#obi wan oneshot

[bellarkeselection]

So cute 😍 ❤️ ❤️

blood and dirt

summary: After escaping from Kadavo and it‘s slavers, Obi Wan lets his secret love patch him up.

pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader

warnings: clone wars, injuries, blood, fluff (like always)

words: 853

a/n: this is my first time writing for obi wan so please be friendly :)

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

Although pain is everything Obi Wan feels right now, he leaves the ship and walks through the corridors of the jedi temple. He presses a hand to his side and stumbles more than he walks. But eventually, he arrives at the familiar door and walks inside without knocking.

Inside, a female is washing her hands. The moment she hears the hiss of the door, (Y/n) turns around and stares at her visitor. At first, she smiles at the jedi knight, but then she sees all the blood and dirt on his robes.

Immediately, (Y/n) runs to Obi Wans side and helps him sit down on the medic bed. The moment their eyes meet both have to smile because they can feel the love of the other.

“What happened to you?“, (Y/n) asks worried and places a hand on Obi Wans cheek. He leans against her touch and closes his eyes, exhaustion and pain finally taking over his body. But the loving touch of his secret girlfriend soothes his pain.

“I got captured by…slavers“, Obi Wan whispers with a sore throat and (Y/n) helps him lay down on the cot, placing his head on a soft pillow. But when the jedis back meets the bed, Obi Wan groans because of the pain. (Y/n)s eyes widen, and she helps the man sit up again.

“Hey, stay with me, Obi Wan! We have to get you out of your clothes“, the nurse explains and hears a giggle from the jedi. Nevertheless, (Y/n) starts taking off his clothes to reveal nasty wounds underneath. She takes a deep breath at their sight.

“This doesn‘t look good. I‘m going to give you something to soothe the pain before I start to treat the injuries, okay?“, (Y/n) explains and grabs a needle but hesitates because Obi Wan isn‘t reacting. His eyes are still closed and his head is hanging low. Quickly, she stands in front of him and grabs his face in her soft hands. That makes the jedi open his blue eyes and smile lovingly at (Y/n). She removes a strand of his golden hair out of his gorgeous face.

“Stay with me, Obi Wan“, she tells him and kisses his forehead. This gives the jedi more strength, and he keeps his eyes open.

(Y/n) sticks the needle into his arm, then grabs a wash cloth as well as antiseptic to clean Obi Wans injuries. Only now does (Y/n) get a good look at the cuts. They look as if someone whipped and tortured him. They must cause the jedi a lot of pain because they are halfway healed but still infected.

“You have to be more careful, love“, (Y/n) sighs and starts cleaning her secret loves injuries. The moment the cloth touches his back, he jumps but holds still because he knows that (Y/n) wants to help him.

“But then I would have no excuses to visit you“, Obi Wan says, and he looks over his shoulder to grin at his girlfriend. (Y/n) rolls her eyes but still smiles at her beloved one.

After Obi Wans injuries are cleaned, (Y/n) wraps a bandage around his torso. She is careful not to put too much pressure on his wounds.

“Thank you“, the jedi knight says as (Y/n) once again stands in between his legs and starts cleaning his face from dirt and blood. The nurse smiles and feels Obi Wans hands on her waist, pulling her closer.

“You don‘t have to thank me“, (Y/n) returns and lays the wash cloth aside to focus on the jedi in front of her.

Without another word Obi Wan leans forward and places his lips on the females. They both know it‘s forbidden to kiss each other – to love each other. But they already gave up on trying to control their emotions because in the end it will always lead them to the other.

(Y/n)s one hand disappear in Obi Wans fluffy hair, while the others strokes his cheek and beard. Obi Wan pulls his beloved as close as possible so that not only are their lips touching, but their chests and legs too.

Unfortunately, only seconds after he pulled (Y/n) closer, Obi Wan can feel something. He can feel someone coming closer – his padawan is coming. Immediately, but with a sorry expression he pushes the nurse from himself and the next moment Anankin is standing in the door frame.

“How are you, master?“, Anakin asks after he stared at the couple for some time. (Y/n) swallows hardly and cleans her working space, trying not to look suspicious.

“Good now, thanks to my wonderful nurse“, Obi Wan says with a smile and stands up. His young padawan lets his confused gaze wander from his master to the strange female. He senses something strange.

“You have to come tomorrow again, General Kenobi. And please, sleep on your stomach“, (Y/n) tells her secret lover with a sweet smile and places a hand on his shoulder. Obi Wan nods and even though he would like to give (Y/n) a goodbye kiss, he isn‘t allowed to. But he for sure will meet and hopefully kiss her tomorrow.

[megamindsupremacy]

So like, y'all know that popular Star Wars fic trope of Time Traveling Obi-Wan Kenobi where he dies and then wakes up in his 11ish year old body back in the Jedi Temple? You know how usually he wakes up, has a few minutes/hours of confusion, and then goes about trying to act like he was at age 11 while slowly fixing everything wrong with the Jedi Order? Personally I think he would not do that.

I think that Ben "Lived As A Wizard Hermit For Two Decades On Tattooine, Left, And Then Died Immediately" Kenobi would wake up as an eleven-year-old, have a panic attack, attack the nearest adult Jedi while accusing them of Doing Weird Sith Shit To His Brain, fucking flee, only then realize he has time traveled, steal someone's ship, go flying out of the temple to god knows where, continue panicking, crash into a random moon while distracted, nearly die, build a survival camp out of his broken ass ship and eat whatever bugs he can find, get kidnapped by pirates, overthrow said pirates, steal their ship, and then very calmly return to the Jedi temple like nothing happened.

Then and only then do I think he would start trying to act like a normal human person (while also dodging questions such as "what the fuck was that" and "where were you" and "is that a pirate's ship?"), except he'd be bad at it due to having lived as an Insane Wizard Desert Hermit for the past twenty years who has experienced enough trauma and time that he doesn't super well remember the details of his childhood, what with all of the wars and death and wars and such.

His acting convinces nobody, but nobody is sure what exactly to do about All Of That so he's for the most part left alone (after very vehemently refusing sptherapy), all the way up until he catches a glimpse of palpatine out of the corner of his eye and then its On Sight

[ddejavvu]

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.

Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.

“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”

“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”

“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”

The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.

“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”

The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.

You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.

Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.

Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.

You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.

The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”

“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”

Finally.

Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.

However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side. 

Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.

Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.

“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.

“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”

“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”

Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”

“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.

“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”

“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”

“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.

“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”

“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”

Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”

“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.

“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”

“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”

“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.

“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”

There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.

“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”

Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”

You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.

“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”

“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”

“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.

“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”

“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”

The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.

 “God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.

“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”

“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.

“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”

“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”

He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.

You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.

“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.

You freeze; you’re caught.

We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”

“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”

“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”

Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.

“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”

“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”

“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.

“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”

He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.

You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts. 

“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”

“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.

“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”

“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”

“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”

“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”

“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”

“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”

“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”

“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.

“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”

You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.

You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.

Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for. 

“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”

It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.

A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.

“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.

“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.

He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips. 

“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”

“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”

“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”

“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”

“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.

“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”

“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”

“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”

You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.

“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”

“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”

Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.

You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.

“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors. 

“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”

He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.

When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.

He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”

You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.

“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”

You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.

“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.

“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”

He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.

“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”

“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”

“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”

“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.

He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.

Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.

You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.

His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.

You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue. 

His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.

“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”

He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.

That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.

“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.

His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds. 

His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.

He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.

“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”

Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.

Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of. 

He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.

A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.

Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?” 

At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.

“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”

“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”

“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”

“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”

You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”

You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.

“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.

“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”

“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.

“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”

“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”

You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.

Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.

You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.

“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”

“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”

“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.

“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.

“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”

“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”

“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. 

Typical.

You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.

“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard. 

He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”

His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.

“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”

“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”

“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.

“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.

“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.

“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”

The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.

“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Would have.

You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.

“But Anakin…”

“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”

He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.

“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”

Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.

You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”

“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”

You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly. 

His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”

“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.

“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.

“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.

“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”

He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.

You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.

He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”

He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.

“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.

His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.

“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling. 

You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.

“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”

In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.

You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.

Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.

“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”

You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”

A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.

He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other. 

The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.

“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.

“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”

He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.

You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.

“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.

“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.

He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all. 

He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.

“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”

“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I���ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”

“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”

Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him. 

It’s too meticulous. 

After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.

“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.

“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”

His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.

“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.

It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock. 

His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.

He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface. 

You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.

Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.

“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”

He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.

“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.

He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.

“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”

“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”

You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.

You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance. 

He comes undone.

His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer. 

You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans. 

All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.

“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.

“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”

“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.

He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.

You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.

If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.

He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does. 

His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.

Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..

“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.

His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.

His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.

“Do you regret it?”

You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.

He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.

“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.

“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”

“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”

“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring. 

“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety.  “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”

You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.

“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”

A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.

“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”

“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.

“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”

“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”

Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.

“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”

“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”

“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.

“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”

“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.

“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”

“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.

“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”

“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”

Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.

“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”

The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.

Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like. 

“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”

Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”

“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod, 

“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.

“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”

You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.

“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”

Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.

“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.

“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.

He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.

“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”

“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in. 

You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle. 

There is a shirt on your bed.

It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.

The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.

You and Obi-Wan.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[iburnedmyselfalive]

AGAIN.

NSFW! 18+ hihi, I hate this but its ok!! someone give me ideas plz ;( , enjoy you dirty whores.

I HAVE LIKE 5938287474774 DRAFTS RN. do i post 'em?

"Oh, don't you dare stop, you dirty bitch," Anakin whispered huskily.

You'd been demanding attention all day, pushing his limits, so instead of giving in to your desires immediately, he pulled you onto his lap, positioning you over his thigh and urging you to grind against it.

You whined, slowing down as you gripped onto his arm, moaning with pleasure.

" ani, 's too much!" you cried, only to be met with a dark chuckle from him.

"Pathetic," he growled, his voice dripping with heat and disdain.

"Can't handle a real man, can you? Go faster, prove you're worth something," he commanded, his eyes burning with intensity.

You nearly whimpered at his command, hastening your pace, though not to his satisfaction.

"Useless," he spat, his grip tightening on your hips, forcefully guiding your movements.

"You think you can handle this?" he challenged, his grip on your jaw firm as he made you look at the bulge straining against his pants.

Your nod was met with a low, husky chuckle.

"Then you better prove it," he purred, his hand sliding back to grip your hips possessively.

"i want it so bad ani" you whimpered, feeling the heat of his gaze igniting a fierce desire within you.

Your legs convulsed, leaving his pants soaked with your wetness, particularly where you'd been grinding.

"Look at what you've done," he sneered, his gaze smoldering as he took in the evidence of your desire.

"You're such a filthy mess," he growled, and you repeated the words in a low mumble.

"mmm," he spat, his hand gripping your cheek firmly, relishing in your debased state.

"Louder," he commanded, his voice a low growl of dominance.

"I'm a filthy mess, Ani!" you cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation, your nails digging into his arms as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

His eyes blazed with a scorching intensity as he watched you, enjoying every moment of your unraveling.

His lips crashed onto yours in a demanding kiss, devouring every sound that escaped your mouth, driving him wild with desire.

Gripping your ass roughly, he guided your movements, his touch possessive and commanding. As his hand trailed up to your breast, he squeezed it firmly, his eyes blazing with raw intensity.

"so fucking beautiful," he cooed, his words dripping with both scorn and lust

"Using me to make a mess all over my thigh, huh?" he taunted, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in your surrender.

"You're learning," he acknowledged, his voice husky with a hint of approval.

"But don't think for a second you've impressed me," he added, his tone challenging yet undeniably arousing.

"I want more," he commanded softly, his lips grazing your ear as he adjusted his position.

"Do it again," he urged, his praise laced with a dangerous allure that fueled your desire to please him even more.

"make a mess all over me, again".

[kateii]

somebody is still writing plo koon fanfictions?:(

i miss him so much and i feel like we forget about him

[captainsophiestark]

Subtle Clues

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 4 Prompt: "Do you even know what this means?"

Summary: Anakin and his SO think they're doing a great job of keeping their relationship a secret. They are not.

Word Count: 1,197

Category: Fluff, Humor

Dedicated to @ghostofskywalker for her help coming up with an idea for this prompt! Thanks Tori!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been in Skyguy's quarters before. Have you?"

That one little question from Ahsoka, Anakin's padawan, made my heart stop in my chest. I'd been in Anakin's quarters many, many times, the most recent being just last night when we fell asleep curled up on his couch together. But because of the Jedi, I couldn't admit that I was dating Anakin. It was our most carefully kept secret. So, I shook my head.

"I probably have at some point, I've known him so long," I said, being very careful to sound casual. "But I don't remember the last time, or for what."

"I bet he's a mess," Ahsoka chimed, skipping along next to me without a care in the world. I smiled a little, despite how tired I was.

Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and I were shipping out from Coruscant after a brief stint back here. Anakin had left early this morning, along with Captain Rex and a few other key members of the 501st, to start getting things back in order. As a result, I'd had to wake up even brighter and earlier to get back to my own quarters before Rex showed up to leave with Anakin. Now, because Anakin had forgotten his datapad, I had to go all the way back to his quarters a few hours later to get it for him.

"He's definitely a mess," I grumbled. To be fair, I'd probably qualify too. But still.

We pushed open the door to his room, and Ahsoka stepped through without a moment's hesitation. Anakin had said he'd left his datapad on the bedside table, so that's where I headed while Ahsoka looked around the living room.

I sighed heavily when I got into the bedroom and found it exactly where he'd said it'd be. Exactly where he'd left it last night, after we'd moved from the couch to the bed in a sleep-haze and watched a few short holos on it before passing out again. I tucked it into my bag, then headed back into the living room.

"Y/N! Look at this!"

I found Ahsoka standing just behind the couch in the living room, waving a t-shirt around in the air. A second later I had a heart attack as I realized it was mine, my favorite casual shirt, that I'd ditched last night in favor of stealing some of Anakin's clothes that also qualified as favorites.

I gave a noncommittal hm, trying to figure out how best to respond and not look incredibly, immediately suspicious, but Ahsoka quickly latched on to my initial response.

"Do you even know what this means?"

I tried not to let the irritation or panic show on my face. "Uh... Anakin's a mess?"

"No! There's no way this is his, he hates this band."

I swore, loudly, in my head. I was going to kill my boyfriend for forgetting his stupid datapad the next time I saw him.

"It means that Skyguy had somebody in here with him! Y/N, what if he's dating somebody?"

"Wow, Ahsoka, that's... wow."

"I wonder who it could be?" she said, talking to herself more than me. She turned away and started pacing the room, my t-shirt held tight in her hand. I tried to think of something, anything, to get out of this situation, but my mind kept drawing a blank. "I mean, who could he have brought into the temple without someone noticing? It's not like other Jedi make a habit of losing clothes in each other's rooms..."

I stood frozen in the doorway to the bedroom, using every ounce of strength and training I'd ever received to keep my expression neutral. There had to be a way out of this, some way to get Ahsoka to drop it and move on-

"Master Kenobi!"

My head snapped up, my heartbeat jumping to lightning speed at Ahsoka's words. Sure enough, Obi-Wan stood in the door with his hands on his hips, watching the two of us.

"What are the two of you doing in here?" he asked. "We're supposed to be leaving in a few minutes."

"Anakin... forgot his datapad..." I said weakly, holding up the object in question. He looked from that, to me and the obvious unease I must've been radiating through the force, to Ahsoka, still holding my shirt in the air. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I see that. And what do you have, young Padawan?"

"I found this shirt in here," she said, holding it out to him. "I think Master Skywalker might have been... with someone."

Obi-Wan walked over to Ahsoka and pretended to inspect the shirt, stroking his beard and giving a thoughtful 'hm'. The whole time, I focused all my energy on projecting the loudest "NO!" possible at him through the force. He must've heard it, but he was clearly ignoring it.

"Well, that's an easy answer. It belongs to Y/N."

The words were out of his mouth faster than I could stop him. I used the force to grab a pillow off of Anakin's bed and hurled it at Obi-Wan, which he annoyingly ducked. Ahsoka looked between the two of us, mouth open in shock.

"WHAT?"

"They've been dating for quite some time now."

Ahsoka whirled on me. "You and Skyguy told Obi-Wan and not me?"

"They didn't tell me," Obi-Wan continued, jumping in before my brain could unfreeze enough for an answer. I just stared between him and Ahsoka, mouth gaping like a fish. "They're just terrible at hiding it. I caught the two of them kissing behind a column in the Temple when we got back here a few weeks ago."

Ahsoka stared at Obi-Wan in shock, and he looked back, his arms crossed. I finally managed to shake myself out of it, the horror wearing off a little faster than when Obi-Wan had caught me and Anakin. I sighed, walking past both of my friends on my way to the door.

"We might not be as good at hiding it as we want to be, but the two of you are still the only two who know besides Padmé and the 501st, so... do us a favor and keep it to yourselves. And sorry we didn't tell you earlier, Soki."

I didn't miss the look Ahsoka and Obi-Wan exchanged as I passed them, instead choosing to ignore it. We were supposed to be leaving in ten minutes, after all, and now that I had Anakin's datapad there was no reason for me to wait around any longer.

"Do you want me to bring your shirt?"

I froze on the threshold at Ahsoka's question, grimacing. I didn't need to turn around to see Kenboi's smirk. I cleared my throat.

"Yes please, Ahsoka. Thank you."

"Sure thing."

Her tone was teasing, and I knew Anakin and I were going to be hearing about this almost nonstop from his young Padawan. I guess we'd deserve it, since we were apparently much worse at keeping secrets than we thought we were, but still. I wanted to get on board the ship with Anakin as soon as possible so I wouldn't have to take the brunt of the teasing alone.

[make-me-imagine]

Worth Saving

Plot: When you are on a stealth mission in a rebel base, Obi-Wan must listen from a distance. When you are found out, injured and trapped, Obi-Wan races to save you, even when you tell him it's not worth it.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Gn!Reader

Prompt: A is alone and hurt badly, they can talk to B through an earpiece/phone. Eventually A stops talking and B thinks they lost them. But they find them alive.

Requested By: Anonymous; this is a really old mystery prompt request lmao

A/n: I don't recall if they've ever even used ear-pieces in Star Wars except for with pilots in their ships, or if they just like...don't exist. But let's pretend they do lol

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of blood and death, wounds. Pretty angsty. Lack of a sense of self-worth from reader.

Words: 2.3k

-

You tapped on the new piece of hardware hanging over your ear as you walked through the darkened backrooms of the base.

"Is this thing working?" You asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, I can hear you just fine." You heard Obi-Wan's voice come through with a small amount of static mixed in.

"Oh good, now I can have your voice in my head telling me all the things I do wrong all the time now."

You could almost hear the smirk on Obi-Wan's face at your sarcastic remark before he replied "Perhaps this will stop you from making your impulsive decisions then."

"Don't get your hopes up."

Obi-Wan smiled again as he checked his scanners again. Even in these kinds of situations you could always make him smile.

He was nervous for you, being alone in a rebel base with no real knowledge of what you were actually looking for. And he hated that he was so far away, unable to get closer due to the base's ability to scan for ships.

So you snuck in yourself. Obi-Wan insisted on coming too, but you needed someone to be prepared to get you out fast, besides, if you got caught, there was a higher chance of him being recognized. You had a better ability of blending in, and no one knew your face, you couldn't be tracked back to the resistance.

"Damn"

Obi-Wan's heart dropped when he heard you curse, immedietely sitting up in his chair his hands hvering over the ships controls in case he needed to make his way to you.

"Y/n? What is it?"

"Someones coming, hold on." Your voice was barely audible, but Obi-Wan held his tongue, and his breath.

You snuck into a nearby room and leaned against the wall in the darkness. The sound of people walking past echoed through your ears.

Your heart was hammering as you held the handle of your phaser tightly.

"Y/n?" Obi-Wan's voice spoke softly, worry obvious.

"I'm good." You whispered and you heard an audible sigh of relief.

Looking around the room you had snuck into, you realized it was full of computers and paperwork. Looking closer, you saw drives locked up in a cabinet. Your interest piqued, you inched closer, wondering if the information on the drives might be valuable.

"I found a bunch of data drives"

"Any way of knowing what's on them?"

Breaking the lock, you took as many drives as you could fit in your bag. "No Idea but I grabbed some. I'm going to try and get into their system."

Able to hack in, you were only able to find one file on a potential weapon development for the rebels before you suddenly heard the door behind you slide open.

You dropped down, trying not to be seen, but you weren't fast enough.

"There they are!"

Through the comm's Obi-Wan heard an unfamiliar yell before the sound of weapons fire was heard. Obi-Wan immediately started the ship and made his way towards the base.

Hearing you grunt in pain, Obi-Wan's heart dropped "Y/n?"

"I've been hit" You said with panic in your voice as you fired your weapon at the rebels. Killing one, and wounding the other, you managed to get out of the room.

You raced down the corridors, your abdomen burning from your wound. As alarms started to blare through the base, you looked for a way out, but as the sound of running approached, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.

"I'll be there soon Y/n, can you get to the pick up point?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

Weapons fire filled the comm's again and panic coursed through Obi-Wan. He knew it was too dangerous to send you alone, he hated that he didn't go with you, he hated that he didn't risk the resistance being linked to the mission.

When silence came through the comm's Obi-Wan spoke "Y/n, what's going on?"

He heard your heavy breaths through the comm "I can't get out, they've got the place flooded with people. Obi-Wan, they knew I was here. They didn't just find me, they were looking for me."

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat "Are you sure?"

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see you "Yes, they knew"

Anger and worry coursed through him, who found out? Or, who betrayed you?

"Where are you?"

"I found a small storage room, I'm hiding in, I don't know if they'll find me. If they do, I'm screwed."

"How are your injuries?"

You looked down at your body and you swallowed. After the first hit to your abdomen in the control room, the ambush of rebels in the hall did more damage. You had been hit in the shoulder, arm and leg. It wasn't good, you already felt your body weakening.

Your clothes were burned from the phaser fire, the wounds were cauterized, but blood seeped from them due to your desperate escape.

"Not good."

Obi-Wan's stomach turned "I'm almost there, just hang on okay?"

"Obi-Wan, don't"

"Don't what?"

"Don't come for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm too far into the base, it's too risky. And I'm too injured. It's not worth it."

Obi-Wan let out a scoff of anger and surprise.

"You mean you're not worth it?"

You always had this mindset. You always threw yourself into dangerous situations so other's didn't have too, because you thought you wouldn't be as missed, that you wouldn't be worth as much, that no one would really care if you died.

And he hated it, he hated that you didn't see your worth. He hated that you didn't see how much he cared.

Your silence told him exactly what he already knew.

"How can you still think that?" He asked, his voice desperate "How can you think after all this time, after all the people you've saved, that you aren't worth it?"

"It's an occupational hazard I guess." You spoke softly, obviously in pain, but he could hear the forced smile on your face as you spoke.

You were never one to want to worry him, so you always made jokes.

"Even if I don't think I'm worth it. It's too dangerous for you. The base is flooded with people, you may be a jedi, but you can't make it through all of them to find me. You'll get yourself killed."

"I'm coming to get you Y/n, nothing is stopping me."

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you weren't sure if it was because of the pain, panic, or the way Obi-Wan was speaking.

"Is this what it feels like to be you, when I make reckless decisions?"

You heard Obi-Wan let out a soft huff "Yes"

"No wonder you always get so upset with me."

"Occupational hazard" He mumbled as his knuckles turned white due to the grip of his hands.

He could hear your voice slowly getting softer, you were loosing strength.

"I'm getting close Y/n, just hang on."

You could hear the sound of footsteps nearby and fear coursed through you. You pointed you weapon at the door, prepared to fire if needed. Even if you'd die here, you wouldn't let them take you out easily.

The footsteps faded and you felt relief wash over you. You hissed as a jolt of pain shot through your stomach.

"Y/n?"

"Obi-Wan, it's too late." Your voice was softer now, as your eyelids grew heavier. Your clothes slowly soaked with blood, your wounds aching.

"Don't you dare say that. I know you're stronger than this, so just stay awake, I'm almost there!"

Obi-Wan could feel himself losing to his emotions, but he didn't care, not now. He couldn't lose you, he wouldn't.

"Always so worried about me, always caring so much more than others. Why?" You were mumbling but Obi-Wan could still hear you.

Obi-Wan felt his eyes burning, hearing the pain and worry in your tone "Don't you know?"

"Yes. But If I'm going to die I'd like to hear it at least once."

Obi-Wan shook his head, "You're not going to die. You're going to hold on, and I'll tell you in person. How does that sound?"

"So now you're trying to bribe me into surviving?"

"Anything to make you stay"

You didn't notice your grip loosening and your gun falling to the floor, or the way your body began to slump. You tried to focus on Obi-Wan's voice, to stay awake, but you felt yourself falling into darkness.

"I don't...think I h-have...a choice"

"Y/n? Y/n!"

When you didn't response, and he was only met with silence and static, dread washed over him.

"Y/n?"

Seeing the base come into view, Obi-Wan began to land his ship. Fear, anger and determination coursed through him. He wouldn't believe you were gone, not until he found you. And if- if you were dead, he wouldn't leave you here, not alone.

Obi-Wan managed to get half-way through the base before encountering rebels. After a fight, and a light wound to his arm, he made his way through the base again.

Reaching out with the force, he felt for your presence, any sign of you nearby. Feeling nothing, he felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Suddenly, just for a second, he felt a familiar presence, a sort of warmth washed over him, but then it was gone. But it was enough for him as he picked up his pace, and began running.

Finding a small door sort of hidden in a corridor, Obi-Wan knew it would be the sort of place you would go too. Going in silently, his eyes immediately spotted you at the back of the small room and his heart dropped.

You were still, no movement could be seen. Your phaser was lying on the ground beside you, your hands limp and head to the side. Your clothes were soaked with blood, as phaser burns could be seen.

Obi-Wan ran to you taking your face in his hands. He felt relief wash over him. You were still alive, though barely.

He knew it would e dangerous getting you out. He'd have to carry you, but he was not leaving you. Scooping you up into his arms, he made his way out into the corridor. He could hear the sound of footsteps nearby. Taking a breath, he started to run, to get you to safety, so save you.

--- --- ---

You weren't sure how long you had been in the darkness, lost and numb. But slowly, you started to feel as though there was someone in the darkness with you. Like you were underwater and someone was reaching for you, all you needed to do was take their hand.

"Don't go Y/n."

The voice was familiar, but you had trouble placing it. It was warm, it felt safe.

"I'm right here, we're almost out of this, just don't let go."

Suddenly, like a jolt of electricity you realized. It was Obi-Wan. He had come for you after all. But you were sure you were dead. Weren't you?

No. Not yet.

Darkness swallowed you again, but you felt lighter, as though you weren't drowning anymore, but floating, waiting to wake up.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the room around you was unfamiliar, but the presence beside you was a comforting one.

Obi-Wan stared at you for a moment, surprised by your sudden consciousness. Relief followed quickly though as he leaned forward.

You met his eyes before you spoke, your voice soft "You came for me"

He smiled softly "Of course I did."

"Even though I told you not too."

"Yes"

Your eyes wandered to his arm, which was now in a sling. "You got hurt"

"Yes."

He saw the guilt cross your face and he reached out and placed his hand over the top of yours. You met his eyes again as he spoke.

"It's nothing serious. I got off a lot better than you did. You've been asleep for days."

You looked down at Obi-Wan's hand as it encased yours. "I heard you, talking to me. Telling me to hold on."

Obi-Wan smiled softly. He knew what you were referring too. When he finally got you back to the ship, he reached out to you with the force. He knew there was a connection to the force within you, even if you refused to acknowledge it. That was how you could hear him.

"And you did hold on."

You nodded softly, seemingly lost in thought. Obi-Wan squeezed your hand softly and you looked back to his face. Your eyes remained locked in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"You asked why I cared so much for you" He began, his voice uncertain, knowing the things he wanted to say were meant to stay a secret. Knowing he was going back on his own training and beliefs for simply feeling them.

You shook your head, stopping him "You don't need to tell me Obi-Wan"

Silence fell as your eyes remained locked. You knew how he felt, and he knew how you felt. But that was all it could be. And you both knew it.

In a moment of desperation, before you thought you were going to die, you wanted to hear him say it, just once. But now you were alive, safe again. And those words could no longer be said again.

"It's okay." You said softly, your emotion obvious in your voice "I know."

Obi-Wan smiled, but there was only sadness and regret behind it.

He wanted to tell you so badly, but both of you understood the consequences if he let those emotions take hold of him. You smiled at him, but there was sadness behind it. The same as he held onto.

You both knew how you felt, and you both knew that feeling was worth holing onto, worth saving until you could final feel it freely. But for now, it would remain unsaid.

xx End xx

Not sure how I feel about how this came out, but I hope you enjoyed it!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

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[cinnamon-galaxies]

Jealousy and Principles (Obi-Wan x reader)

Pairings: Obi-Wan x GenderNeutral!Reader Warnings/Tags: Jealousy, light swearing, dispute Summary: The reader is a former Jedi who's left the order many years ago! You and Obi-Wan are on a mission to obtain information from a high-ranking Separatist. In a cantina, which according to rumors is supposed to be his retreat, you decide to use advantage of your flirty skills which awakes jealousy in Obi-Wan. Words: 1.4k A/n: This is my first Obi-Wan x reader one shot. English isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any possible grammar or spelling mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it and let me know if you're interested in a part two!

~~~~~~~~~~

Thick, hot air hit you as you and Obi-Wan entered the cantina. The noise of loud voices talking over one another, laughing, and loudly clinking drinks was a stark contrast to the quiet outside on the near-empty streets of the small town on the Outer Rim planet you visited. You and Obi-Wan had a mission to complete, as there were rumors that this cantina was the home retreat of a high-ranking Separatist who was hiding information useful to the Republic.

“I think we should order a drink,” you said as you and Obi-Wan sat down at a table in one of the corners of the room.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows furrowed critically. But before he could say anything, you continued. "To blend in with the other guests."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. He didn't seem too keen on the idea because he knew you were someone who was likely to take a look too deeply into the glass. But after all, you were undercover. Disguised in civilian clothing, you might look like ordinary citizens but anyone who sat in a cantina without drinking anything gave a questionable impression—at least to the staff.

You looked around and raised your hand as you made eye contact with one of the waiter droids. His cylindrical form rolled towards your table and made a loud beeping noise.

“Two of those blue drinks, please,” you ordered and the droid beeped again and then rolled away.

"That guy over there with the gray jacket and the beard. That must be him," Obi-Wan stated, pointing with his chin at a small group of humans and aliens chatting and enjoying their drinks.

You followed his nod and located the group he was talking about. Your eyes scanned every single face, not only to identify the target, but also to check out his companions. They seemed inconspicuous. Like normal civilians. It was the same disguise you and Obi-Wan wore. But since you and Obi-Wan had both saved an image of the Separatist on your data pads, you knew exactly that this man, sitting in a group like a normal person, was unmistakably the target you were looking for.

"He looks much more attractive in real life than in the photo," you said jokingly, your eyes not leaving your target's frame. Tob be honest, he was surprisingly handsome. What a shame he was one of the bad guys, you thought.

By staring at the strange man, you didn't notice Obi-Wan grimacing. "I don't think that-" he started, but was interrupted by the arrival of the beeping waiter droid that brought your drinks.

“Thank you,” you smiled at the little droid as you took your drinks from his tray. They were way bigger than expected. Not as usual as in a small glass, but more like a whole cocktail. With a shallow smile on your lips, you toasted Obi-Wan and took the first sip. Your throat immediately burned as the strong liquid ran down your esophagus and you immediately felt even warmer than you already were in the hot canteen. Then your gaze slid back to the separatist and his handsome face. And that's exactly what gave you an idea. "I know how we can get information out if him," you stated.

Obi-Wan took his glass to his mouth as he listened.

“I’m going to seduce him,” you explained.

Obi-Wan paused his sip, on the verge of choking. “Excuse me?” he asked incredulously, feeling his heart beat going faster.

"You heard me right. If there's one thing that can influence a man, it's a charismatic, stupidly-faithful Y/G."

Obi-Wan, far from enthusiastic about the idea, didn't respond. The tension in him was obvious, but you didn't notice. You were far too convinced that your plan would be successful.

"Y/N-," Obi-Wan began, but by then you were already standing up, pushing the empty chair to the table and walking over to the Separatist.

Obi-Wan sighed. Clutching his drink tightly, he took a sip and watched you on the way to that man. He couldn't quite explain what he was feeling as he observed from a distance as you sat down next to the target and engaged in a flirtatious conversation. He struggled to reconcile the mission's necessity with the unsettling feeling that gnawed at his core. All of this felt so wrong to him. In many ways. Of course he was aware of the fact that you weren't a Jedi and haven't been for many years. So the rules of the order didn't apply to you. But the uncharted territory of your alliance collided with the principles deeply ingrained in his Jedi upbringing and his jaw tightened.

The melody of your hauntingly enchanting voice reached Obi-Wan's ears. He wasn't able to understand a single word you said from his distance so his mind made up it's own conversation between you and the separatist that was both exaggerated and also not very unlikely to happen. After all, Obi-Wan knew who you were and what you were capable of.

His chest hurt in a way it never hurt before as a feeling of jealousy covered his senses. Shocked by his own thought he took nother sip from his drink, his hand trembling as he reached for the glass. He wasn't jealous. He couldn't be. His inner conflict definitely had to have something to do with his Jedi principles and your inappropriate behavior.

Obi-Wan watched you lean far towards the target. A seductive smile on your face underlined the shimmer of excitement in your eyes. You seemed to be truly interested in the separatist's narration, in a way that exceeded the whole idea of the mission and your attempt to seduce information out of him. And the Jedi fcking hated it.

It felt like the whole night has passed when you finally stood up from your seat next to the separatist and strolled back to Obi-Wan.

"I was successful," you said with a slight smile on your face, your cheeks still red from the flirty conversation.

Obi-Wan, who still suffered from the echo of that awful wrenching feeling in his guts, didn't give any attention to what you just said. Instead he took a deep breath and shot his blue eyes to yours. "Was that really necessary?" he asked with a bitter tone underlining his voice.

"What do you mean?" you replied confused not understanding what was wrong with your success.

Obi-Wan stared at you with a cold expression and a feeling of discomfort and concern awoke deep inside your chest. "The flirting."

You blinked twice as you stated at him with confusion and before you were able to open your mouth Obi-Wan continued his examination. "This was not the Jedi way. You just broke the code in one of the most inappropriate ways possible and went against the most important of my Jedi principles."

The moment his words entered your brain the feeling of concern turned into anger. "Are you kidding me?" you replied harshly. "I just degraded myself by flirting with one of our biggest enemies and you're sitting here being displeased by my practices instead of being satisfied with the outcome? I'm not a Jedi, Obi-Wan!"

"But you've been a Jedi before," Obi-Wan stated.

You took s sharp breath, furious because of his absolutely dim-witted stubbornness. "And?What's the point of your arguments? I've left the order years ago and you, out of everyone, should know best that I don't give a damn shit about neither the code nor the Jedi principles!"

"And that's exactly the problem!" Obi-Wan replied, his voice becoming louder. You saw a flash of anger in his eyes and felt even more offended by his audacity to criticize you for breaking a code you don't follow while he, in the exact same minute, did the same by letting himself be guided by his emotions.

You took a deep breath before calming your voice to a level that reflected both your weariness towards this conversation and your feeling of disappointment because of the ungratefulness the Jedi confronted you with. "You knew exactly what I am when we started our alliance."

With those words you left the cantina ans entered the darkness of a starless night. You felt like even talking to a wall would have a more productive outcome than this conversation. Obi-Wan was supposed to be a good friend of yours but right now your efforts don't seem to be appreciated. And it also doesn't seem like he truly accepts you for who you are.

[221bshrlocked]

Obi-Wan slowly slipping under the covers behind you after having to stay with the council until the late hours on Coruscant. Sneaking into your quarters undetected making him feel like he’s a young padawan doing things he’s not supposed to. But he just can’t stay away. You’re letting out soft moans with each breath and all he wants is to enter your mind and find out if you’re dreaming of him. He’s been ready for you since you told him that you’d be expecting him later and leaving him a hot mess in the library. It taking all of his will power to not let out his frustration right there behind the tall book shelves.

He oh so slowly moves your sleep shorts to the side enough for him to slip inside of you. Oh. You are having a good dream indeed. He’s pressed up so close to you; his nose in the tangles of your hair and his hands pulling you closer by your waist….

😳😳😳 Uhhh excuse me?

Loui. Babes. Sweetheart. Bestie. You can't just hit me with somnophilia without a warning like that!!!!!!

NSFW below cut. Descriptive talk of somnophilia so if that makes you uncomfortable, please skedaddle away. Also, Obi-Wan is a kinky fucker. No you can't change my mind.

God I can picture this so vividly too. He can't wait to return back into your arms. He walks with the single goal in mind: getting to your quarters in the dead of night without anyone noticing. The good thing is, your rooms aren't far from each other. But the bad thing is, your rooms aren't far from each other...which means, any other Jedi Master on the Council, also returning to their own rooms around this time, might catch him going into yours.

So he has to be even more careful than usual. He takes long strides, but does his best to calm his Force Signature, and the discomfort of the blood running somewhere he wishes wouldn't be such a distraction at the moment. He brings his robes around his front to shield the growing hardness tenting his trousers, only halting in the hurried steps when he reaches your door. It's clear to him that whatever he's experiencing now is similar to when he was a youngling, perhaps even worse, because while he may have snuck out several times during his youth to steal from Master Yoda's favorite fruits, the actions he's close to taking now are much more serious. Obi-Wan does laugh though when he thinks of Master Yoda's reaction if he were to find out what he's doing now. It would not be dissimilar to the way he approached him years ago when he finally found out who was sneaking into the kitchens and hoarding the delicacies.

When he's sure no one is around, and those who were are fast asleep, he pushes the combination to your door in and sneaks inside, the door sliding shut immediately after he enters. Obi-Wan takes a few moments to collect his bearings, and when he finally turns around, he's met with the sight of your calm and content form beneath the soft sheets of your bed. He grimaces to himself when he sees you're wearing clothes, but the reality of the situation overrules his irritation and he undresses in record time. For a brief moment, he thinks of leaving his boxer briefs on, but the sounds and moans you begin to make in your sleep derail whatever thought he just had.

Slipping the last article of clothing down his legs, he approaches you slowly and stands at the foot of your bed for a while, tilting his head to the side when you move to your side and continue to groan in your sleep, a little bit louder than earlier.

Maker, whatever you were dreaming of must have gotten you in a bit of a frenzy.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Obi-Wan walks around and slips behind you, shifting the sheets away from your body until the two of you were exposed to the chill of the night air. He caresses your arms with two fingers, smiling to himself when he sees gooseflesh erupt across your skin. Your breath hitches all of a sudden and Obi-Wan is torn between watching your Force Signature spike in heat and probing your mind so he can have a front row seat of what's getting you so hot and bothered.

He slides his hand beneath your arm and around your navel, digging his fingers into your stomach to bring you as close to him as possible. When your own hand shifts down and holds onto his own like an anchor, his mind is made up almost instantly.

Obi-Wan pushes his nose the space just behind your ear, inhaling deeply as he moves his hand down and pushes one of your thighs higher so he can get better access to your cunt. You oblige with ease, and the Jedi Master feels his cock twitch with excitement at remembering what you said to him earlier today when he was researching something for an upcoming mission in the library.

I can't wait to feel you tonight. It's been so long Obi, and my fingers are nothing compared to your cock.

He teases your slit with the tips of his fingers, groaning your name when he finds you wet and wanting and shaking for him. Pushing your sleep shorts aside, he shuts his eyes to contain himself from coming then and there at the mere prospect of being engulfed by your heat.

I know you'll come late tonight baby. But...I was thinking- even if you do, I...I still want to feel you. Wouldn't you want that too? I could be good for you...all the time. If you just train my body to take you whenever you want, however you need, I could bring you pleasure any time you yearn for release. Even when I'm not even aware I am. Please Obi, let me help you rest. Let me pleasure you in my sleep...it would mean the world to me, knowing that I can serve you at any given moment.

Pushing his nose into your skin one last time, Obi-Wan thrusts his cock into your cunt, growling with desperation when your walls sheath him like the tightest of gloves. He can't move for a few minutes, afraid he would shoot his load deep in your womb if he so much as pushes into you a little bit more. Your sounds only egg him on though, and his breath shakes with sheer anguish at the prospect of pleasing you in return. He roams his hand up and down your body, torn between holding onto your waist as he fucks into you and moving his hand up your body to grope your breasts in his palm. He thinks that if he were to keep them on your waist, he might end up pushing you beneath him and railing into you until you woke up, something neither of you wanted now.

So he slides his hand underneath your night shirt, and he forgets how to breath for a second when he rests his hand above your heart and finds it hammering against him. He's unsure how this should make him feel, if he should feel pride at being the one to cause you such heightened sensations, or if he should feel possessive of the way your body reacts to his touch, even in your unconscious state.

As soon as his fingers grace your nipples and find them achingly hard for him, he decides that he will dwell on that last thought later. For now, he wanted to make you sing for him in your sleep, and push more filthy dreams into your mind so you can feel as fulfilled as he was now.

Focusing all of his energy on not coming prematurely, Obi-Wan bucks his hips and feels a strike of lightning shoot down his spine at the hot, soaking welcoming of your walls. He wants to scream your name, tell you how good you are to him, even when he's not letting go inside of you, but he knows that anyone around will catch a hint of whatever is going on in this room, so he rests his forehead against your shoulder blade and bites his lower lip to quiet down. He moves with determination, pinching your nipples occassionally if only to hear you moan something akin to his name in your sleep or simply groan and take in a harsh breath.

Obi-Wan doesn't know how long he goes on. It feels like a thousand years, his cock nudging a perfect corner inside you that causes you to gush even more around him, coating the bedsheets beneath you with more of your juices as proof of his ability to pleasure you even when you're not asking him to do anything. But as the need for release grows, he realizes that he must have you cum on his cock before he does, because he's not sure what would happen if he were to shoot his seed inside you and you were left hanging in your sleep. He wanted you to experience rapture as he was now, and before he can think twice of what he's doing, he slips his hand down in between your thighs and shoves his fingers inside your sleep shorts, quickly flicking your clit as he increases his thrusts and feels your walls clenching around him.

He opens his eyes in time to look at your damp neck, and with a few more flicks to your engorged bundle of nerves, he watches as you descend into ecstasy, your Force Signature singing his name louder than he thought even possible in such a state. He wants to wake you, warn you of what would happen if anyone found out, but he can't find it in himself to ruin your orgasm, so he pushes and pushes until he feels a blaster hit his stomach, his cock twitching violently in your cunt as he shoots his load and paints your walls for what feels like minutes.

He throws his head back against the pillow, but doesn't let go of you or pull away, and only when he comes to his senses do his eyes shoot open in panic. He listens, and listens....and listens some more, for any sign of anyone around knowing what just happened. When nothing out of the ordinary draws his attention, he thanks the Maker that he can remain where he is now instead of getting up and doing damage control.

As he sits up on his elbow and looks down at you, he finds your eyebrows furrowed, as if you were focusing on something really hard for a long time and weren't able to do it. Roaming his eyes down your body, he finds your nails digging into his forearms, your breaths coming in hot and ragged. Obi-Wan laughs to himself because of course you wanted more of him even in your sleep. The thought warms his heart because to know that you only ever thought of him, even in your unconscious state, is to have lived within the Force itself.

Even though he knows he should clean the two of you, he doesn't dare move, and instead returns flush behind you, giving your clit a few, teasing rubs to feel your cunt flutter around him once more before resting.

Hmm, tomorrow morning was certainly going to be interesting.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Marry Me

masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x female reader

warnings: kissing, fluff, insecure anakin

summary: anakin proposes to you and your wedding

a/n: lmao this was taken straight from my anakin fic on wattpad but it makes a good oneshot too, on wattpad it is an x oc though

song: perfect - ed sheeran

Anakin and you are in the bedroom of a house that you two were temporarily staying at. Anakin is wearing a long sleeved shirt with the front buttons open.

He sits next to you on the bed and looks down. He frowns at his mechanic hand.

You look at him and see him try to cover the hand, "Ani?"

"Hm?"

"What's wrong? Is it the arm? Is it hurting you?"

"No, love," he kisses your head.

"Well why are you trying to hide it," you frown at him.

"Well, I- do you think it looks bad?"

You then realize that he's insecure about it, your heart hurts.

"Ani," you whisper, "nothing, and I mean nothing, about you is or looks bad. That arm will not change a single thing I feel for you. I think it makes you look strong," you smile.

"But.."

"No buts!" You pick up the mechanical hand, he watches you as you kiss it. You continue to kiss each of the knuckles. His eyes water.

You leave a few more soft kisses on it and gently place it down. You look up at him and wipe his tears. You leave a gentle kiss on his lips, "I love you. No matter what."

"I love you," he hugs you and rests his chin on your head for a moment. He stands up and walks onto the balcony, pulling you with him. He turns to you as you gaze at the unreal sunset.

"Y/n," he whispers. You look at him and he reaches into his pocket. He opens a small box and you look at the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen. "Marry me."

"Ani... I- what about the Jedi?"

"I don't care about that. I love you. You are my life. Marry me," he whispers.

"I'll marry you," tears fall down your face and you smiles. Anakin grabs your left hand and places a kiss on it, he slides the ring on as he looks into your eyes.

He pulls you into a love filled kiss. He kisses you like his life depended on it. Your lips on each other, so perfect it's like they were made for one another.

In a garden on Naboo, there are waterfalls in the back, flowers everywhere, a bright sun, and the air is warm.

There is an archway decorated with the most beautiful flowers and vines. A Naboo holy man stands underneath.

There are three chairs on the grass. Anakin stands under the arch in a suit, nervously looking around.

Then, Padmé walks out with some flower petals, she grins at the nervous boy and winks as she throws some petals into a path. When she's done she takes a seat in one of the chairs.

Next is Artoo and Threepio. Artoo happily bleeps his way down the path with Threepio walking next to him. They get to the holy man and give him the rings. Threepio then takes his seat and Artoo stands next to him.

Lastly, are you with Obi-Wan on your arm.

You are wearing a white wedding gown. It has some very, very, light pastel flowers embroidered onto the skirt. It's made out of a soft and flowy fabric that elegantly drapes over your curves. The dress has an ethereal effect and it has a medium length train. The beautiful layers of the skirt fabric are cascading down like a waterfall.

Your hair is in a stunning, but somewhat loose, bun in the back of her head, you also have flowers in your hair. You have light makeup on with the biggest smile on your face.

Anakin has tears falling down his face at the mere sight of her, he has to bite his lip to stop it from wobbling. He quickly wipes away the tears and swallows nervously.

You get to the end of the aisle and face Anakin. Obi-Wan walks to his seat and sits down. The holy man starts his wedding speech and they get the vows. After they exchange their loving words, they both are crying again. Obi-Wan smiles, he's more than happy for you both, as is Padmé.

"Anakin Skywalker, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Y/n L/n, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Repeat after me," the holy man says. "I, Anakin Skywalker, take you Y/n L/n, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

Anakin repeats the words with a smile.

The holy man turns to you, "I, Y/n L/n, take you Anakin Skywalker, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

You repeat and then place the ring on Anakin's finger and he places the other on yours.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Anakin grins and pulls you into a kiss as Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Threepio clap. Artoo lets out joyful whistles and bleeps.

You pull apart, and some flower petals gently fall on and around them. Your foreheads are connected for a moment and Anakin whispers, "My darling love, my wife."

[itstimeforstarwars]

When Alpha-17 arrives in a stolen pirate ship, everything feels like it finally might end up alright.

(Or, a Three Jedi au where Alpha-17 is part of the group)

[taska-rokanh]

Good Night (Platonic Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader)

As Obi-wan Kenobi's padawan, your life was never short on adventure. Unfortunately, that meant you were always short on sleep. You were pretty sure the bearded man could see that when he asked you to stay on the ship while he, Anakin, and Ahsoka went ahead on the recon mission.

You tried to stay awake, knowing that despite the low impact of the task, it was all too important when someone or something actually did try to take or destroy the ship.

You only closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were against Anakin's chest, being carried to the quarters that, for the time being, you were sharing with your fellow Padawan.

You mumbled something that was probably supposed to come out as, "Master?" It sounded more formless than that, you were sure.

"Shh," he said quietly. "Ahsoka's already asleep. I was trying not to wake you."

"Thanks," you whispered once he set you down, feeling the tension in your neck from falling asleep in your chair release.

"No problem, kid. Sweet dreams."

It was only a few minutes before you heard Obi-wan's light footsteps announce his presence.

He walked over to Ahsoka's bunk first, seeming to check her for injuries once again. The mission must've been more dangerous than they'd been expecting.

"Oh, Padawan," he gave a quiet sigh as he settled down by your bedside. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I go... too easy on you."

He thought you were already asleep.

"But, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad you weren't with us this time," Obi-wan whispered. "It was nothing serious, nothing to worry about now, but there was one moment, where Ahsoka--oh, my heart nearly stopped. I can't imagine what it would be like if I had both of you to be worrying about.

"And I know you'll have to be in danger plenty before this war is over... ha, Qui-gon would not have had a problem with this," he shook his head, laughing faintly at himself. "For Forcesake, I didn't even have this problem with Anakin. I wasn't raising him in the middle of a war."

He sighed again. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. This is something I have to figure out on my own," he rubbed a hand across his beard before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to your cheek. "Sleep well, my dear. See you in the morning."

[ddejavvu]

omg I BEG of u to write a fic about the thing anon mentioned about dbf obi-wan 😭 /nf maybe reader is like anakin's age and her master is yoda.

i also think it would be really interesting if reader tends to be quite similar to her master yoda where she's usually calm and collected and zen and all that, but just cant keep her head clear when obi-wan's around NFNAJFJSKDB i'm already blushing just thinking about it!!! i just know you'd write this beautifully!!! /gen

Brewing and serving a perfect pot of tea is something inescapable as Grandmaster Yoda's padawan. You'd been trained in proper steeping rituals before you were ever trained in lightsaber combat, and you take a bit of pride in your craft even though it's a skill most might consider less-than-impressive in the overall catalogue of a Jedi's skills.

All of that is why you should not have dropped the teapot you'd been carrying upon seeing your master's houseguest, but Master Kenobi catches it with wide eyes and a steady hand. The teapot hovers mere inches above the ground, giving you a measly two seconds to gather your composure before a twitch of Master Kenobi's hand lifts it back up onto the tray you're miraculously still carrying.

You have very un-Jedi-like feelings towards Master Kenobi. You'd never thought much of him- nor anyone for quite some time, but you'd travelled outside of the temple, spent time on other planets, socialized with hundreds of different people in the galaxy, and the auburn-haired man in front of you has recently topped the charts of people you would be attracted to, if you weren't a Jedi forbidden from attachment.

"Sorry." You stammer, heart hammering in your chest from a mix of adrenaline and something else you refuse to name, "I- I lost my balance."

Your master snorts from his place on his tea cushion, a tiny thing at the head of the coffee table where you set the tea tray, "Uncoordinated, you are today, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." You agree miserably, pouring tea for Masters Yoda and Kenobi before pouring your own cup. You want to come up with an excuse, overtiredness or a troubling class assignment on your mind, but there's nothing your master won't see through.

"It's quite alright, dear." Master Kenobi places a hand over your own where you set the teapot down, and your eyes dart towards his own. Your trained Jedi composure allows for you to keep your face in a neutral expression, but there's very little hiding the slight shake to your hands as you reach for the sugar.

"Anakin has a habit of spreading his mechanical projects over our carpets like we live in a junkyard. I know that they're there," The bearded Jedi master smiles, "And every morning I still step sure-footedly out of my bedroom expecting not to be impaled through the foot with a jagged wire. Jedi agility cannot completely remove natural clumsiness."

"Remove clumsiness for me, it did." Your master huffs, squeezing the sap out of some deadly looking berries and into his teacup, "A better Jedi I am, than you two."

"You tripped over your own walking stick yesterday," You point your spoon accusatorily at him, and you nearly lose your conviction when it draws a warm chuckle from Master Kenobi's throat.

"Hmmph. Disrespectful, you are." Yoda gripes, but you see through his stern facade, "Sleep outside tonight, you will."

"Master!' You shriek, nearly choking on both your laughter and your tea, "That's not fair!"

"Don't worry, dear." Master Kenobi stretches his leg out beneath the coffee table to rest against your own, "You're welcome to stay the night in my quarters if your Master kicks you to the curb." He winks, "Anakin is gone on his first solo mission, so the two of us will have plenty of room."

You know the whole thing is one big joke, and you also know that Master Kenobi's offer is nothing but platonic. But still, the invitation, the assurance that you'll be alone with plenty of room- room for what? - you're barely able to nudge his leg back teasingly and glare half-heartedly at your master.

"I'm reporting you to the Council." You decide, but your threats come out weaker than intended due to the continued press of Master Kenobi's leg against your own beneath the table, "You may be the Grandmaster, but the neglect of a padawan is serious business."

"Two nights," Master Yoda snickers, "Two nights, you will sleep outside."

You let out an exasperated groan, but the last of your composure slips away upon meeting Master Kenobi's kind gaze, his eyes twinkling with gorgeous mirth, "You can stay with me for as long as you'd like."

[iburnedmyselfalive]

YOUR MESS

somethin' short to make up for my absence <33

NSFW! -- Dialoge prompt - @airaibunny !

Anakin Skywalker skillfully moved his two fingers within you with an intense rhythm, causing you to tightly hold onto him.

"don't you stop squeezing around 'em, don't you stop," he whispered, playfully curling his fingers, eliciting a loud moan from you.

"yeah? that's what you like huh?" he chuckled.

With eagerness, you nodded, craving more, your legs trembling from the intense sensation.

"Say it," he hissed, seemingly attuned to your thoughts as one hand traversed your body to playfully slap your breast, prompting a whimper from you.

"I want more, Ani," you whined, a hint of desperation in your tone, causing a satisfied grin to spread across his face.

"Oh, baby," he cooed, deliberately slowing down, curling his fingers deeper and hitting your sweet spot.

"Mm, I want it so bad," you exclaimed, tugging on his gorgeous locks.

"Yeah?" he gasped, breathless, before hushing your moans with a fervent kiss, exploring down to your neck and adorning it with affectionate marks.

"Tell me you want to cum," he demanded, delivering a sharp slap to your cheek that made your thighs involuntarily clench. With one swift motion, he forced them apart.

"I want to cum ani," you cried out, gazing at him with pleading puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Pathetic, my fingers have you whimpering like a desperate bitch, can only imagine the effect my cock would have on you?" he sneered.

His words had you in a whirlwind, repeatedly moaning his name as if it were a chant. Your hand instinctively moved down to meet his wrist, whimpering and squirming within the limits of your ability, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Mm, s’too much ani! Too much!" you cried out, attempting to close your legs, but he forcefully kept them open.

"Take it," he growled, spitting down at your clit before bringing his thumb up to rub fast circles over the sensitive little nub.

And that's what pushed you over the edge – his explicit talk, the touch of his fingers, all of him. The approach of your climax was undeniable, legs shaking, eyes rolling, back arching as you clung to his wrist for dear life. You wanted him to stop, yet at the same time, you didn't want him to cease; it was an exquisite paradox, overwhelming in its intensity.

"Fuck" you cried out, the sensation continuing even after you climaxed. Kneeling down, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, eagerly cleaning up the delicious mess he had orchestrated.

"Suck," he demanded, locking eyes with you.

"Clean my fingers; this is your mess," he said, presenting his fingers to your mouth. Obeying his command, you brought the two digits into your mouth, sucking and licking them as he instructed.

Your compliance earned you a kiss on your sensitive cunt; he grinned mischievously before enveloping your clit with his lips. It made you whimper as you tried to push him away, but the vibrations of his chuckle only intensified your reaction.

Seeing his chin adorned in your juices was a sight you never wanted to part with – he looked incredibly sexy.

"What's the matter, baby? Hmm, too sensitive for my tongue?" he cooed at you, teasingly.

You whimpered, shaking your head in denial.

"No?" he asked, briefly pulling away before spreading your legs as far as they could go and diving back in with fervor. His tongue worked tirelessly on your pussy, his eyes locked onto yours, never breaking the gaze.

He reveled in observing your reactions, your mouth forming an 'o' shape in response. Sitting up, he placed one hand on you, coercing you to recline as he continued his passionate exploration.

"That feels so good," you cried out to him, squirming as you sensed your second orgasm approaching faster than expected.

He inserted a finger into you once more, his tongue skillfully circling around your clit.

Your scent drove him wild, making him crave you for every meal conceivable – breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He yearned to pleasure you as if he had been starved for years.

"Such a delectable pussy," he mumbled, sucking on your clit, creating a satisfying 'pop' sound.

[teaforkenobi]

i've got nothing to lose (except everything you are) by teaforkenobi

Anakin knows it’s unwise to keep quiet, knows that Obi-Wan is the very first one he should tell if he suspects something odd is happening to him. But what is he going to say? “Oh, by the way, Master, I noticed when staring into your eyes and forgetting how to breathe that maybe I might be going blind or something. Weird, right?”

In a universe where unrequited love leads to a disease that drains your Force sensitivity, Anakin develops what he believes to be one-sided feelings for Obi-Wan.

(Or, two idiots suffer in silence, until they don’t.)

✨✨   NOW COMPLETE ✨ ✨ 

[captainsophiestark]

End of the Line

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: Anakin and his SO have a chaotic date night - and really, when dating Anakin, what other kind could there be?

Word Count: 1,051

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

A beam of light whizzed over my head from where I hunkered behind cover, almost nailing me right in the forehead. I grit my teeth and readied my weapon. That marked my opponent's tenth shot, meaning he'd need to let his gun recharge before he could fire again. Time to make my move.

"Alright, that's it! Your bloodline ends here!" I shouted at the top of my lungs before popping up from my cover behind the couch. I saw a flash of shaggy brown hair as my boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker, scrambled for cover of his own across the living room.

I raised my light gun—a blaster that literally just fired light, usually used by children for tag games but tonight employed by Anakin and I—and raced across the room after him.

I fired the entire time I ran, keeping Anakin from popping up his head. It left me with just one shot by the time I got to him, but one shot was all I needed.

I rounded the corner of my favorite cushy chair and fired at my boyfriend, right on target to hit him square in the chest. That is, until my light beam stopped in mid-air.

My eyes darted up to Anakin's to find him grinning, one hand extended the way he did sometimes to use the Force and the other still holding his newly-recharged blaster. I narrowed my eyes, but before I could say anything, he fired a shot of his own that hit me in the chest.

"You cheater!" I yelled, ignoring the explosion of light still glowing against my shirt. Anakin rolled to the side and dropped his hand, letting what would've been the perfect shot streak past him and into the far wall of our apartment. I scowled.

"You never said no Force," Anakin replied, getting to his feet with an entirely too satisfied smirk. He offered a hand to me, but I didn't take it.

"Mmm, I'm pretty sure I specifically said 'No Jedi bullshit' right before we started this thing."

Anakin grinned at me as I got to my feet and faced him.

"Exactly. No Jedi bullshit. Lots of people have a connection to and use the Force."

I closed my eyes and took a long, deep, dramatic breath. When I opened them again, Anaking was still watching me with a self-satisfied smirk.

"You've been spending too much time with politicans, trying to sell me on a loophole like that."

"As opposed to bounty hunters?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "You and I both know that's not what I do."

"I know. It's just fun to watch your face scrunch up."

I reached out and hit Anakin in the chest, but my heart wasn't in it. We'd first met because I'd been at the top of my class with the GAR, before they'd switched primarily to clones, and the Jedi had needed an extra, well-trained hand on short notice. Now, I basically worked as a contractor for the Republic. I'd continued to help the Jedi regularly, especially, and I'd gotten close with many of them. But Anakin more than anyone else.

"So. Rematch?" Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow and holding his light blaster up. I smiled.

"As much fun as it would be to beat you in a No-Force rematch-" Anakin scoffed and raised an eyebrow, but I just ignored him. "-we already spend too much of our time around blasters. How about we order some of our favorite foods and find a good holo to watch?"

Anakin smiled, soft and genuine, and let the hand with his blaster fall back to his side.

"Yeah. I guess we can-"

He got cut short when I brought my hand up as fast as lightning, my recharged blaster now ready to go. I levelled it at his chest, pausing just long enough to give him a grin and register the absolute shock on his face before pulling the trigger.

A bright light exploded across Anakin's chest, making the front half of his shirt about five shades lighter. I cackled.

"Ha, now we're even! Call that a tie and let's get some pizza."

Anakin shook his head at me, but he was grinning all the same.

"You're ruthless. And that was incredibly sneaky of you."

I just gave him a wink.

"You know you love it, Skywalker. It's why you love me."

He snorted, but came close enough to wrap his arms around me and pull me into this chest, too.

"I do love you. Sneaky cheater in competition and all."

"Aww, babe."

Anakin and I shared a laugh and a smile before leaning into a soft, sweet kiss. Since he was a Jedi, we couldn't just do stuff like this whenever and wherever we wanted. Which meant I knew not to take a single moment alone with him for granted.

"So, now that my title's been defended, do you want to follow through on that pizza and some holos?" I asked.

"We could do that. Or..."

"Or?"

Anakin grinned, a familiar troublemaker spark in his eye that I loved. I grinned right back.

"Instead of holos or a rematch, we could team up to go wreak some havoic on Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Play a few rounds absolutely destroying them, and then disappear somewhere nice together where they can't find us."

"I like the way you think, Skywalker. Do the Jedi or the Force or whatever say anything about soulmates?"

"I don't think so... Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure you're mine. Get your blaster ready and let's go have some fun."

I started to head for the door, but Ani's strong arm around my waist pulled me quickly back into a searing kiss. I let my free hand come up to tangle in his hair and kissed him back, hard, until we were both finally forced to come up for air.

"Okay," Anakin said, slightly breathless and with a smile on his face. "Now we can go wreak some havoic."

I laughed as I took Anakin's hand, a little giddy as I pulled him towards the oor. We really made the perfect pair, to the occasional detriment of our friends, whether or not they actually knew we were a pair. Hopefully, we could get through this war together, and find our way to a happy ending on the other side.

And until then, we'd just find as many happy moments together like this as we could.

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