#obikin bingo

[edgeofn1ght]

all you conceal, let out: ch. 1

After the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, in his grief, takes off on a mission half-cocked to find a lost holocron on Jedha. The next thing he knows, he's waking up injured on a planet he's never seen before, surrounded by calm and an unsettling quiet. Then, after passing out again, he wakes up in a strange home, patched, clean, and safe. And his savior is someone he loved who he didn't think he'd ever see again. Will he be able to get back to his own universe, and does he even want to?

i finally managed to fill another square on my @obikin-events bingo card well after the event was over 🫡 (i tried my best to finish it before it ended, but oh well)

alternate universe travel • obikin • 5.1k words • read on ao3 instead

Anakin knew his mission wouldn't be easy. He was warned against going, specifically going alone, but he insisted on taking it anyway. He needed to be away from the Temple, from everything that reminded him – 

“You still need time to mourn!” His own padawan had cried out in the hangar as he strode away from her, his responsibilities, and any bit of sanity he was still holding onto. 

Death is a natural part of life, he thought bitterly as he jogged up the Twilight's ramp, followed quickly by Artoo. I guess you forgot that lesson. 

If he had bothered to turn back, he would have seen Ahsoka's deeply troubled countenance, but he wasn't concerned about that. He had a mission to carry out – one that had been important to Obi-Wan. And he would see it through.

But as Anakin slowly lifted his head out of the dirt, he was no longer so sure he could see it through. He didn't even know where he was anymore. His head throbbed as he became aware of the blood rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise. Not that there was much to hear anyway – no blaster fire, no clankers yelling in their tinny, robotic voices, no shouting clone troopers, no explosions… nothing.

As he became more aware of his being, his whole body ached, hurting so much he wouldn't have been surprised if every single bone in his body was broken. If Obi-Wan were here and could read his thoughts, he would have undoubtedly told him he was being dramatic.

‘Get up, my young padawan, you’re not so old yet.’ He heard his master’s voice so clearly, just as if he was standing right next to him, looking down at his old padawan with a wry grin and his hands on his hips. He frowned – wishing Obi-Wan was here wouldn’t make him appear, no matter how much Anakin wanted it. He turned his head left then right, searching for his ship, for Artoo… for anyone or anything, but he was completely alone. 

Anakin gingerly pushed himself up and made it halfway before his arms gave out and he dropped back into the muck with a disgusting squelch . And that, too, was different. Last he could recall, he had been on Jedha, surrounded by orange dust and sand as far as the eye could see, even inside the old temple ruins. But as he looked around now, there was nothing but vibrant multicolored trees, green grass, and a brilliant blue sky. 

So where the hell was here? 

Anakin really had no chance to think about his location or predicament because, unsurprisingly, he had passed out again. He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was still on the mystery planet and dusk was settling on the land. It was just as quiet as before, but now the silence was punctuated by the sound of night coming to life. 

He always found the night strangely unsettling when wasn't at home. Coruscant’s night never deviated from its day – the ecumenopolis was a constant hum of traffic and pulse of billions of lifeforms. And Tatooine’s night had been… well, when it wasn’t eerily silent, it was a howling sandstorm or some other form of danger such as raiders, Hutt cartels, or baying creatures that could eat you whole. 

He’d forgotten the true sound of silence, the feeling of it. The way it crept into your bones, enveloped your senses, and made you feel uneasy and cold. Not long after the war began, they all became quickly accustomed to being constantly surrounded by dozens, sometimes hundreds of other beings all the time, whether on board a star destroyer or in battle. Then add to that, life on Coruscant, in the Temple, and pair it with his own constant loud thoughts, feelings, and anxieties, and he really couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced a true quiet like this. Had he ever?

Anakin summoned enough energy to roll over with a grunt. His face was covered in muck and dirt, he could feel it in the pull of his skin when he winced. His cloak was wet, but he still used the voluminous sleeves to wipe it away. All his clothes were wet as it turned out – not exactly soaked , but damp enough to be uncomfortable and annoying. He became more aware of every pain in his body – temples throbbing, joints aching, and most inconvenient of all, the sharp stab of pain in his side. It was most likely a fractured or bruised rib… he hoped anyway. 

As he continued to lie supine in the grass, he took stock of the rest of his body, curling and straightening his fingers then rolling his arms across the dirt to test the movement. Next he tried wiggling his toes inside his boots then flexed his calves, and finally pulled up his legs to bend his knees. Nothing seemed broken. He finally pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position, swaying a bit as his vision swam. 

Forgetting about all his physical aches, his gloved hand moved to his belt, searching for his communicator, but it was nowhere to be found. Then it flew to his left hip where his lightsaber usually sat, a comforting weight always at his side, but it wasn’t there either. 

"Shiiiiit," Anakin whispered. He looked at the ground around him, blinking, his eyes straining to see anything at all in the grass in the low light. It could be anywhere. He would find it – he would – but he couldn’t focus right this second. He scrambled to stand but it was too much, too soon and he fell back into the dirt. 

He groaned long and loud into the rapidly darkening night. 

But then, he heard the most beautiful sound to his buzzing ears – the sound of help. Help was on its way in a beaten-up X-34 landspeeder, which sounded like the combustor of the axial compressor needed to be replaced. He’d never been so happy in his life to hear the low rumble of an engine that needed some serious maintenance, or more happy that he had not completely forgotten everything he knew. 

A wave of dizziness and nausea came over him, but he leaned forward and stretched out his arm as the speeder rumbled closer.  “Help?” He could barely muster the single-syllable word. Not that he could be heard over the noise of the engine anyway, but he had to try. 

Then, unfortunately, he blacked out once again.

Anakin slowly came-to, aware of warmth, comfort, and a voice, calm and gentle, like home . He suddenly remembered being lifted, a hand on his cheek, his forehead, the cool night air then – 

Nothing more.

For the third time in less than half a day, Anakin awoke from slumber. Except this one had been much more fitful than the others. He still ached, but at least he was no longer lying face down in mud in wet clothes. Instead, now he was lying on a sofa under a blanket, his head cradled in a soft pillow, and he was clean and comfortable. The thought was concerning, but he'd get to that later.

Golden sunlight filtered in through the room’s shades. It was certainly no longer night, and it seemed rather bright, but he had no idea what time it could possibly be. He squeezed his eyes tightly and tried to remember… He could recall nothing at all of how he got here – on the planet or in this room. He had been on Jedha with Artoo and a couple of troopers from 501st (who showed up at Ahsoka's insistence), combing through an old excavation site. It was the last-known location of an unknown holocron, apparently buried amongst the ruins, and looking for it had felt like searching for a single star in a nebula. 

When the Jedi first learned of its existence (or ‘ potential existence’ rather, as Obi-Wan had insisted), neither he nor Obi-Wan had truly believed in the presence of such a holocron on the planet. Something like that would surely have been recovered long ago! Obi-Wan’s incredulity echoed in Anakin's head.  But t hey were instructed to at least look, as it would have been rather foolish to allow something like that to languish untouched with the potential of falling into anyone’s hands. And if the rumor was true and they did find such a thing, they could study it. Incredulity aside, Obi-Wan wasn't very good at completely hiding his interest (or at least not to Anakin), and he had remarked several times on how he'd love to study it and learn all its secrets. Anakin had adored the way the older man’s eyes lit up just talking about it. He wouldn't have dreamed of ever telling his old master that.

Then he would never get a chance to. Obi-Wan became one with the Force, leaving Anakin behind forever, and he was forced to go on, to live the rest of his life without his best friend and master. It had been three months, and the wound was as raw and as fresh as the day Obi-Wan was taken from him. He couldn't find peace no matter what he did or who he talked to. They weren't Obi-Wan. 

Master Kenobi’s loss was felt keenly by all the Jedi, but Anakin was sure he didn’t mean as much to them as he did to him. His master was gone and Anakin would never have peace again. 

So Anakin had gone to Jedha on a half-cocked mission to find the holocron, because Obi-Wan had wanted to find it, and Obi-Wan wanted to study it, and that was a last wish Anakin could honor even though every fiber of his being cried out for the loss of the man he loved. 

Perhaps the holocron held secrets to eternal life. Perhaps there was a way to see or speak to him again. Feeling delirious with the prospect, Anakin had run headlong into the temple ruins built inside a cave mouth of a large plateau, feeling as if he was getting close. The pull of the Force was strong, like a nexus of power. He remembered a thrumming and buzzing in his head then nothing at all after that. 

And now he was in some house he didn't know, on a planet he didn't recognize. 

He carefully stretched out with his senses and found that all was calm. He reached further looking for someone, anything , but didn’t get much beyond the general course of life on the planet. Then suddenly, on the edge of his consciousness, a single life form appeared, close… It was inside the house with him.  Anakin should be on high alert, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be. Perhaps he would come back to the why later. Wherever he was, he felt safe and not in any danger. The life form felt calm, relaxed, and slightly amused. Then suddenly he heard a low humming, but not like the humming of the Force, but a living being softly humming a tune. It wasn’t in the room with him but it was close. Then it stopped. 

"Ah, you're awake."

Anakin whipped his head in the direction of the voice. THAT VOICE. A voice he knew better than anyone else's. A voice he had heard most every day since he was nine years old, a voice he'd grown to love more than anyone else's. He twisted around to get a better look, hissing when his side and back protested, clearly still in no shape to move so quickly. 

“Take it easy!” The voice warned. 

He watched in disbelief as the source of the voice set a tray down on the small table in front of the sofa. As he took in the man before him, his chest constricted and tightened and his breathing shallowed. He stood on the precipice of a panic attack with no way to ward it off. Because here was Obi-Wan Kenobi in the flesh, standing in front of him, whole and alive . 

He was older than Anakin knew him to be at the time of his death – by five years or so, maybe more. His hair was longer, not quite as long as it was right before the start of the war, but long enough so the ends curled around his ears and sat on the collar of his shirt. There were more strands of grey threaded throughout his hair and at his temples, more lines etched into his face, particularly around the eyes. His skin had taken on more of a golden hue than Anakin had ever seen – like he spent most of his time outside – which also meant more, darker freckles dotting his forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose. 

He was wearing a light colored work shirt with the buttons undone to mid-breastbone and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His trousers were the color of rust and he wore tall, brown boots. The clothes hugged his strong figure as if they were tailor-made specifically for him. Anakin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Obi-Wan in anything but his loose, cream-colored tunics, robes or under blacks and armor.

He looked like a man untouched by war, healthy and content. Anakin had forgotten that once Obi-Wan did look like that, but it was long ago. He stared, slack-jawed, as he thought of Obi-Wan’s pale face and lifeless, clear blue eyes as he held him in death. This was Obi-Wan as he could have been – should have been. Anakin's heart clenched in his chest. 

"I brought you some breakfast," the man finally added, still hesitant and wary of what Anakin would do next.  

Feeling panicked at the strange normality of it all, Anakin attempted to fully sit up so he could defend himself if needed, but he was still in quite a bit of pain. He grabbed his side and winced as the aching muscles in his core contracted. Then his fingers came in contact with a large bandage stuck to his left side. 

"Careful now!" Obi-Wan rushed over to grab Anakin's arm and steady him. The touch was like a brand in his skin. He ripped his arm away and stood quickly, hitting his shin on the small table as he stumbled away from the strange Obi-Wan. He blindly reached again for where a lightsaber should be at his hip, only to find it still wasn't there. 

Instead, Anakin brandished the knife he'd grabbed off the tray in his haste to distance himself from the imposter. "What kind of trick is this? Who are you?"

Not-Obi-Wan put his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. "I'm not really thrilled about being threatened in my own home. Even if it is with a dull butter knife. I can assure you, I am unarmed."

"Obi-Wan… what… what are you doing here?"

Confusion colored the man's features, but it was there and gone just as quickly. "It's just Ben,” he said, slowly putting his hands down. 

Anakin's eye brows pinched as he frowned, “Ben? I– nevermind!” He thrust the knife out in warning and Ben's hands flew back up. "Where am I? How are you here??"

"Well this is MY house, and you're a guest in it, though I have half a mind to throw you out now for threatening me."

This ‘Ben’ was so much like his Obi-Wan, it took his breath away. The way he talked, even if the accent was slightly less of the clipped Coruscanti, and more of a slight brogue, then right down to the casualness with which he handled Anakin's threat… But behind the light-hearted jest, there was a definite wariness, a bit of fear for this complete stranger in his home. Because Ben clearly didn't know him. Anakin meant nothing to him. This wasn't his Obi-Wan. 

Anakin blinked as he tried to remember anything before he woke up, trying to make sense of this situation. Maybe he was actually lying in a cot in a tent in the middle of a dusty desert on Jedha. Or perhaps on a moderately comfy bed in the Halls of Healing back inside the Jedi Temple. Or maybe he was floating inside a bacta tank – injured, knocked out, and healing. Yes, that was it. He was asleep and this was a dream, and in his great grief, he'd conjured up this older Obi-Wan. An Obi-Wan who was not only alive, but content, happy, and healthy. Of course he would – that's what Anakin wanted for his friend and the man he loved. He had created a life that Obi-Wan didn't get to live.

Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly and willed himself to wake up. 

"You seem to be very hurt," the voice spoke again, and Anakin opened his eyes. "Why don't you eat something then go lie down?"

"Maybe I am hurt, but this isn't real, you're not real," he said resolutely. "I am hurt, yes. But I'm at home, in the Temple." Maybe if he said it forcefully enough and without any doubt he would make it so. 

Not-Obi-Wan stepped towards him and Anakin stepped back. 

"I have no intention of hurting you, I think you need to lie down before you hurt yourself," Ben stepped towards him again, one hand extended, palm up as if he was trying to settle a wild nexu.  

“You know that I could hurt YOU,” Anakin said, his voice wavering. The knife in his hand trembled. 

“You won’t though.”

Their eyes fixed on each other as Ben stepped closer. Anakin didn't know whether he wanted to fight or flee, but he felt immobilized so he did neither. 

Before he knew what was happening, Ben lunged forward and wrapped his right hand around Anakin’s wrist, gripping it tightly, forcing him to drop the knife, then another arm came around Anakin’s neck and squeezed. 

“Sleep,” was the last word Anakin heard before he did just that.

Anakin dreamt of Obi-Wan. 

But not the Obi-Wan he had known since he was nine years old. It was an Obi-Wan he'd known for maybe nine minutes.  

In his dream, this Obi-Wan looked exactly like his Obi-Wan, he dressed differently but otherwise moved and talked like him. His gestures, jokes, and smiles were the same, even down to the lingering sadness behind his eyes that Anakin had always noticed when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t looking. But in his dream, he was still on this other planet, and not Coruscant, and Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi, but a farmer. 

Anakin was inside a small house which sat in the middle of several acres of land covered in trees and lush fields. Directly behind the home was a large garden where the older Obi-Wan currently stood amongst many kinds of plants, small and large. He was naked to the waist, and the sinking sun's rays reflected off his sweat-shiny skin, making it glisten. Ben was a bit thicker than Anakin remembered ever seeing Obi-Wan, but he was still strong and lithe. The muscles in his back and arms flexed as he dug into the earth and bent down to plant new seeds. Obi-Wan finally stood and turned, wiping sweat from his brow with a bit of cloth he pulled from his back pocket. 

“Anakin,” he said with the loveliest smile Anakin had ever seen. 

This Obi-Wan loved him. Anakin knew it somehow. 

Anakin’s eyes flew open, he was sweating and his breathing labored. He sat up quickly, blankets pooling at his waist, and looked around. Daylight was fading, but it was enough to illuminate the room and he could see it was homey and cozy. He was now in a small bedroom he didn’t recognize in a very comfy bed. Far more comfortable than anything he'd grown used to in battlefield tents and aboard Venator destroyers. He looked to his right, wondering if he’d find Ben there, since this was surely his room, but when he found it empty, he exhaled, strangely relieved. 

The bed was a modest size, easily large enough for two, but not so big that two people would never meet in the night. A dresser sat pushed up against the wall opposite with a small mirror resting on top. From where he sat, Anakin could see there were some trinkets and other items there as well, but he couldn’t make out what they were. A large chair sat by the window with a blanket haphazardly thrown over and a discarded datapad in the seat. On the small bedside table next to his side of the bed, there was a lamp, and surprisingly, his communicator and his lightsaber. 

Anakin pushed away the covers and swung his legs over the side. He picked up his lightsaber to feel the familiar and comforting heft. Ben had undoubtedly found it, but it was a bit surprising that he had actually returned it to him. Maybe he didn't know what it was, didn't know what Anakin could do with it. Well, at least he'd be spared the 'your lightsaber is your life' lecture, though Anakin would have given up his lightsaber forever just to hear it again. 

He was still wearing only a pair of sleep pants and he was glad to find that the glove over his mechno-arm was still in place. He wiggled his toes then slid off the bed and stepped onto soft, cool carpet and stretched away some of the stiffness. It felt like he had been asleep for days. At the window, he pulled back the curtain slightly to peer outside. The sun was setting in the distance behind the foothills, painting the sky in soft pinks, oranges, and purples. The landscape was bathed in a soft yellow, but none of that beauty compared to the man standing in the middle of the large vegetable garden. 

Just like in his dream.

His heart rate picked up again. 

Was he even awake now? Or was all of this a dream? 

Suddenly small flashes of what he thought were recent memories returned to him – a pair of strong arms wrapping around his back and under his knees, the feel of a warm, wet cloth being dragged across his face gently, humming in another room, then Anakin threatening to stab this beautiful man with a butter knife. He flushed, hoping against hope that that was also only from his dream. 

He dropped the curtain and made his way through the house and out onto the back porch. Ben was practically glowing in the evening sun. It only took a second for him to look up and smile. 

“Hello there.” Ben thrust his shovel into the dirt, then rested his elbow on the handle. Anakin’s mouth suddenly became very dry. “Oh, I’ve hidden all the butter knives,” he added with a slight twist to his mouth. Anakin's face fell – so that one was true. “However, that thing I put on the bedside table seems like it could do much more damage than a knife.” Ben huffed as he pulled a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face. 

“That 'thing'??” Anakin scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. His still-bare chest, he was reminded. Maybe from that distance Ben couldn’t tell that he was blushing. “That thing, Ben, is my lightsaber. MY LIFE. You are… were always so fond of reminding me.” Ben chuckled but said nothing else. It felt so odd for him to say nothing at all about it. 

They stood and stared at each other for a few moments. Anakin allowed the stillness and quiet of the evening to envelope him once more. Was this really his current reality? Or was it possible that his mind had actually created some world so tangible, so intricate and detailed? An Obi-Wan who was both Obi-Wan and not simultaneously, and who had no clue who Anakin was.

Ben pulled his shovel from the ground and walked towards the house. He stopped below the porch and stared up at Anakin. “You must be hungry, would you like latemeal?”

As if right on cue, his stomach growled. “Yes, okay.”

“Let me get cleaned up and I will get it for you,” Ben said with a nod and passed by Anakin without a second look. 

Anakin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched as Ben deftly moved around the space preparing the meal. It was strange how everything seemed so familiar, from the way he stood and held himself, to the way he drank from his own mug, even down to how quiet and focused he was on the task. It was strange to know and love the man so well, but to not know him at all. Because this still wasn't his Obi-Wan. No matter what his dream told him. No matter what he wanted to believe and be real. But he was so like him, it made his heart ache. He knew a mind consumed with grief could create fantastical things, believe the unbelievable, especially if it brought back loved ones. He'd also heard stories of beings traveling through time and space, but that’s all they were supposed to be, stories – ‘wistie stories' his mom told him before bed or outlandish yarns spun by his fellow padawans as they shirked their duties.

But if that was true, and he'd been flung into another time and universe… Where was Anakin Skywalker here? And why wasn't he with Obi-Wan Kenobi?

He snapped out of his reverie when Ben set some food down in front of him then took his own place in the chair across the table. It was intimate, but Anakin couldn’t think about it too much because he was starving and the food smelled amazing. It was a needed distraction. 

Between sips from his mug of tea, Ben finally spoke up. "I didn't see a ship. Or a speeder, for that matter."

"Uh well, I didn't have one," Anakin said as he pushed the food around on his plate. "At least not here." He shoved a large chunk of fried tuber in his mouth. 

Ben narrowed his eyes, "I'm not exactly close to the nearest town, are you saying you walked?" 

“No,” Anakin said around a mouthful of food. "I just ended up out there.”

Ben frowned, "How do you mean ‘ended up’?” 

"Just that. I was on Jedha then I woke up in a mud puddle… I think."

Ben took another sip of his tea. "You've still not given me your name. What do I call you?"

Anakin felt like sulking, "You really don't know it." It wasn’t a question.

"Well, I… you seem to talk a lot in your sleep, and I thought maybe you'd mention it, but strangely, I only heard my own name over and over.” He looked down then cleared his throat. “But I can't really understand how you know my given name.” He stroked his beard.

Anakin felt as confused as Ben – or actually Obi-Wan. But he did know he didn’t like the way that sounded. He couldn’t remember any part of his dreams except for whatever vision that he had of Ben in the field before he saw him out there. He was now afraid of anything he might have said. 

He toyed briefly with giving a fake name, but then decided against it at the last minute. This was Obi-Wan… some Obi-Wan, and with him he was always Anakin. “It’s Anakin.” 

"Anakin," Ben repeated softly. 

He ducked his head and continued eating, hoping that the older man would find something else to stare at for a little while. But he could feel his eyes still on him. 

After a prolonged silence, Anakin spoke up again. "I'm not from here, wherever here is." Ben stared at him but kept silent so Anakin would continue. "I'm from Coruscant. Well, that's where I live anyway… In the Jedi Temple."

Ben’s eyebrows raised briefly then he looked down into his mug. “You’re a ways from Coruscant.”  

Well now they were getting somewhere, and at least Coruscant existed in this universe. "And where is here?"

"Stewjon," Ben said as he sat back in his chair.

Of course. Of course! It was so obvious now – he’d been sent to Obi-Wan’s birth planet for some reason. Maybe it would be a starting point for figuring out the how and why. 

"And what of the war?" 

"What war?"

“What war?” Anakin huffed, "THE war, Ben, the war against the Separatists!?"

Ben shook his head in response. "I'm afraid I don't know it. I try to keep up with news from the Core Worlds as much as possible, but I've never heard of a war or the Separatists. Though, from the name alone, I can possibly figure out their platform.” 

Anakin leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. "When I say I'm not from here, I mean, not from HERE – this universe." It was out there – now it was up to Ben to decide what to do with it. Ben's brow dipped slightly, but he remained silent. "I am a Jedi, a general in the Grand Army of the Republic, I was your…" He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Did he even know the Jedi? He certainly wasn't his master here. "I was on a mission on Jedha, then… then, I woke up here."

Ben sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't believe him. Anakin could tell even though he said nothing. 

He huffed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to get back, I need to get back. I don't belong here." Even if he could be at Obi-Wan’s side again, where he did belong. 

Ben stroked his beard in thought. "Anakin, what you're saying… it's impossible. You can't hop to another universe. You can't travel through time or to another reality."

Anakin stood quickly, nearly upsetting the chair. "But I did it! And I’m here talking to you! An Obi-Wan who… who doesn't know or care anything about me!"

"Anakin, come now, that's not–" Ben started but Anakin wasn’t staying to listen. 

He left the kitchen quickly and headed back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down into the bed, wanting to scream into the pillow. 

If he couldn’t even remember how he got here in the first place, how in the hell could he find a way back? And Ben clearly wasn’t going to help him. Anakin had no holocron here or a way to get back to Jedha to check. He couldn’t even get back to Coruscant, to the Temple. Maybe others like Mace and Yoda or Plo Koon existed here, even if he didn’t. Maybe they would know and could help him.

Anakin closed his eyes to keep the tears from slipping free, but they fell anyway, wetting the soft pillow underneath his head.

[soldieronbarnes]

Kinktober #1 -- Humiliation, hair pulling

Joining kinktober super late, but if you have any prompts, just drop them in my ask box!!

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is so full of derision that Anakin squirms, gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His Master so rarely resorts to contempt, hates having to do so, he knows, and he knows he deserves the scorn, he does, after defying his Master so openly, so carelessly, in front of a Galactic senator no less.

Usually, his Master is so, so gentle and understanding, unless Anakin pushes him too far, and he did – he pushed him too far, knowingly, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows that it’s a punishment as well a a reward, the way his Padawan braid if wrapped tightly in Obi-Wan’s fist like it’s a leash, the way red blooms around the shape of his Master’s hand on his bottom and makes everything more sensitive, the way the pace of his cock against Anakin’s prostate is just this side of too much too fast, pushing the air out of his lungs and making his spine bend and melt into the movement. 

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan repeats disdainfully. “You think you can defy me? You think you are ready to be a Knight?” 

He tugs harshly at the braid, and Anakin whines. “Master – Master, I’m –”

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan snarls. “You’re so needy, so desperate for a good fuck. You can’t go three days without panting for it like a dog. You go any longer without anyone fucking your brains out and you turn stupid, unable to formulate any clearly thought out plan, as you demonstrated today. And you want to be a Knight?”

Anakin keens. He needs Obi-Wan to fuck him harder, to evaporate any coherent thought. “Master, Master, please –”

Cruelly, Obi-Wan slows his thrusts until they are shallow, the movement barely noticeable. “A Knight is self-sufficient. A Knight is selfless, serving the people of the Republic. A Knight doesn’t want or need anything.” 

He leans down, plastering himself to Anakin, chest to chest, and whispers in his ear. Anakin grasps the opportunity to wrap his legs around him and kiss him, panting against his lips when Obi-Wan pulls back. 

“A Knight is separated from his Master, because he can be trusted to act on his own. Do you think you can be trusted to be on your own, away from me for months and months? You can’t,” he says. “Look at how much you need direction, how much you need a cock in you. You get stupid when someone doesn’t fuck you right for a few days. What are you going to do when you are apart from me, hm? Are you going to doom entire civilisations because you are horny and stupid? Are you going to just fuck anyone to keep you in check? Are you going to be happy hanging off the first thick cock you find?”

“I wouldn’t,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t, Master!”

“Yes, you would. You’re so hungry for it. You’d let anyone fuck you, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t”, Anakin protests.

“My pretty little liar,” Obi-Wan croons. “You think you can think straight without getting fucked? How will you complete missions on your own, then? Tell me.”

“I’d make a replica of your cock and fuck myself with it,” Anakin gasps, because there’s no line in the sand he hasn’t relished in stepping over. It’s the perfect solution, too; he’d get to go on his own missions without missing anything. 

To his surprise, Obi-Wan just laughs. “You think all you need is the shape of my cock, and that will save you?” he asks. He pulls out, wrestles Anakin on his belly before he can protest, and lets the head of his cock kiss Anakin’s hole. “Go on, then. If you think you don’t need me, just my cock – prove it. Get yourself off.”

And Anakin – well, he tries. The instructions are simple enough, and the position he’s in allows for a decent range of movement. He starts slow and sinuous, and ends up with a quick and brutal pace, and it should be enough – enough to entice Obi-Wan to move, to touch him in any way, enough to get off – but it isn’t, and soon enough he’s sobbing with need. He can’t rock back onto Obi-Wan’s cock at a satisfying angle, not quickly enough, not when he’s trying to strip his cock with his hand, and he’s so, so, close, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not enough. 

“Let me ride you,” he begs. 

His Master snorts. “You think that’ll help you?” he asks, but he lies down on his back, pulling Anakin on top of him, surprisingly indulgent. “There you go. Try your best.”

The taunting challenge in his voice makes Anakin set a quick, rough pace, because he can do this, he can  – except Obi-Wan refuses to touch him, crosses his hands behind his back and allows Anakin to use him, but won’t even put his hands on him; won’t touch his cock, won’t grip his hips in those wonderful broad hands of his that can span so much of Anakin’s waist, won’t tease his nipples of pull his hair like he usually does and it’s – it’s torture, is what it is. Anakin rides him until his thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, until tears are rolling down his face and the gasping breaths he takes turn into shaking sobs. 

He’s so, so close, still, but he cannot fall over the edge, no matter what he does.

“Master,” he begs, “Master, please, I want to come –”

“And why,” Obi-Wan asks, “do you think you always deserve to get what you want?”

A desperate whine escapes him. “Please, I promise I’ll be better, I’ll be good –”

“Will you? Will you be good so you can be a Knight? So you can be trusted, away from me?”

“No,” Anakin gasps. “I’ll be good for you, I will, but please don’t send me away, I need you, I need you –”

And finally, finally, that’s the right answer. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s hands are on his hips, the grip tight and bruising, holding Anakin still as his hips piston up into the scorching heat of his hole, the pace fast and relentless and unforgiving and finally, finally enough. Anakin comes with a silent scream, spine bowed and fingernails raking visible trails down the fair skin of Obi-Wan’s chest. He thinks he blacks out for a second, and when he comes to, he’s half collapsed on his Master’s chest, his cock still moving in and out of him at a brutal pace, making him shudder with the aftershocks of pleasure. 

“Give it to me,” he whines, speech slurred with how good it feels. “Master, come inside me, mark me, please, give it to me, show everyone I’m yours!”

Obi-Wan curses under his breath, and before Anakin can even parse his words, he’s dumped unceremoniously onto his back, and he could cry at the sudden emptiness. 

“I’ll mark you, for everyone to see,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice dark and heated, kneeling over Anakin and stripping his cock quickly, wildly, and Anakin keens when he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Yes, yes Master, please –” He barely has time to open his mouth before the first thick, hot stripes of come coat his face and tongue, his neck and chest and –

“Look at this,” Obi-Wan says, tugging at his Padawan braid. That, too, is covered in white strands of his Master’s come. Anakin whimpers when he sees it, and despite himself, he feels his cock twitch with interest. “Do you know what that means?”

“I’m yours,” Anakin whispers, his voice hoarse. “It means I’m yours.”

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan softens. “Good boy,” he praises, and leans down to kiss him, and everything else fades away. 

[tomicaleto]

Preview of today's bingo fill :)

[anakinsthot]

New werewolf AU out for Halloween! 0% horror 100% cute.

This fills my free space for the obikin bingo :) which I am GOING TO GET A BINGO ON :) >:)

[rexismycopilot]

Words: 1.6k

Tags: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Caning, Hurt No Comfort, Suitless Darth Vader, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, The Author Regrets Everything, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mildly Dubious Consent

Summary: The Sith lord Obi-Wan finds evidence of a plot against him and the Empire. His apprentice, Lord Vader, is used to demonstrate his power over his apprentice and the control he truly holds in the Empire.

For @obikin-events bingo: Sith AU

[vondasvagaries]

Star Wars names are so strange that it took me a little too long to realize that "Obikin Bingo" wasn't one🤣🤣🤣

[moonlightatnoon]

Prompt: Mob/Gangster AU

Summary:

“We will never agree on this,” said Obi-Wan watching the stiff curve of Anakin’s back. He cut a striking figure, even when cradled in the dark he still called to Obi-Wan. It was hard to not look, to resist the ever tightening grip of the pull Anakin exercised on him.

“I don’t need you to agree with me, Obi-Wan. I just need you to stop fighting me.”

Mob boss Anakin Skywalker is one of the youngest gang leaders to rise to power in recent history. DCI Obi-Wan Kenobi is tasked with bringing this rising threat to justice. The only problem is Obi-Wan and Anakin have history, and the Detective in question finds himself walking on a tightrope of morality. After all the heart wants what it wants.

@obikin-events

[singmanyfaces]

“The Dance”

Modern AU; Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Summary: Burlesque performer Anakin Skywalker has some fun with an audience member during a routine one night, and sparks a mutual interest.  

@obikin-events​ Written for the Bingo prompt “Burlesque AU.”  

Burlesque AU, Meet Cute

1882 words, completed

My first bingo!

[prowlingthunder]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46499134 (Back) In Black

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category:M/M Fandoms: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Obikin Bingo, Bingo, Clothes Sharing, wearing each other's clothes, jedi are free about sex, jedi in open relationships, relationships, generals in the war Language: English Series: ← Previous Work Part 236 of The Everlasting List of Shenanigans, Part 1 of Two Halves Of The Open Circle Collections: Obikin Events Bingo Round One

Summary: Cody did him the greatest honor of waiting until the meeting was adjourned.

Obikin Bingo Squares: (Free Space) and Wearing Each Other's Clothes

[jabba-theslutt]

Oh shit, this was supposed to be for bingo (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

@obikin-events

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Dooku (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Stalker Obi-Wan, stalker au, Anakin is 17, so I tagged it underage to be safe, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unhappy Ending, Suicide, No Sucidial Ideation, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker Summary:

Obi-Wan gets a new neighbor and muse. His life changes forever (probably for the worse)

[soldieronbarnes]

Kinktober #3 - edging over the edge

#obikin kinktober fic, <1k When Anakin was younger, when he’d just come to the Temple, he’d thought Obi-Wan was the kindest person in the galaxy. He’d smiled at him a lot, and answered all his questions with a patience Anakin was unused to, and given him all his attention while his Master was busy running errands; back then, running errands had meant annoying the Council repeatedly until they allowed him to toss Obi-Wan aside as his apprentice and take on Anakin as his new Padawan learner, a fact that Anakin as a child had been unaware of – but Obi-Wan certainly hadn’t, based on the heavy thrum always weighing down the force around him at the time, always hastily concealed once Anakin entered a room. He hadn’t known enough about the Force to identify the feeling then. Once he did understand, it had only increased his awe and respect for his newly appointed Master. 

His Master was a deep, endless well of kindness and patience. The kindest in the galaxy.

Fifteen years later, Anakin is willing to amend that statement. 

Oh, his Master is patient indeed. Too patient to be called kind, in this scenario, at least if one deigned to ask Anakin. 

They’d been separated for several weeks, torn apart by battlefields and missions and responsibilities, sent to different ends of the galaxy with limited means of communication; that alone would be enough to drive anyone mad, and Obi-Wan had asked him not to come, not without him. That alone had been torture. And when they’d finally reconvened on Coruscant – well, Anakin had made the grave mistake of mouthing off in front of the Council, and Obi-Wan had summarily decided that, as punishment, he wouldn’t allow Anakin any pleasures of the flesh.

And now, finally, after two weeks of grovelling, he’s in Obi-Wan’s bed at last, hands tied to the headboard, because he cannot be trusted not to touch, apparently, and feet tied spread-eagle to the bedposts, because he’d been squirming too much, trying to buck into the pleasure Obi-Wan’s hands offered, too greedy, too desperate for it. 

So now he can’t move at all, and he’d been in this bed for two hours and he still hasn’t been allowed to come. 

So maybe his Master isn’t kind after all. Just patient. Too patient. 

The ghost of a touch sweeps up his left flank, making Anakin tremble. It’s so, so hard to hold himself still, to not arch into it. He has to bite his lip so hard they’re nearly bloodless, so hard the delicate skin breaks, to avoid any sound escaping him. 

As a reward,the hand moves to pinch and twist his left nipple harshly. Anakin cries out, and this time he cannot keep his spine from bending, cannot help the desperate curve of his body seeking out the touch. His cock, so hard and dark red it’s almost purple, jerks and spills more precome over his twitching abdomen. 

Immediately, the hand retreats.

Anakin wants to weep.

“Please,” he whispers, “please.”

Sat beside him on the bed, Obi-Wan hums contemplatively. He hasn’t even taken off his robes, looking cool and composed and perfectly put together, as a Jedi should, while Anakin falls apart next to him. It’s a special kind of torture. 

“I suppose you have been trying to be good,” Obi-Wan muses idly, stroking his beard. “So maybe you do deserve a reward.”

His fingers slide over Anakin’s stomach, gathering the precome pooled there to slick up his hand before his fist wraps around Anakin’s cock loosely, lazily spreading the moisture. Anakin can hear himself cry out; the touch is a relief, but it also hurts – Obi-Wan has kept him on the edge for hours now, and he’s been hard for so long and it’s so much. He feels his balls draw even tighter to his body, ready to shake apart at the lightest of touches and – 

He bucks his hips, and immediately, Obi-Wan’s hand disappears.

“No,” he wails, “no, please, I can’t, Matser, I need, please, I can’t, it hurts –”

“Oh darling,” Obi-Wan says, pressing sweet kisses along his cheek, his temple, as desperate sobs wreck his body, “it’s alright. I’ll give you what you need, I promise. You’ve been so good for me, holding on for so long. It’s alright now.”

And then there’s a fist wrapped around his length again, tighter this time, actually jerking him, and a single finger breaching his hole and teasing his prostate. His entire focus narrows down to the lower part of his body, and it only takes four, maybe five strokes of Obi-Wan’s broad, calloused hands before Anakin is shouting loud enough for the entire Temple to hear as he’s coming, balanced on a knife’s edge of pleasure and pain. 

Obi-Wan’s hands never stop moving, working him through his orgasm and beyond, relentless and unforgiving even as Anakin is shivering and thrashing from the overstimulation, beyond words as tears stream down his face. He’s not even grown soft, and it shouldn’t even be possible when he comes again a couple of minutes later, right on the tail of his first orgasm, but he does, cock spurting in Obi-Wan’s grasp. This time the wave crashing over him is both softer and more overwhelming – there’s no air to be punched out of his lungs, so all he manages is a wet gasp, before he collapses on the bedspread, utterly spent, his body limp. 

“Good boy,” he hears Obi-Wan murmur distantly, reverently, alongside a rustle of clothes. Maybe the night isn’t over for him yet, after all.

[tomicaleto]

Get ready

[anakinsthot]

This fills the Sith AU prompt and gives me a BINGO!

Wrote this in one night which, for me, is insane. It's not where I thought my sith au would go but I'm so pleased with it! A bit different than what I usually write.

[dark--whisperings]

Prompts: Bad Things Happen Bingo

Happy New Year friendsssssssssss! ✨💖✨💖✨💖

Looking back on last year, I realized that I wrote a lot less that I wanted to. And, that I really enjoyed myself when I was writing prompts for festivals. When I stumbled across @badthingshappenbingo, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to encourage myself to write more and interact with the fun little online community I've stumbled into over the last couple of years.

With that in mind... PROMPT ME! Based on the prompts on the card below, send me an ask (anon or not) with a pairing, one of the prompts below, your DW/DNW, and (if you are so inclined) more specific details for your chosen prompt! I won't guarantee that I will get to all of them (or within a certain timeframe), but I'm going to challenge myself to do my absolute best! Also, I'm game to write pretty much anything, but I might alter slightly if something I'm not super game pops up!

Happy prompting, and I look forward to seeing what you all come up with! 😈😈😈

[jaggededges123]

wip wednesday

it is still wednesday, so have a wip snip:

“Professor, I’m done changing your oil like you asked, but, um…”

The young, deep voice of Obi-Wan’s former student appeared nearly at the same time the boy himself did, rounding out of the entryway of Obi-Wan’s home and into the kitchen where Obi-Wan was busy grading papers. It was immediately obvious what he had meant to say, because beneath Anakin’s charming curly hair, beautiful blue eyes, and that muscle in his neck that always drew Obi-Wan’s gaze, there was an oil-slick splotch in the middle of his faded t-shirt.

Obi-Wan set his red pen down—his third of the afternoon. “Would you like me to wash that for you, Anakin? Before the stain sets?”

“Oh, I mean, I was just going to ask if I should come tomorrow to rake under your tree instead,” Anakin murmured. He scratched at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to…”

“Please, Anakin, it’s no trouble.” Obi-Wan smiled, already halfway to standing. “It’ll take me five minutes, plus whatever time it’s in the wash.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, a soft flush on his face. He began to pull at the hem of his shirt, baring his torso in one smooth motion that had Obi-Wan’s mouth going dry. “Alright, Professor. Can I borrow your shower, then?”

Obi-Wan’s face was hot, probably as reddish as his beard, as he took the shirt Anakin offered him. “Sure… Sure. You know where the bathroom is.”

The way Anakin was looking at Obi-Wan intensified, something thickening between the two of them until it could have been cut with a knife. Anakin lingered for a moment longer, knuckles grazing the table and the papers Obi-Wan had been so diligently working to evaluate just moments earlier. His thumb swept over one corner, where there was a big red “82” marked by Obi-Wan’s own hand.

“You know where I’ll be, then.”

“Mhmm!” Obi-Wan chirped, looking away suddenly. He couldn’t… he shouldn’t look at Anakin too long, when he was in a state of undress like he was.

Anakin went upstairs, and when Obi-Wan didn’t feel like the image of Anakin’s well-sculpted chest was burned into his retinas anymore, he retreated to the laundry room with Anakin’s slightly sweaty, oil-stained shirt.

What a situation Obi-Wan found himself in.

[moonlightatnoon]

No Devotion Greater by myideaofbeautiful

Chapter 5: Prompt - Childhood friends

Summary:

"That isn't your decision to make."

A growl rumbled in Anakin's throat, "you can't go!"

"Why?" Obi-Wan shouted. Anakin panted into the space between them, staring into Obi-Wan's eyes. They burned with contained fury. Obi-Wan had always been better at containing his anger. As kids they had both been spitfires, but the years have dulled Obi-Wan's temper. A calm had settled over him. Anakin both envied and loathed it.

His eyes flicked down and caught on where his hand was curled around Obi-Wan's bared skin. He watched as Obi-Wan swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing beneath the spread of his fingers and his mouth ran dry.

Then he crashed their mouths together.

@obikin-events