazine. The Beemer on the front matches the sunshine yellow of his sweatshirt.

“Well, I was a little busy, Harrington—”

You nudge Eddie before he can finish the stupid joke. Everyone could already hear it anyhow — “I was a little busy, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 

He shoots you an innocently confused look. You give him a half-hearted glare in return.

“You guys flaked on movie night, so we brought the movies to you,” Nancy singsongs with a sweet, pink smile.

Jonathan unrolls the folded-up paper bag between his feet. The flimsy cardboard crackles loudly as he rifles through it. He pulls out a number of unblanketed VHS tapes with handwritten stickers glued to the front of them. 

“Uh… We got Sleepaway Camp, obviously,” the Byers boy mutters in his usual Byers way. He waves the tape in his hand and sits it off to the side. He reaches into the bag and grabs two more. “Twilight Zone and, uh, Return of the Jedi.”

Eddie is as grateful as he is confused. Movie night wasn’t totally gone, and both of your movies had been seemingly carrier-pigeoned to his trailer, but neither should be out on VHS yet. “How…?” the boy trails off with pinched-together brows.

Argyle answers. “Let’s just say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” he smirks, then swirls his features in puzzlement. It looks like he’s trying to do math in his head. “…Who knows a guy.”

“I can pop some popcorn if you guys wanna, you know, make yourselves decent,” Steve teases with a feigned maliciousness as he hops off the square table. The old thing squeaks under his weight.

Eddie’s retort doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Right. My bad, Stevie. It’s not like you totally barged in on us or anything.”

You shake your head at their bickering, though you’re still smiling quietly to yourself. Eddie shields you while you rise from the couch. You wear the heavy quilt like a dress as you shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. The thing trails behind you as you go.

“Sorry about them, sweetheart,” Eddie apologizes as soon as the door clicks closed. 

He’d wanted to say something earlier, but kept his mouth shut instead of making it a bigger deal. He knew you were bound to be embarrassed — because you almost always tend to be, anyway. He didn’t want to draw attention to the situation, or least of all to you, and make it that much worse.

“’S okay,” you shrug and drop the blanket on the carpet. 

Eddie tries not to go all teenage boy at the sight of your naked body, but he nearly loses his mind when you bend over to pick up one of his t-shirts from the floor. 

“We did sorta flake on them,” you reason as you tug the cotton over your head. The baggy fabric falls over you like rain.

Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. He couldn’t love you more if he tried.

“Only you would blame yourself when those assholes walked in on us,” he laughs, walking the short distance to you and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You smell like flowers, sex, and his cologne. 

“You’re too sweet for your own good, baby. No wonder those schmucks won’t leave us alone.”

Robin’s voice seemingly comes from within the walls — ‘cause the bathroom is only one room over, and the walls are especially thin. “Rude!” she grouses, voice muffled. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”

[wanderer-six]

Late Night

AN: this tweet changed my life I could not stop thinking about this i needed to write this i need you all to b thinking about this too

Relationships: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter have been together for years now, living out a happy life on Pabu. You're spending the night together, and time has done nothing to quell your desires.

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, edging (it's ok he can take it), old man hunter im dedd 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k I did not proofread this apologies in advance if it's bad I hope u can at least get behind the Vibes u feel me

It’s another beautiful night on Pabu. The sun set over the island hours ago, and the moon now bathes the ocean in shimmering silver. As the day wound down, so too did the residents; the paths that bustle by day are all but empty now as everyone settles in for a peaceful night.

All around the island, there is quiet. The only sounds you hear now are the gentle drone of the waves, and his heavy breathing.

Like all the others, you and Hunter retired to your bungalow, but rest is far from your minds. In the dark of your bedroom, you and him are bare, chasing off any chill from the evening air with each other’s warmth. Hunter, the man you’ve loved for a lifetime, is beneath you now. You balance your hands on his broad shoulders, riding him slowly, wonderfully, biting your lip as he meets your gaze with weary eyes. 

Even after all these years, making love to him still feels as amazing as it did the very first night you shared together. Each roll of your hips fills you with more of him, and you can’t help but whimper when he hits every spot you love. It seems he hasn’t had his fill of you, either. Though time has had its effects on Hunter, it certainly hasn’t changed the way he yearns for you. Even now, he hangs on your every movement, his vigilant eyes darting between your pleasured expressions and your hips taking his cock.

Deciding he’s gotten a little too comfortable, you descend onto his length at a different angle, allowing him to reach deeper than before. At the sudden sensation, a groan catches in his chest. Between his labored breaths, he chuckles.

“You feel so fucking good, cyar’ika…” 

Humming through a smile, you rest your forehead on his.

“You’re one to talk, handsome…” Your fingers trail through his hair, still just as long as when you first met, but having faded to grey some time ago. “I can’t get enough of you.”

That confident, effortless smirk tugs at his lips. You’ve seen it a thousand times, yet each time he wears it, heat still rises beneath your cheeks.

“Heh… is that so?” Though his once defined, sharp muscles have softened from years of respite on the island, he still feels as strong as ever when he grips at your hips. “I guess time hasn’t gotten the best of me in every way…”

At this, it’s your turn to grin. You know it’s been a few long years since the two of you last saw combat; with the clones’ advanced aging, those years have counted double for him. But even if you’re older than you once were, you know you still have plenty of time left.

And it’s when Hunter starts to pretend as though he’s moments from death’s door that you like to remind him what he’s still capable of.

Without warning, you melt against Hunter, draping your arms over his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. His tongue dances with yours, and as his arms hold you flush against him by your waist, you begin to roll your hips more quickly. You move faster, harder, riding him for all he’s worth. You revel in every little noise he makes, the way his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. His fingers tense, clinging to your hips so desperately as to leave bruises.

In the Force, you feel how close he is. How near he is to losing himself fully in you…

… and right before he hits his peak, you lift yourself off of him, robbing him of the only thing he craves in that moment.

Hunter utters a groan, wincing through the torment of his denied release. He leans his head back against the wall, and you can feel his heart kicking fast against his chest.

“F-Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Despite his anguish, you can only grin. You lean forward, lavishing him with gentle kisses as he settles down.

“Easy, Sergeant,” you sing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As you kneel over him, he dares to glance between your legs. You’re so tantalizingly close to his aching length, and though his desperation is clear on his face, he knows better than to think you’ll be so generous. Utterly helpless, he shakes his head. 

“I’m too old for you to be teasing me like this…” he mutters, a weak smile tugging at his lips. You roll your eyes at his self-admonishment.

“Oh, enough…” With a deep exhale, you rest your forehead against his, and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the feeling of him. For every experience you’ve had in every corner of the galaxy, nothing compares to having Hunter all to yourself. “I know you can handle it, even if we may not be young anymore…”

Though he’s clearly just as lost in your attentions, this remark has him prop an eye open to sneer at you.

“‘We’?” he repeats with a chuckle. Sighing, he runs his rough hands up the curves of your waist. “You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you—even if you’re wasting it torturing an old clone like me…”

Your eyes warm, and you bite your lip. With a dangerous twist of your hips, you grind against him, earning a deep grumble from Hunter’s chest. Your lips linger by his ear.

“I think I know my Hunter by now…” you purr, voice low enough to make him shiver, “and if there’s one thing he likes, it’s a challenge.”

Without a word of warning, you lower yourself back onto his cock, taking him deep inside as you begin riding him again. Hunter goes rigid, fumbling for purchase against your hips as they overwhelm him with pleasure. Nothing could ever thrill you more than the way he touches you. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s known exactly how to make your body sing for him. Even now, a desperate mess beneath you, his hands run along your skin purely by instinct.

And luckily, you know his body just as well.

Again, you fuck him harder. Again, you feel the tension in his core, the white-hot release building inside of him…

Again, you stop just short, lifting off of him right before he can come.

Your poor sergeant whines again, his head lolling back as his eyes pinch shut. Between your legs, his cock throbs, twitching in desperate need for the stimulation you’ve so cruelly deprived him of. 

“A-ah…!” Between his heavy breaths, chest rising and falling arduously, he moans in complaint. “You’re… fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

While he grovels in such a sorry state, you’re no worse for wear at all. You place kiss after languid kiss up his neck, tickling his skin with your breath.

“I can keep this up all night, handsome…” Pulling away just enough to catch his eye, you don a mischievous grin. “I think you can, too.”

 In the face of your taunting, Hunter surprises you when his smile softens. He cups your face with a trembling hand, running his thumb gently along your cheek. You lean into his touch, admittedly falling victim to his sudden tenderness.

“Tell me…” he asks, “what’s it gonna take for you to let me off, huh?”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hm… I don’t know,” you sigh, playing coy. “I think you might just be too old to manage what I have in mind…~”

With a chuckle, he pinches your cheek. “Try me.”

Pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, you flash him a charming grin.

“Tell me you love me.”

Through his lust-filled gaze, Hunter raises an eyebrow above a half-smirk.

“What… that’s all?”

You nod. “Mm-hm. That is… if you think you can handle—”

You’re cut off when Hunter’s lips catch yours, meeting you in a kiss so deep you nearly feel like you’re drowning. His tongue toys with yours, so desperate to taste you it makes heat flood beneath your cheeks. Still, you can’t help but smile against him. Though Hunter likes to act as though he’s old and grey, now, you know he’s far from gone. In moments like these, you feel the fire that’s burned inside him since the very beginning. It hasn’t faded in the slightest. You know it never will.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t stray far, lips ghosting over yours as he holds your gaze with intense eyes.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he breathes, a solemn swear. “Always have… always will.”

For the first time that night, it seems you’re the one on the backfoot. Eyes wide and innocent, you’re touched by the sincerity of his words. You know Hunter, know that he does everything to the fullest. But hearing for certain that his passion would be yours for as long as you both have left… your heart can scarcely take it.

With sudden desperation, you press your lips to his, and you bury his cock in your warmth. He moans into your mouth, and you moan back, losing yourself to the feeling as you ride him again. Tense hands grip at every part of you—your waist, your ass, your shoulders—leaving marks on your skin as he tries in vain to bear the sensation. But it isn’t long until his resolve begins to break.

As a gasp catches in Hunter’s throat, his lips break from yours.

“F-Fuck, cyar’ika… I’m gonna…”

You already know. You feel his energy shifting—you feel how close he is. His delayed release has only built up to something more intense… but this time, you don’t back off. You indulge him, rolling your hips even faster than before. With what little stamina he has left tonight, he’s thrusting into you, and you whimper aloud as he hits every perfect spot inside you. You’re as close as he is…

And when you reach your climax, you’re amazed he can stay conscious.

Hunter buries himself to the hilt in your cunt, coming deep inside you. Your orgasm milks him for every last drop, and given the way you’ve tormented him tonight, he has plenty to give. By the time you’ve sucked him dry, his overstimulated cock still twitching in your walls, he’s quivering beneath you, completely and utterly spent. He breathes as heavy as he would during the war, on missions that would see him running for hours… You’re sure he’ll ache just as badly, come morning.

After taking a moment to recover, Hunter opens his eyes, gazing up at you with a precious smile. Gingerly, you tuck his hair behind his ears, supporting his head as you meet him in a feather-light kiss.

“I love you, too, Hunter…” you hum, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have, always will.”

The smile he wears is genuine. He tilts his head to catch your hand, placing a kiss on your palm.

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do without you, cyar’ika.” He pauses, then chuckles bitterly as he closes his eyes again. “Even if you’re liable to kill me, putting me through nights like this…”

Your grin turns more playful. Slowly, you lift yourself off of Hunter, relishing the way he shivers as his length falls out of you.

“Be thankful I’m so generous,” you tease as you lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, sighing in utter contentment. “If I weren’t, you would be in for another round… or ten.”

Hunter chuckles, voice reverberating in his broad chest in a way that soothes you more than anything else could. Arm wrapped around you, he traces idle shapes on your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something meaner to treat me to when we wake up tomorrow,” he sighs. His gentle lips press to your forehead. “But for now, let me get some rest, huh?”

Giggling, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hm… all right. But only because I love you so much.”

The warm night air, the distant roar of the waves, the embrace of the man you’ll always love… you can’t imagine anything more perfect. But as always, Hunter finds a way to make the greatest things even greater.

“I love you more, cyar’ika. Always.”

AN: Thank you as always for reading mmwah mwah I hope you enjoy, always stay edging that old man ♥♥

[anisangeldust]

Santa, Baby ❆𝜗𝜚

Summary: After being stumped on a gift for your boyfriend, Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker, you settle on a safe favorite of his.

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader

Warnings: Implied age gap (Anakin is 35 and reader is 18), lap dance, smut, oral (m receiving), mating press, mentions of breeding, smutty descriptions !!

A/N: Happy holidays! All the love and magic for all of you! May you all have the bestest day ꨄ

Santa baby..

Slip a sable under the tree, for me

Been an awful good girl,

Santa baby..

What do you get for a man that has everything?

7 year olds are easy to shop for, Leia was head over heels for he giant wookie stuffed toy, and Luke wouldn’t shut up about the ‘training saber’ he unwrapped that morning, children were easy to please, but a man?

What did you get someone who was almost double your age? A watch? He didn’t need that, it was useless for how often he changed planets with different time zones. Cologne? He had that, new parts for tinkering? He had those too, a new glove for his prosthetic hand? That was too cheap.

When you decided to just ask what he wanted, despite wanting it to be a surprise and feeling a touch of shame that you didn’t know your boyfriend well enough, the conversation went as good as you’d expect:

“I don’t want anything babe” his buttery voice insisted, strong hands rubbing your back and his baby blues full of warmth.

You sighed “all couples say they don’t want anything, I’m getting you a gift. Tell me what you want.” You insisted, kissing his cheek.

Anakin let out a deep, hearty chuckle. “I have you, I have the little ones, they love you like you’re their mother, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t need a gift.” He reiterated, his hand moving from your back to your rear, playfully squeezing.

That comment: “I have you, I have everything I’ve ever wanted” gave you an idea, you’d be his present. If he didn’t want anything new, perhaps something revamped would be the move?

It wasn’t difficult to get Luke and Leia asleep, they had crashed hard from the inane amount of sugar they ingested. After gently forehead kisses to each of them, and soft goodnights, you closeted their door and went to your bedroom you shared with Anakin.

“Merry Christmas Ani..” you kiss him gently and he holds you gently while kissing you back

“Merry Christmas baby girl” he coos and rubs his hands up your sides, a lustful look drinking behind the cobalt clouds of his eyes.

You giggle gently, pulling away. “I have a gift for you..” you murmur and climb off his lap, gesturing to a Cody chair by your bed “sit..” you smile.

Anakins brows shoot up “oh? I thought I said no gifts?” He teases but complies, siting down and looking at you.

“It’s not completely a gift.. more a.. zhuzh..” you wink and disappear into the bathroom.

Only a few minutes later do you emerge, flipping on a speaker to the familiar tune “Santa, baby” and sexily strutting over to your sitting boyfriend, clad in red lingerie and a Santa hat, complete with red lipstick and red stockings.

Anakin lets out a low, wolf whistle “whewww baby. What is this?” He leans back and pats his lap. Once you sit down on his thigh he tries to hold your waist, only for you to swat his hand away and pin his wrists behind him. Though he could easily get out, he chose to play along and refrain from laying his hands on you.

“Shh.. let me give you a show..” you coo and arch your back, standing up and wiggling your chest in his face. Allowing the white trim to brush his nose before you step back and squat down, slowly lifting up with your hands on his knees, wiggling your hips again.

The familiar song faded out as you climbed on your knees infront of him. Nuzzling one of this thighs and kissing his pants “you can touch now..” you purr gently. He takes no time for hesitation, immediately yanking off the pure hat and tangling his hands in your hair.

“Mmmhh.. baby..” he groans and spreads his legs allowing you to pull off his pants, he watches the fabric slide off to reveal the hard bulge in his boxers “you’re so fucking beautiful..” he groans and pulls you forward to his crotch.

Your lips meet the hardness of his bulge and you kiss it, feeling it twitch and grow under your lips. Slipping your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and slipping them down, his hard cock springing free of its cloth confines. The tip leaking pearl and standing stiff. Trimmed pubes leading to heavy balls and upwards was his toned abdomen.

“Is this all for me?” You tease and suck lightly on his baby pink tip. He tried to pull you down and you resist, moving instead down his shaft to suckle on his aching sack, the motion making him growl and shake.

“Fuck yes.. all for you baby girl, always for you..” he grunts then tangles his hands in your hair, tugging on your scalp. “Gods.. fuck me.. always so good” he rolls his eyes back. The groans louder as you finally take him into your mouth, letting your slobber lube your hand so you can pump what you can’t take. Your tongue traces the bulging vein Yang runs under his cock head, swirling it and catching all his leaking pre before going back down.

“Mmpohh…” he tenses “fuck fuck fuck.. I’m.. ohhmm..” he takes control and face fucks you, hips lifting up to meet your face, hands tangled in your hair, he was enjoying this more than any blowjob he’d ever been given. There was a moment of chocked silence as Anakin came down your throat, beads of sweat running down to his eyebrows, eyes pinched close and brows furrowed.

As soon as he came down from that high, you made eye contact and swallowed his whole load, letting the little bit that dripped from your mouth to be scooped up by your tongue. “Merry Christmas daddy..” you tease and he groans “get the fuck over here” he growls and stands up, pulling you up and throwing you on the bed.

Anakin kisses up your thighs and nips at the conjunction between your thighs and hips “fuck me babygirl..” he coos “so good with the little ones, makes me wanna give you one of our own” he growls before ripping off your panties with his teeth, tearing the delicate lace.

“Oh! Mm.. please.. give me a baby.. make me full..” you spread your legs, allowing him to see the wetness of your cunt. You pull your knees to your chest and your puffy, pink clit pops out from between your glistening folds.

Your boyfriend tugs his cock a few times, using the thumb on his other hands to tease your sensitive bud “I’ll give you a fucking baby.. I’ll pump you full of my cum..” he promises as he folds you in half and bullies his cock into your cunt “I’ll make you so full your forget what it’s like to be.. empty..” he grunts and starts to pump his thick, heavy cock into your puffy pussy.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!” You groan and bite your finger, trying to refrain from waking up Luke and Leia. Each thrust leaves a sticky squelch behind, the sound and smell of your combined arousal is like Anakins personal heroin, each jiggle of your tits, every choked sob that leaves your mouth, it’s all Anakin will ever need.

“Cum, fucking cream all over my cock, you’re already clenching me so good.. let me feel you cum” he demands and slaps your folds a few times. Pinching your clit ever so slightly.

You listen almost instantly, your back arching and a loud whimper escaping your throat, cunt fluttering around his invasive manhood. Anakin isn’t far behind, shorting his hot and sticky load into your womb, making sure to fuck it against your cervix, making sure to take advantage of your little fertile body.

As soon as the sexual haze lifts off the room, Anakin turned back into your loving and doting boyfriend. “Oh baby.. did I hurt you?” He lifts you up and lays you on his chest ��that was so good, you did so good..” he coos gently and you nuzzle him “mhm.. I’m okay.. ‘m perfect..” you assure him.

He lets out a comforting sigh and nods “so perfect.. my perfect girl.. my most wonderful Christmas present..” he kisses you softly “Merry Christmas doll..”

You lean into it “Merry Christmas, daddy.”

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Forgetting Something?

-> Pairing: Changbin x Reader

-> Request: This is a repost from my old account

-> Synopsis: Reader pretends to forget a vital part of her and Changbin's routine when they part ways.

-> Warnings: Kiss denial. Kisses. Pouting.

-> Word Count: 258

-> Requests: Closed. I will make a post when they are open again.

Changbin Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Changbin asks Y/N as she's about to leave. She’d bought him and the rest of the guys some food and drinks during their dance practice break.    

She looks around the room as she pretends as though she is trying to remember what she could have forgotten. “I have my coat, my bag,” she lists and starts going through her bag. “My wallet, keys and phone are all in here," she looks up at him finding him pouting. "I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything." 

His pout turns into an unimpressed look, the disappointment evident in his deep brown eyes. She knows exactly want he wants. Her boyfriend is highly affectionate and they always part way with a kiss. She sometimes likes messing with him by pretending to forget. He does it too. Just like this morning when he went to leave.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, her arms going around his waist, and resting on his well-defined back. “How about a kiss before I go?” she puckers her lips, eyes closed waiting for the pressure of his lips against hers.   

“I don’t think you deserve one,” he says when the feeling never comes.   

Pulling back, she pretends to look offended. “Ouch.”   

“Now you know how it feels,” he says smugly.  

“You did it to me this morning,” she defends herself.  

He's about to retort when Minho calls out to him, telling him to hurry up. “Saranghae,” he says instead, placing a quick kiss to her lips and rejoins the guys.  

Smiling, she leaves the practice room. 

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[shrenvents]

My Bounty.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal, unprotected sex, force play. Minors dni

Pairing: Clone Wars (single) Anakin Skywalker x Bounty Hunter reader

Summary: Anakin Skywalker goes above and beyond to make your life difficult, taking whatever he wants without explanation. So when reader confronts him, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1.7k

…

The meddling nature of the Jedi was nothing compared to the nature of Anakin Skywalker. His darkness seeps its way into everything. His dark robe, gloves, boots, curls, eyes. He was the darkness enveloping me in a dizzying spiral of hate and desire. And he did it again. He stole my bounty just so he could give me that dark look.

His gaze observes the way my fists clench and how I chew my bottom lip. A wicked smirk dances on his face as clones praise and pat him on the back. He knew exactly what he was doing, watching me with an intensity, that had me shaking.

Finally, Anakin’s eyes move away from my figure, beckoned by his Master. He stalks towards Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mocking facade breaks instantly. I nearly scream at the sight. What was he hoping to achieve? Stealing my potential profits is certainly an interesting pastime, not one you would expect from “the chosen one.”

I huff out my frustration, deflating my tense shoulders. With his back now turned, I relax. Pivoting on my heel, I hurry away from the scene. On to the next hunt, before Skywalker gets the chance to take it from me.

Frankly, I have no clue how it started, his fixation with making me miserable. I almost feel paranoid, as if I’m making up the whole debacle. But from the way he looks at me, unspeaking, I know this truly is my reality. Anakin Skywalker hates me.

...

Now glaring at my reflection within the confines of my room, my restraint runs thin. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confront him because that sort of thing always goes well.

I head out towards the Jedi temple where Skywalker is most likely training his Padawan. While marching over, I contemplate the arguments I will bring up when face-to-face with him. How I will look into those comet-like eyes and not get distracted by his plump lips.

Moral of the story, I’m going to put an end to this one-sided game we play.

Once my vision connects with his broad back, his name escapes me without hesitation, “Anakin.” Saying it takes me by surprise, seeing as though I’ve never said it before. But clearly, it shocks him more, as when he turns around, his eyes are vaguely wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Y/n,” he says back flatly, face becoming neutral. Now I’m really taken aback by the way my name rolls off his tongue. Quickly, I collect myself and remember my well-thought-out points.

“What are you doing?” And out the window they go.

Anakin quirks his head quizzically. His silent reply to my rather stupid question ticks me off further. I’m practically vibrating with rage. “That was my mark you stole today Skywalker, you realize that?”

As if he’s finally understood my inarticulate speech, his lips part dumbly in “awe.” There he goes pushing my buttons, silently watching me unravel. “You think I wouldn’t notice?“ My face flushes red as I elaborate. “All the crooks you’ve miraculously caught are always the bounty that I’m after.”

There's a beat of silence where he inspects the way my chest heaves in exasperation. Then he speaks. “About time you did.” He states matter-of-factly. My jaw drops. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to notice,” he remarks with a bored look.

“Notice what?” I spit out, scowling at him.

“Me,” he finishes plainly. Silence engulfs us again and I take note of how close we’ve become. “Why would you want that?” I question, utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Anakin’s brows furrow.

“I mean you’ve never spoken to me before.”

“Neither have you.” He counters. My fists tremble.

“Why then? Why do you need me to notice you?” I demand.

“What other reason can there be?” He grumbles while giving me a once-over, and then something clicks. My face falls.

“Those looks you give me-”

“Say just how much I want you, more than words ever could.” He ends my sentence, his face remaining stoic. My heart hammers wildly. I suspect he’s now waiting for me to make a move, to say anything, maybe even reject him. Instead, I hastily circle my head around, surveilling for bystanders before frantically grasping at his robe and pushing him into a nearby room. His facade flatters once again and I see puzzlement consume his face.

After I awkwardly turn the door knob and take us into the empty room, I shove him away. Anakin staggers back, looking completely disoriented, almost regretful. “Y/n?” He trails off. My anger is radiating off my body, and I know he can feel it.

“You should’ve said something,” I assert, seething.

“I’m-“ Anakin is abruptly cut off by my lips smashing against his. With my arms reaching around his neck, I can feel his body freeze. After a short moment, I start to peel away, dejected by his stillness. But Anakin instantly chases after me, no longer shying away.

He gropes my waist, and one arm pulls around it, while the other slides up my spine to rest between my shoulder blades. A moan evades my throat and is met with a deep groan.

His palms carve out my figure and fist at my clothes. Whines rush out my mouth as his tongue mingles with mine. He vigorously makes work of me, and I have to pull away. Though his lips instinctively follow me, I’m out of reach, so he settles for my neck. Sucking fervently, one may fear the spots he’s making, but in this moment, truthfully, I couldn't care less.

“Ani,” I whimper, and he growls against my nape in response. “Fuck, I need you,” I whisper. I feel his movements lurch and he mumbles something, but I can't seem to hear it over my haggard breathing.

He tears himself away from my neck, still keeping my body pressed against his. He then shifts his gaze around the room. “There’s no furniture here, I’ll just have to fuck you standing.” An audible gasp flees my mouth as Anakin slings my body around his torso, legs straddling his hips. His hands clench around my thighs as he hoists me up, securing me in place.

Fortunately, the short gown I threw on this morning made it easy for Anakin's crotch to caress my core through his pants. I push down on him and he groans at our proximity. "I was wondering when you would snap," Anakin mutters into my ear as his grip tightens. I whimper. "Screw you."

"Be patient. You will." He soothes. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I drop my forehead to his shoulder as our lower halves grind against one another.

The sounds of our moans crowd the room and I can't take it anymore. "Kriff patience, I'm done waiting, General," I command in the most sensual voice I can muster. Evidently, my attempt to provoke him works because one of his hands leaves my thigh and clutches my hair in a fist, tugging my head back so his lips can crash into mine again. His other hand shifts down to his slacks. His breath hitches when he releases his cock, and so does mine when it springs up to my clothed clit. "Oh maker," I just about scream, head falling back.

His hands make quick work moving my underwear aside, and his member brushes against my folds. I shudder and screw my eyelids shut. I feel Anakin's gaze fixate on me. "Look at me." Hearing his order, I immediately obey.

Eyes fluttering open, I look into his lust-filled ones. Getting flustered by their heat, I squirm. "Y/n." He hushes, breath blowing across my face. Glancing at his features briefly, I nod, communicating what we both desperately need.

We both hold our breaths as he brings me down on his length in a slow glide. His cock pierces my entrance, and I clamp down on my incoming yelp. He was big. I hear him distractedly repeat my name, face buried in my collar. My eyes look to the ceiling in prayer.

His movements dissipate midway, and I feel his stomach clench. "You take me so well." He mumbles almost to himself. All I can do is bob my head in response. In this short pause, the pain disperses and all I feel is him - pleasure, darkness. His arms snake around my waist while mine harden around his nape.

Suddenly, he plunges into me, filling me up completely. My cry echoes throughout the room and I instantly sink my teeth into the cartilage of his ear. The growl that leaves him is next to primal. His rhythmic pounding begins to pick up speed, and I can barely keep up with each stroke. "Kiss me," he stammers out. Reeling back, I lock eyes with him before diving my tongue into his mouth.

His hips snap into my own, over and over. His stomach clenches once more and he pants into my mouth, "I'm close." Though I feel incredible, I'm not quite close to my limit, and he senses it.

One of his palms unravels from my body, steadily hovering over my center. Thinking he's going to touch me, I arch my back away from his embrace to allow space for his digits to meet my clit. But, as I wait, an unexpected pressure attacks my core. I gasp away from his lips and I peer down, leaning my forehead on his.

His hand isn't physically touching me, yet I feel as though I'm close to climaxing. Bewildered, I shoot my eyes from his floating hand to his lewd expression. His grin is strangely smug as he watches me. Then it registers: he's using the force to make me cum. Completely stunned, I simply bore my eyes into him, mouth agape.

Our orgasms come at once and wash over us at his charge. He puffs out a loud sigh of relief and continues to hold me, pumping slower than before, til the action ceases.

"Maker," I huff, "Next time, just use your words, and I'm yours." A smile forms on his face. He sheepishly nods, "Next time."

[gladiatorcunt]

- BEDROCK | XII.

you’re a bottled star, the planets align, you’re just like mars. you shine in the sky

cw: kinktober prompt (sex toys), reader has a pussy, age gap (ur bsf ahsoka’s former master!anakin (40’s) obi wan (50’s)’s padawan!reader in her early 20’s), dub con, implied obikin x reader codependency, dismemberment fantasies, reader is lowkey a stalker freak, no direct touching between anakin and reader ofher than chest fondling, strongly implied voyeurism that’s non consensual but unavoidable and unwanted by both of you, eventual sith!anakin, obi wan haunts the narrative, frequent use of ‘little one’, dead dove do not eat, reader became a padawan in their late teens

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“You know they’re going to expect their toys to be put to good use.” Master Skywalker shrugs and tiredly grumbles down at you.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, recuperating from the first day of your undercover mission. Your own Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was on one of his infamous negotiation tours, so to speak, you had never cared for them, you couldn't spin pleasantries like yarn any better than a Rakghoul could dance.

Obi-Wan could only stomach taking you on because you parallel Anakin in so many ways, Anakin could only accept his former master taking another padawan because maybe your added seriousness will ease the aggravation caused by the one before you.

You were just happy to be chosen, as any child-waited-too-long-unwanted-teenager plucked from the tense comfort of their home would be, even if that home is only a basic imitation of a shelter.

“I know, Master.” These blasted things, growing up the other padawans would giggle with you over these provocative missions, usually a padawan donning the skin of a schutta on the end of a leash held by their Masters. “Do they have to be so… unique?”

It was as nice as Obi-Wan would’ve wanted you to be, even in these circumstances.

Would he take on Master Skywalker’s role with as much confidence and clarity as the true born son of the Force? Rumors of both the men’s appeal and promiscuity do not guarantee a willingness to rut into a padawan, a dance of demons spoken of in the archives, a beast in the vein of and important to some future single world than your own.

“Unique? How so? I know you’re not like some padawans and keep to yourself, little one, but Jedi your age talk. I’m not naive, neither is Obi-Wan.”

Master Skywalker might as well have carved the kyber crystal of his saber into your face, the flame that crackles under the surface of your skin bears his scent, stormy as his heavy gaze often is.

“Apologies, Master, i never meant to-”

“Shush.” He chuckles, “You can call me Anakin, I hope you’re aware of that. Mace Windu is not going to barge in here and strike you down for being informal. It’s just us, little one. I’m not even your real master, just doing pet sitting for an old friend.”

You blink, lava swirling in your gut at the implication of being a pet before a person. “Anakin.” Your mouth twists around the unused syllables, never having referred to a master by their first name in your entire life. “But the mission, we’re supposed to um…… you said they’d notice if we didn’t do……. anything.”

Another chuckle, another curl tucked behind his ear. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we came to this planet as a wealthy ship salesman and his controversially younger companion. This place is too seedy to not have eyes and ears everywhere, they’d take it as an insult if we declined to use their… gifts. The success of this mission would mean another smuggler and secret trader being taken down, Obi-Wan and I both think you’re ready for riskier missions like this one. You’ll do fine, little one.”

“I’m trying to release my fear and anger into the force, Master- Anakin. I thank you and Master for seeing this in me but I've never done anything like this before. Are people really going to hear us… have sex?”

“That’s why we’re speaking so softly, padawan, it’s not the noises they’re looking to witness, but you can never be too careful.” Anakin smiles, patting your cheek firmly. “And we don’t necessarily have to do anything like that, just use the toys and leave them on the bed for servants to find, messy and thoroughly used. The nobleman will be pleased, if the information painting him as a pervert is accurate.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spoken to you quite so crassly, but he does like to tease you that the sand scratching Anakin’s tongue never goes away, there’s always another grain when you think it’s spotless and clean. Like the temple or one of the many mighty metal spires, the sterile trees of Coruscant.

You nod, nevertheless. “There’s no use putting it off. The schedule we studied says the workers will stop by first thing in the morning.” Your nerves are obvious, picking your nails, biting your lip, adjusting the folds of your skimpy outfit to conceal skin it will never stretch far enough to cover.

Anakin’s eyes soften, the wrinkles in his outer eye corners deepen. “I’m only sorry I won’t be the only one to hear you cum for the first time, but they’ll never touch you, and they won’t get to know what you sound like doing everything. Trust me, little one, you’re in the safest place you could be right now, my general vicinity.”

It’s not as funny, or as hot, as you’d expect it to be. As shy as you are, you’re constantly surprised by how quick you are to embrace arousal in the urge to renounce shame. If your blood temperature rises to a boiling point, the big ball of anxious knots in your knot could be singed through until it falls apart.

You do not feel any great embarrassment of the simple truth that you have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, many do, you’d be at the tail end of a long line of various species of various ages and with various expectations of what they want their bodies to go through.

It’s silly to be possessive of a man you only share a master with, who stops by to chat when he’s not tinkering away at something or doing some death defying stunt on a mission that’s going to drive the council to insanity one of these days.

You are jealous of Ahsoka Tano however, your closest friend, even after she’s transferred to another Master, the result of some great big falling out.

It is far better that you were not assigned to be his padawan, the Force would have bled with your desire and dissipated entirely to get away from it.

Master Skywalker picks up one of the toys lying there on the bed in between you, a realistic tongue that disturbs you just a bit more than it arouses you. He chuckles at the apprehension on your face and motions for you to get comfortable. He reaches around you with one arm and bundles you up in his lap, your back to his firm chest.

He shushes your nervousness sounds and attempts to ramble, not fully apologetic as he peels back the layers of your tunic top. Your chest bounces into view, free from the confines of the tight fabric. Anakin gives you absolutely no time to be shy about them, groping one in his free hand. The force beams with his amusement when you gasp, the calluses on his fingers feel like they’re marking the skin of your mound, he kneads and kneads for a moment, perfectly content to let you squirm until you can get used to what else he’ll have to subject you to.

Maybe that’s where the hotness in these missions lies, you both want this on a baseline level but there are things you have to bend your own line in the sand to allow. Pushing your limits under the shyness-inducing gaze of Master Skywalker in these uncomfortably close walls and on a mission where you’re free to be other people might very well be your only chance. You’ve never broken a single rule at the temple, you’re a shining example of what a padawan learner should be. Master Obi-Wan often jokes that he wishes you were around to be his padawan the first time around, but there’s always a note of sadness hanging onto his stilted laughter.

You arch your back against Anakin, bracing your hands behind you and burying them in his hair. He groans as you gently tug the curls, and gives it right back to you by lowering the realistic tongue to your left nipple. You flinch, the surprisingly cold silicone model of a muscle flicks against your perky nub on Anakin’s command, and he’s commanding it to torture you to death. Relentless flicks of the toy against your nipple make you squirm again, wanting so badly to be good but you’d much rather ensure the toy was in constant contact with your chest.

It’s the perfect temperature, you run hot most days, and the brief sensation sends shivers from your head to your toes, just a hint of pleasure since Anakin stopped his own touching, sitting as still as a statue as he works the toy on you. He hooks his chin in your shoulder to gawk, transferring the device from one slick nipple to the other until both are so thoroughly coated that it drips onto your soft tummy.

“See, that feels good right, little one? There’s nothing to worry about, this is all we’ll do until it’s time for bed and then we’ll put these things away.”

You nod, whining like a spoiled noble family member now, pouting when he takes the tongue away from your nipple and throws it haphazardly over his shoulder. You cringe, wondering if the loud clang it yells into the concrete floor’s ears reached those in the shadows, you were trying to ignore them but now that there was a single moment of quiet there lecherous eavesdropping was all you could imagine.

A thick hand clamps around your chin and jerks you in the bearer’s direction, Master Skywalker clicks his tongue against his teeth, “They’re nothing to you, especially not right now. If you’d only let yourself go, they’d fade away entirely in your mind, I was trying to be easy on you but clearly you’re in need of something stronger if your head is still on the surface of this planet.”

Something stronger, being a large vibrator, 15 inches and a swirl of mint green and lavender, in the shape of a tentacle, every suction cup has the ability to well… suck. These are all things Anakin relays to you while rearranging your form to his liking, legs spread wide over his thighs, arms behind your back but not restrained, and after some lifting, your robes in a beige pile by the gaudy bed.

Master Skywalker can be merciful occasionally, he doesn’t force you to make eye contact as he lowers the vibrating toy to the altar between your legs. He also doesn’t comment on the pitiful whimper you let out, the vibrations haven’t even started, but you feel the force explode in pleasant-happy-power-trip blood orange. You drink up the calming waves he sends to you, wrapping them around your naked form like the comfiest and plushest blanket, the waves you offer to him in return are clingy little ripples in a pond. Needy repetition of hints to feelings that cannot leave this room alive.

He gets a glimpse of a fantasy, for a mere second before it vanishes out of view, a tantalizing and fascinating shooting star.

“No we can’t stop, you have to let it out.” You raise your hips up higher, face down ass up, your holes wink at him in intervals, angel wings flapping in the corner of his mind, like all the love he has for you will leak out into his cum and if he can just go that, then everything will be fine.

The vibrator doesn’t start at an easy to handle low frequency, your howling is drowned out by the intense humming of its second highest setting.

Your hips jolt, Anakin works the toy in slow circles over your clit, cooing when you jerk and squirm around. Your already throbbing clit is pulsing so hard it almost feels like a constant pain, but you’re so karkking wet that you push your hips up into his ministrations. You chase after the persistent buzzing with more determination than any of your meditation sessions, suddenly cumming on Master Skywalker’s lap is far more important to you than all the missions in the world. Blurry blobs with their ears to the structure around you shift to crumble beneath your increasingly loud cries.

Your pleasure snowballs, Anakin’s earlier attention to your nipples the mountain out of a molehill and his current fascination with your cunt the crashing wave threatening to envelop you in its fold. Like the ones Master Obi-Wan used to tell you about on Kamino, angry and dark cobalt blue, lapping at the ankles of the once elusive white buildings. It’s easy to split yourself into different pieces, assign each one to a part of nature because the force is telling you that your pleasure is as natural as grief and plant life and twin cotton candy pink to red suns and love and mistakes and giant bone dragons with pearls for landmark hearts.

The steady pulsing on your clit punches the gasps out of you, a steady stream of short-for-breath aimless chatter. You’re soaking Master Skywalker’s lap all the way down to the bed, if you mentioned them he’d probably tell you to leave how you ruined them. The smell and stain would only bring you greater protection from being found out, yet your stomach twists at the thought.

The force blooms violet with your fear, as if you’re deathly afraid of your own orgasm, lazy unenthusiastic rutting into your semi-firm mattress back in the dorm is nothing compared to actually touching yourself with the intent to cum. You just got too scared the first time you tried to slip your fingers in your tight snatch and frustratingly resigned yourself to never understanding what your peers go on and on about. Giggling into their portions of bland oatmeal and exchanging charged glances, hormones are far more powerful when they’re being repressed.

Master Obi-Wan had no trouble modestly applauding your emotional regulation skills, unlike his former padawan you had less trouble settling the wriggling bundle of your feelings in a see through boat and pushing it along the stream of starlight until it gave way and became one with the connecting tissue underneath.

“You’ll lose your voice at this rate, little one.” Anakin huns into your ear, his mech arm holding you so tight to his chest his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. “You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be, unless all this whining and carrying on is genuine?”

You can’t even get a word out before he presses the vibe closer to your pussy, the swarm of tiny little mouths the orchestra and the largest one at the tip of the tentacle hugging your clit the conductor. Your breath hitches as you tremble and whine, a high pitched thing that pierces the air. Anakin grins, lips split wider than the length of the cruiser the council provided to get her, he moves the toy up and down between your folds. A fake cock warming itself in the snug hold of your pussy, sending little jolts of phantom electricity to fizz and sparkle on your tastebuds through your core up out your mouth.

“I’m- I’m not acting, Master. Kark! You’re- ngh- going to, um, y-you’re going too fast, Master, please.” You beg, throwing your head back on his shoulder and counting the dots that make up the constellations in your visions.

It’s too much pressure, Anakin plays with the silk fabric of your outfit like it’s something for his hands to do, like he’s not keeping a vibrator right on your clit and holding you down so you have no choice but to take it. You can’t help but think of the ways your real master would be different, he’d try his hardest and wait out the time the longest but would that stuffy old man end up performing this same brand of torture?

Not that Master Skywalker is much younger, from your position on his lap the signs are aging are right above your face. The cheek scar you learned months ago he’s had for decades The wrinkles, eyes, mouth, forehead, the permanent halfway tense halfway slack skin from all the stress he endured in the war, the ghosts living in his irises, his weathered hands splayed out burning hot steam to the touch on your belly. Right above your womb, he could just dig in and sink his fingers metal and skin knuckle deep.

“Aren’t you adorable? You’ve been taking it so far, you haven’t fallen yet, little star, I bet you can keep going. Stop rushing this, just relax and feel these hungry mouths coaxing you to splash against them, settle into their demanding chants.” Anakin soothes, unhurriedly dragging his blunt nails over your love handles, “I would say this body is wasted on those arid robes, on the Jedi Order, you’d be such a beautiful dancer like you were after dinner, but Obi-Wan would kill me if he found out.”

The dinner with the nobles, the party afterwards, the target had his lizard tongue hanging from his mouth when he asked you and the other “accessories” to put on a show. The force twirled in displeased crimson skies then.

You don’t insult Master Skywalker’s intelligence out loud, but you both plainly speak frequently to the same word of the day calendar.

You want to give him one of your arms, unholster your lightsaber and sever the flesh from your spirit. He wouldn’t be able to use it and you wouldn’t ask him too, he can just have it, so he can understand how alike you are, to know that you too will always wander around with a missing part of you. But how can it be truly missing if you gave it willingly? Master Obi-Wan can have your lonely other, in a fiery pyrrhic instant you are pure force and limbless.

You’d roll the turquoise pendant of the necklace he’d bring you, a souvenir from a stubborn vendor on an outer rim planet, in the lines on your palm like it’s one of his eyes.

Anakin suffocates the vibe in your pussy and doesn’t let the suction cups breathe until you’ve spontaneously combusted, before you can say knife

“It’s not funny, I really didn’t like it, Master.” You liked it too much, the flickers of yellow embers in his eyes, his grip so tight on your chub that you pictured him with sharp black claws, shacking up with a man you barely know but at the same time are too close to.

You used to fall asleep recounting the details of Anakin’s life and accomplishments, each tidbit represented a sheep for you, the biggest punishment to you back then meant being banned from the archives or blocked from news sites on the holonet.

You studied the man whose shadow you would wear over your robes like a shawl, until you were convinced you could jet set off to Tatooine and be able to point out which patches of sand his feet had tread upon. You just never once stopped to consider that he was doing the same with you, what kind of sun bothers himself with the comings and goings of a dead star so far away from their incinerating orbit.

“I don’t like that you like when i’m scared, it makes me feel… sick.” You could cum so hard you’d fall off the temple roof into Coruscant’s lower levels, be one of the ghosts wandering throughout the dreary gray tunnels but instead be moaning for cock that’d still be alive.

“I’ll hold your hair back and nurse you back to health, I’m in for it if I give old man Obi another padawan death scare.” He wiggles the digits of his mechanical arm sardonically, he knows what you mean but he also knows that you don’t mean it so he gives you the same amount of humor he sensed in your mutterings.

Master Skywalker is appreciated for his ability to be both tremendously serious on the battlefield and lighthearted with his colleagues, Anakin loves to tease shy early 20 somethings who volunteer him to be the replacement caretaker for their own master. He tosses and turns that night, not because of the impending result of the mission, all he’ll say in his husky morning voice is that he had a bad dream. You should make a break for the cruiser after embarrassingly exchanging pleasantries, Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the temple are expecting you home before your scheduled progress testing sparring session.

For now, the vibrator’s highest setting will be the instrument, the conduit to the music your moans create, interwoven with Anakin’s hot musk. Oil and dirty water.

[roseaesynstylae]

I would love to see a fic where Kal Skirata and his associates meet the Command Batch. (I'll write it myself. Eventually.)

The second Kal -- or any of them, actually, said something along the lines of, oh, I don't know, "Must be hard, working with a bunch a baby-stealers" or more Jedi-bashing shit like that, we all know how they'd react.

Cody: Listens for a moment, then politely sets off a riot.

Rex: "Okay, bitch, get over here."

Wolffe: There's a mass murder. How dare you insult his father?

Doom: Hits the speaker in the groin.

Neyo: "First off, FUCK YOU--"

Fox: "I want a Jedi! I don't give a fuck if they're baby-stealers, I need one!"

Bly: Strangles the speaker.

Bacara: He lets them talk for a while, laughs hysterically, and beats the shit out of them with his helmet. The only one allowed to be an acidic bastard toward his Jedi is him, goddammit! (If Ki-Adi is watching, he's touched by his Commander's display of affection.)

Gree: Proceeds to rip their reasoning apart with detailed fact-checking and citations. He has a slide show with dancing graphics.

Ponds: Gives them the glare his General gives to particularly enraging Separatists.

Monnk: Raises his middle fingers. Then he raises his middle toes.

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles | DC Convention, September 22, 2024, Main Panel Summary

(FangasmSPN)

Jensen apparently filmed all night on Friday and flew straight here ??? does he sleep???? (x) JJ to her dad: I miss you so much I can't even function. @JensenAckles : I have a few more years of being the center of her universe #SPNDC (x) When asked what they would tell their 16-year old that wants a tattoo, @JensenAckles "A tattoo is a story. You should wait until you've lived enough life to have a good story." (x) Jensen: at 15 you don't have anything figured out yet so just tell her that (x) “There was a scene where dean gets upset and takes a crow bar to the car… and that hurt. That hurt Jensen. But they actually had a panel there so, just so you know, I wasn’t hitting… ✨her✨” (x) Someone asked if there’s a question that they’re like “ugh i hope they hope people don’t ask this agaINNNNN”and Jared said some of the prank stuff i could kiss him (x) Jensen did say tho that even questions they’ve been asked before they think on them over time and there’s not really an “oh no” question cuz we’re all so respectful and good about stuff and if there IS a problem they’ll be like “not answering that NEXT” (x) Jensen: My partner on this new show is 6’6. a 265 lb rugby player. I look TINY compared to him. Like a little baby boy #spndc (x) Question: "Is there anything you would like people to know about you?" @JensenAckles "I am not a good liar. Being an actor, you'd think I'd be a better liar, but I'm not. @DanneelHarris catches me whenever I try." (x) Apparently Danneel can always fucking tell when Jensen is lying lmfao she’s like “you’re AWFUL at that” (x) .@JensenAckles : I wish these communities of fans existed when we were young. I'm glad they do today. #SPNDC (x) Fan: I have anxiety and depression so i just need advice on how to handle it Jared: i seek professional help. i do! Jensen: I think you’ve already taken a huge step in just admitting it to a room of hundreds. know its a journey. It's not something that just gets fixed (x) Dream roles they’ve always wanted to play Jensen: batman. James Bond. Indiana Jones. and a Jedi. (x) Fan: *ask abt video games* Jensen: Dean would just kill dance dance revolution (x)

[shadowmaat]

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

[zz0mbi3]

𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒐𝒃𝒊-𝒘𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒋𝒆𝒅𝒊 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔. 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒐𝒃𝒊-𝒘𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑫

Obi-Wan never wanted to find you pretty.

Obi-Wan never wanted to think of you as someone more than a mere mission. He never wanted to think of you as someone more than a political figure.

Yet, Obi-Wan wanted to think of you as someone just for him. 

The Jedi were strict on their rules. No falling in love. No connections other than the one to the Force and the duty they were pushed into from birth. 

Obi-Wan tried to remind himself of this, he forced himself to see reason, but reason didn’t agree with him. Reason argued.

'Is it truly so wrong to love someone? Is it truly so wrong to have connections? That was the danger of it, wasn’t it? That’s what the Jedi were keeping me from, falling in love?'

But Obi-Wan couldn’t help it.

Even as he stood at the doors of your throne room, he was reminded of how he was just a young boy, and you were just a young queen.

This distant planet he had found himself on, this vessel of new life he had never been acquainted with before, blessed by the paradise of your company. 

His fingers rested on the hilt of his saber, the metal warm from his skin. He kept his eyes on the ground beneath his boots. He was sure Qui-Gon would be back soon to excuse him for the night…but Obi-Wan didn’t want to leave. Not when you were sitting so peacefully in the throne room, someone for him to adore.

He lifted his blue eyes from the floor to once again look at you, his movements urged by helpless desire. 

You were a sight. He swore it on the grounds of his oath, he had never laid eyes on a beauty like you.

You were so mundane, just sitting on your throne, your legs crossed beneath your stunning silver gown. The fabric draped itself down the seat, the white of the tiles shimmering with the reflection of the fabric. It was as if you were swimming in a sea of glitter, and it brought out the lively shine in your eyes. 

His eyes raked over you, how your hair was pulled into a dramatic hairstyle, fitting around the crown on your head. His eyes lit at the moonlight dancing off your skin, a sight he had gotten used to when he realized that the sun never rose on your planet. 

When you turned your gaze away from the window, meeting his, he lowered his head again. His face turned bright red, burning with the shame of his disrespect to the Force and the fear that you would hate him for shamelessly staring. 

His chest nearly exploded when he heard you laugh softly instead. What a beautiful sound to him. He had always enjoyed soft sounds, ones that could war against the clashing of sabers during the war, the shooting of blasters that kept his thoughts occupied so often her barely rested. He could rest on the sound of your joy.

“You don’t need to keep your head bent like that, you know?” Your voice slightly echoed across the nearly empty room. “Unless you want to hurt yourself.”

He exhaled a laugh through his nose, his lips curled up in a smile. He brushed the padawan braid out of his face as he straightened up, still unable to meet your gaze.

“Perhaps I was trying to,” he jests, shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn't sure. “Maybe I wanted to try something new.”

Once again the soft sound of your laugh ran through his ears and straight to his already racing heart. He smiled softly without trying to fight it.

“Perhaps you were…” You stood up in your seat, the skirt of your gown straightening with your legs, still flowing around you like a sea of stars. 

The closer you stepped to him, the more antsy he got. There may have been a chance that you were just preparing to leave the room. Though he wasn’t used to telling time on this planet, especially with the lack of sunlight, he was sure it was usually around the time you would retire for the night.

Instead, you walked over to the table at the side of the room, carefully pouring him a glass of Dorian Quill. 

His breath hitched when you held the cup out for him. 

“I shouldn’t-” He started, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, sweating. “I’m still on duty.”

You looked over at him with a calming smile, your head tilted to the side as if to ask if he truly believed that mattered to you. “One small drink won’t hurt you. Besides, I’m about to retire for the night. You won’t be on duty much longer.”

He wanted to be firm and insistent with you. He wanted to tell you no. But he didn’t. He walked over to you and took the glass from your hand, brushing his skin against the silver glove on your hand. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he smiled at you and bowed his head in respect, taking a careful sip of the alcoholic drink. 

“Oh, please, none of that,” you waved your covered hand at him in dismissal, sipping from a cup you poured for yourself. Somehow he had missed that. “No need to be so respectful, we’re equals.”

He coughed on his drink, swiftly swallowing the burning liquid down his throat. His eyes watered a bit, and he was reminded then that he had never drank before.

Qui-Gon would laugh at him, surely. 

“I beg to differ…” his voice comes out amongst wheezes. He tried to maintain composure, eager to not embarrass himself in your presence.

He was sure doing so would make him drive his own saber through his chest to save him from the pain of your judgment.

“I am the one guarding you, not the other way around.”

You simply hummed in response, and his heart spiked at the thought that he had offended you somehow. However, when your lips quirked into a grin once again, he calmed down once again. 

“I wasn’t the one who called for that order,” you shook your head at the thought. “I don’t need protection. Everyone else likes to think so. It’s idiotic. A true waste of Jedi talent to have them stand at attention all day and wait for the near-impossible chance someone wants to kill me."

He merely nodded. He wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe you didn’t want him there with you, maybe you wished he would leave. Perhaps his presence was making you feel as if no one trusted you to take care of yourself. 

'No, no, that's not true. She wouldn’t have given me a drink if you disliked his company.'

“I do, however, appreciate that they sent you.”

His face went pink with that statement. Did you appreciate him? His company?

“You flatter me, Your Gr-”

“On the contrary,” you cut him off, and he immediately shuts his mouth. He’d go quiet just to listen to you speak any day. “I’ve never met a Jedi like you. You’re so…calm, yet wise. I can look at you and see infinite knowledge behind your eyes and still feel as if you aren’t trying to best me.”

Oh, you were truly flattering him now. Building up his low ego, one he didn’t even know he wanted to be built up. Your words made a blush spread to his ears and he felt the back of his neck grow hot. He cleared his throat and placed his now-empty cup down on the table. 

“I am simply just well-trained,” he insisted, looking into your eyes. He tried to hide how difficult it was to pull his gaze away from you. It was as if you were a gravity pull that wouldn’t let go of him. “Truly, I owe everything to the other Jedi around me.”

“And so humble,” you praised. “I did get lucky when they gave me you.”

His heartbeat sped up once again.

You thought you were lucky to have him. You, the young Queen of a distant planet, thought you were lucky to have a lowly Padawan there to watch you.

He could almost hear the Jedi scolding him for his delight at that.

He was starting to not care about them.

“Well, I-” he stumbled on his words, absolutely flustered. “I’m not-”

You continued to smile at him, a sight that would occupy his dreams for days to follow. “You are. You’re not proud, you’re happy where you are. You don’t want more from your title…”

The words of praise from you were just stacking up in his mind, he was so overly happy that you were so observant of him, that you genuinely cared that he was there. 

Unfortunately, his heart sank in disappointment when your handmaiden stuck her head into the room, calling you to your chambers to prepare for bed. He lowered his gaze back to the floor, tapping his foot against the tile. 

“Your Grace-”

He was cut off when your lips pressed against his cheek, your gloved hand pressing against his opposite cheek to hold him steady. Your thumb brushed against his skin for a moment, and he smiled, showing some teeth.

When you pulled back, he gazed into your eyes for a while. His own were wide in shock and awe, his heart was so close to exploding. 

“Have a good night, Obi-Wan,” you said with one last kiss to his cheek and stepped away, the heels of your shoes clicking against the tile floor. “I hope to see you at breakfast in the morning?”

He nodded meekly, in a daze. He shook it off after a moment. “Anything you wish.”

You smiled softly and bowed your head to him, and he returned the gesture, hand over his chest. 

Thank the Force Qui-Gon wasn’t there to see how red his face was at the moment.

[aynavaano]

Heaven is here

Old Crosshair x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.5k

Summary:

You live on Pabu together with your husband Crosshair, it’s been many years since you turned your back on the war in the galaxy and decided to build a peaceful life together on the Island. Don’t be deceived by the domestic fluff, this is filthy smut.

Notes:

Sooooo…I know you’re all waiting for my Old Hunter fic but what can I say, when this art dropped my hand slipped and here we are with over 4k Crosshair smut and fluff. There’s oral f recieving, unprotected sex, Crosshair is a tease as always. I don’t even know how to tag this, domestic kink? Wife kink ? Is it dubcon if he gives you more orgasms than you think you can take? Also Tech lives, because he does and I will die on that hill. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and for all my Hunter girlies (gn) don’t worry I have not one but two drafts ready to go over.

Even with the risk of another sea surge, you and Crosshair took on the challenge of rebuilding a house in Lower Pabu many years ago. Perched atop a substantial rock, it offered seclusion, tranquility, and an unparalleled view of the ocean—a retreat away from the lively upper streets, precisely what you both had wanted when you decided to move in together. With your own private beach cove accessible from the terrace, and ample space for a garden around, it was a dream, that would have been impossible to fulfill in bustling Upper Pabu. Despite the misconceptions perpetuated by others, over the countless years of marriage, your love and attraction for each other have not faded; instead, they have grown deeper and stronger with time. You love the peaceful life you built together, as a former Jedi you had your fair share of war time yourself and when you arrived here you never looked back. If you are not occupied with helping the refugees on the island heal from their traumas, you spend most days swimming, cooking, baking and tending to the garden.

Today is a quiet Benduday morning, the weather is wonderful like almost always here on the island and you're already up, allowing Crosshair to sleep in after a late-night fishing trip with his brothers.

After your usual reviving morning swim, you whirl through the house and refresh the guest room's sheets, and the blanket in Batchers basket, so Omega can stay overnight whenever she wants. Occasionally, also Hunter stays for a night or two, seeking respite for his heightened senses, when he gets too overwhelmed or just wants to spend a quiet evening with Crosshair.

Preparations for the weekly family dinner, a tradition that you hold dearly since many years and rotate with Phee and Wrecker's partner, are well underway. Wrecker's favorite cookies bake in the oven, Techs favored wine is already in the fridge and the fully opened expansive glass doors, leading to the terrace and garden, invite in a refreshing ocean breeze, accompanied by your favorite tunes—a perfect start to the day, just how you like it.

With Crosshair seemingly still asleep, you choose to whip up his favorite pancakes for breakfast, relishing in the soft flow of the morning. As you gather all the ingredients und cut up the first Jogan fruits of the season, from your garden, you can't help but smile, grateful for the bliss of this idyllic day. You often spend time with the others but family dinner days are the best because everyone makes an effort to be there, even Echo comes by when he’s around and it’s always chaotic and fun. You decide to make some juice, a platter of fruit and finish up the pancakes before you go wake your husband, humming along and dancing around as you swirl through the big open kitchen.

*************

As the sun ascends higher in the sky, its warm rays peek through the bedroom curtains, gently nudging Crosshair from his slumber. Stretching lazily, he finds himself alone in bed, the absence of your warmth prompting him to go look for you. When he realizes the delicious aroma of fresh fruit and cookies fills the air, teasing his senses and drawing him downstairs, he already knows where to find you.

The last days were unusually hot even for Pabu, so he opts for a pair of lightweight black linen pants and skips a shirt for now as he makes his way down to the lower floor of your home. Passing by the guest room, he notices the neatly made bed and fresh sheets, a display of your thoughtfulness towards his siblings, who occasionally like to stay over. That you care for them as much as he does is something he always deeply loved about you.

Arriving down in the main living area with the big open kitchen, that you wanted and he was happy to build for you, he's greeted by the sight of you, happily moving through the space in one of his shirts, loosely cascading around your curves. Your hair, still slightly damp from the morning swim and wavy from the salt water adds to your radiant aura as you hum along to the melody of your favorite song. The scene before him fills him with a profound sense of contentment and he pauses, taking a moment to soak in the beauty of the moment, grateful for the life you've built together. It's a scene he never imagined could be his reality, and he still finds himself savoring every moment of it, cherishing the warmth and comfort of home in your loving presence.

************

As you begin to mix the batter, the vibrant aroma of baked goods and fresh garden fruits wafts through the air, filling the kitchen with a delightful scent. The table on the terrace is already set with two big glasses of fresh juice and an assortment of fruits harvested from your garden, ready to complement the morning meal.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts your daydreaming, and you glance up to see Crosshair descending.

His distinguished grey locks cascade in gentle waves, slightly tousled from a long night and his linen pants hang effortlessly low on his hips, accentuating his body in all the right places. Despite the passage of time, he remained as lean and sculpted as ever. After experimenting for a while and despite Echos half serious attempts to convince him a scomp link would be best, he opted for a detachable cybernetic hand covered with a skin like texture, some days he likes to cover it with a glove and some days he prefers to not wear the attachment at all. The scars that once marked his skin have faded with the years, becoming mere whispers of the battles he's fought and the challenges he's overcome and the line of soft grey hair tracing a path down his belly never fails to draw your attention.

Gazing upon him, you're overcome with a surge of love and admiration for the man before you. Despite the inevitable march of age, he still exudes an undeniable beauty and sexiness and the effect he has on you only seems to deepen with time.

He leans against the dining table, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you dance around the kitchen, humming along to the lyrics of the song.

"You're like a dream," he says, his voice filled with admiration.

You glance over at him, a playful twinkle in your eye.

"Join me," you invite him, extending your hand.

With a chuckle, he shakes his head. "I'd rather watch you dance. You're mesmerizing."

As the song fills the air, you swirl around getting the cookies out of the oven, your movements perfectly synchronized with the music.

Crosshair's gaze never leaves you, his admiration visible in every glance. He knows that moments like these, watching you dance with such joy and abandon, are something truly special.

“…hmm…mhh…heaven is here if you want it…mhh..”

As the song reaches its peak, you sing along with passion, your voice intertwining with the singers.

"…all gilded and golden, yes, I'm your girl…Hell, if it glitters I'm going…," you sing, your voice ringing clear and true.

Crosshair's smile widens, his heart swelling with love and pride as he watches you, his partner, his wife, embracing life with unbridled enthusiasm and determination despite all you’ve been through.

"…hmm…with my gun in my hand, you know I always get my man..." you hum.

With a gentle smile, he approaches you, enveloping you in a tender embrace from behind before pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. His head rests against yours as he inhales deeply, savoring the comforting scent that surrounds you both.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

You dip your finger in the pancake batter and offer him a taste, letting him lick it from your fingers with a wide grin.

"Mm, Jogan pancakes…my favorite…you spoil me" he remarks with a smile, clearly enjoying the indulgent treat.

"They just started ripening in the garden, I picked the first ones this morning", you add watching as he savors the flavor.

“Let me help you, what can I do?”

"No, no. Go sit on the terrace, my love. I'll bring the pancakes and fresh caff in just a few minutes. Enjoy the sun before it gets too hot outside."

With a final lingering kiss, he reluctantly releases you and makes his way out onto the terrace, the sunlight casting a warm glow upon his features as he steps out, greeted by the inviting sight of the table already adorned with freshly squeezed juice and an array of meticulously cut fruits. The cushions in the lounge area are all arranged with care, and the blankets neatly folded. He flops down onto one of the big cushions, contentment washing over him as he takes in the salty breeze.

Through the open floor to ceiling terrace windows, he watches you move happily around the kitchen, effortlessly stacking the pancakes onto a large plate. The love he feels for you swells within him, a profound gratitude for the care and affection you shower upon him and his family and it’s not something you feel obliged to do but it actually makes you happy. It's a feeling he never grows accustomed to, despite all the years, he’s sometimes still in disbelief that he could be so blessed.

But this morning, there's a special glow about you, an aura of warmth and love that envelops everything you do, and he feels his cock growing hard in his pants watching you. As you reach up to retrieve the caff from the upper shelves, the hem of your shirt, his shirt, rides up, revealing a glimpse of your beautiful soft ass and he inhales sharply when he realizes you're wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

With each movement you make, each delicate gesture, he feels a surge of desire building within him. Unable to resist any longer, he begins palming himself through his pants, his arousal growing as he gives in to the intoxicating effect you have on him.

*************

The pancakes are done, each one perfectly cooked and stacked high on a nice plate. You pour two cups of freshly brewed caff, adding a drop of sweet syrup and a splash of blue milk to your own before gathering everything up and making your way out onto the terrace. As you step outside, you find Crosshair basking in the sunlight, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his body, his gaze lingering on you with an unmistakable hunger and a prominent bulge evident in his pants, that really don’t do a good job in hiding it.

When he sees you approaching he gets up and with a few steps he is right before you wrapping one arm around you, immediately sliding under your shirt and squeezing your ass, taking the plate and cups from you with the other hand.

He sets them down on the table, before quickly indulging in a sip of his caff. Then, without hesitation, he scoops you up into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss as he lowers you both onto the cushions, pulling you on top of him so that you are straddling him.

"Sorry love, forgive me but breakfast will have to wait," he says with a desire burning in his eyes.

With a swift motion, he removes your shirt, leaving you completely exposed to the warming rays of the sun. His eyes roam over your naked form, appreciating every curve and contour as your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders. His touch is gentle yet possessive as his hands explore your body, his desire undeniable in the hardness pressing against your stomach.

"Do you know how utterly perfect you are?" he murmurs, his voice laced with adoration. "Always so good to me, always caring, always loving."

Before you can respond, his lips find yours once more, his tongue pleading for access before before he starts trailing down your neck with hungry open mouthed kisses and soft bites that will surely leave a mark. Despite the many years, he still enjoys marking you as a silent affirmation of your bond.

Crosshair's touch ignites a fire within you as he begins to explore your body with his hands and lips. His kisses are soft and teasing, further trailing down from your neck to your chest where he cups your breasts, massaging them with skillful fingers. You gasp as he takes one of your nipples between his lips, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before giving it a gentle nip.

"Oh, Cross," you moan, your voice a breathy plea as his ministrations send waves of pleasure coursing through you.

He hums in response, his hands continuing their sensual assault on your body as he moves to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His touch is both tender and demanding, each caress fueling your desire and you can already feel how wet you are getting.

"Stars, you're so beautiful…mmh…let me take care of you" he whispers, his voice husky with desire as he gazes up at you with a hunger that leaves you weak in the knees.

Before you can fully process his words, Crosshair swoops you up, effortlessly lifting you until you are straddling his face.

“Mmh…so fucking beautiful”

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his warm breath against your core, his tongue darting out to taste you.

"Fuck," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, one hand reaching out, desperately searching for something to hold on to, as he begins to lick and suckle at your sensitive flesh. Each stroke of his tongue sends shivers of pleasure racing through your body, building the tension coiled tight within you.

“Stars…you’re so wet for me….let me make you feel good” he murmurs between two painfully slow licks up and down your folds, the vibration of his voice sending a jolt through your core.

"Please," you whimper, arching your back as Crosshair's tongue works its magic. "I need your fingers inside me…or your cock"

He lifts his head, glancing up at you from underneath, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Not yet, love," he says, his voice husky with desire. "I want to make you come first."

You moan in frustration, but his lips descend once more, and all coherent thoughts evaporate and your mind goes blank when he starts sucking on your clit.

Crosshair's movements are relentless, his tongue dancing over your clit with a practiced rhythm that leaves you teetering on the brink of release. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, his touch driving you wild with need. His hands get a hold of your hips pushing you further down onto him.

"Fuck," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair. "I'm so close."

"Come for me, and I promise I’ll fuck you however you want," he growls, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "Just let go and give me everything."

His words are the final push you needed, the dam of pleasure breaking as you tumble over the edge into bliss. Your back arches, a guttural cry escaping your lips as you ride out the waves of ecstasy crashing over you, your pussy clenching around nothing leaving you desperate to be filled.

Crosshair continues to devour you, his firm grip on your hips steadying you so you don’t fall over and his tongue working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure until you are a panting and whimpering mess in his arms. As you come down from your high, he gently lowers you back onto the cushions, his hands caressing your trembling body with infinite tenderness.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, wiping away the remnants of your juices on his face and pressing soft kisses against your skin as he holds you close. "I'm so lucky to have you."

You smile, your heart overflowing with love for the man who knows just how to make you feel alive. But your whole body thrums with need, your pussy throbbing with desire after his skilled tongue brought you to the brink of ecstasy, even as your mind reels from the intensity of your orgasm, the ache for his cock remains.

"Don’t forget you promised me something" you whisper.

"Tell me, darling," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. "Tell me what you want."

Your breath catches in your throat as you struggle to form words amidst the lingering haze of your orgasm.

"I need you inside me," you manage to gasp, your voice thick with need. "I need you to fuck me, Crosshair. Please."

No matter if it starts with him being the one who’s horny, he always manages to make you the one begging to be fucked.

“How do you want me?” he asks, his fingers trailing down between your dripping folds, pressing against your entrance, desperately aching for his attention.

You can barely form coherent thoughts with him teasing you like this.

“Just…ahhh…just fuck me…please…Cross, fill me up”

With a satisfied grin, he scoops you up from the cushions, his strength and desire obvious as he bends you over the terrace railing. Your heart races as he positions you, your naked body exposed and vulnerable to his every whim. Gripping the railing for support, you arch your back, presenting yourself to him in all your glory.

"Stars, this IS the best view in whole Pabu" Crosshair groans, his voice thick with desire as he quickly sheds his pants and lines himself up with your dripping core, his tip deliciously pressing against you and a sharp slap landing on one of your cheeks.

"So fucking perfect."

You let out a lewd moan, when he slowly slides into you. His big cock stretching you in all the right ways until he is fully sheathed. It’s a feeling you can never get enough of.

You arch into him, making sure you take him as deep as possible. It feels incredibly good to finally get what you wanted, to be so full of him, but he doesn't move. Instead, he teases you, his fingers finding your clit, pinching and rubbing it in just the right way to send shivers down your spine.

"Please, Cross," you beg, your voice thick with need. "Move... I need you to move." the ache between your legs growing more furious with each passing moment.

He grins, enjoying the desperation in your voice, but he doesn't relent just yet. Instead, he slaps your ass, the sound muted by the waves crushing beneath you.

"Stars, I love it when you're so needy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he bends over you.

You whimper in response and finally, he begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. But as your pleas grow louder, more desperate, he picks up the pace, thrusting into you with increasing urgency.

Your body starts trembling as he thrusts into you with relentless force. Each powerful stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, driving you closer to the edge with every movement.

Crosshair's hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements as he pounds into you with primal need. "That's it, baby," he grunts, his voice ragged with lust. "Take me. Take all of me."

Your senses reel as pleasure consumes you, the rhythm of his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Your body responds eagerly, meeting his every stroke with unrestrained enthusiasm as you surrender yourself to him completely.

"Oh, fuck, Crosshair," you cry out, your voice a symphony of pleasure as he drives you to the brink once more. "I’m close, don’t stop."

He doesn't hesitate to comply, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he drives you towards another mind-shattering orgasm. With each powerful stroke, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as you chase release.

And when it finally crashes over you, it's like a tidal wave of pleasure, washing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. But even as you come apart in his grip, Crosshair shows no signs of slowing down, mercilessly fucking you through your high.

“Cross… slow down, it….it’s too much.. please” you whimper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and the waves crash on the rocks beneath you.

But he's unrelenting, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you with a hunger that borders on desperation.

“No love, I want you to give me another one, I know you can do it” he growls, his words laced with desire as he continues to drive you toward another peak of pleasure.

With each powerful thrust, he pushes you closer to the edge, his hands roaming over your body as he praises you.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he grunts, his voice rough with lust. "You're doing so good for me."

His words send a thrill of excitement coursing through you, spurring you on to new heights of ecstasy.

He punctuates his praise with sharp slaps to your ass, the sting mingling with the pleasure to create a sensation that leaves you dizzy with desire.

"I know you like that…" he groans, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he continues to pound into you. "… my fucking beautiful wife, taking me so well."

You can only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as he drives you relentlessly toward another orgasm.

“Now come for me, I… I want to feel this beautiful pussy of yours…clenching around my cock”

He watches you with hungry eyes, his own release growing closer with each passing moment, his thrust becoming sloppy and his cock tightening up even more.

“Let me make you come undone," he urges, his voice a husky growl as he thrusts into, lifting your hips, slightly changing the angle to pound against your most sensitive spot.

With his encouragement, you let go, your body wracked with pleasure as you tumble over the edge once more. And when you come, when that tension in your core snaps, your mind goes completely blank and all sounds fade into the distance. This state of mind is something you only reached in your active days, mid battle, when you had to center yourself in the force and with him. If it’s possible to become one with the force, this is how it has to feel.

Crosshair follows you shortly after, his own climax ripping through him as he feels you clenching hard around his cock and he spills himself inside you, his orgasm mingling with yours in a symphony of passion. You collapse against the railing, spent, sated and panting, your mind blissfully blank as you bask in the last waves washing over you and the afterglow of your lovemaking begins to settle in. Luckily he is holding you steady against him, as your shaking legs begin failing to hold you up.

Together, you hear the waves crashing on the rocks below, the sound a soothing backdrop. In that moment, with Crosshair's arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel complete, your body humming with satisfaction as you revel in the pleasure of being thoroughly and completely ravished by the man you love.

His touch is tender as he lowers you back onto the cushions, your legs still unwilling to support your weight.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he disappears into the house but it doesn’t take long until he returns with a damp towel in his hands to clean you up.

He lowers himself back down on the cushions beside you, his fingers trailing gently over your skin.

“I love you so much” he murmurs looking at you, and you could loose yourself in his eyes, so full of love and adoration for you. He wasn’t good with expressing his feelings when you met but his eyes always told the truth.

“I love you too Cross” you say, cupping his jaw and pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Let me clean you up and get our breakfast over here,” he whispers with a satisfied grin.

With a loving care that fills your heart to the brim, he wipes away the traces of his cum that is leaking from your core and trailing down your legs, his touch soothing and intimate.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean and comfortable, he turns his attention to the abandoned food, gathering up the plates of fruit and pancakes and cups of caff that were left forgotten in the throes of passion, bringing them over to where you lay on the cushions. With a soft smile playing at his lips, he begins to feed you.

"Here, darling," he murmurs, his voice soft and affectionate as he offers you a piece of pancake. "Let me take care of you."

You accept his offering eagerly, too blissed out to eat by yourself, savoring the taste of the sweet syrup and fluffy pastry as Crosshair feeds you with a tenderness that takes your breath away. With each bite and sip, you feel the life coming back into your body and the warmth of his love enveloping you, wrapping you in a cocoon of blissful contentment.

As you eat, you bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking, the lingering effects of three mind shattering orgasms still thrumming through your veins. The terrace is bathed in sunlight, the gentle breeze carrying the salty scent of the ocean as it rustles through the air. In this moment, with your husband by your side, you feel completely and utterly at peace.

Together, you eat and laugh and as the last of the pancakes disappear and the caff is drained from your cups, you lean into Crosshair's embrace, savoring the feeling of his arms around you. In the quiet intimacy of your terrace, you revel in the simple joy of being together, your hearts beating as one in perfect harmony.

With a content sigh, you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. In this moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that there's nowhere else you'd rather be than here, in the arms of the man who completes you in every way imaginable.