#it was so much hotter in my brain idk how well it came across afghfg

[lilacprose]

𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 | 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary; In a dark, small cell on the Star Fighter, Vader enters. On his knees, his helmet off, eyes on her... word count; 1,040 words a/n; The indulgence is selfing. He's still Vader with the armour but not burned. ROTS-era hair. Yea... 😳 May or may not be inspired by this specific photo. oop-. Shoutout to the best of the best @itsladyliv who always got my back, and @crumblekitty who beta-read this fic (we sure had a Time™ brainstorming this). content includes; Vader on his knees doing you-know-what (oral) to fem!reader. Nothing too graphic, more atmospheric than smutty (but smutty nonetheless). Written in third person with no use of y/n. Minimal dialogue. Minors can look away, there's nothing to see here.

Smooth metal beneath the tips of her fingers. Nails and fingertips digging through the grooves others before her had created. Sensing a piece of them with each scratching motion. Scared. Terrified. Innocent. Guilty. Straightening out the fabric of her long white skirt, she contemplated which one of those belonged to her. Scared when they dragged her, terrified when her face got covered. A white masked “guilty” before doors closed behind her.

And then darkness. It lifted from her head only to engulf her again in the small cell. But instead of marching footsteps, the galaxy gently hummed outside her window. She couldn’t make out anything. A stream of white light illuminated the room, cutting it in two. A straight line between her and emptiness.

She draws a deep, questioning breath. How long was she going to stay here? Long enough for her vision to remember these four walls? Long enough for this bench to become a permanent piece of her? Her hands move on either side of her, her grip tightening on the edge of the bench for a moment. She taps her fingertips mindlessly on the cool metal surface and sighs.

Interspersing the galactic hum, there were sudden footsteps. Heavy. Leather boots sounding like they could be full of metal. Making haste to the door. When the door flies open, she sits up straight. Turns her head. It was only breaths she could hear. Echoing, echoing, echoing. Her eyes began to adjust to the towering presence in the room. Darth Vader was enormous, making the room seem so much smaller than it already was.

He walks to the corner opposite her, past the white light. Something clicks. The breathing suddenly stops. She sees Vader’s shadowy hands reach for the helmet and lift it off his head. Her eyes had gotten used to the dark by now. Adjusted to the outline of his body, the flow of heavy fabric a black waterfall down his broad shoulders. He throws his head back, soft curls gently cascading as he stretches his neck from side to side. Vader lets out a sigh.

The helmet crashes to the ground with a loud thud that makes her jump. Her heart races as he slowly turns towards her. He takes slow steps into the light. Parted lips illuminated, shiny with longing and starvation. His chest rises and sinks beneath the heavy armour. She notices the shallowness of his breaths—impatiently quick with lustful undercurrents.

Her heart thumps in her chest. He’s so quiet. She longs for the echoes of mechanical breaths instead of this. This deafening, deafening silence. Him not saying a word. Her not knowing what will happen next.

And yet…

The more she looks at him, the more she knows. The questions from before return to her like trails of a wildfire. Scared. Terrified. Innocent.

Guilty.

The cloak swishes. Heavy fabric thrown behind his back. Vader lowers himself, moving away from the light, his lips hidden in the shadows. The stream of white hits only his eyes. Closed, looking down, never meeting hers.

A furrow on his brow grows with focus. “Do you believe it?” The sound of his voice, an intoxicating deepness, sends a hot flash in her core. His hands slide, clothed and steady, over her sides. Caressing her hips, creasing her skirt. He grabs fistfuls of white fabric, hitching it over her knees. “That you’re guilty?” Vader looks up at her now, requiring only one look from him for her to lift herself so that the skirt can fall over her hips. Vader removes his left glove. His leather and her white lace float to the floor. Vader’s two hands stroke her thighs, the right clothed and the left as bare as hers.

Slowly. He bends her left leg, his bare grip firm on her soft skin. Slowly. Warm lips begin to trace a trail down her inner thigh.

She gasps at the sensation of his mouth. Vader draws his tongue over her arousal, steady and slow. Tasting her like a starving man. She leans her head back against the wall, letting out a loud moan as he begins sucking her. Oh—she wants to touch him. To feel the strands of his hair between her fingers as he devours her. Her fingertips barely get to graze his hair when her hands suddenly become unable to touch him. All that comes out of him is a low “No…” as his moans reach deeper into her. Her hands move to the edge of the bench. He keeps them there, holding her down with a phantom’s touch. He hums into her, heated vibrations spread all over.

One look.

He denies it. Vader shakes his head, his hair tickling her inner thighs. She becomes unable to say anything. All that can come out of her are pleasured tears. In her mind she pleads and begs, but words don’t form—they only sigh and moan and cry for him.

Let me touch you.

Her knees buckle, and she writhes over him. Vader picks up the pace, adjusting his body so he reaches the parts of her that make her scream. Her legs rest on his shoulders. He lets out loud, deep groans.

Still without looking. Still holding her down.

Please—

The Force slowly lifts off her hands.

Lips lift from her too.

He catches his breath. “Tell me… What’s it going to be, then? Innocent…” He opens his eyes. “…Or guilty?” Vader looks at her for what feels like an achingly long time. The questioning hot gaze and his darkened eyes send her closer to the edge. Her hands glide up his head. She takes in the sight of him as her fingers, entangled with curls, massage his head. She hopes that his eyes never abandon her. To remain open as her hands carefully tug at his hair. To never break when she directs his face back to the throbbing spot between her legs. To stay with her until she comes undone before him.

His shallow, hot breath brushes against her. He waits. He keeps his eyes on her, but he waits. The anticipation, the hovering of his mouth over her.  The waiting.

His eyes stay on her as his lips return.

And he gives it to her.

taglist; @ladyanaschmidt @death-of-peace-of-mind @darth-jess @anakinstwinklebunny @orchidscurse @internallysalad