#smut fic younglings stay away | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

veras1ne · 2 years ago

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“My Angel”

Summary ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Senator-Jedi gatherings weren’t your idea of a night out and an opportunity to let go, but being accompanied by your Jedi knight was one you simply couldn’t say no to.

🫧Pairing ☆‧₊˚ Anakin Skywalker/Reader ˗ˏˋGender Neutral! As always 🫶🏻 ´ˎ˗

🦢WARNINGS || THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. You have been warned for the following: Explicit Smut, Degradation, slight Dumbification, Objectification, Spoken Consent, Fingering, Aftercare, Spit As Lube; NO piv! Testing the waters with writing smut!

Thank you my stars for the absolute love you guys have been giving me on my most recent posts I’m so thankful for all the notes, comments and reblogs!! 🫶🏻 if you like this post you may like my others and you can find them here on my masterlist. Kisses to all 🫶🏻

This’ll make sense later in the fic but a side note/translation here, Ma Schutta can be translated to “My Slut” LMAO you’ll know it when you see it❤️

Gatherings amongst the Senate were a common occurrence; however, for you to attend them, it was not.

Due to your duties as both a member of the Senate and a mentor for the Legislative Youth Program, it was safe to say your hands were overflowing with tasks to be completed, and while some might have called your schedule hectic, your responsibilities didn’t stop you from doing your job perfectly well, as much as anyone else in their right mind would. You could be sitting on your bed, reading some of the essays that had been left at your office, or practicing your speech for the next vote. But you weren’t complaining because your work had presented you with many new opportunities within your life and career, including meeting General Anakin Skywalker, yet even your work, newly combined with his, meant you practically only saw him on special occasions, leading to stolen kisses and rushed goodbyes.

Despire all, the senator gatherings, closely watched by the Jedi council and many other Jedi who were not on missions or just needed a night out, were close to heaven, where many both politicians and Jedi were attempting to get intoxicated to forget their problems and duties with a night of boring conversations and dancing in the gathering hall. On one of these nights, you found yourself converging with many new faces, welcoming Jedi and newly appointed politicians who had quickly gotten caught up in the overstimulatingly new environment and fast-paced politics. While getting lost in conversation and comforting smiles, you failed to acknowledge the wandering eyes and lustful glances from your partner himself. Fortunately for you, neither of you could stay away from each other for long, and you knew he simply couldn't contain his desire for you for much longer.

Truthfully, you couldn't wait to chat with your lover in a scene deemed both convenient and, above all, inconspicuous, but every once in a while, a loving game of cat and mouse was just what both of you needed.

Senator Alavar was a common face, dressed in a dark blue gown and vibrant makeup. It was undeniable that her demeanor was confident and demanding, and yet your simple conversations had not lacked either of those things. Even her poise in the way she gallantly trudged and made her way through the crowd to greet you had not presented itself in anything other than prestige. "Ah! Senator, how lovely it is to see your face! It's absolutely wonderful to know those younglings in the Legislative Program haven't worn you down yet!" She playfully poked you, nudging you with her shoulder. Although you would love to spend a night away from your duties, you're swiftly brought back to reality as her chuckles filled her ears, laughing at her own joke. "Oh, Alavar," You sighed, smiling, and said, "I could never get sick of them. After all, they're the ones to fill our shoes." You joked, alerting her that her efforts to make you laugh had not fallen on deaf ears. Her guard being let down after you joined in conversation, Oh, of course. Some of these younglings have some rather large clown shoes to fill as well.” She took a moment to smile and let out a small sigh. "But enough chit-chat, yes? I don't mean to step over any boundaries, but if I didn't know any better, I would think that General Skywalker had eyes for you." She smirked playfully, teasing You spared her a smile, shaking your head and saying, Oh, hardly senator! Everyone knows Jedi are forbidden to form attatchments; besides, what Jedi Skywalker chooses as his personal affairs doesn't quite retain me." Your eyes shifted around discreetly, as if trying to confirm if someone had heard your words.

She smiled at you, nodding to your words: "Well, my apologies, you just can never be too curious, yes?" She raised the glass she held in her left hand as a toast to her own words. "Absolutely, but just remember that curiosity killed the cat." You beamed at her, swirling circles around your own forgotten glass, before she began to speak once again: "It has been a lovely night chatting with you, Senator, but I must go. I do hope to see you soon." Her dress flowed, guided by the movements of her gracious bow.

As you made your way through the crowd, you felt your cheeks warm up slightly, as if you had picked up a choco-droid. "So, Senator Alavar, huh?" Anakin snuck from behind you, the familiar bass of his voice taking you by surprise. "Just chit-chat. She had asked about you, though." His deep laughter rang through your ears. "I'm truly not surprised. She's always been one for gossip. Besides, it's charming to watch you try to look good in front of your little politician friends," He whispered in your ear, his warm breath fanning against your colder body before he once again continued,

"If only they knew what a slut you were behind closed doors."

His body was now pressed tightly against your back, his large arms not-so-discreetly wrapping themselves around your waist. You groaned as he chuckled, "I could show them how much of a slut you can really be. His tongue ran along the shell of your ear, causing you to squirm. Your body shivered as your breathing quickened, but you still forced yourself to remain composed and calm as you said, "Anakin, we're in a public area." He paused, moving slowly from your side and looking at you curiously. "And it looks like the only thing that's stopping us is you." You took his hands off of your waist, pushing him away as his flirting became dangerously more intimate. "Come on, Let me show you how much fun we can have, angel." His open hand took yours, guiding you up a flight of stairs and quickly entering the first empty room. Your lips were swiftly captured by Anakin's, his hands resting lightly at the sides of your neck. His mouth trailed kisses from your mouth down to your jawline.

One of his hands trailed down your back, cupping your ass, before he slid his fingers between the thin material and your skin, feeling your flesh and heat underneath. You moaned into the night as he spoke harshly, "Stars, do you understand how hard it was for me to stand and watch you all night? I wanted to take you right there in front of all your little friends and let them know that you're mine." His thumb softly rubbed against your hip bone.

Your hips buckled forward, and a gasp left your lips. "Please Ani-" "Patience, angel. We don't need to rush, not tonight." His voice sounded hoarse and raspy. You looked up, searching his eyes, wishing this night wouldn't ever end and remembering that everything would have to go back to normal after you left the hall. His eyes, once filled with lust, were turned to caution. "Are you sure this is what you want, baby?" You nodded slowly, biting your lip, wanting nothing more than for this to continue. "I need my whore to speak. Nothing but a cheap, pathetic whore for me to use; I can't even get the right words out." His words spit venom, yet you wanted nothing more than for him to take what belonged to him. You were now growing restless as he fiddled with the formal wear you had donned in preparation for that night. "Please use me, Ani; I'm yours. All I want is you." You begged. He groaned at your pleas, making short work of your clothes as he grabbed at your hips, dipping a hand in between your thighs. His face was visible under the moonlight that dimly lit up the room. You looked up at him with tears threatening to fall as you writhed underneath his large hands that had held your now naked body down. "You look so pathetic when you cry, but maybe we can put this little whore to use. Spit," He commanded, and as inelegantly as possible, you complied, leaving a string of hot spit between your mouth and his fingers. "Such a pretty bitch, you know that? So loyal, doing anything that I ask of you." His fingers prodded at your tight hole, which was slowly being worked open by his thick extremities.

You gasped at the sensation spreading across your whole torso until you were shaking, tears forming in your eyes. The sounds escaping your lips were arguably sickly, as strings of praise and degradation mixed together left his mouth accompanied by Huttese insults. "Maker, every time I fuck you, you just fall apart. Fucked out and whining, just like the disgusting slut you are. Ma Schutta." You could barely breathe as he pumped into you, taking in your nipple with his free hand, the cool metal pinching at your nerves. Your whole body felt as if it were being taken apart and reassembled in front of his watchful eyes, as if you were some sick toy for him to play with whenever he pleased, and yet you wouldn't have it any other way. You loved him, and he loved you in a way that nobody else would understand—in a way that you didn't even understand. The knot in your lower stomach began to tighten, your stretched hole twitching and begging for release. "Let go, baby; I know my bitch wants to cum." You squirmed as you bit harshly on his shoulder, muffling your nauseating moans, your body beginning to twitch. "I love you, Ani." You panted, pulling at his hair roughly and pulling yourself closer to the edge of sanity as his touch grew more rough, forcing the last of your energy to slip past your swollen lips as you came. As your back collapsed onto the bed, he removed his hands from your body with an awful squelch. "Such a good whore for me." His voice had an undeniable sneer, reminding you that you belong to him and he belongs to you. "Thank you, Ani." you breathed out, your voice weak and tired. Your appreciation fell on deaf ears as Anakin walked towards the bathroom, fetching a cool towel to wipe the sweat and fluids from your body. "No matter where we are or what we do, I'll never get over how beautiful you look." A blush coated your cheeks, instantly forgetting the vulnerable position you were just in. Cupping his face, the eye contact you had made was not lustful or filled with desire, but love and passion. "I love you so much, Anakin Skywalker," you whispered to him as if you were the only people in the world and time had stopped for the two of you.

"I love you too, my angel."

#star wars #star wars x reader #veras1ne #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin fluff

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whatanoof · 4 years ago

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A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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buryustogether · 4 years ago

Text

SOLDIER NO MORE - P.1

part one - the stranger from the sky

summary : a starship crashes in the fields beyond your village’s borders, causing a horrified curiosity to befall the locals. being the only one brave enough to venture close, you discover the pilot is an unconscious clone trooper - who doesn’t seem to be quite like the rest.

word count : 3k

warnings : hunter x f!reader, mentions of young children/babies, vehicular violence, mentions of empire cruelty/order 66

author’s note : *chuckling nervously* no, this entire fic totally WASN’T inspired by that one episode of the mandalorian, what are you talking about,, this is going to be a (mostly) domestic hunter fic, but later on it will contain smut, violence, so on and so forth. lots of fluff :)

The first to notice the falling ship were the children.

Suppertime had only just befallen across your small corner of Sorgan, the evening’s darkness soon to follow the water-colored horizon stretching beyond the countless trees that surrounded your village. The standing torches illuminated the faces of farmers and caretakers - for that’s what you were, a simple cropping community - as they collected their share of dinner and settled to rest from another day’s work. Younglings giggled with the delight of children that had not yet learned of the galaxy’s harshness as they chased one another between the legs of their parents, near the perimeters of the village. Their guardians called out to them to stay away from the fence that separated your land against the unknown of the dark forests and swamps beyond; if one stayed with the light, they would not wander from safety.

Your limbs ached tiredly as you sat with a small circle of fellow villagers to eat, but it was a drawn-out hurt that you had come to welcome. The seeping of tiredness into your bones was only an echo, a reminder of the service to your own that you had performed that day. Because of your efforts, everyone would be able to eat tomorrow, and the day after that; your traders would be able to barter and sell your wares, and bring back new resources so that you may do it all over again.

It was a quiet life, the one you lived here on Sorgan, but it was good and honest. And that’s what drew those who searched, and kept them here.

You had just begun to raise the spoonful of bone broth to your lips, stomach already crying out for the hot meal before you, when the shrieking hollers of the children caught your attention. They had all gathered at the edge of your perimeters, murmuring and pointing upwards at the red-and-orange sky above you. Along with a few others, you followed their gazes, and found just what they were marveling at.

A small starship had entered the view of the village, leaving behind itself a hot, grey tail of smoke that resembled angry clouds. A number of villagers stood, including yourself, as you watched the shuttle hurtle towards the ground like a plummeting star. Parents grabbed their children and ushered them inside. You yourself took the shoulder of a small girl in the group of children and pressed a hand to the braided mess of gold tresses atop her head, commanding her to get home. She obeyed wordlessly, though her eyes never left the crashing pod.

A small group of villagers ducked under the fencing and collectively held their breaths when the ship made contact with the earth. A smattering of dirt chunks and stone created a hailstorm of debris as the vehicle tumbled over itself in the clearing behind the community, creating a wake of destruction and rubble behind itself. You placed a hand over your mouth in horror. If there had been anyone inside, even you could tell it was unlikely they would have survived a crash like that.

None of the villagers seemed to possess enough courage to approach the now-still shuttle, which sat smoking and hissing in the swaying grasses just a ways beyond the last hut. Their expressions were painted with both terror and shock; nothing like this had ever happened even remotely near your village. What in the stars were they supposed to do?

A wave of courage washed over you like a shot of adrenaline and you turned your head to look at one of the young men that had accompanied your group of onlookers. “Yarga,” you said, your singular voice seeming to ring out for miles. “Help me. The pilot could be hurt.”

You led the not-so-willing volunteer down a gentle slope into the clearing’s vastness, at the mercy of any raider party or carnivorous beast that may have set their sights on you. He held a torch in hand as you approached the ship, the flickering light playing with shadows across your faces and throwing your shadows on the ground like wiggling paintings. Despite your sudden burst of bravery, or perhaps selflessness, you stayed close to him; even if the pilot of the vehicle was still alive, what was to say they weren’t hostile?

Upon closer inspection, you found that the starship was actually a smaller version than you had expected it to be. It was circular in nature and the wings and fin on its sides - before they had broken off, that was - were angled in a way that they could have folded in on themselves. If you were not wrong, you thought it to be an escape pod of sorts.

You and Yarga circled the shuttle to the other side, where you found the hatch door facing sideways, parallel to the ground. The hissing and popping of the ship’s various destroyed systems and engines did not go unnoticed as you learned forward and traced your fingertips across the edges of the door.

“What are you doing?” Yarga said. His stance was like that of an anxious animal, intent on fleeing if threatened in any sort of way.

You continued your feeling up of the door. “Searching for the hatch lever,” you murmured. As the words left your lips, your hand caught on a small divet in the dented metal that had not been put there from the crash. Fingernails prying against the panel, a small click reached your ears and you found the hatch giving away. The door extended outwards a few inches toward you, releasing a sighing groan, and fell forward onto the grass with a muted thud. Motioning for the light, you leaned against the hull and peered inside.

Sitting in the pilot’s seat was a person. Or, at least, something that looked like a person. It took you a double take or two to release whoever it was, was donned in metal armor that covered the entirety of their body. Your hand trembled slightly when you reached inside and tapped the helmet sitting on their head; there was no response.

You sensed that Yarga was about to say something, most likely that whoever it was had died on impact, but you beat him to it. “Help me pull them out,” you said, curling your hands around the armor’s pauldron. Wordlessly, he stuck the torch’s tail end into the soft dirt and aided you in removing the pilot from their chair and into the open air. You laid them on their back, armor staining against the ripped grass and freshly-mowed dirt, and you were able to take from the shape of the figure it was a man. His helmet nearly caused your heart to leap into your throat; he was a trooper, from the still-foreign Empire. You were unable to see behind the tinted visor, but if you brought your face close enough, you were able to hear the faint sounds of breathing coming through the voice modulator.

“Is he dead?” Yarga asked from above your kneeling form.

“No,” you replied, just as quietly, if not just as hesitantly.

It was no secret the Empire had a tighter grip on the galaxy than the Republic did before it fell. And while most of the planets along the Rims celebrated the end of the war, hailed the troopers as heroes, your village of Sorgan did not. In fact, you looked upon the disposable soldiers with a great disdain; more than once had the Jedi Order provided aid to your people in times of need, cared when no one else could be bothered with some tiny village at the edge of the Outer Rim. They had provided food and water during an unseasonal drought, had defended the innocent lives when raiders plundered the lands and watered the ground with blood. And with the Jedi now gone, with the Empire in control and clones on the rise, Sorgan was back to being nothing but another statistic on a field report.

But yet, despite your malice and rather heightened fear of the mad power they operated for, you could not help but feel something akin to sympathy for the soldier lying before you. Surely if he was alone, with nothing but an escape shuttle and nowhere to go but here, he was in some sort of trouble. Was he injured? Had he been separated from his platoon?

Despite Yarga’s words of caution, you kneeled and wiggled your fingers beneath the helmet blocking the soldier’s face from you. It gave a slight hiss as the airlock gave way and slid off his head easily.

The first thing you noticed was the strikingly bold tattoo across the right side of his face, what appeared to be half a skull giving him a rather frightening appearance. His nose was hooked and ended in a slope; his brows were thick, and parted lips were chapped and bleeding at the places they had cracked. Long, tamed locks of a deep, rich oak were held from his face by a scarlet headband that threatened to slip off; the stitched symbol of a skull stared back at you from the side.

It became apparent to you this was not a regular clone trooper. You had seen them yourself, when they had come to announce the end of the Republic to your people and you were forced to house them. He was different, from the way that his jaw was clenched, even in this state of unconsciousness, to the unusual patterns across his armor. Had he been exiled? Gone out of date? You were unable to say yourself.

Yarga at last broke the tense quiet that had fallen over you. “What do you think we should do with him?” he said, having picked up the torch to throw light upon the stranger’s face.

Your mouth remained dry and your tongue unable to work properly as you reached out and patted the clone’s cheek a few times. He did not move, but a quick feel of his pulse point told you he was, indeed, alive. “He’s most likely injured, from a crash like that,” you replied, tucking the helmet under your arm. You glanced up at the other villagers, who were still standing where you had left them. “Let us take him back for now. See what he says when he wakes up.”

It was obvious from the way he bit his lip he did not like the idea, but he kept his tongue as he grabbed the clone’s other shoulder strap after you did. Together, with a bit of effort, you began to drag him back towards the village.

When you hauled him back into view of the others, you attempted to keep your head high and expression strong when a round of gasps flew around.

“A clone trooper?” they said. “What is he doing here?”

“What if it’s a trap?” one asked.

“Are you sure he isn’t dead?” another called.

You were vaguely aware of the children watching you from their huts’ windows and open doorways as you guided Yarga to bring the man towards your own. Up the stairs you hauled him, and inside, where you found the candles had already been lit and the bed prepared. The young girl stood in the corner beside the padded cradle in which a small bundle slept, wringing her hands nervously and toying with the braids hanging from her hair.

Feeling beads of sweat forming on your hairline, you jerked your head at her and panted, “Rani. Fetch me a pail of fresh water, please. Hurry.” Silently, she disappeared from the hut and back into the village.

After a hustle of lifting the clone trooper onto your bed, you and Yarga sat back and stared down at him. It wasn’t long before he turned his head to look at you and opened his mouth to speak. “What are you thinking?” he asked, though his words contained no harshness or judgement. Yarga was a gentle soul, one who understood your own when you cared for an injured loth cat or gave up part of your own meal to toss to hungry Sorgan frogs.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you didn’t completely know how to answer his question. You knew, of course, you simply couldn’t leave the stranger out there in the crashed pod to suffocate from his own stale breath and die. But you were taking a risk bringing him here, to your home; the silent cradle in the corner reminded you of that.

Yet, there was that small, tender part of you that urged you to beat back your worries and doubts. Though, just to put both your and Yarga’s nerves at ease, you crossed the room and produced a sharp, slender knife used for skinning game from a woven basket of supplies and tools.

“He’s staying here,” you decided aloud, more to yourself than him. You hoped he was able to hear the resolution in your tone. “Tell the others it’s alright; I’ll make sure he’s safe.” The blade curled within your fingers must have proved your point, because he nodded his head, then padded from your hut and left you alone with the unconscious figure in your bed.

Casting a glance over your shoulder when, a moment later, smaller, softer footsteps clunked up the steps, you found Rani returning with a sloshing bucket of water in her small arms. Taking it from her, you set it by the bedside before rolling up your sleeves and setting to work removing the clone’s armor. It was a fairly difficult process, attempting to find buckles and release clips to wiggle off of him - all while he lay heavy and with dead weight on your cot.

The young girl took the chest plate you worked off of him and inspected the dents and scrapes that marred the red stripe down the front. “Who is he?” she murmured, mindful of the shifting bundle of blankets in the cradle.

“I’m…” You hesitated for a moment. You had never been one to keep secrets from her or fabricate lies to shield her from what was out there. So, you took a breath and continued. “I believe he’s a clone trooper. See-?” Your fingers ghosted over the Empire symbol branded on the arm of the undersuit he wore beneath the plastoid.

Rani’s fingers seemed to tighten around the arm bracer you handed her next, small hand inspecting the small, yellow-inlaid dagger she found hidden in a sleeve. “I thought the Empire was bad. That the soldiers took the Jedi from us.”

Working off the man’s boots and setting them at the foot of the bed, you quickly took the blade from her and tucked it on the highest shelf of your little hut. “They did,” you said, brows furrowing slightly. “But we don’t know his story. He could be a runaway; a rebel.”

She appeared to be thinking this over in her young mind, obviously hard enough for her eyes to lose their focus and stare at an empty spot across the room. She was only eight summers a child, but it had been evident from the start she was far ahead of the other children when it came to the wisdom she had behind that mind of hers. When she wanted to show it, of course.

You found a rag amidst the clutter of your clothing in a woven trunk at the foot of the bed, then wet it in the fresh water from the bucket and began to mop away the sweat that clung to the man’s face like a thin veil of fear. You wondered what he had been feeling when he crashed just outside your little village; had he been afraid? Scared he was going to die? Or had he been willing, accepting, of the fact that the last sight he may have seen was the ground rising up to meet him?

When you at last deemed him cared for - after wrapping a shallow gash on his forearm and wiping away the dried blood on his busted lip - you sat back against the chair beside the bed and exhaled. Rani was watching him intently, her moss-colored eyes curiously picking him over, as if just staring the poor man down would reveal some hidden secret to her.

“Rani,” you said, and she blinked before glancing at you. “Why don’t you spend the night at the Vanous’ home? I’m sure they’ve heard what’s happened.” As has the whole village, you thought as you watched her retrieve her doll before disappearing out the door. But the Vanous were good people; with a young son of their own, they were always willing to allow his friends to spend the evening if needed be.

Warily, and with your knife sitting just beside your hand on the nightstand, you sat back and watched the clone trooper carefully. His chest rose and fell evenly with breath. You wondered if he was possibly dreaming, from the way his jowl twitched or his brow flinched from time to time.

You knew you could have very well been inviting danger, even death itself into your home. But there was something, some invisible, yet persuasive and heavy feeling in your chest that you had not. You did not know what it was that told you this, but you trusted it.

For some odd, unknown reason, you trusted him.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #bad batch #sargent hunter #bad batch hunter x you #the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #tbb hunter smut #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter fic #tbb fic #clone force 99 #clone trooper hunter

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satingrove · 5 years ago

Text

improper

pairing: protector!obi-wan kenobi x princess!reader, you know the drill

warnings: very intimate, but not exactly smut

summary: your maid has fallen ill and isn’t there to help you out of that difficult dress, but obi-wan happens to be right there.

wc: 2.070k

authors note: now THIS came to me straight out of nowhere, all i know is that it got me really frickin excited. it’s sort of supposed to mirror the victorian era, where dress and corset wearers needed someone to help dress and undress them. i also just picture aotc obi in this fic bc wooow

It's unnatural to ask - isn't it? But it's a peculiar happening as well, and Obi-Wan is nothing but a friendly face, a common face.

He looms in your doorway, looking sympathetic and protective, the place he likes to be at this time of day, or any time at all. It did not matter to him. Midnight or afternoon, he liked to see you.

He leaves the doorway, taking slow, polite steps. His robes sweep the floor and he almost appears to float, arriving by where you sit on the love seat.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your maid, your Highness." He sits down beside you, mentally replaying your distressed voice over the comlink, which explained to him the events of a fainting maid and a frantic medic who simply pushed her onto a repulsorlift gurney and left without a word.

You don't catch his gaze. Your eyes stay set on the floor beneath your feet, but perfect posture is still accounted for; impropriety isn't something you'd like to convey to the Jedi Knight, although you were much more than mere acquaintances.

A vague memory of his sunshiny face dances through your mind; the time he had brought you flowers in the early morning of a hot day. You hadn't forgotten the boyish grin on his face, even though he was far past his Youngling days (he had explained the ranking system to you at a boring banquet - one that you both contemplated sneaking out of, except your manners kept you there). The gesture was remembered in a happy golden tint and centered around a sleepy, lazy kiss to your forehead. More than acquaintances, yes.

He gingerly shifts his robes.

"I hope she'll be alright." You murmur, a minuscule smile managed in his direction.

"I'm sure she will be, although it's strange how quickly she seemed to fall ill. The medics are taking great care of her, I assure you. I checked before I came to you." His words provide relief, but the image of the maid's coughing and pale face before she thumped to the floor confuses you still. "You must be frightened, princess." His gentle hand brushes over your back, modestly, and you draw in a slow breath.

"I don't understand... that's all." The upset returns to you a moment, and runs away quickly by the soothing hand of Obi-Wan. "As long as she will be alright, as you say. She is a great friend to me." You watch him with a melancholy expression.

Obi-Wan hums in comprehension, the tone soft and nearly melodic, never ceasing his calming back-and-forth motions upon your back. It's comfortable. He promises once more that your cherished maid would return in due time, and in his well-mannered reserve, made to bid you goodnight.

It was no different than any other time he had done so; his lips brushing your hand as he held your gaze, softly whispering that he wished you a good night's sleep. It earned him a smile without fail, and the thought occurred to you as he neared the door.

Instead of calling for a Jedi, a protector, you use his name. You could count the times you had done this on your fingers.

"Obi-Wan, wait," You call timidly, speeding fast to catch up to him. He turns, a loose strand of hair falling close to his forehead. He finds you already standing incredibly close.

He lets out a sigh in the form of an "oh", and he chuckles, "Yes, my dear princess?"

The words are on the tip of your tongue, hanging on for dear life and too afraid to be turned into a voice. You stand a moment, looking up at the Jedi who waits patiently. There, you both breathe into an invisible sheet of tension. Chests puff and deflate with the lungs that work hard to stay normally paced.

"Well, it's just that-", you're struggling, your shyness a great barrier between what you need and what you're afraid to request.

Obi-Wan's hands are clasped in front of him.

"I'm listening." He encourages you with a murmur, nodding and feeling fond of you. The sheet of tension thickens.

"My dress..." You continue in segments, incapable of stringing all the pieces together in a smooth sentence. Your palms press against the skirt, wiping down the little perspiration that had accumulated. It's quiet now, as Obi-Wan begins to understand what you're asking him to do. His eyebrows raise a little as it dawns, but he needs to hear the rest from your own lips.

"My maid isn't here to help me out of it tonight." You babble, fast, but steady. Obi-Wan knew the words were coming, but hearing them makes it all the more different.

It's impossible how quick he is to blush, and unspeakable the way his eyes darken.

"You want me... to undress you." It's not a question but a statement, and you can tell that he's not afraid of the prospect. His voice had deepened the way his eyes did, romantic and not without lust.

You find it hard to affirm this, but all the same, a weak "mhmm" noise comes from your throat, pitiful compared to your established and habitual tone.

Obi-Wan looks at you. He's unreadable, blank but still blushing, and then he intensifies. He grows more confident.

"Darling." Hands grace your shoulders and turn you to face the other way, your back against his warm chest and his cream coloured robes. You’re heated and feverish and melding to his body while he ushers you gently forward, creating more space for the two of you away from the closed door.

You thought it laughable, but in your mind you had thanked whoever thought of making clothes that you needed help to put on and take off. It was annoying, up until now, an utter nuisance to have to wear such extravagant pieces.

The thought was cut short by the sensation of his fingers starting at the top of the bodice, washing away any meandering thoughts of apprehension towards the clothing you wore. They skillfully slipped one, two, three buttons and it was enough to tug the sleeves moderately down your arms, exposing your bare shoulders to him.

His breath came hot upon your right shoulder, delicate, fresh, and his lips ghosted from the edge of it, trailing slowly to the crook of your neck where he placed a sultry, loving kiss. The passage of time is changed, the slim hands of all clocks caught between seconds and failing to tick fast enough.

"You're so tense..." His hands sweep the length of your arms to rest on your shoulders where his lips had been, rubbing attentively, cooing the words into your ear. It unwinds you at the same time that it sends shivers from your spine to manifest in your stomach. A whimper is the only manageable response.

"Shh," Obi-Wan hushes you, working circles with his fingers and undoing your stresses, "relax, it's alright."

He can hardly believe what his hands are doing. He's enamoured, wholly and completely, and that's just about all he knows in this moment of intimacy.

The next button slips through the fabric, exposing more of your skin and awakening more of his fanciful thoughts. Obi-Wan leans down again, finding a higher point of your neck between his lips, careful not to leave a mark. He's being delicate for your own sake. You inwardly chastise yourself for how easily he allures you.

Four more buttons are undone, leisurely, Obi-Wan bending to leave kisses where they used to touch your back, leaving a thrilling line of pecks. He reaches the last one and his knee touches the floor. He slips it and parts the fabric to place a final kiss on your lower back. It's thoroughly intoxicating, your breath coming in and out to the rushed beating of your heart. You feel that shyness evermore, though it's being overshadowed by something else, something rousing.

The Jedi is still kneeling when he reaches up to grip your waist and turn you back around to face him. You look down and he appears so sweet, so enchanting and dark. From above is a view you hadn't been graced with until now, but he rises, eyes fixed on yours, and reaches behind you.

The two sides of the bodice are in his grasp.

"Is this okay?" He's earnest and wary, knowing he could be stripping you not only of your dress but the modesty you still held with him. He had served his purpose. The buttons at the back were all that you needed help with.

"Yes." It leaves you in quiet, breathy desperation. Obi-Wan pulls.

Your arms come out of the sleeves and your chest is bare. The garment falls without your body to hang on to, pooling around your feet.

"My, my..." Obi-Wan is lost for his smooth remarks, letting his hands talk as they grace your hip and trail up your back. His lips are parted. To be bare in front of him felt oddly safe, comfortable - normal even.

Then a flow of words comes out.

"That dress was charming, my darling, but you," he sighs, "you're bewitching." He looks ardently to every part of you that he can see, features softening in his awe. A hand moves to cup the side of your face and he shakes his head in disbelief to the beauty before him.

"Will you let me help with the rest?" He's eager but still adamant to be respectful. You nod, gaining poise, and he fetches the silk nightgown draped over the chair sitting in front of the vanity. He sets it neatly on the edge of your bed, upon the fluffy sheets.

Shedding his cloak, feeling too hot for the extra layer, he rests it beside the nightie and pulls back a corner of the blanket on the side which he knows you sleep, and sits there.

"Come here."

You're nervous again, but let your feet take you to him. They whisper on the floor, silent and light, and you arrive in between the spread of his legs. Finding your waist again, he comes forward and spreads his palms over your skin, his touch flaring and welcoming.

His actions are ones you wish would only repeat themselves for the coming hours - so affectionate, tender, encompassing. His lips press dreamily to your stomach. You ruffle his hair and he purrs - he likes it all too much. It's then that he switches places with you, standing to turn, peering at you in adoration, sweet and intense. He gives a ghost of a push to sit you down in his old spot, drawing lines down your arms with his fingers, and briefly gracing your thighs.

The night gown is held high, Obi-Wan watching it fall delicately over your head as he guides it down. You raise your arms to poke through the straps and the length of it gathers at the juncture of your hips and thighs.

Obi-Wan tucks some hair behind your ear, his cheeks red but his disposition suave. Two kisses are placed on either thigh as he bends a final time and his face comes to the level of yours. He stays a moment, burning the sight into his mind. Once he's satisfied that details are right, he aids you to lay, bringing the sheets over your shoulders. Your chest fills to your throat with admiration, swelling and blooming there.

A last, velvety kiss is given to your cheek, where his lips linger, and he wishes you goodnight anew with all the tenderness he can muster.

"I trust you'll sleep well, princess."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." He closes his eyes to relish the way your hand reaches, touches and falls from his cheek. Humming a dulcet sound as if to say "you're welcome", he retrieves his cloak, draping it over his arm. "I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"If only it were sooner." He replies, disembarking from the presence he so desperately yearned to stay within.

He makes a generous point of folding the discarded dress, and winds up the music box at the vanity, twisting the silver knob. Its lovely tinkle plays a pretty song, a lullaby, and Obi-Wan leaves with a final glance toward you in your bed, wondering why he hadn't kissed your lips and wishing he had more time before the length of his stay could be considered "improper".

#obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x princess reader #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #star wars #star wars imagine #userkarina

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dirty-holy-things · 4 years ago

Text

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 21 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-20 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. This chapter is smut-heavy, but also delves into some SW lore, including my interpretation / extrapolation of Grogu's history with the Jedi. Overall, a soft, happy, smutty chapter - figured we were due one after an extended absence and so much emotional upheaval.

Likes and reblogs are endlessly appreciated!

Words: 6.0k update.

If you'd like to be notified about fic updates and / or upcoming projects, please fill out my taglist form!

“I don’t know much about the Jedi Order,” you began, a look of consternation on your face. “What I do know, is from what I’ve read in the few books that talk about them. The Jedi followed the light side of the Force, what’s commonly considered to be the good side. They had opposition though — the Sith followed the dark side. They continually fought, one side occasionally coming out on top of the other, but there was rarely any actual peace… or balance.”

Balance. You had spoken often about the emphasis that Ixxith placed on balance. Din had heard of both Jedi and Sith, however his knowledge was woefully slim; but he could see how these two powerful religious groups could have brought a shattering, tearing conflict and chaos into the galaxy, each one believing that their ideology was right.

“Grogu trained with the Jedi Order, until they fell. Their downfall seems to have come from their own… pride, or complacency, or something — and the Empire and the Sith took over. Grogu saw…” You paused, looking down to the small green face that was buried in your arms, nestled into the blanket. Grogu’s ears drooped, and he made a small, sad sound.

Din felt something ache in his chest, like a pulled muscle.

“Grogu saw many of his friends, other younglings — or foundlings — killed by a Jedi who had turned to the dark side.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and Din could hear the tears that were hovering on the edge, teetering and threatening to spill over.

This ship had seen enough tears for today.

"I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else. And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms with iron bars, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore.” - Franz Kafka, The Castle

While there had been times in his life in which Din regretted having to remain concealed from you, this was not one of them. He had never had to account for any of his facial expressions before, and the expressiveness that was concealed by the mask had worked out in his favor this time. He had been incredibly nervous and worried when he heard your whimpers and cries coming from the bunk; he tried to wake you up gently, tried to reassure you, but it seemed as though you had disappeared from him yet again — this time into some sort of nightmare that he was powerless to save you from. He could imagine that the look on his face in that moment would have only scared you further, showing all of the pain and worry that had been steadily cresting into a tsunami since finding you in the alleyway. He felt as though he had spent the last several days walking on eggshells, terrified that something, some misstep, might take you away from him — and this was a kind of fear that was new to Din, having never before held anything that would be painful to lose.

When you finally woke up, tears still streaming, he could feel a piece of his heart break for all of the pain that you had carried throughout your life. He thought you had been doing better over the past several weeks and months, as your spirit seemed to grow brighter and more carefree; but it was naive of him to think that the pain had gone away entirely. It had receded, like the tides, but like the tides, it would always come back; sometimes gently, sometimes crashing, but it was a piece of you and always would be.

He had also been surprised to see you wearing a jacket to bed; he didn’t recall having seen it before, and he didn’t recall you getting up to put it on. It was odd, and he vaguely intended to ask you about it at some point, but it was lower on the list of his priorities at this time. His focus had since shifted to getting both you and the kid to Tython safely; while he couldn’t teach the two of you about the Force, he could try and bring you closer to the knowledge and the peace that you were seeking.

Grogu had agreed to this new expedition, after returning to the Razor Crest and discussing the options that were available. You and Grogu both appeared to be nervous, but also excited as you pondered what this could mean for your futures, both shared and independent. The three of you seated in the familiar cockpit of the ship, the air surrounding you all felt somewhat charged or electric, almost as if Din could feel it on his tongue — what was that? Excitement? Hope?

“I don’t know how quickly — how quickly someone may be able to sense us, or find us. Or if we’re supposed to stay in that spot until somebody does?” You wondered aloud, slouching back into your seat in the cockpit. Grogu was resting in your lap, playing with the buttons and ties on your jacket as you bounced your knee nervously, jostling him slightly. He cooed and laughed up at you, and Din watched your eyebrows raise up in surprise. He wished he had some way to participate, to share this communication and bond that you and the kid had.

“Well, I suppose you’re right — we really haven’t thought this through too much, but we can figure it out.” You sighed, your hand coming up to absentmindedly rub Grogu’s fuzzy green ear.

Figure what out?

Din felt excluded from this conversation, being as he could only hear one side of it; but he worked to remind himself that this Force stuff was a unique tie that you and Grogu shared, one that he shouldn’t intrude on. Din knew that the two of you would share many of the same hopes and fears, that would come along with this blind step that you would be taking together. He couldn’t resent either of you for this, and truthfully, he was thankful that he had no such ties to the Force. It was intriguing, but seemed to cause just as many problems as it solved.

Leaning back slightly into his seat, he watched the way you watched the stars, loving the peaceful scene that was unfolding here within the walls of his ship — was it really his ship anymore? You and Grogu had just as much claim to this space as he did. He watched the way that Grogu smiled up at you, leaned his head into your chest, clung to you like a child would cling to its mother. He watched you tuck your feet underneath you, nestling closer into yourself as you often did when you were cold. Smiling to himself, concealed by the helmet, he grabbed the soft blanket that had been kicked to the side of the cockpit so many days ago; he shook it out gently and reached over to drape it across the armrest of your seat. You didn’t seem to notice in the moment, however, as your focus had been drawn away from the stars, and back to the child in your arms.

You hummed lowly, wrapping Grogu more securely into your arms. “No, I don’t think we need to worry about that. They came to the same end that the Empire did.”

The both of you were worried about something, Din could sense it in the room, despite the words of reassurance and confidence that you shared with Grogu. “They?” He asked, gently stepping into the conversation.

Your back straightened considerably at his words, almost as though you had been so wrapped up in your conversation with Grogu that you had forgotten Din was there. “Oh. Grogu is — was — worried about what could happen, if… if it isn’t a Jedi that finds us on Tython.”

Din stayed quiet, allowing you the chance to elaborate if you wanted. His silence seemed to encourage you, as you turned the seat to face him, to better carry out the conversation. The blanket that Din had tried to give to you earlier fell into your lap, and you smiled at him as you wrapped both Grogu and yourself up in it.

He wanted to wrap up in that blanket with you, in bed, feel your body against his — he blinked rapidly, trying to return his focus to the subject at hand. Now was not the time.

Din felt something ache in his chest, like a pulled muscle.

This ship had seen enough tears for today.

He reached a gloved hand out towards you and the kid, and it came to rest under Grogu’s small green chin. Din noticed the wiry white hairs that protruded from it, and he marveled at the idea that something so small and childlike could somehow be older than him. Grogu blinked heavily and a fat tear rolled down his chubby cheeks, landing on the leather that covered Din’s palm. Grogu’s small hands reached out towards Din, his lower lip quivering slightly, and instinctively Din moved forward to pick the kid up, pulling him into his chest. He could feel the small thing shaking against him, and he held him closer, needing to make him feel safe and secure in any way that he could. For all of their travels together, Din had kept him safe, had never left him; and despite his inability to truly communicate with the kid, Din loved him, and trusted that Grogu knew that he loved him.

Din shifted Grogu’s small body in his arms, before reaching out to place his other hand against your knee; he gave it a small squeeze, a gentle reminder that you and Grogu were not alone here. He understood how terrifying it felt, having no sense of what may come next, having little agency in the narrative of your life. He had been in this place before, as a foundling, and wanted to offer you both the support and consolation that he would have wanted for his younger self.

Din watched you smile up at him, a small, sad thing; a shallow breath escaped from his chest as he watched you continually put up a brave and confident front. You always fought to put on a brave face, whether that brave illusion was for yourself or somebody else.

“The Sith fell when the Empire did. They’re gone.” You said softly, reaching out to clasp Grogu’s small hand in yours. “And while I may not have met her, I trust this Ahsoka to lead us to a safe place, not into harm’s way.”

Grogu nodded, his wrinkled skin and large ears rubbing against Din’s chest plate. Din could feel him begin to relax as he continued to hold him closely. Grogu had liked the one Jedi he had met in his travels with Din, and Din had to agree with your declaration of trust. Din hadn’t felt particularly fond of her, but she had proven to be honest and trustworthy so far — and that went quite a ways in Din’s book.

“How about we get you to bed?” You asked, an eyebrow raising with a smile as you looked on at Grogu. “We’ve got a ways to go before we reach Tython, and I think some time to rest may do you some good.”

Grogu gurgled a sound that Din assumed to be positive, or some sort of agreement, and watched as you pushed yourself up from the seat that you had been reclining in. He couldn’t help but notice the way that your pants clung to you, as the blanket fell away from your frame; he bit the inside of his lip as he passed the kid back to you, noticing the way that the soft, sensitive skin of your chest and neck was on display. Maybe putting the kid to bed was a good idea, he reasoned, as he felt something stir in his stomach.

He watched you as you turned to walk out of the cockpit, enjoying the way that your hips swayed with every step that you took; he loved the dips in your hips, loved the movement of your thighs, loved watching the muscles move together flawlessly in a way that lured him into a hot, heady, overpowering trance. His body seemed to take over, take control, and he felt himself rising up from his seat to follow you, needing to be close to you. He needed to touch you, needed to taste you, needed to feel you.

His mind was occupied by explicit images of you, images that stood out in stark contrast against the sweet scene playing out before him; you were humming and patting the kid’s back, rocking back and forth on the same hips that he had just been fantasizing of. Grogu’s eyes were drooping, and Din watched you sneak the wampa into the kid’s waiting grasp. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the saccharine sight unfold, watching the two people that he loved the most share this moment of security and tranquility.

A more primal part of him was trying to rush this scene along, wanting you to place the kid in his cradle so Din could have his way with you; he hoped that you didn’t hear his sigh of relief that escaped when you finally put the whimpering kid into his bed. The way that you bent over, positioning your ass directly in his line of sight, made him think that you had, in fact, heard it, and knew full well what you were doing.

After he heard the cradle close, he couldn’t help himself from stepping forward and into you, loving how your body immediately pressed itself backwards into him; he felt his heart beat pounding with ferocity as he felt the curve of your ass pressing against his thighs and his half-hardened cock. His hands snaked across your body, moving from your waist to trace their way across your stomach and down to your center. He couldn’t help but notice the way your breath hitched in your throat, and he pinched you ever so gently, your shoulders and backside pressing even further into him.

He used the placement of his hands to guide your willing body back to the cockpit, much to your surprise; the two of you had grown accustomed to the makeshift bed on the floor, but Din had another plan in mind. He loved the way that you grinned up at him, trusting him and leaning into this new experience with him.

Din guided the both of your bodies towards his seat in the cockpit; sitting down into the aged and shaped leather, he guided you down onto his lap and groaned as he felt the pressure of your body pressing against his stiffened cock. His hand instinctively traveled up the length of your spine, pressing into you, before coming to tangle into your hair; he gave an experimental tug and reveled in the whimpering sound that he received in return. Your hands moved upwards to rest on the beskar helmet, a subtle request to take it off; but Din shook his head ever so slightly, and he knew that you understood.

You arched your back as you sat up on his lap, your hips driving into his as you grinned wickedly at him. You may not be able to kiss him, may not be able to nip and bite at his neck as you normally would, but the sight of you bathed in the starlight of hyperspace was something otherworldly. His hands moved upwards to cup your breasts, loving the way that he could feel each breath you inhaled; his thumbs pressed into the soft flesh, and you leaned into his touch with a whine. He dragged his gloved hands across your chest, pulling away the soft fabric that had kept you concealed from him, and watched the way that your nipples raised in response the cool temperature of the cockpit.

Din groaned underneath you as he continued to push your shirt down and off of your chest, until it was entirely removed from your arms and resting loosely around your stomach. “You’re the most beautiful thing in this galaxy, cyar’ika.”

You smiled at him prettily, and he loved seeing the way that the stars streaking past you glittered in the depths of your eyes. He let you bring both of his hands upwards, noticing the way that your small hands barely wrapped around his, and then you pulled off the gloves that had kept him separated from the warmth of your skin. You brought one hand to rest on your breast, and another up to your face; he watched you curiously and excitedly as your mouth parted, taking both his index and middle finger into your mouth.

He gasped as he felt the familiar, soft heat of your mouth against his fingers; his hips bucked up into yours, his throbbing cock needing the stimulation; he could feel you smiling as you sucked on his fingers, and he groaned at your devilish and intentional teasing. His hand that was not currently buried within your mouth palmed your breast with ferocity, his thumb stroking the raised bud of your nipple; under normal, darkened circumstances he would take the bud in his mouth, dragging his hot tongue across it, but he had chosen to leave the helmet on this time and would not be able to use his mouth against you. He would just have to explore some new avenues.

He groaned in disappointment as you pulled away, before realizing that you had moved just enough to undo the belt that was slung across his waist. He watched you shift the rough, utilitarian fabric of his pants lower and lower, until his cock sprung forward from the fabric. He loved the greedy and excited look in your eyes, as you gazed on at him as if he was the only sight in your sky.

You sank to your knees before your small hand came up to grasp his cock, and he hissed through the modulator at the sensation; for all of the years he had spent in isolation, with no physical company except for that of his own hand, he relished in the still-unfamiliar touch of another person, of you. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to press his lips against yours, and yet he had chosen to keep the helmet on, a piece of him intrigued by what may occur between your bodies in the absence of this type of contact.

Your eyes flicked up at him, a devilish glint present as your lips wrapped around the girth of his cock, tongue tracing across it hotly with a pressure that felt both heavy and unholy. Every inch of you was fucking incredible, and he couldn’t help himself from reaching out to grab a fistful of hair. Din couldn’t deny that he loved the way that your mouth sank down even further onto his cock as his grip against you tightened.

Din felt an undeniable tension and heat spreading throughout his body, and with a gasp he pulled you up and away from his throbbing cock; he had other intentions for you, intended to fill that sweet, beautiful pussy with his thick and lengthy cock, intended to fill you up with hot ropes of cum. And yet — seeing you here, on the floor of the cockpit, saliva dripping down your chin while he held onto you by a fistful of hair — well, the sight threatened to undo him right then and there.

He let his head roll back, eyes closing; it felt nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from you, but he needed a minute to regain some composure before losing himself.

In his moment of respite, you had apparently grown impatient with him, and he felt the heat of your mouth against his balls; you rolled your tongue across them and Din felt a curse slip past his lips. He growled as he felt you begin to suck him further into your mouth, your tongue keeping up its ungodly, torturous movements. His hand that was still fisted in your hair yanked you back with some force, as he gasped desperately for air; and while he had almost felt bad about the way in which he had pulled you off of him, the pleased and preening look in your eye told him that you had played him, that you had gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Up,” he growled, his hand moving away from your scalp to help guide your flushed and burning body away from the floor as he remained seated. You complied, and Din thanked the gods, thanked the Force, whatever was out there, that you hadn’t chosen this time to be stubborn. “Strip,” He commanded, his voice hoarse; he gestured towards your few items of clothing that had been pushed askew. He needed them off of you, needed to see the way your skin would glow for him underneath the stars, needed to see how you would glow when you came on top of him.

You obliged his request, and he watched the last pieces of your clothing fall to the floor — and he was right in his previous assessment about your beauty. You looked positively angelic bathed in the light of the stars, with your body brazenly on display in the windows of the cockpit, and yet with nobody except Din and the galaxy to witness it. You drew your arms in closely around your form, wrapping them around your chest as you fought off the chill; Din chuckled softly, continually amused by how somebody so devastatingly hot could always be so cold.

You rolled your eyes at Din’s laughter, and that irrespective gesture made some sort of red heat flare up in his chest; he sat up taller in the seat of the chair, and despite his seated frame he was nearly at eye level with you. He spread his legs out widely, his cock standing erect, and gestured with an uncovered hand to come here.

You approached with a grin, your legs moving to rest on the edge of the seat, by his thighs, but Din had other intentions. Right as you were about to sit down on him, he grabbed you by the waist and spun you around, until you were facing away from him; and he was treated to the sight of your hair tumbling in disarray, and the sight of your perfect ass pressed against him.

You gasped at Din’s sudden and unexpected movement, and Din felt your body momentarily tense up underneath his hands; he chuckled again, smirking just a bit. He snaked a hand down across your stomach and to your center, pulling your willing body even further into his as he guided the tip of his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. “Relax, cyar’ika.” He murmured, before forcefully pulling your hips downwards to push his entire length inside of you.

You cried out at the intrusion, but Din could feel the way that your body responded to him, could feel the way that you opened up and blossomed for him as you always did. He still marveled at how you managed to take him all, knowing that the sight of your tight pussy taking the entirety of his throbbing cock was one of his favorite sights to see. He lifted you up by your hips, hands gripping into your soft skin, as he shifted your weight before pulling you back down onto him. He loved the way your back arched for him, loved the breathy, needy cries that you exhaled with each thrust upwards and into you.

Din reached a hand forward to spread your legs further, guiding them to rest on top of his, allowing you the ability to ride him and regain some measure of control. His hand found its place between your thighs, his large, calloused fingers tweaking the sensitive bundle of nerves that he had learned how to play like the finest of instruments; he groaned as he felt you tighten and spasm above him, gripping the thick and throbbing length of his cock. You were fucking incredible, more beautiful and perfect and sensual and dirty than he ever would’ve thought he would deserve.

“Do you like that, sweet girl? Like riding my cock right here, in the cockpit? Earning its name, isn’t it? What a sweet, dirty girl you are for me.” Din whispered, one hand continuing to trace pressured patterns into your clit while his other hand came up to tangle itself in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back towards him, before your hot cheek came to rest against the freezing beskar of his helmet. Despite the barrier offered by the beskar, he would’ve sworn that he could still feel the heat of you against his cheek, as if nothing had been separating the two of you. Whether it was here in the cockpit, or in the casino on Canto Bight, you had always managed to look past all of the beskar to see the man underneath it.

Din loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to choose what to do from here — and as your hands came outwards to rest on Din’s knees, giving yourself the balance necessary to continue to ride him, he knew that he was a goner, knew that he’d do whatever you asked of him. He liked to play, to pretend that he was in control, and yet as he watched your body move against his in the starlight, he understood that sense of power was an entertaining illusion, but at the end of each and every day he was entirely enchanted by you. He would give you any pleasure, any comfort that you asked, he would give you every single star in the sky — he would give you his name, make it yours; he would give you any sight of him that you desired. Any sight, were you only to ask.

He felt his cock twitching as you continued to draw your body back down and into his; there was a tightness and a heat spreading like wildfire through his chest, coursing through his body and brightening and sensitizing every nerve. He groaned and a curse fell from his lips, as his body continued to react instinctively to the incredible sensation of your pussy clenched tightly around him; his hand ripped away from its place between your thighs, and his hand cracked sharply against your ass. He loved the way his palm stung with the impact, loved the way that he watched the soft flesh ripple and quake beneath his hand. This was a good angle, worth repeating.

He could feel your body tightening above his, could feel the way that your muscles were coiling in a familiar way that he had grown to love; he growled in your ear, the modulator making it seem even more ferocious. He offered one more sharp slap against your backside before his fingers resumed their rightful place against your clit, but this time with increased pressure and pace, determined to make you cum before him, determined to feel the way you would soak him with your orgasm before his rapidly-approaching release.

“Din— D-Din, fuck, please,” you whimpered, and he sat up in the seat before wrapping an arm around your chest, pulling you into him tightly, to the point where he wasn’t sure where his breaths began and yours ended. Maybe he couldn’t give you all the stars in the sky, but he could give you this, would spend every day of his life giving you this, making you feel blissful and adored in a way that he trusted only he could.

He nestled his covered head into your shoulder, continuing to hold your burning body against his as he fucked up and into you; his other hand continued to stroke against your clit, each movement making you quake against him in a way that he loved and burned into his memory. His breaths became heavy as he felt you tightening around him; you were positively burning now, your skin hotter than the stars that flew above you, and Din knew you were getting close from the way that you cried and keened at his touch.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, working to coax you even higher as the two of you chased that orgasm. “Want to feel you cum on my cock, sweet girl, want to feel you cum for me. You just love the way I fuck you, don’t you?” He fought off the waves of pleasure that were licking against him as he wanted to bring you to that peak, wanted to know your needs were taken care of. He would always take care of you, even though he knew you’d never need him to.

You gasped, your breaths becoming increasingly more shallow and desperate as you continued to burn and tense beneath his touch. “Want — want you to cum for me, c-cum inside me, please, Din — want to, need to feel you cum for me—“

Your desperate pleas for him to cum were going to be his undoing — he had understood that he could never deny you what you wanted, and fuck if this wasn’t included in it. He tried to fight it, the valiant piece of himself wanting to get you there first, not wanting to be selfish in this pleasure. “Gonna cum for you, but please— be a good girl, cum for me first, cyar’ika —“

“What does that mean?” You asked curiously, momentarily drawing his attention away from his impending orgasm. This brief shift in attention allowed for him to catch his breath and turn his focus back to you. He brought his hips upwards into yours with an almost bruising force, continuing to drive his desperately aching cock into your throbbing and clenching pussy as he fought to get you there.

The two of you were gasping and sweating, the previously-cool air of the cabin now burning with the undeniable heat of desperate, loving bodies — and your hands came to rest against Din’s, holding them against your flaming skin, as you whispered a small, simple request to him. “Cum with me, Din, please.”

He groaned and the tension that had been building within his body came to a head, as your body tensed to a shatter point; as he felt an avalanche of pleasure an relief crash through him, he felt your body crashing in pleasure against him, your pussy gripping him tightly and soaking him with the waves of your orgasm. He felt his release spreading within you, loving the way that he buried his spent cock and his cum deeply inside you; there was something primal and instinctual about this release that made his skin crawl with an animalistic kind of satisfaction and pride.

Your body was shaking against his with the combined sensations, and Din’s grip shifted from a constraining, desperate grasp to a more soft and gentle one; he cradled you against him, and as your burning body came to rest against his beskar, he suddenly resented it for the distance it created. He wanted to feel you entirely, wanted to drink in every single second of bliss that the two of you shared, unsullied and undiluted by the anonymity he had fought for years to maintain. He shifted the positioning of his arms so one was cradled under your shoulders, and another was wrapped underneath your knees. He brought your relaxed and shaking form up to rest against his, needing more contact than what he had previously allowed. “Keep your eyes closed,” He murmured quietly.

“Please.” He added softly.

Din watched your eyes flutter closed and while he missed the sight of them, missed the starlight reflected in them, he wanted something else more. He reached upwards to pry the helmet off of himself, having suddenly felt quite suffocated by, it despite the excellent filtration and air quality it offered him. He needed to fully be here in this moment, with you. He dropped the helmet to the floor, the solid beskar setting off a clanging sound that echoed throughout the cockpit, but he didn’t care — all he cared about right now was kissing you.

His lips found yours with a surety and confidence that made his heart soar; he felt attuned to your body, to your desires, and he loved this newfound physical familiarity that he had developed; he had never known anybody this intimately before. He kissed your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, everything that he could reach, relishing in every second and sensation of contact that he was allowed.

Tightening his arms around you, he pulled you upwards and into his chest as he stood up from the chair in the cockpit; he felt you gasp in surprise against him, but then you relaxed into his grasp, trusting him, and also being exhausted from your previous indulgences. His pants slung lowly around his hips, he carried your naked form forward and into the cabin of the ship, moving towards the fresher. The two of you were a mess, dampened by sweat and the release of orgasm, and there was nothing in this galaxy that sounded better than a shower.

You had kept your eyes dutifully closed until the darkness surrounding you grew even darker, as the light in the fresher turned off. Din couldn’t see hardly anything in here, but the years of familiarity gave him an advantage that allowed for him to turn on the water and guide your bodies into it, without so much as a stubbed toe or a misstep.

“You never answered me earlier,” you said quietly, your voice holding a sort of… nervousness, that caught Din off guard. He stayed quiet for a moment, trying to sort through what had transpired in the cockpit. You seemed to take his silence as an invitation to elaborate, and Din was continually grateful that you often made the effort to speak up and initiate. “You didn’t tell me what that word meant; you called me cyar’ika. I’ve never heard that before.”

Din pulled your body closer into his, loving the way that the two of you fit together so flawlessly. “I thought you could understand almost any language,” he teased, as he relaxed into you and the water that flowed down across your bodies.

“It’s Mando’a, isn’t it?”

Din nodded.

“I’ve never heard anyone speak it before, not until you.”

Din felt a sort of pressure in his throat; being still somewhat unfamiliar and removed from his own emotions, he struggled to allow himself to feelthem, and it was nearly impossible to identify them. He wasn’t sure what this feeling, both physical and emotional was, but… he didn’t dislike it? No, he actually quite liked the idea of sharing a first experience with you, of having something that would permanently connect him to you — even if life someday took the two of you apart, he knew that you would always think of him whenever you heard someone speak his language. “Words in Mando’a often have… many meanings.” He paused, trying to find the right words to share. “It means… Beloved. Darling. Sweetheart.”

Din could feel your breath catch at his quiet admission, and as you whispered a response, he hung on your every word.

“I’ve never heard anybody speak that to me before either.”

***

Taglist: @knivesareout @tanzthompson @stageleftlauren @greatcircle79 @bdavishiddlesbatch @who-is-a-heretic-now @mesmorales

#Din Djarin #Pedro pascal #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin x you #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fic #the space between

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everythingstarwars · 5 years ago

Text

Mine - A Kylo Ren x Reader Fic

Warnings:

- leading up to smut (none in this chapter)

- kissing

- choking

- anger issues

- possible TLJ spoilers?

Chapter Three - You’re Safe Here

Weeks passed, and you saw no more of Ren. This shouldn’t have bothered you quite as much as it did. He was a Commander, after all. Why would he visit? And yet, your desire for familiarity in this bleak, monotonous lifestyle had you scanning the doorway every now and then, heart fluttering with the hope of seeing his face. The notion that Kylo Ren’s masked face had become a source of comfort was almost enough to make you laugh.

That was until one day, roughly 2 months from the day you were brought onboard. A sharp knock on the door alerted you to the emergence of a visitor, and you glanced up from your book (Imperial Legacy, Volume 9), prepared to greet the stormtroopers for their weekly check in.

“You came back,” You said, eyes widening.

Kylo Ren stepped out of the shadows for the millionth time in your brief history with him. He seemed less stiff today. He walked into the room and allowed the door to slide shut, signaling that this would be more than just a short visit. The stormtroopers were nowhere to be seen.

He strode across the cell until he reached you, then stood still - hovering. It seemed like an eternity until he spoke. “I’ve decided to take the duties of checking up on you myself. As one of our more… capable prisoners, you require a higher level of security,” he informed you.

It was almost a compliment.

“Understood.” Was all you said in response. “Sir.” You added after a brief deliberation. This caught him off guard. Kylo brought a cloaked hand to his helmet and ran it over the back, as though stroking his hair in thought. He glanced backward, noticed the simple metal bench at the corner of your room, and approached it to take a seat.

You leaned back against the headboard and smirked. “So, what - are you gonna just watch me do nothing for eternity?”

You didn’t expect a response, and he did not provide one. Reclining once more, you opened up the book and continued to read. While the story - now on a voyage through the particularly murderous years of the Empire - was riveting as always, something had been awoken in the back of your mind. The thrumming of your heart cared not for your persistent ignorance. After a moment, you peered over the crest of the book with a soft gaze and waited until you were sure he was looking you in the eyes. It didn’t take long.

“I don’t mind,” you said, your voice inching toward a whisper.

As the months went by, Kylo returned week after week, just as he had promised. For the most part, he remained silent, stealing away to his secluded corner and dutifully watching you read, write, sing, or sleep - which admittedly, you found a bit disturbing. Informing him of this, he agreed to the surprising promise of waking you up upon his arrival, should you be asleep again in the future. Your respect for him grew little by little.

Conversation was limited. He was not a social creature. Kylo seemed to have no issue keeping silent for hours at a time. However, that was not to say that he was robotic in manner. Many times, you caught him staring at you while reading or writing, or almost-inconspicuously scanning your body from top to bottom as he entered your room. Almost. Occasionally, he would even instigate conversation.

The first time was one day as he sat watching you read the latest Imperial Rule Manual (Volume Twelve: Droid Edition). Walking to the bookshelf, he stooped down and examined the rows of books, most of which had been clearly removed and replaced, returned to their home heavily dog-eared and evidently consumed.

“You read all of these?” He asked. You glanced up from your pages.

You allowed yourself a smirk. “I had nothing else to do.” Keep the explanation short and simple, that was your best move. Somewhere in deep caverns of your mind you registered the fact that your starvation for human contact had led you to treating Kylo Ren like a tentative street cat.

“I’ve always found them incredibly boring.” Kylo admitted. This response wouldn’t have surprised you if the fact that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren speaking to you at all wasn’t the most shocking thing you had experienced to date.

“Oh, they are.”

“You read them anyway? Interesting …”

Was there… amusement in his voice?

“Well, they may be a bit boring but… I agree with most of their beliefs.” The words were true, as was your surprise at his reaction.

“Tell me,” He responded, settling on the floor next to your bed with his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, his villainous guise flickered, and he seemed very normal. Very young. Sitting there next to you, silent and calm, giving you his full attention in a moment of abrupt compassion.

You raised an eyebrow and obeyed, beginning to explain your thoughts on the imperial texts. He didn’t make a sound, allowing you to speak for as long as you wanted and add as much detail as you desired. When you finished, he responded with his own opinions on the matter, and the conversation continued.

It was almost two hours before he stood up to leave. Despite his brief politeness, he left without a word of goodbye and never brought up the conversation again. But from that day on, your dynamic had changed. Kylo Ren was no longer a voiceless captor. He had opened the channels of interaction, and you wanted more.

Over the following months, you began to speak more and more, soon growing almost comfortable with each other. Often he would arrive at your cell only to be greeted by a beaming smile on your face. The two of you discussed literature, history, the beliefs of the empire you already shared, the planets you had visited, and the worlds you yet longed to see. He refused to share any information about himself or his past, but invested fully in any stories you were willing to share or hopes of the future. Contact remained prohibited.

Even in the lightest of times, however, darkness tends to linger. You were occasionally reminded of this. No matter how open Kylo Ren grew to be around you, he was an Imperial Commander, a force of evil, and a Sith.

“There’s a celebration they do, every year at the end of the harvest season. They gather all the younglings and float Lilieans in the river. I used to watch them drift down the riverbanks with my father, until they reached the waterfall, and then whoosh-,” you made a swishing gesture with your hand. “There they would go. Gone forever. But we would do it again the next year.”

You had been conversing with him for about an hour already, and you both were deeply immersed in stories from your childhood. Kylo, curious and willing to listen, and you, passionate and eager to share. The stories brought a smile to your face, in addition to making you a bit homesick.

Kylo nodded. “It sounds beautiful,” he said. You smiled wistfully.

“It was.”

He noticed your expression. “You miss it?”

“Very much so. It has been my home since birth. Wouldn’t you miss yours?”

“No,” he admitted. “I find it surprising that you do.”

You cocked your head. “And why’s that?”

“I had taken you for someone smarter than that. Such sentimentality; attachment to something as meaningless as a planet…”

“A planet that you ravaged,” you reminded him.

Kylo sighed. “When will you understand,” he said eventually. “That sometimes the intent outweighs the outcome?”

You narrowed your eyes. His words rarely angered you, the bar set as low as it was, but somehow these struck a nerve. “Look, I don’t know what your intent was,” you growled, “And I doubt you’ll tell me. But that was my home you destroyed. Those were my people you massacred. And when you took me aboard this ship, it was for doing something that I still believe in. I was protecting them, protecting my family and our legacy.” You were nearly spitting with anger now. You weren’t sure where it had all come from so quickly, but a fire had ignited in your chest and it was futile to resist the flames.

“You imperial beasts have no idea of the lives you are destroying, even less so of the lives you are taking- ” Something silenced you. A tightening in your throat. Your vocal chords were compressed enough to mute them entirely, and soon you felt oxygen begin to diminish in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Hands raised to your throat in desperation, you struggled for air that was not supplied.

Kylo approached you. Slowly. Taking his time. His hand was raised in a grasping motion. When he reached you, he kneeled down and leaned in a little too close for your liking. He squeezed his hand and your throat closed along with it.

“Careful what you say next, delicate one. Would be a shame if something happened to your pretty little neck.”

You tried to gasp and failed.

“I would be more careful with your words, moving forward. Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am. And seeing as you consistently defy my orders about staying quiet, you may want to learn to beg for forgiveness soon.”

With a single flick of his wrist, your throat reopened. You inhaled deeply and struggled for breath, gasping and heaving like a fish. He allowed you a moment to regain oxygen. When you felt more stable, you met his glare with one of your own.

“You almost killed me,” you growled.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have.”

You considered this for a moment. The strangulation had not lasted very long, and his force-grip wasn’t as tight as you would have expected. Your throat felt surprisingly devoid of lingering pain. The whole affair seemed to be more of a fear tactic than anything else. It worked.

Furthermore, you found yourself considering his words from before carefully. You were surprised to find you believed him. He was more forgiving than many First Order officers had been so far, that was undeniable. It struck you that you could have gotten in far more trouble than you did for your traitorous words.

You held his gaze in a new light. Shadows of anger remained in your heart, he had still strangled you and he clearly hadn’t lost the fiery nature you had first experienced. But you found yourself able to nod politely and whisper, “I’m sorry, Commander. I understand when to hold my tongue.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t entirely the truth.

He nodded and stole away to the doorframe, where he lingered for a moment. Dramatically, as was the routine with everything he did.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said.

For the first time, he didn’t seem to relish in the candor of his words. He glanced back at you one last time and left the room.

. . .

Weeks passed, and life in solitude continued. The storm troopers returned once again for the weekly-check in. Kylo did not. You couldn’t bring yourself to be sad. If anything, it was almost nice to be able to push him from your mind once and for all. Well, almost.

You hadn’t seen him for an eternity, when one night you were woken by a weight on your shoulder. Something jostled you once. Then twice. After a moment, you were awake and sitting up. Your head felt full of sand. Even with groggy vision, you could tell it was the middle of the night.

Kylo stood at the foot of the bed, his arm extended and his voice impatient.

“Get up,” he instructed. You stood, took his hand, and allowed him to lead you to the door. You registered the fact that your hair must be a mess and your voice was raspy with exhaustion. His wasn’t. Did the guy ever sleep?

“Follow me. Don’t make a sound.” He spoke quietly. When you reached the door he grasped your wrist. In the darkness, you saw the glint of metal and heard a sharp clicking noise. Your bracelet clattered to the floor. With the handcuff removed, he pulled you out of the cell for the first time in months and the two of you took off down a barren hallway. The entire ship was asleep, and the only sound was the monotone humming of an engine somewhere.

“Where are you taking me?” You inquired. His hand was to your throat in an instant. The walking ceased.

“What did I say?” He growled in your ear. His leather glove was cool against the skin of your neck. Your heart thrummed at the feeling. When you tried to breathe, you found you could, just barely. The thought was exciting.

“Apologies, sir,” You submitted as he released you. You hoped the darkness was enough to disguise your smirk.

He resumed his pace, leading you along with him, though he no longer clutched your hand. Willfully, you followed him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

After a couple of hallways that brought no change of scenery, a new thought dawned on you. Your throat closed up without any action from Kylo. Beads of sweat met the skin of your forehead and crystallized in the cold night air.

“Kylo,” You whispered. “Am I going to die?”

He almost stopped, but then seemed to think better of it and keep walking.

“What?”

“Am I being led to my execution? Did they send you to make it easier on me?”

You heard a soft laugh from somewhere inside his helmet. “My presence has grown to soothe you, has it?” He teased.

“I- uh… no.”

“No,” He consoled, “You’re not going to die.”

You sighed in relief, but a million questions remained.

“Then-,” You began.

“Quiet. We’re almost there.”

He took you down one final hallway and the path opened up into a cavernous control room. Blinking lights, abandoned consoles, and empty chairs filled the room. Even at night, it purred with electricity and activity, as if alive in some way. Massive computers lined the walls, and the front of the room was consumed by an enormous floor-to-ceiling window, revealing the vast expanse of space outside.

You walked through it in amazement. A long, glossy pathway through the center guided your way to the window. It was like walking down an aisle. As you passed each computer console, your fingers skimmed the tops enviously, imagining the power contained in just a single one, and what you could do with such ability. So much information, so much control, held in this one single room.

Kylo walked behind you for the first time. He allowed you to take your time admiring the room. You imagined he must be proud. This was his accomplishment, after all. His empire.

The window rose in front of you, tall and enchanting, like a gateway to the outside world. As you grew closer, you began to spot the small dots of stars in the distance, tiny flickering lights that appeared and vanished in your vision. One by one, then clusters, until the entire sky was filled with them. It was a sight you were familiar with, but seeing such wonder from space itself, as though you were another star among them, was different in every way. Your eyes glowed in their light.

Kylo joined you next to the window and watched as you reached out to touch the glass. You recoiled immediately. It was freezing. Colder than anything you had ever felt, as though it would solidify your blood with just one touch.

He ignored your activity and stared out the window. You tried to decipher what he found so interesting and could not, beautiful as the void was. You were about to ask him why he had brought you here, when something caught your eye.

A sliver of light lit up a corner of the window, growing larger and larger by the second. You remembered suddenly that you were on a ship, and it was moving.

The light was being omitted by something far in the distance, many light years away. There were only a couple of celestial bodies that did that.

Kylo gestured to the light - as if you hadn’t noticed - and spoke for the first time in minutes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, as the ball of light edged into view.

You nodded, recognizing it after a moment. “...Pleione, right? It’s a star,” you responded, smiling. It struck you what was about to happen.

“When it passes our ship in a few minutes, it will generate a mirage of light across the sky.” Kylo voiced what you were just piecing together.

“A sunrise,” you murmured. Sudden excitement consumed you as your scientific brain kicked in. You had seen a sunrise before, of course, but never from a ship. You hadn’t realized it would be possible until now. “From the angle of the destroyer against it’s rays… similar to that of a mini-planet. We’ll actually get to see a sunrise.”

“Indeed,” Kylo confirmed, sounding a bit awestruck. He looked at you, and allowed his gaze to linger for a moment. Had he been expecting you to understand? Wouldn’t most people? You couldn't be sure, but why would he bring you out here otherwise? You wondered what he was thinking.

“Kylo, why did you bring me out here?”

“I figured you missed seeing them,” he answered, still looking at you.

Something stirred in your heart. A genuine act of kindness, of sympathy… from Kylo Ren. It should have surprised you more than it did. Still, the act was unexpected and brought a bright flush to your face despite efforts to remain cool.

His next move surprised you more.

You had turned back to watch the approaching star, when a low click brought your attention back to Kylo. With a sound similar to that of a vacuum cleaner being turned off, his helmet was removed and cast aside. A heavy sound resonated through the room as it hit the floor by his feet.

“Kylo, what’re you…?” You inquired with widening eyes.

He turned to face you, and the man that met your eyes was worlds away from how you envisioned Kylo Ren. He had tumbling black hair, pushed back by the mold of his helmet, that reached the base of his neck in length and curled around his ears ever so slightly. His eyes were a shade of brown so dark they were almost black, and his skin was the color of ivory.

When he smirked at you, he looked so different from the man you thought you had grown to know. So young… so pretty. It struck you how handsome he was, a development you were certain you had not prepared for.

“Well, I can’t see the beauty of the sunrise if I’m wearing a mask, can I?” He said, almost flippantly. His voice, his real voice, mesmerized you. It was low and sonorous, less raspy than it had been with the helmet on yet still slightly cracked. The voice of someone tall, someone warm. Of a man with a young heart but an old soul.

You realized your lips were dry and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Look,” he said, interrupting your swirling thoughts, all too abstract to form words. The sunset had begun.

It began slowly, as though waking up from a long nap. Tiny slivers of warmth crept along the edges of the window. Not too many, not enough to overwhelm. Soon, an entire glowing curve of raw sunlight was visible. Then, the night sky burst to life, massive brushes of colorful light spreading in every direction, painting the sky with its splendor. Every panel of the window was illuminated by a magnificent golden glow, the stars in the distance fading as they were consumed by the light.

It was a spectacle unlike any you had ever seen. It light up Kylo in the warmth as well, his raven-black hair turning a shade of burgundy and his dark eyes glittering gold. You realized it must be doing the same to you.

You both turned to look at each other in awe at the same time and locked eyes. You were smiling, he had a serene look on his face. You looked away first, blushing. His eyes stayed on you.

When it was over and the sky returned to an eerie pitch black, he led you back to your cell.

You stepped inside rubbed your eyes, the effect of waking up so early finally hitting you. Kylo stood in the doorway with his mask in hand, staring at you with a thoughtful expression.

You took a step toward him. Upon receiving no reaction, you took another. And another. Until you were a mere few inches from him. Almost breathing the same air. With tentative slowness, you extended a hand and he met it, allowing you to take his. His hand was nearly twice the size of yours, but his fingers were long and laced gently with yours.

“Thank you for keeping me sane,” You whispered. The words weren’t really enough to express your true gratitude, but it would do for now.

Kylo narrowed his eyes. “I trust this will be enough to keep you behaved for a while?” He asked.

“Very well behaved, Commander,” you teased, moving closer and closer to him. He didn’t stop you.

You were an inch away. Less than. His arms were around you. You weren’t sure when that had happened. Your hands were around his neck. His skin was smooth, and cool to the touch. But his lips were warm when he kissed you.

It happened in an instant, almost too fast to register. You two connected, and all the barriers that had been put up melted away.

His lips were firm, but used gently. He took the lead, wrapping his arms further around your waist and kissing you deeply. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you fought a whimper. How was he so good at this? Your thoughts became giddy. Kylo...kylo...kylo… His lips were magic, his touch electrifying. His upper lip pressed into yours with the perfect amount of pressure, while his bottom lip grazed yours lightly, almost as if trying to open it.

He bit your bottom lip teasingly as he pulled away and a light moan left your mouth. He smirked at the sound. You were certain your face was now flushed completely red and possibly sweaty, but you didn’t care. He looked perfect, still, and he had just kissed you so… passionately. Your mind was too fuzzy with lust to think straight.

Kylo was still looking at you, but it was clear the time had come for him to leave. His eyes were asking a question, and you responded with a nod but reached for his hand one last time.

“I don’t want you to go,” You confessed.

He gazed into your eyes. His expression betrayed nothing, but he squeezed your hand lightly and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll be back,” he said as he pulled away.

Whether that was a threat or a promise, you couldn’t tell. But a moment later, he was gone.

You stood there standing at the door for long after it closed.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #makeout #daddy kylo coming soon #star wars the last jedi #first order

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kaziklubaby · 6 years ago

Text

Micah Bell x F!Reader

Title: A Killer to Die For!

Words: 2.3k

Pairings: Micah Bell x F!Reader

Warnings: It’s smut. And a little hardcore (?). It’s rated +18, only for dudes that can actually do it right. If you are a kid, Micah hates you. Deal with it.

Summary: It’s a chapter of a larger fic that I’m currently working on, but I could only bring myself to post the smut part. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned, and enjoyed veeeery much, indeed. If I had to pick a song to listen while reading this, it would be “Put It On Me” - Matt Maeson. Micah gives me the heebie jeebies, because that’s all he has to give.

Forgive my typos. They will haunt me forever.

You were mad about how things had turned out. First, Micah went to jail because of the O'Driscolls hounds and that stupid knife game, and that guilt was on you, not in him. You couldn't bear the shame of returning to camp at full speed and have to face them folk alone and say that because of you Micah got deep in shit, that scared you more than having to deal with your mess.

Many days before that one, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't sit and wait for help from anyone, and that pledge wasn't finished yet.

But again, it was Micah you were talking about, simple as that. He deserved to rot in jail. Who would actually miss him? No one would pay a second thought to his miserable existence, so why did you save him that day?

You could stay the whole day pointing what he deserved, but he didn't deserve to pay for something that wasn't on his bill.

When you saw him through the barred window something within you moved – like an organ that just came back to life – but it wasn't pity or even sorrow. And that made you hate yourself much more for that.

Now he had returned to camp with a handsome reward to boot.

And you hated him even more.

The feeling was so strong that you actually could feel it spreading throughout your veins, and burning your flesh inside out.

You wanted to kill him, for now, he was guilty of making you want for the first time, and again once more every day since the jailbreak. It was as if all the lives you two took together, all blood that stained the ground, made your entire being awake, and finally whole.

Micah was a man. It was never safe to be so close to one because when they had you in their hands, they would crush your spirit. You could not let it happen to you.

So, when he returned to camp, you waited for an opportunity, hidden in the shadows. In the end, it was a matter of principles – really. You couldn't let a man enter your life, it scared you and felt wrong, and if these feelings were clouding your judgment, then you would take him down and cut the evil by its root.

Who was he but a figure that resembled your despair? True, you were guilty of having those stupid feelings, but they were brought up to life by him – only him – Therefore, he was to blame. He had no right, and you could not stand live in that way.

He had no tent, and you guessed people preferred him away from the camp most of the times. So, you waited he finish his bottle of beer, soon he would have to pee and find a place to sleep, and you could just stab him in the back, as you always promised to him you would do.

When it was time, you trod lightly in the ground behind him. He had just peed and was smoking in silence. The knife was itching in the palm of your hand, your thoughts chasing your heart, but without success. You finally touched his back with the knife, he had no jacket that night, just his redshirt.

-You think you have the guts to do it? – he said, feeling the cold steel through his clothes.

You didn't answer, and that was a mistake. Deep down, he could smell you, like a male who sniffs the heat of its prey. Because don't be mistaken, you were his prey, even when you had the knife ready to kill him, and even if you had a gun, you could not shoot the bastard dead.

He dropped his cigarette and turned to you, a smug expression on his face. His eyes gleaming like sapphires. He held you by your wrist, making you drop your weapon.

-You know, I always thought that you had more spirit than most women have, but seems I was wrong. Here I was, completely defenseless and you couldn't even kill me.

You could have fought him, tried to kick him or even bite, but the fire that burned your veins made you confuse, was it really hate or something else? The air around you changed, almost sparkled with energy. For a moment you desired to flee, but your mind was stuck on that moment.

You knew that look, full of lust and cruelty. And you felt your body tremble with the realization that those eyes were the same as yours. You hated him, despised him, but, oh, you desired him as well in the same intensity, to the point where you would hate yourself. You hated yourself for you could not carry the plan into conclusion.

-Sugar, how old are you? – he said, his voice now a purr.

-I don't know – you said, your voice was unshaken.

He brought you closer. You could feel the heat that emanated out of his body, although his hands were always cold.

-You bleed, I saw your bloody rags, so, let me ask this again and you will answer to me, or so help me god... How long have you been bleeding?

-Around eight years or so. – you answered.

-Oh.. – his voice softened – That's good. I don't like younglings, they never know how to please me. I was getting impatient with you, you know, such a tease you were Y/N, my balls turned blue just to look at you.

He kissed you, and his lips tasted like alcohol and smoke. Harsh, deep and violent. You moved away from him, and with your free hand, slapped his face – that was your last hope to avoid him.

-Oh – he laughed, gripping both of your wrists now – dollface, you really know how to get me off, don't you?'

He pushed you against a tree and made you face it, still holding your wrists tightly in your back with one of his hands.

You didn't put up a real fight to it though. Tried to move of course, and cried a little, but his hand was holding you with a strength that you couldn't quite equal in that position.

His boner already against your butt, almost like a warning. With the other hand, he took off his belt and put it around your neck.

-What was that? Surrendered already? I don't like it. – saying this, he tightened his belt around your neck, like a leash – I really thought that you would be one of the wild ones, Y/N since I was looking forward to tame you good.

For an instant, he stopped and smelled you, your hair in specific.

-Now, Y/N, I shouldn't do this, because you deserve what is coming to you, but... if you promise to be a good girl, I may let you go... Will you be good? Keep in mind that I hate good girls.

Many things passed through your mind at that moment. That was it, you could slip away from him, or something like that. You tried to move your legs and arms, but he still held you good. You could move all you wanted, but he continued standing still.

-No. – you said, at last. Deeply regretting your decision, but, you also felt resignation, because your body was not responding to you anymore, and the heat that grew between your legs was stronger by far than your thoughts and fears.

He laughed, his amusement was raw and deep.

-I thought so.

Then, he put a piece of cloth in your mouth, and instead of holding your wrists, he held your leash.

-We can't have them hearing you, even though I would enjoy your suffering very much... Oh yeah, I will make you suffer, doll, be sure of it.

He lowered your pants just enough to leave your butt and thighs exposed to him, and he slapped you good to test your flesh.

You whined but was never so sure on your life. You dug your nails to the tree – all your hatred turned in excitement, and it poured over your body like a waterfall, washing away your doubts.

-I like them soft, just like you...

And he slapped you again, and again until your flesh burned hot in the fresh air of the night. You whined the whole way, and every time he would slap you harder. When you thought he would slap you again, your flesh already so hurt, he slid his fingers between your butt cheeks.

-So hot in here, Y/N, keeping it warm for me?

You closed your eyes, small tears ran through your face. Then, Micah startled you by putting one finger in your cunt and his thumb in your asshole.

-I can't choose which one to fuck first, both so eager to get some of me.

And he started forcing his entrance into you, first moving as deep as he could, then he would go hard and quick. You were acquainted with that feeling – you had to be a prostitute for a while – but it, also, had been a while since you fucked, and your body wasn't taking well being fucked again.

-Seems you are one of the hard ones. We'll change that tonight. – he said, pressing harder, which made you scream a little, pressing your forehead against the tree.

He continued until your body relaxed to the sensation again, and lit itself with the longing that could only be translated as raw desire. That was when he hit you there, making you jump.

-Yeah, hop for me, little rabbit. – he said, hitting your cunt again.

With each slap, you would hop, and at some point, you would hop even before getting slapped.

-No, you won't avoid it – he said, pushing your leash and making you stay on the ground – you won't be able to hop now.

And he hit you good, your whole body ached with pain and pleasure. Then, he finally opened his trousers, just enough to put his hard cock out in the open. He rubbed it against your butt cheeks, and all sensations felt enhanced. The area was so sensible that you could feel even the lightest touch, the smallest texture difference. Then, he rubbed his boner against your cunt, and it felt maddening.

You breathed with difficulty, air escaping your lungs.

-Oh, you like that? – he laughed, satisfied – You like that... Want some?

You nodded and whined.

-Beg for it. – he said – Beg like the little whore you are.

And he pressed his cock's length against you hard, without entering you, rubbing himself against your pussy's lips. You screamed a little with the feeling.

-I can't hear you – he whispered in your ear, before turning his tone into a harsh command – I said, beg for it!

-Peesee – you tried to say, with the cloth in your mouth.

-Say it again – and he pressed against you once more, harsh and violent.

-PEESEE!! – you tried to scream.

He didn't say anything, just shoved himself inside of you in a single movement. You screamed, and it sounded like a cry of despair. You couldn't control your moans and screeches, his cock making you quiver and shake. He tightened the leash around your neck, even more, trying to silence your voice, noticing how tight you became around him.

-Ain't you a nasty one... – he said, amusement in his voice, shoving his dick harder and deeper inside your pussy. His belly touching your back.

Your legs started shaking uncontrollably, and you felt that you could fall at any given moment. He held you by your thigh, pumping you up with his movements.

-You begged, now, you should thank me for fucking you so good. – he said, taking out his dick and shoving everything in a single swing of hips, you felt his balls hitting you too.

-Thank me – he said again, and did the same move once more – Thank me – he repeated, and did it again, and so on.

-Than... – you tried to say.

-Say it right! – he got harsher until you felt that your body couldn't take any more – Thank me!

-Thannk yooo! – you cried the loudest that you could, feeling your whole body exploding with pleasure. You didn't feel your legs, and they surrendered to gravity. He held you with his two hands, and didn't stop to fuck you, in fact, he got more violent if that was even possible.

Your body bent against him, like a broken doll in a shop. He held you close and tight, digging his nails in your flesh, and the world seemed to revolve around you. You could feel his heart pounding against you, on your back, in his cock inside of you, and that rhythm brought you peace.

Your cunt was sore within, and the edging made you cry silently with pleasure and pain combined. When he came close to cumming – and you could know because the way his cock felt inside of you – he held your neck with one hand, and buried his face in your hair, moaning loud and rough, before he took off his cock.

-On your knees – he said gasping, letting you slip to the ground – we can't have little Micahs running around, and you... you can't waste a drop of mine. Open your mouth.

You did as he said, sitting and opening your mouth to him. He took off the piece of cloth that was there before, throwing it away.

It was the first time you saw his cock, the moonlight gave it shape and size. You had figured before that it was thick, but now you noticed that he was also a little bent to the right, with a red tip.

He jerked off in your mouth, moaning with relief.

-Don't spit, or I will know. – he said, holding your jaw – swallow it.

You did.

-Such a pretty face... – he touched your scar with his thumb – even more, when painted with my cum.

#red dead redemption 2 #micah bell x reader #micah bell #fanfiction #pure smut #smut

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221bshrlocked · 3 years ago

Note

Oh im sorry i guess ny saracasm didnt come off to well in the way i typed it! I definitely meant it in like a sarcastic tone. Like of of course fan fiction is worse *followed by an exaggerated eye roll*

Like i want Frankie Morales to break my bed frame. How is writing about that worse then literally messaging people Pedro knows irl and harassing them about who hes dating.

Like do those people literally not have a brain? Are they that much of a puritan that sex fics about people who arent real is bad, but harassing a real human man about his none of our buisness sexuality is fine???

Why are these kind of women always so obsessed with men they are attracted to being in a gay relationship?? Like why is my harmless smut so bad but their weird gay men fetish not??

This is why I stay out of the pedro tag. I just look at it occasionally, and point like that Simpson's joke going "Good lord whats going on in there?!"

When I tell you I feel like the dumbest person ever for not catching the sarcasm 😩😩 but I genuinely thought you meant it because everyone in the tag certainly means it lol

But it's like you said, it's hilarious in a depressing way. I'm honest to God convinced that every time some take like this spreads like wild fire and starts am unnecessary debate and makes the fandom toxic, it's either because of minors who claim that they aren't minors but the thought process obviously makes it clear that they are younglings OR as with the case in the ever existing star wars fandom, it's the sexist homophobic racist fandom boys. In the case of the Pedro Pascal fandom, it's the former.

I think I'll take a page out of your book and stay away from that tag. Thanks for the tip 🥲🙃

#fandom stuff

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makemyownwonderland-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Let you Go

Summary: Obi-Wan fic where reader wants more out of the relationship. Fluff, light smut, angst

A/N: Written for @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ��s songfic challenge. song it’s based on is Million Reasons by Lady Gaga

You’re giving me a million reasons to let you go

You stared across the vast room full of training younglings, eyes never wavering from your fellow Jedi Master. His fluid movements captivating you, his kind smile entrancing you. As much as you chastised yourself for going against the code and developing “attachments”, you couldn’t help but fall in love with Obi-Wan. He knew of your affections and in fact expressed that he too felt the same way.

The code meant everything to him and he was reluctant to enter a relationship with you. However, there was an unparalleled magnetism between you two that made it nearly impossible to stay away. The two of you decided to construct a relationship that was hidden from everyone else. Both knowing the consequences if you should be caught were dire. You certainly understood this, yet you couldn’t help the feeling of misery slowly creeping upon you. You longed for a normal relationship. One where you could wake up and see the face of the man you loved laying next to you in bed every morning. Where affection was given freely and without any care of who sees. Love that didn’t have to be hidden; that wasn’t forbidden.

I try to make the worse seem better

Of course, you hated yourself for thinking that way. You were grateful for the love Obi-Wan expressed with you when the two of you were entirely alone, no matter how fleeting those moments were. The intimate times spent locked away in each other’s rooms were full of passion and adoration for one another. The warm, open-mouthed kisses he placed across your jawline down to your most intimate area would leave your head spinning. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into a writhing mess underneath him. It was safe to say that you had the same ability to drive him mad with desire. Since neither of you had been particularly experienced in any areas of romantic love and sex it was something you discovered together. Working together to learn what drove the other wild.

Obi-Wan constantly made your heart flutter. The slightest touch while passing in the hall would make your breath hitch and your cheeks glow light pink. Soft kisses passed between the two of you in deserted areas among the temple made your knees weak. Even making eye contact with his gorgeous blue-green eyes made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Every whispered “I love you,” causing a warmth to spread throughout your entire body.

Can’t you give me what I’m needin’, needin’

Every heartbreak makes it hard to keep the faith

You knew Obi-Wan would worship you freely if it weren’t for the Jedi code. The pain it caused him to break the code, something he truly believed in, was becoming increasingly difficult for you to bear. Especially when you reminded yourself that he was doing it for you. In addition to the strain on yourself from causing him turmoil and the need to be loved without hesitation wad drilling a hole into your heart. The inability to love freely was tearing you down. After months of hesitation you decided to attempt to end the hurt that you felt.

I’ve got a million reasons to walk away

It had been nearly six months since you had left the Jedi temple and consequently Obi-Wan. You thought to spare your heart as well as his it would be best for you to leave. Without a word, you abandoned everything you had come to know and fled to your home planet, Alderaan. The pain of leaving was incredibly difficult to manage, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps you had made the wrong choice. However, the days turned into weeks and those into months and no one came to search for you. Not even Obi-Wan. Maybe your love wasn’t reciprocated as much as you’d thought. Maybe it wasn’t real.

And if you say some things you might even mean

It’s hard to even fathom which parts I should believe

The thought made your heart shatter. Little did you know the Jedi had shattered as well. You didn’t know Anakin had turned to the Dark Side. You didn’t know about the slaughter of the innocent younglings by his hand. You were certainly unaware of the babies Padme had given birth to. Your life continued as normal on Alderaan. You had resolved to live your life alone, so you wouldn’t have to experience the agony of heartbreak again.

“Y/N?” a deep, hoarse voice called from behind you.

“Y/N is that really you?!” the pained voice came again.

You turned to see the face of the man who held your heart in his hands, the same hands which now held a small bundle of blankets to his chest.

“Obi-Wan,” you breathed, surprised at the sight before you, “it’s me.”

He rushed towards you, a smile gracing his features but you could see the sorrow that his eyes held.

“W-what are you doing h-here?” Obi-Wan stuttered quickly.

“I should be asking you that exact question,” you countered, gesturing to the infant in his arms.

Confusion flashed across his stunning face before he realized that you too were confused by seeing him on Alderaan, with a baby no less.

“An-Anakin and Padme had a baby, well two actually, this is one of them. Her name is Leia,” he explained, as if it should’ve bene obvious.

“Okay, why do you have her?”

“Oh, A-An-,” he sputtered, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Without hesitation, you flung your arms around the man and pulled him closer; being careful not to harm the baby. Obi-Wan buried his head in the crook of your neck as a sob wracked through his body.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, everything’s alright,” you whispered, stroking the back of his neck soothingly.

Fully understanding what transpired you and Obi-Wan now sat in awkward silence in your small home. After what felt like hours, Obi-Wan broke the quiet and tense atmosphere surrounding you two.

“Why did you leave?”

You were silently hoping he wouldn’t ask, but you knew he would.

“To make it easier,” you stated simply, looking at the floor.

“To make what easier?”

You paused. Unsure of what to say.

“Living. I couldn’t handle not being able to love you and be loved in the way I wanted to. It was selfish of me to leave but I thought it would be easier for both of us. I knew breaking the code was hurting you and that knowledge was destroying me. Being so close to you but not being able to freely express my affections was tearing me apart and I was weak and couldn’t do it anymore,” you spewed out like word vomit.

Obi-Wan lowered his head into his hands and you watched as he inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took.

“Why didn’t you come for me?” you finally asked, anguish written across your face.

He looked up at you, red surrounding his beautiful blue eyes.

“I thought you loved me,” you choked out.

“I did. I do love you Y/N. I thought you no longer loved me and I wanted to save myself the pain of you rejecting me to my face. That’s why I never searched for you. I wanted you to be happy,”

“I love you Obi-Wan. I have since the moment I met you and I will continue to love you until my dying breath,”

The words left your mouth before you could consciously stop yourself. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell slightly agape.

“Y/N I love you more than anything. I’m sorry I made you feel any amount of pain or made you think that I didn’t love you. I vow to never let that happen again, come with me. Come to Tatooine, we can live in peace and I can love you the way you deserve,” he pleaded.

You blinked back tears as a smile spread across your face. Nodding you stood up and went to his side. He wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you onto his lap. He placed a kiss on your temple before taking your chin in his hand and tipping your face up towards him.

“Marry me Y/N?”

I’ve got a hundred million reasons to walk away,

But baby, I just need one good one, good one

Tell me that you’ll be the good one, good one

Baby, I just need one reason to stay

#imamotherfuckingstar-lord song fic challenge #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi #songfic

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lover-of-midnight · 4 years ago

Text

Is there a way out - chapter 27

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rape/Non-Con

Major Character Death

Categories:

F/M

M/M

Fandom:

Merlin (TV)

Relationships:

Arthur/Original Male Character

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Leon & Morgana (Merlin)

Leon/Morgana (Merlin)

Side Morgana/Leon

Characters:

Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Merlin (Merlin)

Leon (Merlin)

Morgana (Merlin)

Gaius (Merlin)

Balinor

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Dark

Dark fic

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Rape/Non-con Elements

Rape Recovery

domestic abuse

Suicide Attempt

Depression

Arranged Marriage

soul mates

Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Non-Consensual Touching

Omega Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Alpha Merlin (Merlin)

Alpha Uther

Beta Morgana

Beta Leon

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

forced bondage

Prince Merlin (Merlin)

Queen Hunith

King Balinor

Suicide

Kidnapped

toture

Smut in chapter 34

Wedding

Language:English

Arthur jumped slightly when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised to see that Gwain was already when he opened the door.

Gwain was dressed in casual clothes. “Hello, Princess.” There was a lightly teasing tone to his voice. Arthur couldn’t help but raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He had a feeling that Gwain was a big jokester.

“Hallo Gwain.” Arthur’s voice was still on the quiet side. As if he was scared to raise trouble.

“So I am in charge of showing you around today. First thing first, did you eat today?” Gwain was certain that he could see Arthur’s ribs through the clothing. It hanged loos on him, even though it was clear that it was made for him.

“Yes.” Arthur was uncertain why he would care about his eating. Gwain just gave him a small smile. He knows how it was. It is hard to pick up weight after going long times with eating.

“Well, I didn’t have breakfast yet. So kitchen first, I am sure the cook would have some of her famous honey bread. Did you have honey bread before?” Gwain prattled on.

Arthur felt slightly overwhelmed. “No.” He looked at the floor. He wasn’t sure how he should react.

“Well then, there is no time to waist.” Gwain gently took Arthur’s hand, pulling him to the door. Arthur easily followed. His mind spun slightly. But he followed Gwain.

Gwain talked about everything and something on the way to the kitchen. “I love cooking. When I first got here, it was one of the classes I had signed up for. That was something else. Working out every though through chopping up some food.” Gwain’s voice softened slightly.

Arthur gave him a curious look but he didn’t ask what Gwain means. When they got to the kitchen, a busty woman was talking to another. Their faces were so friendly and open that Arthur couldn’t help but feel comfortable immediately.

“Gwain.” The one-woman pulled him into a hug. “We were wondering when you would be coming down.”

The kitchen was warm, Arthur could see at least two ovens begin used and he was sure that soon the pot will also be used.

“My dear lady, do you by any chance have some of your famous honey bread. My friend here never had honey bread.” Gwain pulled Arthur closer so that he could introduce them.

With the attention of both cooks on him, Arthur couldn’t help but blush.

“And who is this?” The woman was friendly as she reaches out to Arthur, but Arthur just backs away a bit.

“This is the princess omega.” Gwain kept a firm look on Arthur, he had a feeling he would need to tell Merlin, how he was in the presence of other people.

The two women almost jumped up and down. “That’s wonderful. What is your name darling?” The older woman asked. Her eyes were a dark green, something that Arthur had rarely seen. For a moment, he just wanted to run.

He wished that it was rather Merlin with him than Gwain, but he also had a sneaky suspicion that Merlin wanted him to make friends. But why Gwain?

“Arthur Ma’am.” Arthur kept his eyes on the floor. He could feel his heart trying to climb out of his chest.

“What a beautiful name. Welcome in Mercia. I am Rose and this is my younger sister Lilly.” Rose voice was like a rough melody, it almost reminded Arthur of the waves crashing against rocks, but it wasn’t that completely.

“Well you boys are in luck, I just took out a fresh batch of honey bread. Come, come.” Rose hands were moving around, as she showed them to chairs near a roaring fire.

Arthur was a little bit unsure as he sat down. This felt wrong. Why are they so friendly?

If he came near the kitchen in Camelot, Audrey had shooed him out. The only time he was allowed in there was when he had lessons with her.

He looked at Gwain, his eyes telling him exactly the fact that he was unsure.

“Are you alright Arthur?” Gwain’s voice had lost the joy and playfulness. He could see that there is more than likely going to be a serious talk going to happen.

“Yeah.” Arthur’s eyes had shifted up before he looked at the floor again. He was sunk into himself.

Gwain was silent for a few moments. “You know you won’t get in trouble?” His voice had softened slightly.

Arthur didn’t answer him, the whole time, he is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. To do something wrong. He bit his lip slightly, this was just plain embarrassing. There was nothing to cry about.

“Arthur, Mercia is one of the few safe places for omegas. It doesn’t matter from what Kingdom you come from. They only ask for loyalty in return. But you would be safe here. You would be able to live your life in peace.” Gwain didn’t raise his voice.

He had is own path. When the knights had found him many moons ago, he was almost dead. Running away was not his brightest idea, but it was the only way.

Arthur still didn’t answer him. “Why don’t we ask these lovely ladies if we can take some bread, and go back to your chambers. We can continue the tour this afternoon or tomorrow if you want.” Gwain kept his voice relaxed.

Arthur could only nod. He couldn’t but help and hate himself for this. Gwain was begin nice to him, and all he can do is make his life difficult.

When they got back to his chambers, he opened the door allowing Gwain to enter. “I’m sorry.” Gwain almost fell over.

“Why?” His voice had a harsh note to it. He almost hit himself when he saw Arthur flinch. He took a deep breath. There is no reason to make Arthur have a panic attack.

“Arthur, you do not apologize for feeling. I know this is scary, then waiting for them to change. And believe me, that is something that will never truly go away. But you will heal, the wounds will become less painful and other days it would choke you.

“But you never apologize for how you feel.” Gwain fell silent. He didn’t mean to go off on a rant, but something would need to get through to Arthur.

Otherwise, this would only go downhill.

“How do you know that?” Arthur was scared to ask the question, he hoped that he didn’t intrude in a private matter.

Gwain was silent for a long time, he broke the loaf in two. Handing one part to Arthur.

“My family was nobility. Father was always abusive. No matter what I did, he would find fault with it and lay into me. Mother, well she just turned a blind eye. It didn’t bother her, that her son was getting beaten for not getting dressed fast enough.” Gwain fell silent for a moment.

“You don’t have to continue, I am sorry for intruding.” Arthur quickly filled the silence. The last thing he wants to do is intrude in someones else private life.

“No, you would do go to hear the story. When I turned thirteen, father had decided that it is time to sell me off to the highest bidder. I didn’t like it, so the night before the auction would happen, I threw my linen rope through the window.

“Using it I made an escape route, but I was still too far up, to safely land, I jumped the rest, injuring my ankle. The only thing that went through my head, except for fuck, was that I needed to getaway. As far as possible.

“So I hobbled run into the woods. I had no idea how to survive in the forest since it was determined since a youngling, that I would be an omega. So why would I need to know how to track or hunt?

“I was in the woods, no idea where I was going, and living from berries I found when knights of Mercia found me. If they hadn’t found me, I would have been dead.

“And in the beginning, I was like you. Scared that this is all a trick, that as soon as I made a mistake they would take me back to rot in the woods. But they didn’t. The matrons at the safe house I was staying, made sure that if something happened that I was comfortable. Taken care off.

“I met Merlin later on when he was volunteering at the house. He will take care of you Arthur, a blind man can see that he is already in love with you. And I know that it is hard. But you need to talk to him.

“If something is bothering you, tell him. That is the only way you would be able to move on from the issue, if you can’t tell him about it, write about it. But you need to communicate with him.” Gwain gave Arthur a firm look at the last part.

He was slightly surprised at how easy it was to share the story with Arthur.

“Thank you.” Arthur’s voice was soft, but it was clear that he was grateful to hear Gwain’s story.

Gwain showed with a gesture that Arthur should just eat his bread. When he has a chance he is going to talk to Merlin.

Arthur would need a lot of love.

#merlin (bbc)#merthur #Dark Fic #alternative universe-dark #soul mates #DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT #rape recovery #omega arthur pendragon #alpha merlin #prince merlin #king balinor #queen hunith #gwain

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