#embrace overlook | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

st4rbwrry · 2 months ago

Text

𝓢𝓦𝓔𝓔𝓣𝓔𝓢𝓣 𝓣𝓗𝓘𝓝𝓖. eren yeager.

❤︎ . . . 12k. fem!reader, set in 03’, established relationship, pregnant!reader, southern!eren, domesticity, difficult pregnancy / doubts, home birthing, marriage / vasectomy talk, mention of healthcare discrimination, lots of crying, oral ꒰ f. ꒱, gentle sex kinda, lots of kisses! + affirmations, praise, thumb in bootay, unprotected, sensitivity play, choking, lactation ‘n eren tastes it oopsie, nasty talk, creampie, pet names ꒰ sweetie, baby, mama, papa ꒱, spanking, daddy kink. minors aren't allowed! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . officially obsessed w this couple so i couldn’t help myself by writing a third part teehee. happy belated valentine’s day <3 visual.

baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby.

a conversation starter like that would only skyrocket the heart rate of any husband. eight years of marriage with just each other, and three with the addition of honeybelle, including the fifteen chickens, four piggies, and two baby goats on the farm alongside two of the cutest tawny cows you named tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. every moment felt rewarding, so you questioned lately why you felt so . . lonely. for the longest time you didn’t quite understand what you were missing. the life you lived with eren was perfect. it was romantic, soft, relaxing. you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

tending to the animals on a warm sunny day, you hum tunes to yourself as the goats follow and nudge at your toffee cowboy boots, giggling and picking juicy strawberries from their stems, enjoying their company. waffles, the tan goat with blotches of white rolls serenely in the grass while the other, miss daisie, who’s an all black goat with an almost heart-shaped spot on the surface of her skull, screams and sniffs at you, craving your attention. occasionally, you’ll reach down to give affection to satisfy her.

a brown woven basket rests on the dip of your forearm, feet traveling along the iridescent field and dropping the fruit into a sea of fresh vegetables pulled off their roots from the garden, collecting just enough to make a few meals that require them.

that day you had an interesting epiphany. the gravel in your front yard dances along the tires of a red pickup truck that pulls into your home. a sweet friend of yours named bea drops by with her three-year-old toddler, jason. the tiny human dressed in dark washed overalls with a teal shirt underneath, and boots whom she lifts up and rests on her hip before entering the home.

“ ꒰♡꒱, darling. missed you so much. how are you?” instantly, she’s embracing you into a tight hug, pulling away to admire your looks.

whenever she sees you, you’re radiant. cocoa skin, a shade darker than the last time she saw you, courtesy of the suns kisses. in few sections, your raven curls are wrapped in flawless fairy locs, styled half-up into an unruly bun. a silver heart locket containing your infamous black and white wedding day photo where eren dips you low in front of a willow tree around your neck, resting on the heat of your skin radiating a fragrance of vanilla bean. the minimal hairs on your body fuzzing up when the sunlight hits where you stand by the massive bay windows overlooking your landscape.

almond irises and beautiful full lips, slightly taller than bea by a full foot. rustic boots, an ivory flowy skirt that sits well on your curvy hips and cascades down to your ankles, pairing it with a white laced top and a matching bandana atop your head.

“i’m doing good. up to my usual pastime of holding down the fort and cooking,” you beam, scanning her from head to toe. “you look gorgeous, how are you and the family?”

bea’s a gorgeous woman. you notice her face is a bit chubbier, adorable pointed chin, button nose, and curly auburn hair that rests on her shoulders. caramel complexion, light voice and the prettiest hazel eyes. her son is an exact replica of her, catching a glimpse of the angel she made as he giggles and plays with honeybelle, her two inch tail wagging as she chases him around the dining room.

“jason’s doing pretty well, we’re just coming from a doctor’s appointment, actually. just found out today that he’s going deaf in his right ear,” bea builds up the courage to weakly smile, your body pausing its movement from situating dried dishes, needing to get dinner started for eren.

“oh my goodness, i’m sorry to hear that,” frowning, you hold a hand over your heart, the sadness in your eyes unable to shield. “how are you taking that?”

“it’s okay, i’m okay. his overall health is what matters most to me. things like this are just something you have to prepare for being a parent,” she nods, glancing at her son. “he’s still happy as ever.”

“right,” you purse your lips. “that’s good. i’m glad. he’s a sweetheart. and armin?”

“yeah, he’s great. been working a lot more lately, for good reason. gotta cold right now so he’s been restin’.”

“oh no, i can drop a pot of chicken soup tomorrow if you’d like? i know you’ve got that conference with the ladies at church comin’.”

bea takes a seat at one of the wooden chairs you have placed against the kitchen island, resting her chin into her palm as she graciously pouts. “you are the sweetest, ꒰♡꒱. i see why eren’s so smitten of you.”

warmth flows to your cheeks from the mention of him, never changing.

“the man’s a sap,” you roll your eyes, wedding ring shining in the light as you go to retrieve ingredients from the fridge alongside a gift you had for her.

“oh! almost forgot,” pulling out a basket, bea gasps as you place it in front of her.

the basket contains fresh milk from the cows placed into a carafe with a swing top to secure it, decadent, fist sized blueberry muffins you baked yourself, of course, wrapped in beeswax paper decorated with butterflies and leaves. even a few red apples and oranges picked from the garden, bea’s favorites.

“oh, honeybee, bless your soul. thank you!”

you bow your head. “ ‘course, i told you i’d have a lil’ treat for you.”

grabbing a few extra base ingredients; packaged seafood from the farmers market and a bottle of wine, you go to pour yourself a glass. “you w’na glass? i’m makin’ a big pot of seafood gumbo if you w’na stay and have dinner with us. eren’s been craving it.”

“ooh, i’d love to, but armin wants us home before sundown. he gets really fussy about me taking long distance drives without him, especially with jason.”

“awe, he’s protective. eren’s kinda the same. he has a heart attack every time i run out for something. he taught me how to drive ‘bout two months ago, but i’m still kinda rusty. got me that buggy out front.”

“i did see it! that’s the cutest car ever. it’s about time you learnt how to get on the road.”

you shrug. “my anxiety was kickin’ my ass for the longest. i can still be his passenger princess. he knows not to get comfortable,” you grin smugly, the two of you sharing a laugh before you reach for the second glass for bea, only to have her wave her hand to reject.

“no wine for me, thanks. i can’t.”

“mm? how come?” brow raising in curiosity, you push the cork back inside, resting a hand on your hip that you pop out.

the dimple in her right cheek sinks in as she draws her lips inwardly, hands going down to her stomach, rubbing in a circle motion with bright eyes. your eyes dart from her baby bump she hid well underneath her black dress, up to her eyes again in shock. gasping, your hands go over your mouth.

“no fuckin’ way! oh my god, another one?!”

“another one! we’ve been waiting to tell everyone, but i’m ’bout four months out.”

“holy shit, congratulations!”

rushing around the counter, you give her a hug, rocking side by side. “oh wow, that’s such good news. does jason know?”

“not yet, i’m kind of scared to tell him. although he’ll notice when i start blowing up. he likes his own company. a sibling is a big change.”

“i can understand that, i haven’t any siblings so i adapted to that. i wouldn’t mind having a sister or somethin’.”

“what about you?” bea suddenly questioned.

as you begin to chop up veggies, you stare at her confused.

“a baby. you guys been married for a long time. never thought about it?”

that’s the question of all questions, one you’ve avoided your entire marriage. of course, it’s been discussed, the second year of your relationship actually. which is why you were strict on birth control given your equal sexual infatuation. it was too risky, so you took the safe option. for the longest time all you ever wanted was him, your home, and your animals. a baby was never in mind. you found it nauseating to think of, actually.

“it’s been talked about once or twice, but never to a point of coming to an agreement. eren’s okay with how our lives are now, and frankly, so am i. i don’t see a baby for us, or any time soon. i don’t dislike them, but i’m not so sure if i’m fit to be a mother. there’s a lot of sacrifices that come with that.”

bea nods understandingly, deciding to chalk the conversation and talk of other things. as you stir the roux until you get a perfect chocolate color, you chat with her until the sun sets, occasionally glancing at jason who sits on the ground coloring in his book, fluffy blond hair tousled around his small face. you can’t help this odd feeling in your chest as you look at him, even when hearing bea talk about the new baby. you can’t shake that hunch that maybe, just maybe, it could be a possibility. far away from now that is.

seeing your husband walk through the front door to greet your friend and kiss you on the cheek, attired in work clothes and watching him interact with the child with the widest smile on his face made your chest clench. tickling him after washing his hands, giving high fives and engaging in conversation with bea as he sits on the floor with him, right leg propped up while his large body leans down to color with him.

it almost made you tear up, wondering how he’d be with your child. he’s an amazing man, and your positively sure he’d be an even better father. it was a tough decision. the good thing about eren is that he was an attentive listener, action based, willing to understand your feelings and concerns while coming to a conclusion, knowing you have such a bad habit of closing in. so it made it easier to come to him about a lot of things that weighed on you.

sending off bea with a container of gumbo, you both say your goodnights to her, eren watching as she enters her car safely and drives away before shutting the door and pulling you in close for hugs and smooches. after having dinner, cleaning up and showering, in the plushness of your king sized bed, candles lit and law and order on play, that’s when you bring the conversation up while applying shea butter to your legs anxiously.

easing in slowly, you decide to test the waters by saying something that, even though you were unsure of, was technically a true feeling.

“baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby.”

maybe you weren’t fit to be a mother.

maybe this was punishment. that sinking fear you had for the entirety of your marriage about having children was right all along. you were scared. maybe this baby hated you, knew you weren’t the right person to bring them into this world. that’s why it’s been giving you the worst pregnancy known to man. or maybe your body just wasn’t built to carry a child.

countless of doctors, a therapist even, and no one fixed that insecurity within the chromosomes of your brain. morning sickness should never start with ‘morning’, because it’s all day, every day damn near. you can’t indulge in your favorite foods anymore, walking is painful because your feet are blown up and you can no longer fit half of your closet. you cry almost every single day, and you feel bad because eren constantly worries about you. it’s just as upsetting for him.

the incessant fatigue, headaches, backaches, occasional pelvic pain, heartburn, and multiple obgyn appointments of them telling you that all of your symptoms were normal, that there was nothing to worry about. neither of you were fond of the idea of taking tons of medications, and it became not only exhausting, but you felt embarrassed by how many times you had eren rushing you to your primary doctor.

the first trimester seemed to be the most difficult period to which you experienced the most discomfort. you figured it was natural given your body has never been in this state before, it’s slowly transitioning. this wasn’t just a period with regular cramps, you were creating a child inside of you. that itself was terrifying, yet exciting. because in the end you know it’ll be worth it. to see both of your faces morphed into one angelic being crafted out of love. this was your first baby, so of course you were preparing for possible difficulty. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad.

you’d spend days on end researching and finding other women whose experiences were the same. it eased you to some degree to discover you weren’t alone. then came the third trimester, and the horrible symptoms you faced from the start reappeared. you believe it’s because you were getting closer to birth.

hating the way your mind conjured up the worst thoughts, you found yourself falling into depression. eren did his best to make sure you had everything you needed. taking time off from work to tend to you. he wasn’t the best in the kitchen, and sometimes you’d have to come help him, much better on the grill. even the extravagant ones he tried to surprise you with. though most of the time you could only eat half before you started to get nauseous.

he took care of the farm, carried you up and down the stairs, stayed up half the night at times to study healthy exercises to practice together, and continued therapy with you. he made the process so much better. always kissing you, telling you how beautiful you were even if you didn’t feel it, gave you massages and ran you baths. even if all of it was sweet, you felt like a weakling. like he was your caretaker and you were an old ass lady.

only he’d reassure you after you weep and sniffle in your hands by saying, “mama, i’m your husband. i’m deeply in love with you, ‘n will always be. the very least i can do, especially when you’re doing the hardest fuckin’ part which is carrying our child, is take care of you. so stop all that cryin’ and come cuddle.”

times when check ups were happy days, and you could see your baby on the monitor as the nurse rubs the transducer over your overgrown belly, that vertical dark streak on the middle the cutest thing eren’s ever seen, often kissing it as he placed his ear to your belly to feel the baby kick — turned bad. the baby was healthy, that was the great thing. sitting low in your belly just ready to be out the womb. it’s when the pain pummels harsher that causes concern.

one day they’re telling you that your fine, then the next you’re having trouble breathing, sleeping, horrible tailbone pain and even worse pelvic pain. you think the worst part of it all is seeing the repeated stress on your husbands face. the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, forehead creases, brittle hair, it broke your fucking heart. to see him sitting beside you as he irritably bounces his right leg while clasping his hands together and leaning forward in an almost scolding manner. listening to the nurse reexplain shit you’ve heard too many damn times.

their methods weren’t working, and no matter how many times you expressed how you felt, it feels like it went through one ear and out the other. taking notice of it mostly when you came by yourself, and instantly you knew something was off. so you started coming with eren. you’ve lived in this town for more than eleven years, on the outskirts of georgia at that. at times you forget that not everyone’s empathetic, or open to the idea of you as a black woman. a pregnant one at that. you refused to take any more medicine. if an emergency labor needed to happen, you were willing to do whatever it takes.

then, eren finally snaps, because he knows it’s deeper than surface level shit.

“there have been too many occurrences where my wife has informed y’all multiple times about the pain she’s experiencing, and y’all brush it off ‘n tell her to go home, sleep it off, take this medication, rest. at this point, i’m startin’ to realize y’all aren’t listenin’ to her pain. you’re blatantly ignoring what the fuck she’s saying, and i don’t mean to get disrespectful, so excuse me for my mouth, but i’m fed the fuck up.”

“i’m sorry, mister yeager. there’s not much else we can do but see how her body responds to —”

eren hastily stands to his feet, and your eyes bulge in slight fear, reaching to grab his bicep as he keeps his focus on the perinatologist, surprise in his eyes from eren’s defense.

“i couldn’t give less of a shit ‘bout any of that. the only, and i mean only time y'all show her some form of care for her health is when i’m here. every time when i’m not, i’m hearing stories ‘bout how y'all sending her home tellin’ her she’s fuckin’ fine when she’s not fuckin’ fine. i have to see this shit firsthand, not you. i know exactly what the fuck this is, do not play with me.”

what makes this out of the ordinary is that you’ve never heard eren raise his voice in your life. whenever he was upset, he usually spoke in a stern, collected manner. this made you uncomfortable, the bellow of his tone and even the shock in the nurse’s features. swallowing, you pick yourself up to outstretch your hand over your heavy belly and slowly slid off the geri, eren’s head cautiously knocking in your direction regardless of the tension in the room to help you.

his hand goes around your waist, giving you a look to ask if you were good before you nod in response, too embarrassed to eye the nurse and apologize out of uneasiness. that would only drive eren mad, knowing he’d tell you not to apologize for shit because he didn’t deserve it. he could see it written on your face. you were too damn kind to those who weren’t worthy.

“let’s go, baby. you are never comin’ back here. y'all better be damn lucky i ain’t suin’ y'all.”

the day was so vague you could remember him holding your hand as you waddled to the car, rubbing your belly and staring at the back of his head in silence. knowing he needed it for a minute. he secures you in before sitting in the drivers seat and sinking back to meditate, eyes shut and chest carefully rising and falling. nibbling at your lip, you rub his arm to transfer your soothing energy. your touch makes him crack a weak smile, turning his head as he lays back to stare at your pretty face.

eren rubs his thumb over your hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it. “i’m sorry you had to see me raise my voice. i don’t like gettin’ outta character in front of you. you know that.”

“it wasn’t uncalled for, your emotions are valid. i appreciate you for protecting me. i think i’ve long accepted that not many people care too much about specific women’s health. it’s a sad realization, but i know i’ll be okay,” you speak softly, bringing your face closer to his to rest with him. “we’ll be okay. the baby is healthy, and pain is temporary.”

what comes next is almost scarier than this whole ordeal. eren takes a deep inhale, grabbing your face to press his forehead to yours before releasing a trembling breath, tears beginning to stream down his face as he cries. finally. locking it away to stay strong for you. the thump in your chest hurts, really fucking bad. witnessing your husband weep as he holds you, clenching his jaw, sniffling, and choking out a small cough. kissing your lips to tell you he’s okay was sentimental. he just wants the best for the both of you. the pain of a father and a husband.

you’ve seen him cry, only one other time when his father passed away. the grief, hatred, and acceptance encased all into one as you held him in your arms by the fireplace on the living room floor, funeral clothing on you both, letting him take the time he needed. wiping his face, you kiss all over it, rubbing his broad back before giving him a warm embrace.

“it’s g’na be okay, sweetie,” a hand smooths down the back of his head, cringing at the greasiness of his scalp. “you need a wash day.”

both of you laugh in unison, eren sniffling and releasing a guttural ‘ugh’ as he clears himself up. “sorry, papa hasn’t been givin’ sexy, blue collar country boy lately.”

“shush, boy,” you giggle, sitting fully into your seat. you stroke his face, staring intensely into his moss and smoky toned eyes. his lashes are long, hair disheveled into a manbun with tendrils on either side of his bushy eyebrows. the faint line of hair he has directly above his lip always an attractive feature. “you’re always sexy, daddy. even on rough days.”

“mm, i love you, baby. so much,” eren leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose before interlocking your lips, one hand on the wheel as he arches over the center console.

your hand crinkles his white tee, whimpering into his touch when his other hand goes to touch your lower back side, arching you into him, moving your lips with his. “eren?”

“mm,” he groans, mouth getting rougher. “miss you so fuckin’ much. you been lookin’ so good lately, mama.”

pouting, you pull yourself away. “don’t get me riled up, mister yeager. i can’t do what i w’na do to you.”

eren sits back, chuckling as he scratches the small stubble he has on his chin with his thumb, grinning, smile lines deep and teeth bright and perfectly aligned outside of the pointy canines he possesses.

“you right.”

“mhm.”

“all shit aside, pretty. your health is my biggest fuckin’ priority. when we get home, ima order some chinese and we can look more into that midwife bea talked about. huh? that sound good?”

“sounds perfect,” you rub at your stomach with both hands, eren placing his hand there as well as he starts up the truck. “oh, don’t forget that head gettin’ washed. grease bandit.”

“yeah, yeah.”

after a deep, foamy scalp cleanse infused with lavender, eren sits on the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor with a baby pink spa towel wrapped around his head as he types and scrolls on his dell laptop. next to him in a butterfly position, digging into your lo-mein with wooden chopsticks inside the traditional takeout box with a red pagoda imprinted on the front. matcha green jelly eyepatches covering your dark circles, eren wearing some as well.

you’re dressed in a black polka dot camisole with lace trimmings and matching shorts that your body eats up and shrinks. the two of you stay up until one in the morning, taking notes and searching for reliable sources. eren found out that he could get you someone called a doula, who will provide you with medical guidance and emotional support during your final stages of pregnancy. booking a few consultations for midwives as well. indefinitely, you felt very optimistic about this. you’d even find yourselves making little image boards for your baby, whom you soon discovered a beautiful surprise from.

you received the envelope a while back, but the two of you chose to wait for the right moment considering the events happening. hand in hand at the bakery a few days later, eren requested a gender reveal cake where he drove an hour out of town back where your father resided to find the willow tree the two of you got married under. laying out a picnic blanket, there showcased the plain oval cake reading ‘it’s a . .’ with half plain for eren and half supreme pizza for you. chocolate covered strawberries to feast on after, and cranberry juice since it was the closest taste you could get to wine.

it wasn’t a big deal to you whether it was a girl or boy, you’d love them endlessly. it would be no greater feeling than to have any baby laying in either of your arms, or the perfect beige nursery you and eren decorated together. you’ll admit you got emotional as both of you held a glass, tears running ferociously down your face, preparing to scoop either side of the cake, awaiting the reveal.

“oh my god, oh my god. i’m scared. this is scary.”

“eight months of pregnancy, and this what you scared ‘bout?” eren lifts a brow, your mouth curving up as you pop his shoulder. “꒰♡꒱! c’mon. i w’na see, girl.”

“okay, okay. whew, i’m sorry. i’m ready.”

pushing your glasses into the cake with eyes shut tight, you slowly pop open one eye to see the color, gasping and bouncing in your spot at the pink inside, weeping and wrapping your arms around eren’s neck as he rocks you side to side in happiness.

“it’s a girl, it’s a girl!”

screeching in his face as you plop back down, you see the tinge of sadness on his face, furrowing your brows as he blinks away his tears that were coming too fast for his liking.

“sweetie, what’s wrong?”

eren sniffles, clenching his jaw and turning his head out of view. “i’m g’na need another gun.”

sucking your teeth, you nudge his shoulder. “oh, boy!”

burying his face in his hand and wiping his eyes, eren chortles. “i’m serious, two precious things to protect, oh my fuckin’ days i’m g’na have a heart attack. the fear. gimme sum water.”

“erennn, stop! asshole,” the laugh coaxes out of you, seriously watching his features as you pick at the hem of your dress. you know he’s dead serious, but you want to make sure he’s happy about it. “is a girl not what you wanted?”

eren almost malfunctions. “are you kidding? a baby is what i want. i could give a damn ‘bout the gender. fuck, she’s g’na look just like you. the prettiest face.”

that makes you cry again, mushing your lips with his passionately and squealing excitedly.

after your picnic, eren took you to speak to your mother at her gravesite, awakening her tombstone by adding daises and sunflowers. you update her on the past few months, apologizing for not speaking to her for a while since you’ve been occupied, and mentioning how much you adored eren who currently spoke to his mother at her stone. it was refreshing, a mental cleanse.

inquiring a midwife and doula was the best decision for not only your pregnancy, but your marriage. strictly requesting a top holistic woman of color for obvious reasons, their methods made you more comfortable in your body, and even anticipated to push out your little bun. the past few weeks have really been a breeze, and you felt so much healthier, and light even though little girl kicked like a motherfucker and sat low as hell.

with each consultation, eren sat by your side to observe every interaction, coming to an agreement after two interviews. whoever you felt the safest to handle you, he was up for it. luckily for you, the doula and midwife were associated under the same company. when they arrived for the first time, rose being the doula, and valeria being the midwife, observed your home and discussed plans on pursuing a home birth.

due to uncertain circumstances, you felt more at peace having your baby in the home where her future will begin. unmedicated and with your husband and people you trusted. they ordered an inflatable tub for you since the moment they stepped into your bathroom and saw the clawfoot tub, immediately shook their heads in disapproval. they even made you get inside to prove why it’d be bad. there wouldn’t have been enough room for you to move when you had to.

the days were flying by, due approximately in three weeks. today was a friday, which also happened to be valentine’s day. it was warm outside, usher’s new album confessions playing soundly from your silver jensen stereo. all of the windows in the home were open, letting in the breeze as you exhale deeply. currently, you were up to another session of stretches and workouts.

“doing good, baby girl! make sure you keep your back straight. twirl those hips for me, we gotta target that girdle pain. work that pelvic area!”

“i’m hungryy,” you manage to weep, hands leveraging your hips as you motion your lower halve in circles atop of the baby pink birth ball.

“it’s ’cause your husband out there havin’ a whole cookout,” rose laughs,

“he always cooks for all the women in the neighborhood on valentine’s day,” your cheek rests on your shoulder from adornment, watching him through the window that faces the backyard where smoke fills the air along with the thick smell of barbecue.

eren’s wearing his favorite fitted black cap with a white embroidered nba logo placed on the nape, shifted backwards on his head, chestnut hair leveled to his jaw in wavy ringlets after giving him a cut. a plain white t-shirt, and dark 501 levi jeans that fit his thighs almost snugly, still giving him enough room to appear loose. the watch you’d gotten him for your fifth anniversary on his dominant wrist as he brushed the ribs with his special sauce while his other hand, paired with a slim silver cuban link, sipped on a budweiser.

it didn’t help that you were practically riding this ball right now while you look at him as he does nothing but grill, drink, and stare at the lake while occasionally checking on you through the window. or, perhaps, the huge belly in your way. zoning out and daydreaming the most disgusting things briefly before you knock yourself out of it, forgetting you have company. he looked irresistible. it’s been driving you off edge for a long time, forgetting the last time you’ve had sex. it had to have been about three months, take away last month when he ate you out on the recliner.

it was so annoying how raging your hormones were ever since you got pregnant. might you add, four months after the ‘i w’na have a baby’ conversation. you were almost sure you’d have sex every time he came home from work. it wasn’t intentional, although you did hold back on your birth control, and condoms weren’t neither of your things. finding out was just a non-panicked ‘uh oh’ when you showed him the test as he sat on the toilet handling business and you brushed your teeth while staring at it the entire time. eren was ecstatic overall.

you wanted him so bad, missed him so bad. he’s been so respectful of your healing process that it makes you hornier at the thought. also, he makes fun of you for being his ‘stalker’ as if you haven’t been married forever, constantly watching him every day. you’ll be reading a book, watching tv, or cooking something you’re craving and there he is mowing the lawn, feeding the chickens, cleaning his truck, on the grill — too many things he does turns you on naturally.

“ ꒰♡꒱?”

“wha—huh?”

“up, chile. we’re g’na do these last stretches so we can have you rest for the day,” valeria chirps, gently clapping her hands together and holding out her palms to help you stand.

“oh, okay!”

“you alright?” rose checks in, ordering a few things you needed for the upcoming labor visit. she noticed you checked out for a while.

clearing your throat, you nod like a bobble head, curving your lips in tight doing an awkward smile. “yeah! i just . . have an . . inappropriate question.”

valeria stands behind you as she lowers you to sit on the yoga mat by your underarms. “i doubt it can be inappropriate. we are nurses, heard everything under the sun. okay. . . starting with happy baby!”

groaning, you steady your breath before raising your legs, making sure they were spread far apart and lowering your knees to your side. being thirty-four weeks and thirty-six centimeters had you feeling like a whale. at least you were a cute whale. you also had an endearing fascination with your belly, often spending time with your daughter by massaging shea butter delicately over her home or having full conversations. it was your soft moments of bonding. so, she was well moisturized all the time, rarely any stretch-marks.

you were fond of your overall growth to be honest. your appearance didn’t change much other than the obvious. your feet were a little chubbier, and your boobs only grew one bra size. skin care was a priority since you were paranoid of a bunch of insecurities, so you glowed and got hundreds of compliments. eren surely had an infatuation with you being pregnant. if the man couldn’t keep his hands off you before, it certainly became an addiction now.

“okay, this is a bit personal. but, me and eren haven’t had sex in like three months. he’s done . . things, even helped me wax her. so i don’t think i’m insecure about how she looks per-say. i was just wondering if it’d be safe to do in the third trimester. my hormones make me feel horny, but i’m kinda scared.”

rose and valeria manage to cackle in unison, a pout on your lips as you raise to do your deep side to side squats, valeria making sure to stay close by for balance. “seriously y’all, i w’na have sex. y’know how much okra water he’s been having me drink? she’s slippery!”

“my god,” rose shakes her head.

“well, the answer is yes, you can certainly have sex. it’s perfectly healthy. just remember to take it slow since you are due in three weeks. little angel could fly out any minute.”

“fly?!” you shrieked.

“jokesss, oh my goodness. don’t scare her, valeria. this is her first baby!”

“sorry, sorry! sex is good! nothing bad will happen. so, have plenty of it. well, not too much though, just enough. you see where these poses got you in the first place,” valeria says, laughing as you groan knowingly. “move into the child pose and we’re all done!”

lowering yourself down to your knees, you get into a doggy position and stretch your arms straight ahead of you, stomach hanging. “i was just thinking ‘bout how much i missed him, and we haven’t fully connected like that in a while. i hold it very spiritually in my mind. i think it will be good for both of us, especially before lil’ mamas gets here.”

“it is valentine’s day. let’s hope he gives you a good ass time. he’s showing off right now, and he’s been staring at your ass.”

that makes you laugh hard, really hard. though instantly after, you feel a sharp pain stab at the side of your hip, wincing and hissing out loud, dropping your head and whimpering from the ache. both women rush by your side quicker than you could blink.

“꒰♡꒱, what is it?” rose asks, crouching to be eye level.

“it’s just that stupid random pinch i get, probably just pulled it a little,” scrunching your face up, you sit on the balls of your feet as your midwife observes. applying pressure to the spot your holding. “she’s a heavy girl.”

“alright, honey. let’s finish for today. you’re probably overexerting yourself. i’m g’na heat up some essential oils and give you a massage before we wrap up, okay darlin’?”

smiling graciously, you nod. “thank you both. a massage would be lovely.”

“who’s givin’ my wife a massage?”

suddenly, your husband walks in, holding up a tinfoil pan of ribs, chicken wings, and burgers. shirt riding up showcasing his dark happy trail, devilishly sharp v-line and the navy blue boxers tight on his skin. he’s watching you the whole time, noticing your upturned face and removing the toothpick from his molars. “mama, what’s wrong?”

“i’m okay, sweetie. i just have some tension in my hip. she might’ve been moving as i was.”

eren approaches you in three long strides, the carabiner with numerous keys among other trinkets hooked to his belt loop hitting against his thigh, soon crouching before you to hold out his hands he’s wiped clean.

“c’mon, lemme help you up. you sure you good?”

“mhm,” he’s lifting you as if you’re still the lightest thing in the world, staring at his body, sniffing his nautica cologne discreetly as he turns to look towards the other women.

“what‘s goin’ on?”

“i’m g’na give her a deep tissue massage before we wrap it up for the day. she’s doing good, just might’ve hurt herself while laughing and stretching.”

“laughing ‘bout what? y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” eren’s bushy brow arches, slanted eyes finding yours again.

“oop,” rose purses her lips, turning her head.

blushing from his amused tone, you answer, “just girl stuff. it made me laugh.”

“baby, you gotta be careful.”

“i am,” you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. he stares, your mood flipping within two seconds.

“i think one more stretch could help before that. eren, would you mind helping her out?” rose asks.

“sure thing,” he’s pulling you in by your waist. “doin’ the tummy lift?”

“yes sir. just be super gentle as usual. while you hold the baby up, i’ll put some pressure on her hip.”

eren listens to their instructions, standing behind you and pressing your back to his chest. both of his calloused palms lay on either side of your tummy underneath, keeping his focus on your face to stay alert of any discomfort. he practices the breathing exercises he was taught with you, delicately lifting your stomach to give relief to your pelvis.

“mmm,” moaning peacefully, your eyes falter shut as you rest your head back on eren’s chest. he kisses your forehead, valeria crouching underneath, sliding your periwinkle yoga pants down your waist just enough to lather and knead the oil into your flesh.

“is that lavender?”

“yup! lemongrass and chamomile, too.”

“it’s soo good,” you whined, her technique making you want to drool.

“it’ll help with the pain a lot. i’ll make sure to leave some here, eren. you can do this a few more times for her until it’s gone.”

“anything she needs.”

“he’s so sweet and cute, i love him,” you smile widely, reaching up to cup his jaw, eren humming and mushing his cheek to yours.

“the sweetest,” rose agrees. “are you passing out platters to the whole neighborhood, eren?”

“yeah, i usually give it to all the ladies who ꒰♡꒱ is close to, or buy her goodies. i’m g’na make y'all a plate to go. ꒰♡꒱ made some candied yams, and i did the potato salad.”

“it better not be no raisins in that salad,” valeria squints her eyes playfully up at him. opening your eyes, you get what she was hinting at, trying not to burst out laughing.

“nah,” eren chuckles, understanding as well.

“it’s my ma’s recipe. promise, it’s real good.”

“it is, i promise,” you vouch.

“i trust your judgment then.”

a couple of hours had passed until the sun died down. this was your favorite time of the day to unwind. a vinyl on spin, room 112 to be exact. candles lit, the low muffle of the television streaming sex and the city, and the softness of your cloud duvet. as you sip on your cranberry juice poured into a wine glass, cheating your brain into thinking it’s red wine — you rest up against the ten’s of pillows decorated along the headboard to support you. the air conditioning kept the room icy cold like you adored, your hair was tossed up into a messy bun, and a silk pearl robe adorned your skin.

hearing the sound of the shower stop as you write in your journal, you twinkle your toes and gaze up at the ceiling where fifty, yes fifty, heart shaped red and pink balloons floated. just this morning, eren woke you up with the prettiest surprise of breakfast in bed, a pregnant friendly mimosa, strawberries that were cut into hearts, and fluffy belgian waffles with turkey bacon. the room was filled with light, roses spread along the entire bedroom and bedding alongside a giant blooming bouquet of red roses and calla lilies.

the strings sway around the room still from the air conditioner, smiling sweetly as you daydream of the morning, stuffing your face with the breakfast he made and watching him open the walk-in closet to show you the new vintage vanity he’d built for you. the way he showed his love for you could move mountains.

closing your journal, you can’t help but pout as you feel yourself beginning to tear up. you couldn’t stand when all of your emotions would hit you at once. thinking of your baby, your marriage, how difficult this pregnancy started off, and even how much you wished your mother were here to witness and guide you through it all.

“fuckin’ hell,” you set your book on the nightstand where the floral beige lamp illuminated the entire room with light.

whimpering and wiping your face, the small sound causes your husband to whoosh his head out of the bathroom door in fear, toothpaste covering his lips as he stops brushing his teeth, towel draped around his waist and hair sleek down his structure.

“unh uh, what’s wrong, baby?” quickly, he rinses his mouth before coming toward you, your lips curving inward as he leans over your frame with his fists on either side of you.

all you can do is stare down at his towel lewdly showing the imprint of his dick sitting on his thigh.

“huh? talk to me.”

“i’m okay. i’m just thinking about a lot.”

“don’t short yourself. y’know i don’t like that shit,” his jaw clenched, waiting for a real answer.

sighing, you sniffle and sit yourself up higher. eren reaches for your feet to rub on, smoothing his hands up and down your calves. the touch makes you swallow, trying to calm yourself down. he smelt really good, always did but he bought a new body wash that held bergamot undertones. hair appearing darker since it was still somewhat damp. arms full of veins leading to his big hands that grope you. biceps hard at touch. he watches you like a hawk, and to this day eye contact with him makes you anxious.

“um, i just wanted to tell you that i love you. i was expressing myself in my journal about a few things i felt like i needed to say to you.”

“mhm, go on, baby.”

splaying your hands over your belly, your face sets into happiness. “jus’ w’na say i know this hasn’t been the easiest time for either of us, and i wanted to let you know that i put your emotions on the same level as mine. seeing me like that couldn’t have been easy. it weighs heavy on me to this day. i am happy, however, that we found two special women that have made this such a beautiful ending no matter how it started.”

“they’re amazing women, definitely. i’m immensely grateful for them. havin’ you smile again was such a blessing,” eren takes your hand to smooth his thumb over, kissing the back of it.

of course, you’re crying again. “i want you to know that i’ve always, always cherished this baby. i hated those thoughts that doubted me becoming a mother. it haunted me on nights i couldn’t sleep. i . . i l-love our baby, eren. i swear. i love her.”

eren’s heart clenches as you sob, sitting closer to you so he could wrap his arm under your thighs, holding your legs to his hip and leveling his face with yours while still giving you enough space.

“hey, hey, i know that, baby. i never doubted that. you couldn’t control what was happening to you. thoughts like that are normal. this is a big step for you, this is your first baby. everything that you’ve experienced has been normal. rose and valeria even said that those doctors were fuckin’ liars and managed what they couldn’t. it’s so much better now. you’re so much better. i know you love her, and she loves you too.”

nodding, you squeeze your eyes tight, tears pouring down your sweet face. “thank you. i love you so much. i’ve loved every moment of our marriage. i appreciate that we’ve been there for each other for a lot of shit. you make me so happy.”

“and it will continue to be that way. i love you so fuckin’ much, ꒰♡꒱. you make me the happiest man alive. i love our daughter, i cannot wait to see her, and hold her.”

“i know right,” you giggle softly, swiping the back of your hands under your eyes. “she’s g’na be so tiny and smell like baby lotion. i’m sticking with the speculation that she has your eyes.”

“my eyes and your precious face,” he pinches your cheek between two knuckles. “i’ll admit i am scared of being a father. not sure how i’ll be in exact, i’ll try my hardest of course. it’s when she gets older that i worry about. but, i know i’ll be a damn good one. though, only the child can judge whether or not that’s true.”

“i think you’ll be a great father, she’ll love you. as for when she’s older, luckily we’ll have plenty of time until that begins. i just wish our mom’s could see her,” you frown, the distant pain not so distant in meaningful moments.

eren weakly curves up his lip, the look in his eyes mimicking yours; heartbreak. “yeah, i wish they were. good thing is she’ll have her grandfather.”

the thought of your father makes you warm, your relationship with him so much better than it was before. even eren gets along with him.

“he’ll drive her crazy, that’s for sure.”

“i see it now,” eren groans.

“also,” you start, keeping his attention. “i feel like this would be a good time to talk about how i’m never doing this shit again,” the stare on your face is dead serious, scanning his features to find anything negative. “i mean fucking never.”

eren snorts, shaking his head as he chuckles, patting your bare thigh. “baby, i knew that. i’m genuinely okay with one child.”

“you will get a vasectomy,” you speak sternly, squinting.

“i heard you. i’m with whatever my wife wants.”

beaming, you let out a thankful squeak. “yup, thank you papa. you’re so understanding, and so sexyy.”

leaning in to kiss him, you eye the way he dangerously stares at you, licking his lips after and pulling himself back to dig his fists into the bed and spread his thighs wide, knocking his head backwards and scoffing.

“anything else you w’na talk about?”

it dwells on you that you haven’t had that talk in a while, mentioning it earlier to chat about it and see how you felt mentally and physically. eren surveys your mind, how quiet you get as you chew at your bottom lip and study the bumpy path of his abs, thin pubic hair leading down to the towel hiding what you really wanted to talk about if being technical.

olive irises swirling with stormy gray dilating as they scan the silky robe draped around your naked frame. because your legs are sitting halfway up, he lowers his eyes to catch your pussy playing peek-a-boo, tightening your thighs while he clenches his.

“what you w’na do, mama. i can see it in your face,” eren rasps, just waiting for you to say it. he’s hard as fuck right now. can’t help it.

you look radiant, skin well moisturized, lips soft and eyes low. coils of hair flowing around the structure of your face. you smell even better, in fact, he wanted to smell you right now, every where.

lifting himself up, he scoots closer once again, your body instinctively arching into him the moment his hands glide down the top of your thighs, mingling breaths momentarily before his mouth comes to your neck which prompts your legs to spread apart. sucking on the flesh and indenting his fingers into your plush thighs.

“eren,” whimpering, you bring your hands to hold his face, face scrunching up with pleasure as he trails his mouth on either side of your neck, leaving tender bites and heavy licks of his tongue.

“thought you forgot how to speak?” grunting, his mouth falls down to the valley of your breasts, untying your robe and pushing it off your shoulders.

“mm, taste me.”

with desperation, eren runs his tongue between your breastbone, leaving kisses here and there, drawing the side of your tits into his mouth until he reaches one of your nipples. you’re laying back into the pillows, letting him slot himself in between your legs and moaning as you tug on his hair and he guzzles your nipple into his mouth. he’s delicate at first, aware of how sensitive they were to touch.

“fuuck,” eren hisses, slamming his hand on the side of your ass, feeling himself sink into the depths of his attraction for you. how much he’s been needing to fuck you.

twirling his tongue around your areola repeatedly, he heaves over your flesh and tweaks at them with the pads of his fingers, your whines the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. eren could hear the neediness in your voice. the churn of your expressions heated yanks at his scalp making you equally grind your hips, the material of the towel drawing precum from the head.

he’s pulling at your chest with his lips, occasionally nipping the hard buds with teeth, and it makes you blush. what comes next is unexpected. when eren unlinks his mouth, he stares down at your chest to see that you’ve lactated, feeling his face go red at the sight and his dick jump without his control.

“ooo, shit, baby. look,” his brows connect from the arousal he feels, cupping either of your breast and pressing them together, the dribble of white pooling down to his knuckles from them both. it’s a small droplet, but it makes him wanna suck it up so bad.

“oh my god, no!” gasping, you go to cover them in bewilderment, only to have him stop you almost aggressively.

“don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he clenches his jaw, stopping you from the stringent tone of his voice.

“eren.”

“hold still, i won’t say it again.”

soon, his thick tongue is sticking out to do exactly what he planned, to suck you up. moaning from the intense stare he gives your chest, he’s lapping it up hungrily, like he’s been craving it. did he just discover a new kink he had? for sure. and maybe you had it too because he looked so fucking good slurping you up, applying pressure with his lips to potentially draw out more he could swallow. the warm liquid pours onto his tongue little by little.

“ugh, fuck,” eren goes to smack the side of your tit reflexively hard, grunting.

“a-ah, baby,” the palms of your hands shove at his shoulders and he pulls away without a fight.

“it’s sweet,” eren smirks, showing you his tongue before licking his lips and grinning at the shock on your face. “too freaky?”

“n-no,” you bury your face into your forearm. “i’ve just . . i dunno. i’m just sensitive.”

“they sensitive?” he taunts, moving his face to your neck again, peppering kisses and slamming his hand on your ass again. your lower body shifts, clamping your thighs together to squeeze and relieve the throbbing.

“yes,” you respond, reaching for his towel to pull off, making a noise as you stare at his dick standing heavy and angry. needing you in the worst way.

“show me all the places you're sensitive.”

this is a game you loved to play, the excitement brewing in your chest.

“right here,” you motion to your hips by dancing your fingers delicately over them, eren already guessing you were going to say that. you loved having your hips kissed and licked at, it made you so wet.

discarding his towel and your robe off the bed, eren situated himself fully on the mattress, grabbing you by your ankles to pull you down so you're on your back, making sure your head is leveraged on the pillow. his hair covers his face when he lowers himself to your aching hips you raise up with caution, trying not to smack him in the face with your stomach. eren’s mouth starts at the area under your breast, sloppily mouthing and licking until he finds his way to your twitching hips, shuddering loudly when he goes to bite there, a guttural noise emerging from his throat before he’s using the thickness of his tongue to drag at your hips and inner thighs.

“yess, baby. ooo, keep going, please,” your mouth falls open, vision blurring and skin prickling with heat. every touch he gives you sets you ablaze, not realizing you’ve been waiting to feel this for so long.

eren moves his mouth to the other side of your waist to repeat his actions, rushing his tongue over the mound of your pussy before he got there. the simple crusade makes you whine, bucking your hips. his fingers part your legs further apart, almost putting you back into that happy baby position you were in earlier. he takes the pads of four fingers and rubs at your clit in the slowest motions, palm on your hot mound, sinking your teeth into your lip and drenching his fingers with your slickness.

“i can’t, i need that pussy in my mouth,” eren’s grunting, hiking himself up so he can help you sit on your knees.

mindlessly, you let him pick you up, gawking at him as your arms clutch around his neck while he moves some pillows around to make you comfortable, literally clinging to him like a koala.

“stretch forward.”

blinking within a daze, he spreads you on top of the pillows, opening your knees so you’re bent over and arching yourself downwards, stretching your arms in front of yourself, belly cushioned in.

“fuckin’ god, baby. look at you,” his throat is burning, ready to say everything under the sun about you.

the prettiest fucking thing to ever bless his life. your skin looked incredibly smooth, ass up in the air and belly hanging low, painted toes curling anxiously from being seen. those adorable lines etched into your skin under the curve of your ass, and your pussy, bubblegum inside, labia spread open like a butterfly's wings, opening clenching for invitation. shiny with your cum begging to be slurped up. he wanted it so bad his fingers were thrumming to grab you up.

hugging a pillow to your face, you shut your eyes nervously, swaying your ass side to side like a cat because the silence was killing you. if he looked too long he could point out an insecurity. he had to act quick.

“put it in your mouth, eren.”

“i fuckin’ will,” he says with certainty, stroking his hands over the globes of your ass, cuffing his thumbs under the curve of it where it sits on your thighs to spread you open a little more, shaking your flesh and watching your entrance open wider. “fuck, so damn pretty. missed her. she need me? huh?”

when he spanks you again, you whimper feebly, grinding yourself back into his grasp. “missed you, daddy. need you.”

he’s bringing four of his fingers to rub circles on your clit again, an audible ‘shlick shlick’ noise bouncing off the walls from your drenched pussy, eren bending his head to kiss your tailbone, leading his mouth all around you once more. bright teeth resting on your flesh until his tongue and lips follow suit, guiding his face to finally drag his tongue from your clit to your puckering, forbidden star. he never misses a spot, meant it whenever he ate you out that he ate everywhere. the saliva trickling from the toughness of his tongue on your hole which glides down to your folds.

while switching his arm to still rub at your clit, he rushes his heavy tongue along your folds, rocking his head with your ass you move in want, fisting the sheets and dropping your mouth open. “baby . . ooh, god. daddy, want your tongue in me. pleaseplease.”

“unh huh,” he grunts against you, spanking you hard before manuvering his tongue to sink into your pussy, wriggling it to your liking and yanking you back on his face to fuck you on it.

“ungh, y-yess. s-show me how much you love me, daddy,” you moan weakly, voice cracking the further his tongue goes.

“mm-hmm,” with every dip of your ass he follows by stuffing his tongue into you, rubbing his hand up and back towards your stomach until you’re creaming on his hand and in his mouth.

going to reach behind yourself, your fingers tangle into the tresses of his hair to guide properly, throwing your ass back on his face. with every thrash of the heavy anatomy, his hand is iterating harsh hits to your skin. positioning your arms in a plank position, you dip your hips while eren grips there to help you move, a few fingers sprawled over your belly. his lips enclosed on the rest of you with every passing thrust. that familiar warmth begins to swim in your lower stomach, knowing you were going to cum. too quickly.

“noo,” you cry out, tears brimming your eyes. “cummin’ too . . fast.”

eren pulls his face away, sloppy kissing at your inner thighs. “s’okay, baby. cum in my mouth. i’ll get you to cum again.”

there’s frustrated tears pouring from you, sniffling and shaking your head in denial. you felt extremely vulnerable, eren immediately tending to you by massaging your lower back and hovering his body over you. “what is it?”

“i w’na cum with you inside me, please. i just need it that way.”

eren understood without further explanation. frankly, he never needed you to explain yourself when it came to your pleasure. expressing it was all he wanted. you craved for that moment of connection and intimacy. it was the only way you had to have it right now. you’d edge yourself if it meant you could have that.

“anything you want, baby,” licking his lips, he wiped his mouth with his hand before spreading it over your pussy to collect your juices and covering his dick with it. “jus’ one more thing. do it for me.”

eren could almost hear your gulp, his thumb sinking downwards into your pussy while his fingers strum your clit, eren’s face straining from the ring of cream coating his knuckle. dips it in and out a few more times before pressing the pad of it to your anus. “it’s been a min’, so breathe.”

sloshing the head of his dick against your folds, he pushes past that tight ring with his thumb the moment you steady your breath at the same speed he sinks his dick into you. you’re pulsating on both ends, gasping and moaning from the delicious stretch.

“s’good, sweetheart?” eren checks in, halting his movements to wait for your say-so.

while taking a minute, releasing a shaky breath, eren raises himself behind you in a crouching position, balancing on his feet and grabbing the headboard, balls smushed to your clit like a comforting blanket. exhaling, you answer with a soft ‘uh huh, good’ to make him feel at ease. eren’s dick twitches inside of you, halfway in but allowing you to adjust.

“fuck, ꒰♡꒱, lemme stretch you open. need you t’ take it allll in, baby,” he’s persuading you through gritted teeth, eyes scrolling white, trying to control how badly he wanted to drill into your shit right now.

“mmgh, it’s too tight,” you whimper, toes curling.

eren scoffs amusingly. “yeah, i feel that shit. relax yourself, baby. you’re clenching up.”

he runs by the fact that you’re probably not fully broken down, too in your head for a reason he’s unsure about. eren is careful when he takes his hand off the headboard, bringing it to take the back of your neck into his possession. he’s maintaining his balance, lowering his gorgeous face into yours that has your cheek squished into your forearm, the other digging its fingers into the pillow under your stomach.

“don’t feel pretty or sum, baby? is that what it is? you in your head?” eren skids his pink, plush lips over yours, kneading your neck gently and interlocking your mouth with his.

as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. you wanna hide your face, shield it from him and not have to admit that. didn’t want him to make you say it because it felt bothersome. you never had a problem with how you looked, you admired your body shape, even adored your pregnancy belly. it was hard for yourself to grasp what was wrong. it wasn’t him, it wasn’t you, then what was it?

“need me to make you feel pretty?” eren’s jaw tightens, gently biting at your neck to get a reaction out of you, anything to keep you from thinking.

“it’s not that,” you half lie.

eren hums, thinking a little harder before something clicks. he blinks. “she’s okay, baby. stop worrying so much. now repeat what i said.”

your cunt pulsates the instant he rushes his tongue along your neck to the back of your ear, expressions easing into elation, nibbling at your lip and swirling your eyes back as he grumbles into your skin.

“s-she’s okay.”

“that’s right.”

leisurely, he pushes in and retracts back, the french kisses allowing you to relax and take all of him to the hilt. one of your legs vibrates from the fullness, stifling a gasp and clasping your hand around your own throat to restrict your airways, eren laying his over yours to amplify the constraint.

“good girl, baby. good fuckin’ girl,” his voice in your ear makes you shudder, whining into his face as he angles his hips back to slip out just a bit before plunging back inside, that ring of white coating the base of his dick. “yes, take it. . ugnh.”

eren is careful about it, grinding his hips forward to mold the shape of his dick inside of you, making you remember, the back of your thighs clapping with his incredulously. the warmth of your pussy engulfs him, eren puffing out air strenuously, sinking his thumb further into you so he could get a good hook, sprawling his finger over your backside and yanking you back on his dick while giving you steady pounds, cunt squelching over it.

“ooh, love it. love it, love it. fuck,” the hiccups and whines are his favorite parts when you submerge into ecstasy. wailing from every thrust he gives you, eren removing his hand to set it back where it was originally on the headboard, doing his best to keep most of his weight off you.

“what you love, baby?” eren grits, fucking you a tad bit harder so he’s nudging on that sweet spot of yours, a high pitched squeal falling from you.

“mmgh . . a-ah,” the rupture of your tiny voice ensues, each pound harder than the last, absorbing it all. “ . . ungh, shittt.”

“you fuckin’ hear me, ꒰♡꒱. tell me what you love.”

the messiness of your pussy trickles down your inner thighs, coming out like water. every wet splat! resounding the area and it drives eren nuts. you’re slippery as fuck, he’s drowning in it, and he can’t help but whimper from how good you fucking feel, unable to help himself by fucking into you harder. the squeaks and gasps come out of you more, body shaking abnormally as he digs his dick into you, making you take every filthy inch.

“daddy youuu, fuck — it’s you. i love your dick.”

“yeahh, it loves you too, mama,” every sound that comes from him is carnal, prolonging guttural grunts and pistoning his defined pelvis against your ass that thunders back on him.

eren goes to rest his forehead against the headboard, sliding his hands to hold either side of your belly before he begins to drill his dick harder, balls slapping at your sticky clit. lifting your head, you lay it back on his abdomen, sloping your mouth along with his as the two of you silently listen in, unable to breathe. the derisive squelch from you glazing over his dick and messing up the sheets, some of it trickling down your stomach.

“ . . awe, shhit . . aunh, aunh! fuck yes—m’goddd, f-fuck, eren. right there, right there!” it comes out in the whiniest pitch he’s ever heard, surpassing a few octaves, kicking your feet and scrolling your eyes back as you slap and fist at the bedding.

“uh, uh,” his noises mimic yours, smushing his nose up against the headboard creating a pot of condensation, lips grazing it as he slows his movements, too close to cumming, grinding and spanking you. “fuuck, she’s grippin’ me so goddamn good. g’na make me tap out already.”

a dry heave submerses, pawing at the sheets in a haze to military crawl forward and relieve yourself for a mini break. “mmm, w’na lay down. gotta breathe.”

eren removes every part of himself from you, your cackles like a tender hug on his heart. swatting your ass again, he bends down to give the spot he hit a kiss before lying beside you, bringing your back to his chest.

with your thighs pressed together, eren wraps his forearm behind your neck to bring your mouth to his, the other smoothing over your overgrown belly up to your breast, molding them in his palms while passionately gliding his tongue over yours in a nasty kiss.

both of your eyes were closed, eren’s dick sitting on your back, the fixation he has with touching you only makes you absurdly wetter.

“put it back in,” you mumble against his lips, shifting your ass back, eren’s eyes low and locked on to you as he guides his dick down to your opening and slides back in with little to no hassle.

“i love you,” eren says softly, kissing behind your ear and on your collarbone, cupping your left tit to suck back into his mouth.

you cry, again. it seems to be never ending the amount of emotions you felt in this moment. “i love you.”

hooking his forearm under your neck, eren’s ample hand spreads your ass cheek apart as he thrusts harder. his grunts by your ear, even an occasional nibble, the compression of your thighs together as you arch your back all feels too good, enough to make you cum actually. in fear, you whine his name, eren trying his hardest to keep his focus, also close to his climax.

“i feel it, ‘ren. cum with me, cum in me please. i want it so bad. i need it.”

eren moans, whistling as he blew out air, laying you flat on your back so he could lift your left leg up to your chest, locking his forearm under the bend of it while removing the arm he had underneath your neck to hook under your belly, fingers touching the thigh he held up and beating his dick rougher into you. your head falls back, watching him as he watches you, tossing his head back and giving you all of him.

“f-fuck, baby. cum on it right now, please. be a good girl. know you got it,” his voice is shattering, balls thwacking on your clit, the head of his dick squishing deep on that spot that makes you gush out and coat his dick in your juices from every stroke.

“cu—mmin’, oooh, fuck yes. eren!”

sobs break out in waves, adoring the feeling of his cum streaking your inner walls as you cum as one. it’s emotional for you, crying in his face as he kisses you and swallows all the air from you. thanking him in whispers while eren rubs all over your body, unable to break apart from you. clutching your neck and deepening the kiss, his waist jumping as he gasps and shares this moment with you.

a week later you find yourself going into labor.

the entire process was unhurried, and extremely beautiful. eren held you the entire time, letting you dig your fingers into his arms and connecting your forehead with his, breathing you through it as rose rubbed your back. squatting into him comfortably as the warm water your body was submerged into along with the smell of herbs sprinkled around the floor and vanilla candles alleviated you. six contractions within an hour was how it started, your water breaking the moment you went to start your morning shower and yelling eren’s name in fright, staring at the water pooling around your feet.

he never moved so fast in his life. lifting you up and bringing you downstairs where he sat you on the couch with a towel and instructed you to breathe as he dialed the doula and midwife. they rushed here within fifteen minutes, and in that process eren blew up the birthing tub and filled it up so he could get you in as soon as possible. remembering to remind you to melt into the contractions instead of tensing since it’ll make them worse.

you told him you wanted to give birth while listening to destiny’s child, playing it on vinyl and humming along to the music currently. cater 2 u being your mental anthem. the room is dark, only candles lighting the area. eren makes sure to talk you through it, always good for that, ironically. speaking affirmations and praising you, until finally, your precious baby girl is born. with trembles and cries, rose and valeria gasp in excitement as your baby erupted in croaks and shrill cries, tears streaming down eren’s face as they place the baby on your chest so she could instantly hear your heartbeat.

weighing at six pounds and four ounces, she’s the perfect, tiny baby. caressing her fragile body as you weep and lay your cheek atop her head. eren’s sitting back on his feet, stun overcoming him as he sees the small human, coming to realize that the two of you could create such a magnificent thing. rose makes sure to give him some water, his eyes unable to leave the two of you. making eye contact, you gawk in astonishment, holding her miniature wrist between two of your fingers and waving at him.

“that’s daddy, he’s speechless right now. i promise he’s cool, and funny. you’re g’na have lots of laughs,” you speak softly, smiling wide.

he loves you, endlessly.

#eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren smut #aot smut #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x y/n #snk smut #𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 🫙 ˚⊹ 𓊇ྀི

3K notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 9 months ago

Text

A PLACE IN THE SEA OF STARS

anakin skywalker x f!naberrie!reader word count: 10.4k (my longest yet... i'm so sorry) warnings: two idiots pining, pining, reader is padme's younger sister (whether biological or adopted is up to you), first time having sex, soft smut, angst synopsis: a life spent in padmé amidala's shadow and never once did she ever think she'd be envious of her sister. that is, until anakin skywalker walks his way into her life and she finds herself praying that one day, he'd look at her the way he does at padmé, that she'll be given a place in the sea of stars, that her destiny will include him.

read on ao3

It came as no surprise that Anakin Skywalker would be enamored with her second-to-oldest sister.

After a life spent behind Padmé Amidala’s shadow, she’d grown accustomed to it— being overlooked. But for once, just this once, she wished history wouldn’t repeat itself, wished the prophecy could be rewritten and for once, let it be her who was chosen, who was noticed.

But of course, it’s futile.

You can sink to your knees and pray to whatever higher being is in the sky but at the end of the day, there are millions of lost souls just like you doing the same. You can have faith, you can believe that someday you’ll be heard but with each silent day that passes, your voice still falls on deaf ears.

She’s done her time playing the fool who sinks to her knees and pleads with the night sky to find her a place in the sea of stars, so that she may fit in a constellation too. She’s been the statue who's been made to wait— and she’s started to crumble.

She remembers the day she started to pray like it was yesterday. It was the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, back when he was only a Padawan, still searching for his own place in the world. Her parents were restless then, having heard of the multiple assassination attempts on their dear second oldest daughter. Of course she was worried too, but she still could feel the guilt that settled into the marrow of her bones when she found herself pondering whether her parents would react the same way if it had been her life at stake instead.

She remembers helping her eldest sister, Sola, and her mother with dinner in preparation for the arrival of their sister Padmé and her Jedi escort. She’d been tasked with bringing a bowl of fruit to the table and she remembered nearly being trampled over by her nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, as they squeal Padmé’s name, sprinting for the door.

She remembers huffing, mumbling a curse in an alien language beneath her breath just as their guests step inside, looking up from where she leaned over the table, dropping the bowl down onto the surface. She remembers her breath catching in her throat when her gaze found a sea of blue that put the Naboo waters to shame.

Padmé’s lips curved into a grin as she exclaimed her sister’s name, circling the table to capture her in an embrace. Her sister wrapped her arms around her and her chin found Padmé’s shoulder as the blue that took her breath away crashed into her and she swore everything changed in that moment.

She remembers the first time Anakin Skywalker looked at her. It was a brief, friendly locking of the eyes but a fleeting moment for him felt like lightyears for her. His eyes were the blue of the water where the sun’s reflection gently ripples and warps. They were the blue of the sky after it rains and the sun begins to spill through the cracks of the wall of clouds.

She’s never understood what it meant to be speechless, for something to literally steal the breath away from her lungs. But from the moment her eyes met his, she began to understand.

“Anakin! This is my youngest sister,” Padmé announced, pulling away from their embrace. Her spine stiffened when her sister introduced her and she watched as his full, pink lips moved to form her name. His voice is like nails scraping against the itch she can’t reach on her back, his voice is like velvet she can swallow, deliciously soft and rich against her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Anakin dipped his chin in greeting, the silly, little braid falling off his shoulder. She drained the lump that had formed in her throat, bowing her head. Her lips trembled and her breath was shaky as she prepared her salutations but her words fell dead on the tip of her tongue when Padmé’s squeal permeated the room.

“And my eldest sister Sola!”

And just like that, all attention rolled away from her and onto her eldest sisters but she still watched him, heart beating against her chest.

And that was the moment she began to pray.

She prayed, even though the looks he’d given Padmé didn’t go unnoticed. The way he watched her, even when she wasn’t the one speaking, the way he’d soak in every word, every praise for her that fell past her parents’ mouths. The way he stared longingly at her sister when he was certain nobody was watching— and no one was, for their attentions were on Padmé, save for hers.

It was typical.

It should come as no surprise that everyone would worship the ground her sister— the former Queen, current Senator of Naboo— walked on. She’s not surprised that someone young and benign like him would fall in love with her sister— she’d only seen it happen more times than she ever really cared to count.

And she’d never really cared about all the suitors on their knees at Padmé’s feet before— they were her sister’s problems, not hers. She’d never even really envied her sister, at least in that sense.

But everything changed the moment Anakin stepped through the door. Everything changed the moment their eyes met, if only for the most fleeting of seconds.

So she prayed.

Inside the inner realms of her mind, she sinks to her knees and stares into the void above her, the stars that beamed down at her twinkling, almost as if they taunted her. She swallowed her pride, folding her hands together and raising them to her chin, brow dipping as she pleaded with the higher being in the sky to hear her cry.

“Please, hear me, Maker,” she whispered into her mind, externally staring at Anakin, internally losing her gaze amongst the stars as if the Maker himself would appear between them. “Hear my plea. Whatever destiny you’ve pre-written for me, please be sure it includes Anakin Skywalker.”

She didn’t see Anakin Skywalker again for another year after that.

Apparently, being a Jedi means he’s constantly from place to place, but next time they do end up in the same place, it’s even more fleeting than the last. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again, if she was foolish to continue hoping that he might notice her, that he might even love her. But she still remembers the way his eyes flickered in recognition when they caught hers across the courtyard of Theed Royal Palace. His hair was longer and he didn’t have that ridiculous braid or tiny ponytail on the back of his neck anymore. The Chancellor was speaking to him and another Jedi with umber hair and a matching beard, but his attention was on her.

He looked�� darker. As if the years of war had finally begun taking its toll on him. But he’s still the same man he’s always been, still the same one she’s dreamed about. He even looked better.

They don’t get the chance to talk, only share knowing glances, as he was on duty and their paths unfortunately didn’t cross. But that gleaming in his eyes, the one that blazes with knowing is all the kindling in the pit of her belly needs to bloom, to blossom into a raging wildfire.

So, she prayed again.

“Maker,” she said into that night sky inside of her head. The stars shone brighter, as if to laugh at the foolish girl beneath them. She ignored them of course— because she truly believed that one day, she’d prove them wrong. “Please. Hear my plea. Let Anakin Skywalker see me again. Give me a place in your sea of stars and make sure it is in Anakin Skywalker’s orbit.”

She doesn’t see him again for another two years.

But still, he lingers, just like a phantom weaving through every corner she passes, cloaked in shadow. She sees Anakin Skywalker everywhere she goes— in the lakes of shining waters out in the country, in the rain that falls on a dark, cloudy day, in the litany of stars that idle in the sky.

She sees him in her dreams, staring the way he did at Padmé. Only, in her dreams, his gaze finds her. Almost like he had that day in the courtyard, but in her dreams, his eyes would linger longer.

His voice calls out to her whenever she’s sleeping and it lingers in gooseflesh on her skin, frosting over her bones. She’ll open her eyes when he calls but she’s never truly awake. Alas, if dreaming is the only way she’ll see Anakin Skywalker again, she’d gladly succumb to her sleep and trick herself into believing it is real.

Except tonight, she does not think she can take it much longer.

“Anakin,” she whispers one day when she peels her eyelids open after he calls. She says his name like it’ll be the last time she ever will. That look is on his face again— the one she’s seen so many times directed at her in her dreams, she’s nearly forgotten it wasn’t meant for her in the first place.

She used to wake and long for sleep to come again, just so she could watch him look at her like that.

But three long years of waiting and foolishly praying to beings who do not hear have begun to rust the illusion she’s deluded herself into hopelessly believing in. Three long years of silence and she’s finally cracked. She is broken— she sees it now. She’s grown weary of hoping he’d be the one to fix her.

His lips curve to form a smile and for three years, she’s fooled herself into believing it could be for her— truly be for her, outside of her dreams. But to be forthright, she’s tired. She’s grown tired of pretending, tired of clinging onto the dying embers of mere memories of how a man looked at someone that wasn’t her— but rather her sister. She’s grown tired of hoping, waiting, praying that one day, he may wander back into her life and thread his way into the tapestry that her destiny’s been woven into.

Tonight is the night she forfeits with her palms to the sky, tonight is the night she yields to the stars that have taunted her for far too long and admits her defeat. That they were right all along. Tonight is the night she blows away the ashes she’s desperately held so close to her chest and sealed away in secret urns inside for far too long.

Tonight is the night she lets go.

When she wakes the following morning, birds chirp outside her window. Sunlight spills into her room as it rises over the mountains across the lake and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. Today is merry— it is the day her sister, Padmé Amidala, marries.

Today is merry but instead, she feels dread seep into the marrow of her bones. She’s happy for her sister, really, she is, but it serves only as a reminder that her time is ticking, and time has turned vexing. It serves as a reminder that she must make haste to find her own purpose, to find someone who will cherish her the way she’s spent many fortnights dreaming about. Sola’s already married and found her purpose, and Padmé’s had her entire life laid out before her since she was only fourteen years of age.

Sola, the wife and mother, Padmé, the Queen and then the Senator, and then there’s her. Unsure. Undecided. An ellipsis.

She’s envious. How could she not be? She’s envious that she’ll never be the perfect mother like Sola, envious that she’ll never live up to Padmé’s legacy, she’s even grown envious of the stars: they simply idle in the night sky but even their idleness has a purpose because their places have reason, to create constellations that in turn, tell stories.

She knows that after today, the pressure of fulfilling whatever destiny’s been written for her will only further suffocate her. She will suffocate beneath the weight of this pressure and she will be expected to continue breathing. She’s tried for so long to keep the air in her lungs but it’s so hard when with each day that passes by, the darkness grows more appealing.

She’s tried so hard to find the right path she’s supposed to take, but there are so many roads, so many choices and so many consequences. She’s afraid— and it’s why she’s allowed herself to hide in her sisters’ shadows for so long. But it feels so stifling now.

She sighs and blinks up to the terracotta ceiling. And then of course, dread wears her bones for an entirely different reason. Because it’s inevitable that she’s going to see Anakin Skywalker today. And things will be different.

It’s been lingering like an annoying, little insect since Padmé announced she’d invited her Jedi friends to the wedding, ever since she heard Anakin’s name being read off the list. Things were certain to change because he is but a mere guest, and not the groom.

It may have come as no surprise that Anakin would fall for her, but it certainly came as a shock that Padmé wouldn’t fall for him.

It makes her flesh blaze with a strange anger she’s not quite sure how to describe. How could her sister have something she so desperately wanted but not pursue it? How could she reject Anakin when he would willingly break and bend to her every whim? Why must her sister take his infatuation for granted— why could it not be given to her instead?

She thinks it must be some cruel trick the Maker is playing on her, dangling Anakin in front of her like that, cursing him with an unrequited love when she was right there. She thinks it must be the Maker’s— damn him— cruel way of taunting her, as if the sneering stars had eyes, his eyes. Even if part of her is relieved Anakin is not marrying her sister, it still feels like a blaster wound to her chest, puncturing her skin and searing her insides.

She hears her name called from outside her room’s door and groans.

“What do you want?” She replies in displeasure as the door slides open. Her eldest sister, Sola, steps into the room and glowers at her youngest sister’s tone.

“Well, good morning sunshine,” Sola remarks and she rolls her eyes. Sola makes her way towards the bed, dropping a dress the color of fire onto the mattress. “Is there a reason for your ill-temper today?”

She pushes herself to sit upright, wrinkling her nose at the dress as she takes a fistful of it in her hand. “Orange?” She scoffs, tossing it back down onto the bed. “I thought we were wearing blue?”

Sola shrugs, plopping down onto the mattress. “Padmé changed her mind last minute,” she says. “I suppose if we wore blue, we’d mesh with the background, don’t you think?”

She sighs and flops back down against her pillows, one arm folded over her stomach, the other folded behind her head. Sola pokes her forefinger against her knee and she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the ceiling.

“Now, answer the question,” her oldest sister insists. “What’s the matter with you?”

Her eyelids flutter closed and she wishes more than anything that she could simply wink out of existence. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be here for Padmé, she does, but she’s uncertain how she could possibly explain how she feels to Sola in a way she could understand. It’s exactly this that’s made her feel so alone all these years.

She’s never had someone who could understand her, really get her. She’s always been different from her sisters, even before marriage and coronations and political promotions. It’s something she’s certain her sisters have known, that even her parents must’ve known. She’s never been jovial and nurturing like Sola, or clever and independent like Padmé. She’s always preferred silence and privacy, and maybe that’s been her problem. But it’s all she knows, being alone.

Sola’s never spent years yearning for a boy who yearns for another, so she couldn’t possibly understand. She doesn’t think she could even make her understand.

She sighs, lolling her head to the side until her gaze finds Sola’s.

“Not looking forward to wearing that dress for the entire evening,” she says instead. Sola’s eyes roll and she leans over to pinch her calf beneath the covers. She hisses and swats her sister’s hand away as she clicks her tongue, moving out of the way.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Sola tries to reason.

“It’s hideous,” she deadpans.

Sola deflates with the acceptance of her defeat. She grabs her sister’s knee, giving it a shake. She glares at her older sister.

“Come on, that can’t be the only reason why you’re in such a foul mood,” Sola insists, her bottom lip rolling in a pout and she swears it’s almost comical how her eldest sister can act like such a child. It’s a wonder how she has children of her own.

She blinks at Sola as a sort of realization creeps onto her eldest sister’s face and she blinks, internally grimacing. For she knows that whatever is bound to come out of her sister’s mouth next is going to be completely and utterly wrong.

“I think I get it now,” Sola’s tone is softer, her face falling to match it. “You’re upset you’ll be the last of us to be married.”

And there it is.

She internally cringes at just how wrong Sola is but she says nothing, further prompting her sister to lean forward, reaching for the hand that rests on her stomach. Her muscles stiffen when she takes it and she wills herself to stay still. It was better to let Sola say whatever she had to say than recoil and deny it— it’s not like she had any better excuse anyways.

“I know it can be tough,” she begins. “Feeling like you’re left out. Believe me, I had my fair share of it. I was so jealous of yours and Padmé’s relationship when you were younger because I was so much older, I felt like I just didn’t quite fit in with you two.”

Her eyes finally meet Sola’s and she begins to see her eldest sister in a different light. All this time, she’s believed she’s the only one who’s felt this way— lost, left behind. While this isn’t quite the same context, she still feels her heart tremble in her chest for her sister, still feels like something’s shifted. It’s at least one thing they can understand each other on.

“But then, I found my husband. And then I had Ryoo and Pooja,” Sola continues. “And it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

Sola’s grip tightens around her hand and she leans forward to place her other one on top. “I know it must seem hard, seeing as both Padmé and I are married— well, almost anyway.” Her lips curve into a soft, reassuring grin. “But you’ll find that same happiness one day. I just know it. So don’t fret, little sister.”

And there, she fears, is where her sister misses the plot.

She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all sounds. She remains silent, however, and Sola gives the back of her hand one last reassuring pat before she lets go, sliding off of the mattress.

“Anyways, I’m going to breakfast. You should come too before all the blue waffles are gone.”

She watches as her eldest sister slips out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and she sighs, digging her knuckles into her closed eyelids until the galaxy shimmers before her. How could Sola have come so close to understanding her one minute only to read her so wrong the next?

She doesn’t make any effort to get out of bed and in all honesty, she wishes she could simply stay here forever, or at least for the rest of the night. At least long enough that she doesn’t have to face Anakin Skywalker.

Because even though she’s already promised herself that she’d let him go, she wasn’t entirely certain she could hold true to her own word when she sees him again.

The day goes by in a blur. In the blink of an eye, she’s wearing a satin dress in that deep orange she finds hideous beside Sola who stands beside Padmé. Padmé stands facing her husband-to-be, fingertips delicately placed in his palms as they recite their vows.

The sun paints the villa’s terrace with an orange glow and she watches it sink beneath the mountains across the lake from the corner of her eye. The sunlight looks like fire rippling in the gentle waves of the water below and she has to look away because she thinks of Anakin, how his eyes glimmer just the same.

She’s determined to keep her gaze away from the audience, however, because she knows he’s there, the incarnation of all she’s ever wanted, of all her bad ideas, of everything she cannot trust herself with in one. She searches the ground below, watches the way her dress ruffles with the breeze, like fire askew in the wind.

Padmé says something that makes the audience erupt in laughter and it startles her, so much that the hair on the back of her neck erects. When she flinches, she makes the mistake of blinking up— right into the eyes she’d been bound to avoid all night.

The world around Anakin Skywalker seems to stir until it’s all wet, blurry hues of orange, green, and white. Anakin is the only one she sees in high resolution— she can see every lock of wavy, dark blonde hair, every rippling wave in his irises, the scarlet line that slices just beside his right eye. She’d never seen this scar before— it must be new.

But what’s the most peculiar of all is that she meets his eyes— she meets his eyes. She’d blinked up to find he’d already been staring, already transfixed on her by the time their gazes met and his eyes had illuminated with that same knowing gleam she’d seen in them that day in the royal courtyard.

Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she is not in a dream. It’s both momentous and utterly devastating all the same.

She isn’t quite sure whether to look away or not. This is what she's mooned over more times than her pride will allow her to admit. She’s dreamed this many nights, for Anakin Skywalker to simply look at her and now he is. Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she should feel elated but instead she feels… conflicted.

Does her heart flutter in her chest? Sure.

Does her stomach twist itself into knots? Certainly.

She felt so confident just the night before when she threw her hands up in surrender to the black sky, admitting her defeat to the stars who spent many moons mocking her that she was done. She felt so confident that she was ready to move on, to let go of this desire she’s harbored for Anakin for so long.

With the simplest of looks, Anakin Skywalker has proven capable of crumpling the paper walls she’d placed around herself. She was left feeling feeble, exposed and any sense of courage she thought she had was now lost.

Because three years of waiting and praying to higher entities who did not hear her pleas could not cease overnight. Her attraction to Anakin Skywalker could not cease in hours. She thought she’d extinguished the last flames of her withering hope but, as it turns out, a single dying ember remained. It means a part of her still yearned for him. A part of her still burned for him.

She wonders now, that he’s still looking at her, what possibly goes on inside his head. Why does he look at her now? Why does he stare, why do his lips twitch before curving in a smile when their eyes meet, why do they irradiate the longer her gaze lingers on his? Why does he not look sad at the wedding of the woman he loves? Why does he not even look at Padmé?

Her mind swirls like a tempest— churning with unhinged, vicious anguish. She has to look away before the acid that bubbles in her throat can come to fruition but she can’t, and Anakin seemingly can’t tear his gaze away from her either. It’s all the more sickening and earth-shattering nonetheless. Her heart swells and pounds in her chest, the border of her vision beginning to blur with the familiar sting of tears. Her head is aching and it’s all just too much— she needs an escape.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

She blinks away her emotion to the best of her ability, using the end of the ceremony as an excuse to look away as the crowd around her thunders with applause. Her mind is reeling and she feels like her head is spinning as she subconsciously claps her palms together, the sound muffled like water in her ears. The watercolor around her stirs until it’s clear again and the entire world suddenly seems to move again— it’s her, this time, that’s in slow motion.

The cheering sounds like thunder, the applause like rain pelting against a window, and her mind begins to crumple, just like metal. She longs for escape, to flee and to be beside herself for the rest of the night. Padmé and her husband begin walking back down the aisle as their guests congratulate them, tossing flower petals into the air above them. She thinks that this is her chance to escape, she thinks everyone is distracted enough that no one will notice her leaving.

They never cared to notice her before anyways.

She begins to shuffle away but she doesn’t make it very far before her stomach lurches when someone clasps a hand around her wrist, tugging her forward. She snaps her head to the source to find her eldest sister, Sola, with her face illuminated by a grin.

“Come on!” Sola exclaims, dragging her down the aisle and back inside the villa. “It’s time to party!”

Dread drains the blood from her cheeks but she’s given no time to protest before she’s being dragged down the aisle, right past Anakin Skywalker. She doesn’t dare look up but she feels him when she passes by, a mere brush of the arms, the feeling of his elbow brushing going just as fast as it came.

And it’s still enough to make liquid of her insides.

She drowns in a sea of people as she and Sola find Padmé, wrapped in their mother’s arms. She can hear her heart drum in her ears as Sola releases her hand to draw Padmé into an embrace, tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks. Everyone around her is so happy and she should be too— but she still feels like she’s beside the altar, caught in the trap Anakin has seemingly laid out for her.

A tear that’s been painfully dormant in her eye falls and she’s certain her distress shows on her face but it must be easily mistaken for tears of joy, because Padmé pulls away from Sola to turn to her, drawing her in for a hug. Her sister’s arms wrap around her body, a palm on her back, the other cupping the back of her head. Even Sola reaches forward to give her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier.

“Don’t cry for me, baby sister,” Padmé laughs tearfully beside her ear. She can feel Padmé’s smile against her shoulder. She pulls away and rubs her palms up and down the length of her arms. “I’m still the same Padmé I’ve always been.”

She’s unable to reply— again, she’s misunderstood. But it’s her sister’s wedding day, she won’t burden her with her own confliction. So she swallows the boulder-sized lump in her throat, curving her lips just enough to form a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m just… happy for you,” she manages. Padmé cups her cheek and soothes the pad of her thumb over her skin before Ryoo and Pooja draw her attention away. Padmé’s hands fall from her arms and finally, she can breathe.

But even that is momentary.

“You make a perfectly fine bride if I do say so myself, Senator.”

Her spine stiffens. She knows that voice. And she knows exactly who is near when she hears it.

Padmé laughs and tosses her hands. “Obi-Wan,” she greets him just like an old friend would, pulling him in for an embrace. “And little Ani.”

How is it that she’s already seen him more tonight than she has in the past three years? She sees Anakin’s dark boots from the top of her vision, not daring to tear her gaze from the ground.

“Padmé,” Anakin’s deep, enriching voice sounds and rumbles deep in her belly. She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, desperate to flee. She thinks she can manage it now— Obi-Wan and Anakin are engrossed with Padmé now, right?

She begins to make her first attempt of escape, taking slow, careful steps to the side until her second effort crumbles when Anakin speaks her name.

Ice frosts over her spine and she’s no choice but to acknowledge the man she was so intent on avoiding the entire evening. Padmé and Obi-Wan are engrossed in their own conversation but Anakin’s gaze remains on her, eyes even sparkling when she finally meets them.

Her mouth is a desiccated oasis and her throat feels like a desert as it constricts painfully when she swallows. Still, she manages to breathe out, “Anakin.”

It’s the first time she can ever recall having a true, proper conversation with him. The last time being when they said their goodbyes that very first time before he and Padmé left for the Lake Country. It’s confusing how this is everything she’s ever wanted yet, she feels an urge to push it all away.

Anakin clears his throat and his eyes flicker to his feet for a moment as if he could possibly be nervous before they find hers again. “You look good,” he says and her heart stops beating in her chest. “That dress is beautiful on you.”

She thinks she could punch him.

Or kiss him.

She has to look away, or she may very well do the latter.

She wonders if this is some cruel, senseless joke the Maker is playing on her. She wonders if she’d upset him by unlatching herself from his hook and this is his way of reeling her back in. She hates that it has the potential to work.

“I…” she stammers and closes her lids frustratedly, willing air back into her lungs. She shakes her head— she cannot be here any longer. She may very well explode if she has to succumb to this torture for even a second more. “…thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And then, she bolts.

She’s lost track of how long she’s been locked in her room, sitting in the window, staring at the moonlight that ripples in the water below. It was long enough for the chatter downstairs to quiet to murmurs until it finally ceased altogether. The villa is now quiet and suddenly, her room feels suffocating.

With a sigh, her feet meet the floor and she pushes away from the window seat, cupping her neck to roll it around her shoulders as she pads towards the door. It slides open and she slips through, making her way down the hallway leading towards the main foyer. Her dress flows behind her like flames in the wind, the satin cool against her legs as she walks. Fresh, night air greets her and she inhales, letting it flood her lungs as she saunters to the wide terrace ahead.

She stops at the stone arches of the railing and exhales, feeling the wind sift its fingers through her hair, breathing on her skin like a lover in the throes of passion. It caresses her neck and rolls down her back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

She’d spent many nights just like this one. Staring at the moon rippling through the water, at the stars that twinkle overhead, the sky that blackens behind them. She’d spent many nights praying, releasing her pleas into the air and letting it drift away with the breeze.

She does not pray this time. When she lifts her head to brave the dark that faces her, she merely asks why.

“Why, Maker,” she whispers beneath her breath. There’s an edge, a strain to her voice that stings her throat, that feels like daggers to her chest. “Why must you be so cruel? I have done everything, I have given you everything. Why wasn’t it enough? Why do you mock me now?”

The stars overhead gleam as they cackle, sneering at the misfit below. “You’ll never have a place among us,” they seem to say. Tears well in her eyes and she drops her head, fingernails scraping the stone edge of the railing. She leans back on her heels and wills herself to breathe before a sob could wrack her body.

She feels lost and utterly alone, and she truly begins to feel like the weight of this prolonged pain has started to fall on top of her. She’s lost and alone and her entire world has started to crumble around her. And then she hears her name.

It’s like the call that haunts her every time she closes her eyes, the same velvety voice that caresses her ear every night when she lies down in bed. But it is not a ghostly whisper this time, because it is real.

Footsteps sound behind her and she further scratches her nails against the railing.

“I was wondering where you wandered off to,” Anakin remarks as he approaches and she can feel him beside her, like a whisper of shadow creeping along her skin. She rolls back onto the balls of her feet and stands straight, sniffing.

“Anakin,” she says, steadily, methodically. As if it took great effort to say it without stammering. She can see him out of her peripheral, dark blonde curls falling when he leans an elbow against the railing, tilting his head in an attempt to meet her eye.

She does not move.

“I was looking for you, you know,” he continues. “You must’ve found a good hiding spot.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was in my room,” she replies simply, a steely, monotone in her voice.

Anakin inhales and hums. “Then it makes sense why I could not find you. I would never barge into a lady’s room.”

It’s an attempt at humor but she feels anything but. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place with seemingly no clear solution in sight. She could walk away. She should walk away. She shouldn't spend a single second more in Anakin Skywalker’s presence— she simply couldn’t trust herself to not betray her own vow.

Or she could stay. She could stay and once again succumb to the fool’s game she’s been playing. She could stay and let Anakin Skywalker tie another noose around her neck, allowing him to drag her along for another three years.

She knows what is right. She knows what she should do.

But she’s frozen.

She cannot move, cannot even bring her lips to move so she can speak. She instead wilts, like a rose who once stood beautifully now losing its color, shriveling in on herself until she inevitably withers away.

She can feel Anakin draw himself just an inch closer beside her, and he’s like a single drop of rain that’s enough to somewhat salvage the husk of who she once was.

“Why do you avoid me?” He asks and it’s a question so simply but so damn infuriating all the while. She’s been a volcano in dormancy up until this point, but there’s a rumbling deep within her, threatening to erupt.

“Why are you doing this?” She questions, snapping her head towards him, brows dipped and drawn. Anakin blinks and draws back, a dent forming between his own brows.

“Doing what?” He asks and that feeling of wanting to ram her fist into his face comes back. She turns to fully face him and he pushes off the railing, uncertainty warping his features.

“This,” she gestures between them. “Staring at me. Talking to me. As if we’ve spoken more than hellos and goodbyes to each other.”

Anakin raises a brow, the one his scar pierces, and it warps with the movement.

She continues. “And then you have the audacity to tell me I look beautiful in this gods-awful dress just to spite me.” She is a volcano, no longer dormant, no longer overlooked. She is exploding and Anakin is unfortunate enough to be in her wake.

He shakes his head. “Spite you?” He repeats. She begins to pace, a hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. Anakin follows, exactly like a lost puppy. “I wasn’t— I would never—“

“Don’t say you’d never,” she turns on him, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. He blinks from it back to her, that ocean in the irises of his eyes raging, lightning cracking in the sinkhole at its center. She drops her hand and it curls at her side, her fists two shaking balls of fury. Blood bites her cheeks and she thinks of all the times she’s imagined speaking with Anakin Skywalker, of being alone with him.

This certainly was not how she’d ever imagined the scenario playing out.

She inhales. “Don’t say you’d never do anything to spite me while you are actively using me to get over Padmé,” she exhales, braving the stormy sea in his eyes. The tide shifts and his manner does too and she believes she’s already cracked him. She thinks she’s already shattered the illusion he was trying to create, that she’s lifted the wool he’s tried to veil over her eyes.

She thinks that he believes whatever game he was trying to play was over.

Anakin straightens. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” he says and she scoffs, backing away.

“Don’t I?” She retorts. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve always looked at her? How you’ve always loved her?”

It brings her great pain to merely mention it. Her palms wipe at her face as tears begin welling in her eyes again, her cheeks warm as she desperately tries to quell the beginnings of a sob that stutters through her chest. She realizes now that by keeping all of these emotions, these feelings she’s harbored for Anakin for so long bottled has made her restless, has made her tick like a time bomb.

And her time to detonate has come.

He says her name again and tries to step forward, reeling back when she steps away from him. His hand wrapped in a leather glove hovers in the air between them and he drops it with an exasperated sigh.

“Your sister means a great deal to me, yes,” he begins. “But it is not—“

“My sister is the sole reason why you torment me!” She snaps. “And you have no right to use how I feel against me just because she does not love you back.”

Her words are an arrow meant to strike, to pierce through his chest, his heart her target. Her words are meant to cut deep, to draw blood, to make him bleed just like she has everyday since they met. She thinks they will, she thinks her blows will etch deep, will even leave scars in their wake. Part of her longs to see that pained expression upon his face, just like the one she wears now.

But her arrow merely grazes, soaring past until it sinks in the shining waters below.

Anakin’s face shifts but it is not in the way she thought it would, not in the way she hoped it would. His brows dip and his eyes swarm with a pained sort of desperation she’s never seen before in someone. She certainly never expected to see it in someone like him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths as he steps forward again. She stands still, unable to move. She is stunned— Anakin Skywalker has surprised her.

“Padmé does not love me,” he admits. “I met her when I was only a child. The only girl I’d ever seen before her was my own mother. So, of course, I felt drawn to her.” Her jaw tightens and her lips fall together in a firm, thin line. Anakin’s brows knit closer together and there’s a flicker in his eyes that she swears looks like the predecessor to tears.

She doesn’t quite want to believe it. He could not cry.

“And I spent a decade pining, a decade praying that I’d one day see her again, a decade hoping she’d been counting down the days until she saw me again, just like I was.”

She doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. It’s a reflection of her own story, her own foolish pining, her own foolish praying but not hers, but Anakin’s. Her heart stutters in her chest and she forgets to breathe, having to gasp to gather air back into her lungs.

She’s never once felt like she could be understood. She’s never once felt like anyone else could experience the inner turmoil she has, the seemingly fruitless yearning she has.

But she’s realizing now that that's not true. Not anymore, at least. Everything is changing right before her eyes.

“And then I did,” Anakin shakes his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. “And I felt nothing. But I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved her. But I just… didn’t.”

Her brow furrows and Anakin’s gaze darkens as it finds hers.

“I spent a decade obsessing over someone I didn’t really know, and how could I? I was a child.” His eyes search hers, searching for something unbeknownst to her. But she lets him. “I didn’t know what love was. All I knew was infatuation. I didn’t know what it meant to truly feel seen, to truly feel drawn to someone.”

Anakin pauses and she gets the feeling that whatever he says next will be calamitous.

“Until I saw you again, that day outside the palace.”

Her lips tremble and her breath shudders, an icy chill frosting over her skin. To think he’s thought about her everyday since their eyes briefly met in the midst of a crowded courtyard was hard to believe yet, when she looks at Anakin Skywalker now, she sees the softening of his brow, the quiver in his lips, the honesty in his eyes.

She’s only ever imagined one look in his eyes. Desire.

But she looks at him now and finds an entire galaxy— there’s longing, there’s earnest, there’s optimism, there’s burning. As it turns out, living creatures are not black and white like she initially thought them to be. Anakin Skywalker is a complex creature, made of flesh and blood and of an intricacy she’d never stopped to consider before.

He’s even better than she’s imagined he’d be.

Every moment spent under the stars, praying that she’d one day have a place among them, that she one day would sit among them with purpose rather than in an ellipsis suddenly begins to feel like it wasn’t all for nothing after all. Every prayer she’s whispered into the night breeze with Anakin Skywalker’s name in it suddenly feels like they begin to matter, like they begin to come true.

Still, she is wary, and Anakin seems to recognize this caution.

He takes a step closer and he steals the breath from her chest, just like he had the first moment she saw him. Her fingers twitch, itching to find his, her palms tingling with the desire to feel his skin, her lips buzzing with yearning. She does not touch him, she does not kiss him, she does not do anything. She simply waits for the rest of his story to unfold and her brain aches with the hope that it will unravel into hers.

“I saw you that day at the palace to find you were already looking at me. That you were already seeing me,” he mutters, a little breathlessly. “It may have been for… for only a moment but when you looked at me, I felt…” he trails off, a furrow in his brow as he searches for the correct word. “…I felt… like something shifted.”

She watches as he rolls his lips together, watches as the moonlight catches how they glisten with spittle. Her breath catches a little bit, her gaze lingering there, her desire to lap it all up flaring.

“It felt like there was a string there between us I’d never noticed before,” he continues. “There was a connection I’d never realized until the moment our eyes met. I felt you, and I felt you see me. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed by since where I didn’t feel you, where I didn’t feel like we were connected, like we were two stars written in the same constellation.”

Her chest rises and falls to the erratic beating of her heart as Anakin draws nearer, the hand with his glove meeting her cheek with a tenderness she’d felt from no one before. She’d never realized how starved of touch she’s been until now and it feels so invigorating. Her stare drops to his lips and she feels that string Anakin must’ve been talking about, feels it drawing her closer into his mouth.

“Padmé does not love me back, and I do not care,” he says in just above a whisper, his voice rising and falling in a way that jellifies her knees, that makes liquid of her insides. “Because I am burning– foolishly, maybe, yes– for you.”

She inhales sharply and it truly feels like all her prayers are finally being answered, like she’s being inducted into her rightful place in the sea of stars. And in her constellation, Anakin Skywalker resides too.

She reaches up with a hand to hold the crook of his elbow that’s strung between them as he brings his other, ungloved hand to rest on her other cheek. She feels his skin on her cheek as the pad of his thumb soothes over the warmth of her flesh and her body quakes with shivers that roll down her spine all the way to her toes. He begins to lean in, his breath hot where it fans against her skin but she tilts backwards, just enough for him to halt, a quirk in one of his brows.

“I will not let you settle for me, Anakin Skywalker,” she whispers, admitting that insecurity still lingers, despite his words. Anakin’s eyes narrow as he uses his hands on either sides of her face to draw her in, his lips but a mere whisper away from hers when he murmurs, “settle? This is not settling. This is binding.”

Then, his lips are on hers in an electrifying bind that shatters her spine with cracks of lightning and she falls into him, her hands on either of his forearms to keep herself steady.

Anakin kisses her with an ardor she could never even dream up in all of her wildest of fantasies. He kisses her and she feels like she finally fits in her dress, as it is the color of fire and she’s engulfed in flames. He kisses her and he is the flame that lights her candle, the flame that melts her from the center, that makes heat course through her that washes all the way down to her toes. He kisses her and she is melting, right into him.

His tongue pirouettes over hers and she hums into his mouth, feeling his fingers thread through her hair. Her heart is pounding and her lips are buzzing but all she feels is Anakin, she feels the muscles in his arms, the warmth that radiates off his body and spills into her. She feels the push and pull of the passion, the yearning he’s kept inside all this time. She feels her own longing and fervor pour into him and they are floating, two clouds that collide into one another to become one.

Anakin steps forward and steps backwards until she hits a wall. When they pull away for breath, she realizes he’s backed her into one of the pillars, a vine caught in the hair on the back of her head. Their chests heave with the weight of their breaths and she watches as Anakin’s hand, not the gloved one, but the one with skin rises, following it as it reaches for her neck. She shudders when he touches her collarbone, exposed from the side of the fiery satin of her dress. His fingertips sear her skin as it drags to the neck of her dress, following the satin where it wraps around her throat, all the way to the back of her neck where the lace falls.

Her breath catches when his fingers find the small strings keeping her dress together. Her gaze finds his again to find he’s already staring, a narrow, earnest look upon his face that darkens his eyes and hardens his features. There is a silent question that hangs in the air between them: “do you want to stop?”

Maybe they’re moving too fast. Maybe this is crazy, maybe they’re simply caught up in the moment, high off the feeling of burning for someone who burns for them too. But after years of pining, of waiting, of praying, it only feels right.

But still, she asks, “what if someone sees? Someone like Obi-Wan who can get you in trouble?”

Anakin shakes his head, “they won’t. Now, I don’t want to talk about Obi-Wan. Do you want to stop?”

The shake of her head is all Anakin needs to see before he unlaces the strings holding her dress together, the satin falling like a spark blazing down the frayed edges of a rope until it pools at her elbows. Her breasts spill from the dress and the night’s ghostly whisper chills her skin, peaking her nipples.

Anakin’s eyes devour and she is prey.

His stare pierces through her skin to the marrow of her bones that catch a chill and she quakes. He meets her eyes again as his hands drift lower, dipping until they finally find her chest. A sharp gasp escapes when his palms cup either of her breasts and she arches into his touch, already aching for more.

“Anakin!” She gasps in a breathy exclaim when he dips his chin to press a kiss over the top of one of her breasts, heat blossoming in his lips’ wake. His eyes catch her again, a little warily. “Is this okay?” He asks, his voice low and gravely, scratching the itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had. It makes her knees feel weak and if it hadn’t been for his body pressed up against hers, she would’ve crumpled straight to the ground.

“Yes,” she breathes, chest heaving into his palms. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… never…”

Anakin’s lips curve and she can see a flash of white peek between them. He shakes his head. “Me neither,” he admits with a breathy laugh and she titters too, grateful for the fact that she’s not the only one who’s a little green.

“Can I keep going?” He questions and his voice is liquid desire, melting straight down to her core. She swallows the lump that’s formed in her throat, nodding. “Please,” she adds, feeling her heart beat straight into his palm.

Anakin’s head dips again and she watches, cheeks warm as he places an open-mouthed kiss just above her nipple. His palm kneads the other breast as his lips venture just an inch lower, finding the peaked bud that awaits, suckling it into his mouth.

It’s like electricity flooding through her veins.

She throws her head back, lips falling agape as her eyelids snap closed, soaking in the pleasure of Anakin’s lips on her nipple. He cautiously flicks his tongue against the bud, watching through his lids as a moan falls from her lips, encouraging him to do it again. He flattens his tongue against her nipple and licks a long, fat stripe from the underside of it up, feeling her tremble in his arms. He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses through the valley between them to make his way to the other.

Touching him, feeling him, kissing him is somehow even better than she’d ever imagined, even after all those years of dreaming for moments like this. She can’t believe she’s gone so long without feeling him like this, she doesn’t think she can ever stop touching him.

Anakin suckles on her breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as his hand not wrapped in a glove ventures down her body, past her waist, down her hip. He pulls the satin material of her dress up until his arm can sneak his way beneath it and she shivers when his fingers find her center over her underwear. Her nails dig into his sleeves above his shoulders, holding her breath as he finds the wet spot in her underwear, gently pressing against it.

Her hands tighten on his shoulders and ceases all movement, peering up at her. “You’re wet,” he says rather matter-of-factly because of course she is, how could she not be? She nods down at him, swallowing thick layers of saliva down her throat. “Can I touch you here?” He asks and his voice drops to that silky, velvety tone that makes her core ache. She presses her lips together to stifle her groan, head vigorously nodding up and down.

“Gods yes, Anakin,” she moans, slowly rocking her hips against his finger. “Please.”

She feels filthy in a way for asking, for needing friction so desperately. She’s only ever taken her own fingers when she’s too lost in pleasure at night to sleep, never been touched by anyone else but it’s all she craves now, for Anakin’s fingers to touch her, for him— whatever part it may be— to be inside her.

A flame had been ignited in the pit of her belly long ago, back when Anakin first stepped through the door the day they met. It’s sat stagnant for too long, waiting for its moment to further bloom and now it has. It blossomed when her eyes met Anakin’s that day in the courtyard but it’s now in full bloom, now that they burn together, now that his kisses have seared her skin, now that his fingers are pulling her underwear down her thighs, just enough that he can reach her center.

When his fingertips brush her clit, she bursts.

Anakin’s arm wraps around her waist as she practically collapses into him, his middle finger drawing circles against her clit, his breath hot as his lips rest on her brow.

“Is this good?” He asks against her forehead. “Do you feel good?” He questions again as he adds his forefinger to the mix, applying just a little more pressure and it makes her eyes roll.

“Yes, just… just don’t stop,” she exhales, feeling her stomach twist itself into a knot, his fingers against her clit threatening to pull it undone any moment.

So he doesn’t.

He’s unrelenting in the way his fingers press to the aching bud in her center, tracing tight circles until her eyes squeeze closed so hard, milky-ways shimmer behind her lids. He dares venture lower, gathering her slick on the pads of his fingers as he teases near her entrance. It’s a foreign and strange feeling, it’s a pattern she’s traced many times with her own fingers but never been touched by someone else. Even in spite of how many nights she spent trekking that path wishing it was Anakin’s fingers instead, but it’s still strange feeling him there now.

She clutches his arm tighter and he slows, beginning to retract his hand. She stops him, lifting her head until their eyes meet again.

“No,” she pants, shaking her head. “Don’t stop, just… just take it slow.”

He nods, his finger a little unsure as it circles her entrance, unintentionally teasing until she begins to crack. She’s panting, trying to wiggle her hips so that she can draw his fingers in, seeking that feeling of being full. Anakin dips his forefinger into her hole and she tosses her head back, her lips parting for an “oh” to emit.

He watches her face, even if she can’t see it, she can feel his gaze behind her closed lids. He is testing the waters, learning what makes her moan, what makes her squirm, what makes her come. Slowly, he sinks his finger further in and she feels every single millimeter that drags along her walls until he’s knuckle deep. Her legs feel like jelly and her knees begin to wobble, nails clinging to his sleeves like they were her lifeline.

Pressure builds in the pit of her belly as Anakin carefully retracts his finger, just to sink it back in again, a slow, cautious rhythm that leaves her mind spinning. His fingers are so much bigger than hers and she already feels so stuffed despite it only being one finger. Somehow, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Ana… Anakin,” she gasps, peeling open her lids to find he’s already looking. His finger slows but picks up its pace again when he realizes she’s not in any pain. “Another.”

His brow dips and his head tilts in confusion, uncertain what she means. She gathers moisture on her lips, trying to speak through the pleasure-driven haze in her mind.

“Another finger. Please.”

Their eyes lock and there’s a flicker in his, a hint of doubt.

“Are you su—“

“Please.”

So, Anakin gathers her lips with his and she mewls into his mouth when he presses his middle against his pointer, sinking them into her cunt until they reach as far as they can. She’s trembling against him but he keeps her upright, with his arm and with his lips.

Just one of Anakin’s fingers had made her feel stuffed but two of his fingers made her feel full to the brim. Her walls clench around his fingers and she gasps his name like the beginning of a prayer, pleading for more.

It’s a twist on the prayers she recites to the Maker every night. It’s rewriting her every broken hymn, transforming it into something entirely new. She moans Anakin’s name and his fingers turn it into a song so that she cries like a dove into the night. The Maker may have left her feeling broken, wasted, unimportant but Anakin has found her, patched her up, polished her until she’s brand new.

The tangle in her belly begins to rupture, slowly unraveling and so she pushes his arm away, his fingers sliding out of her cunt, her walls pulsing with the loss. They both pant and Anakin’s face hardens in question as his chest heaves.

“What is it?” He asks, searching her face.

She gathers air deep in her chest. “I want…” She trails off, her embarrassment washing over her cheeks in blood. Her gaze drops and Anakin tilts his head to find it again, their eyes locked. He says nothing, only the nod of his head encourages her to continue. “…I want more. I want… I want you to…”

She purses her lips in frustration. For heaven’s sake, she’s talking to the man who just had his fingers inside of her mere moments ago. Why does she feel embarrassed now?

She takes another deep breath, mustering the courage to tell what she truly wants. “…I want you to feel good too.”

Something shifts in Anakin’s eyes. It could be easily mistaken as a trick of the light but she sees it, she feels it. Anakin is burning just the same as her, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of desire, and she burns within it.

She watches as Anakin’s hand sinks below the belt around his middle, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers beneath his dark tunic. She watches with her breath lodged at the base of her throat as he pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to be set free and oh, it is just like her dreams but even better.

Nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of Anakin Skywalker’s cock. Not even the wildest of her dreams could ever capture the essence of the art of Anakin Skywalker. He is handcrafted by the gods themselves— he is the physical embodiment of masterpiece.

He steps forward and towers over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her face. She peers up at him, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. His hands find either side of her face and she stops breathing altogether, wondering what he will do next.

Then, “put your arms here,” he whispers, guiding her arms over his shoulder. “And hold on.”

She squeals when he drops his hands to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her off the ground so that her ankles lock behind his back. Her arms tighten around his neck as he presses her back against the pillar, his chest pressed into hers. She can feel his length as it’s squeezed between either of their bodies and her walls clench around nothing, practically sobbing to feel him inside.

For a moment, the world stills around them and it’s like when she sees him in the audience during Padmé’s wedding. The night stirs and blurs until it’s dark watercolor, but Anakin is what she sees in high resolution. It’s the perfect mirage— she and Anakin feel like two stars in the middle of the black abyss above, forming their own little constellation.

And when Anakin finally slides himself inside of her, she feels like her place in the sea of stars has been cemented. She finally feels like she’s where she belongs.

a/n; SO! MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET.... may or may not have gotten a bit carried away (more like a little too wordy...) BUT! i really hope some of you enjoy and i truly appreciate anyone who reads this all the way through. i know 10k words is a lot 😭 also i hope this doesn’t seem too insta-lovey… this idea just came to me in a dream so i wrote what I dreamt lol

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

4K notes · View notes