#the council is Very Done with anakin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

throughparisallthroughrome · 29 days

Text

R U Mine?

Summary: Anakin has an on-again-off-again, friends-with-benefits type fling with the reader, who won’t commit to him because he’s in the order. She becomes resentful of that fact and eventually starts to make him jealous. anakin loses it

Wordcount: 6.1k

CW: Smut, oral sex (male receiving), cheating but not really, Anakin and reader both being toxic, cursing, drinking, not that proofread

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to finish! I wanted it to be exactly how I pictured the song. I've also had COVID and just returned to college (taking 6 classes is insane). So, wish me luck! Lemme know if you want to be added to any taglists. As always, criticism is welcome and so is my ask box <3

masterlist.

Frustrated wasn’t the right word for what Anakin was feeling. Exasperated, maybe. Pissed? Oh abso-fucking-lutely.

The relationship Anakin had with you was… complicated to say the least. Far more than he wanted to admit- and far more than he ever liked. You swore up and down that you wanted him one day, and wouldn’t even look his direction the next. You’d get on your knees, begging for him, needing him to fuck you relentlessly; But tomorrow? Tomorrow you didn’t know his name. It suddenly became foreign to your tongue, perhaps just to spite him. That part he wasn’t entirely sure of. How could someone like you treat him like that? Lead him on just to break him the next day?

He just didn’t fucking get you. You were smart, funny, incredibly sexy, and an overall good person (when you weren’t pretending he didn’t exist). You claimed the hearts of many when you walked into a room, and the people you surrounded yourself with stay enamored, never straying too far away from your spell.

Things were far more uncomplicated at the beginning of your complicated relationship (if you could even call it that). Anakin never felt this anxiety- this fear. He wouldn’t ball his fists as he watched you flirt with another man. He wouldn’t hold his breath every time he saw you. He wouldn’t feel himself tense up after he’d cum, knowing where you would go. Of course, the more he got in trouble, the more he needed you. And that’s how he landed into the worst problem of them all.

You represented the Jedi as a lawyer, and Anakin found himself in your office from time to time. Platonically, of course. A few republic and Jedi issues on different missions brought him to you quite a few times. Whether it was for simple legal advice or he actually needed help, you were the first person he went to.

At first, he didn’t notice you much. You rarely made eye contact and stayed professional, asking a few questions occasionally as he shared parts of his missions that the council was concerned about possibly welcoming issues. The line of legality during a war can be very, very thin.

“Skywalker,” He snapped his head up, meeting your face as a grin broke out on your lips.

“I-I’m here.” He shifted up in his seat, glancing around the room for a moment before realizing he totally spaced out.

“You’re not yourself today,” You stand up from behind your desk, gracefully walking over and sitting in the seat next to him, holding his arm gently as you cocked your head and smiled.

“Wanna talk about it?”

The interaction was simple- effective. He was done for- instantly gone. He felt as if you flipped a switch in your personality just with your gaze in that very moment. You went from a peer to the most incredible thing he was blessed to lay eyes on. You were suddenly magnetic, and Anakin couldn’t fucking resist.

He opened up to you, feeling much better about it afterwards, and you told him he could come back and see you anytime he’d like- as a friend. And of course, Anakin could never resist your temptation. He came after every mission, looking forward to sitting in your office and just looking in your eyes as you intently listen. Feeling your eyes flicker down to his lips and back to his pupils. Watching as your hand snakes up and fixes the collar of your shirt, bringing his attention to your cleavage. He watched as you bit your lip intensely, breaking through your painted shiny lips into a little bit of blood.

And you knew you had him wrapped around your fucking finger.

Eventually, he asked for your contact information, “As friends,” he would say, knowing damn well it was never and would never be platonic. You talked a lot, exchanging various texts and phone calls, leading him on for weeks. He spent every waking moment thinking about you. The second you invited him out away from the Temple, another switch was flipped. Anakin’s fucking common sense.

The moment he took you home from the bar, your lips were on his feverishly, pulling him into your touch, grinding your hips against his groin. Again, he couldn’t resist. You were all he could fucking think about and here you were, practically begging for him with your tongue down his throat. He fucked you that night- the beginning of something beautiful, and fucking dangerous.

This, of course, went on for months. Those late nights, some drinks, his cock buried deep inside of you as you screamed out his name so loud you hardly had a voice the next day. You know it was wrong- he was bound by the code and you weren’t- you were taking advantage of that, advantage of him. But it felt so fucking good. And neither of you wanted to stop

Of course, neither of you expected to fall in love.

You felt something in the way he was gentle with you, the way he would brush your hair behind your cheek. The way he’d kiss your forehead while making love fucking, telling you how good you feel, how much he loved fucking you. And there was that word again. You began opening up to him, actually wanting to have a friendship aside from the casual fucking. The fucking needed the ‘casual’ part. For a while, it was straight fucking. But you still rejected him, seeing similar feelings bubble up in his eyes.

But Anakin knew he was in love a lot longer before you did. He knew it was wrong, but it only made him want you more. He knew it was bad, and he couldn’t help but be more enticed by the idea of it. The idea of you. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning, pulling you into his arms as he looked into your big doe eyes and kisses your soft lips. He wanted to come home to you, wanted to see your face light up as he swings open the front door. He wanted you to be his and only his. But he just couldn’t resist fucking you, either.

And yet you left him lonely and confused every time.

There were 3 instances he could remember where he knew you were driving him crazy- in all of the right ways. Whether it was your perfect tight pussy, those gorgeous round tits or the way you looked into his eyes, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes. You always got what you wanted from him- you were taking full advantage of the Jedi and he didn’t care.

He remembers a particularly awful mission, the separatists unexpectedly advanced on him and his battalion before they had the chance to escape. There were multiple casualties and the information ended up being lost, as well as all leads they had. It was a dead end- and Anakin was sick of dead ends.

He texted you a few times, feeling particularly annoyed by the ‘delivered’ that flashed on his phone as you never responded. He tried calling, only for it to go straight to voicemail. You were ignoring him? And for what?

He threw his phone down on his bed, leaning against his headboard and putting his face in his palms as he groaned loudly in annoyance from your rejection. He made you cum 8 times last night and you couldn’t text or call him back?

He bit his lip in frustration, thinking back onto the fond memories with you from the night before. He just needed some reassurance, after all, you two were friends, right..? He didn’t like his hesitation when he thought that. Were you really friends? Or was all of that confiding just to get into his pants knowing damn well it was against every moral he was supposed to have as a Jedi.

He abruptly stands up, realizing that maybe a night to himself would probably be better anyways. He needs a fucking drink- and he knows exactly where to go.

To say that he wasn’t going to Mazzy’s because that was where you two went for the first time and he liked the memory would be a lie. To say he wasn’t going to Mazzy’s in case he would run into you? Well, that was an even bigger fucking lie. And did he run into you…

He recalls sitting at the end of the bar, ordering a scotch from the pretty bartender and watching as she bent over to grab the bottle, showing off her tits as she gave him a wink. He nodded in response, giving a tight lipped smile while paying no mind to her advances. He grabs the scotch slightly aggressively off the bar, taking a large swig as he turns his attention away from the bartender to do a little people watching.

He skims the crowd, noticing quite a few familiar faces. For Coruscant, that was surprising. But this bar definitely had it’s regulars. He turns his attention back to the bar, watching the way the light bounced off of the multicolored glasses on the shelves as he traced his finger against the rim of his glass. And there it was. That fucking laugh.

He whipped his head so fucking fast to the location of the sound that the bartender could have sworn it almost fell off. And there you were… in all of your glory… cheating on him?

He recognized the dress, the long slit up your thigh leaving quite little to the imagination. You were practically sitting on this mans lap, laughing at his jokes and tracing his collarbone with your painted fingertip. He noticed the stain on the mans cheek, none other than your signature color. And it was extremely hard to look away from the dark spots littering your neck- the same place he left his hickeys before. He knew you had lovers before- but not like this.

His hand was clenched around his glass, his knuckles turning white as the glass threatened to break under his grip. He didn’t realize at what point he stood up and started walking over, but it had to be right after you began to aggressively make out with the stranger. He had seen enough.

“What the fuck is this?” He seethes, you pull away, slightly shocked but a smirk still trained on your painted lips.

“Ani- what are you doing here! Such a sight for poor eyes!” You cheer, throwing your arm with your cosmopolitan around the man’s neck you were with.

The mans eyes darkened and so did yours. You were clearly wasted, and Anakin felt his heart pound in his chest. You were in no position to consent to anything, much less be taken home by this man. He didn’t trust the scene that was being laid out in front of him.

He quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you off the man and spilling your drink on his chest. You yelped in surprise at his actions, but your cry quickly turned into giggles as you were amused by how irritated Anakin was. He was infuriated with you. You were being such a brat.

He opens the door to the bar and pulls you around the corner and down the alley.

“So aggressive.” You mumble and he huffs.

“What the fuck was that? What about us? How long have you been fucking around on me?”His hands pin you down against the rough bricks, his words loud and angry.

His brow twitches slightly as he waits for your response. Your mouth tugs into a smirk as you trace his collarbone through his shirt and let out a gentle laugh.

“I never said we were exclusive, Anakin.”

And there it was.

“I- oh,” His face drops at the sight of your smirk, along with his heart. “I understand,”

“Don’t worry, Ani,” You bite your lip and bring your hand to his cheek while he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “You mean more to me than any lousy fuck I have.”

His eyes shot open to meet yours as your smile grew. He was so fucking enamored with you that he didn’t mind the manipulation your words were laced with.

You leaned further into him and kissed his cheek, letting your hands roam on his body. He groaned slightly as your hands cupped him right where he needed you. You let your lips trail down his neck, hearing a couple soft groans leaving his lips. You pulled away lowered your voice to a whisper, he shivered as he felt your hot breath on his ear.

“It was nice to see you, Ani,” You pulled away and stumbled around the corner and back into the bar.

Anakin was speechless. He was sure his jaw dropped through the ground beneath him. He didn’t know what to do- or how to even move. And as much as it pained him to leave- his drink unfinished and his tab not paid- he fucking bolted back to the temple. There was no way he was walking back in there to see you again.

Weeks later, he did his best to put you out of his mind. He knew if he started letting his mind wander, it’d go right to you and your hold on him. His feelings- his cock. But then it’d wander back to seeing you kiss another man- another man’s marks littering your neck. He couldn’t bear the thought of either. Not right now.

It was hard to do anything around the temple- he’d search every corner for you. He thanked the maker the days he would get assigned missions and get out of there. Of course, since that night, they fell very few and far between.

And of course, Anakin always did catch glimpses of you in the Temple. He’d see you in your perfect little pantsuits with your clipboard talking to some other Jedi. If he was lucky, you’d have those slutty little glasses on. His pants would instantly tighten. It had been weeks since you slept together, and he couldn’t bare the idea of his hand, knowing exactly where his thoughts would wander. Every time you caught him staring- he was gone in an instant.

The second instance happened after another rough mission- but still a success nonetheless. After arriving back to the Temple, spending some time at the med bay, briefing the council, and filling out far too much paperwork, his communicator went off at his desk.

“Skywalker, speaking,” He grunted, flipping a few pages around as he scanned over his words in his mission report.

“Oh you sound particularly delightful today, Anakin,” He rolled his eyes at the sound of his old master, the sarcasm dripping off of his voice.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Obi-Wan?” He smirked to himself, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair.

“I’m afraid the Council has requested us to speak with Miss L/N about this mission,” Anakin instantly froze, his smile dropping, “I’m not exactly sure about the reasoning- but apparently she personally requested us. She had an interest in some parts of this mission,”

“Of fucking course,” Anakin grumbled, picking his pen up with the force and twirling it in the air as his scowl deepened.

“What was that?” Anakin froze, realizing who he was talking to.

“Nothing, Master. Will be there soon,” He quickly ended the call, leaning back in his chair and groaning as he thought about the mission. His pants had instantly tightened upon hearing your last name, and there was no time to wait for that to disappear.

He sulked and walked as slowly as he could on his way to your office, turning the familiar corners with a bad taste in his mouth. He heard your laugh from down the hall and felt his shoulders and cock stiffen.

He pushed open the door with the force, being met with you and Obi-Wan as you sat and discussed something, both of your faces beat red from laughing.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan manages to breathe out, “Nice of you to show up,”

Anakin ignores his remark, sitting down on the sofa next to him and darkening his gaze towards you as his eyes trail down your body. The pantsuit you had on today was a deep red and tighter fitting than you normally wore. The shirt you had on underneath was skin tight, showing off your cleavage and the texture of the bra underneath. Anakin swore if he had looked longer he could see the lace of your bra peaking out, your nipples hardening underneath it.

He took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the tightness in his pants really start to get him as his eyes trailed back up to the smirk that painted your lips.

“So, why are we here?” He sneered as you raised a brow, your smile growing from his annoyance. Obi-Wan nudged his leg slightly, throwing him a glare. His expression didn’t waver.

“Sassy today, I see,” You giggled to yourself, watching his eyes grow darker, the bulge in his pants growing as well, “Just came to hear a few things about the mission-“

“Like what?” He interrupted, leaning back into his seat and huffing to himself in annoyance.

“Well, Skywalker, maybe if you let me finish I could tell you.” His gaze never faltered, so you let your smile drop. You sat up straighter and became suddenly much more professional.

“Just need to know the details, Anakin. Obi Wan already told me most of it-“

“Then why am I needed?” He crossed his arms and Obi-Wan turned to look at him.

“Well, Anakin, maybe if you let our friend explain, we could talk-“ Anakin scoffs loudly at Obi-Wan, and you feel the heat rise within you.

“Okay, fine. Fucking talk. Ask. Whatever.” He furrows his brows as he watches you cross your legs and cough slightly, your tits bouncing purely for his pleasure.

“As I was saying, just needed to make sure we don’t need to worry about any legal repercussions with Hynestia Prime. You have a tendency of getting in trouble in that area, Skywalker. You can’t blame me for wanting to check- especially with a monarchy as prominent as their’s.” You clicked your pen, bringing it to your lips and gently biting it as you waited for a response from Anakin.

“I’m sure Obi-Wan mentioned it was a fairly standard in and out mission-“

“No interruptions? No casualties?” You interrupted, leaning forward slightly and meeting his fairly irritated gaze.

“If you’d let me finish-“

“Skywalker, you interrupted first.” You leaned back in your chair, unclicking your pen and writing something down, avoiding his eyes, “Besides, it’s been a while since you’ve paid me a visit, anyways.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow and Anakin coughs awkwardly as you smirk at his reaction. He glared at you before clearing his throat once again.

“Hasn’t- uh- Hasn’t been necessary. Been on my best behavior.” He stuttered out, avoiding Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Uh huh,” You smile to yourself, clicking your pen and standing up, bending over to grab something off the floor, “Well, I’ll have paperwork sent to your quarters. I hope your writing matches your words, Skywalker.”

You walk over to Obi-Wan, shaking his hand and telling him how nice it was to see him. You avoided Anakin’s gaze, but you could feel it burning on your skin as he never wavered from his position next to Kenobi.

“It’s been lovely, Y/N. Anakin, I’ll catch up with you later,” Anakin nods in response, not meeting his eyes as he keeps them fixed upon you. The second the door is latched shut, he’s immediately in your face.

“What the fuck is your problem today? Saying that in front Obi-Wan? Risking my position as a Jedi?” You smiled under him, squeezing your thighs shut as he yelled in your face, “I mean- you are fucking unbelievable! Fucking ridiculous.” He turns away from you and begins pacing your office, rubbing his temple in annoyance.

You keep your mouth shut, your smile growing wider and the wetness growing in your panties as you watch the vein in his neck pop from anger. You walk up to him and push him on the sofa, getting on your knees in the process.

“What the fuck are you doing.” He seethes, watching you unbutton his pants.

“You’re so pent up darling,” You lick your lips as you palm him through his robes lightly, “When was the last time you gave yourself any satisfaction?”

“Y/N, please don’t-“ He’s cut off by his own groans at the feeling of you pulling out his dripping cock.

“Don’t what, baby?” You look up at him with your big doe eyes, batting your eyelashes as he groans one more time, pre cum practically pouring out of him and on your hand. “You don’t want me to take care of you?” You lift your hand up and lick the pre cum off slowly, never breaking eye contact as his breath hitches.

“I- Fuck- Ah- I don’t remember what I was saying,” You smirk at his words, gently jerking him off as you watch his eyes practically roll.

“That’s what I thought.”

You shove his cock down your throat brutally, instantly letting it hit the back. Anakin jumps slightly, letting out a loud moan at the feeling of you deepthroating him so quickly. You bob up and down, the tears flowing freely as you squeeze him in between your fingers. You could practically cum yourself with the noises he’s making.

“Y/N- Y/N- oh my fucking-“ He cuts himself off with another loud moan, feeling you milk his cock dry with your mouth. He didn’t even have to fuck your throat. You were doing it for him.

You kept going, feeling his cock spaz in your throat. He was close- very close. His moans grew louder, more raspy and whiny as you throat fucked him.

“Y/N- I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum- Ah-“ And with that, you shoved his cock all the way down your throat, licking the bottom of his shaft and giving his balls a gentle squeeze.

He loudly moans as his cock spazzes in your mouth, painting your throat white with his cum. You keep sucking and licking through his orgasm, feeling him squirm under your touch. There was more cum in your mouth than you have ever felt in your life.

You sit back, letting his cock flop back onto his lap. You open your mouth, letting the cum drip out and onto your tits as he watched with his mouth slightly agape, moaning at the sight.

“Y/N…” He whispers, watching you swallow his seed as he cups your face in his hand.

You stand up and grab a tissue for him, letting him clean up while you press a few kisses to his temple. He looks up at you and kisses you passionately, pulling away and smiling at you.

Interrupting your moment, the phone rings. You smirk at him one more time before getting back onto your feet, letting out a gentle groan as you make your way to your desk. Anakin’s eyes never leave your figure, watching your every move as his cock prepares for round two.

“Hey baby,” You answer the phone and Anakin instantly tenses, “No, I’m at work. Just been busy.” You turn to face Anakin and he’s already gone.

As much as you hate to say it, your heart ached a little at his absence.

The third and final instance Anakin would have never expected in a thousand years. But there you were.

He woke abruptly, not by a nightmare (at least yet), but to the sound of harsh knocks on his door.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes for a moment, the knocks unrelentless. Throwing the covers to the side, he stood up and put a robe and pants on, growing increasingly annoyed with whatever visitor thought it to be best to wake him up like this.

He aggressively throws open the door and his heart drops at the sight of you. Holy fuck- you were gorgeous. He felt his jaw drop slightly at you and the smirk spread on your face. He noticed a particular blush to your cheeks and he realized he could smell the liquor pouring off of you. Fuck.

“Baby,” You pushed him inside his quarters, your heels clanking against the ground as you kicked the door shut behind you, “Need you so bad,” You dropped your coat, revealing your lingerie underneath and he bit his lip.

“Y/N, what are you-“ Anakin’s cut off abruptly by your painted lips meeting his, and he stumbled back as your hand meets his cock. He groans into your mouth as you smile, deepening the kiss.

“Fuck-“ He finds himself moaning under your touch, unable to resist you as you let the lust take over.

Suddenly, his eyes widen and he pushes you off of him, catching his breath. You smirk at him, walking closer to kiss him once again only to be met with his hand on your chest, gently pushing you away from him once again.

“You’re drunk,” He breathes out, and you laugh.

“And? So what? I want you,” You whine, walking closer only to be met with his hand once again. “What’s your fucking problem?”

He scoffs at you, taking another step back away from you. “Y/N, you can’t just show up here fucking drunk and naked. What if someone saw you? What if-“

“For fucks sake will you just shut up and fuck me?” Again, you were met with resistance, his brows furrowing in annoyance.

“No, I’m not having sex with you. You’re being a brat. And you’re fucking drunk. I don’t want this.” He attempts to say calmly and you scoff at him.

“And you’re being a fucking dick.”

“I’m being a fucking dick?” He comes closer now, putting his finger on your chest accusingly, “You can’t keep your fucking legs shut! And to think that I thought we had something- meanwhile you’re calling every fucking man on Coruscant ‘baby’ while I go off to war thinking of you! Thinking that maybe- just maybe- you were thinking of me too! And fuck, was I so fucking wrong-”

“Shut the fuck up! You just want my pussy!” You stumble back away from him, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“That’s the fucking thing! I wish I did! But I don’t! I actually fucking like you. Like- a lot. And you’re so goddamn frustrating!” Anakin yells loudly, watching as you continue to pull away from him during his confession.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just saying-“ As you tried to continue, you were cut off by the sounds of your own screams, tripping over your coat and cutting yourself on a piece of metal on the floor.

“Shit- Y/N, come here baby.” Anakin immediately rushes to your aid, wincing slightly at your bloody knees on the ground below him.

“Ah fuck- Ani- It hurts,” You whine as he bites his lip at your tears, trying to figure out the best course of action.

“Here,” He puts his arms under your legs, pulling you into his chest as he picks you up and sets you on his bed. You wet his chest with your tears, emotions spilling over from the cuts and the fight. “Hold tight, sweetheart. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

He gets on his knees in front of you, wiping a tear from your eyes as he watches you concerned. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before getting up and hastily rushing to his bathroom. He throws open the cabinet, searching for first aid supplies as he hears your whines grow louder from the pain. The cuts were pretty deep and he cursed himself for leaving out a project so haphazardly on the floor.

“Give my hair a tug if it gets to be too much, yeah?” He gets on his knees in front of you as you give him a rushed nod. You giggle slightly at his request but the second the alcohol meets your bloody knees, your hands are in his hair and you let out a little yelp.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. I know it hurts- I’m so sorry. This will be better soon- I promise.” He mumbles to you as you continue to cry under his touch, waiting for the pain to end.

By the time he bandages you fully and gets some water in you, you’ve sobered up enough to realize your mistake. You had fallen way too hard for the Jedi in front of you- literally. And with your bloodied knees, it felt like the galaxy was telling you that.

He stands up and moves to the bathroom, putting his supplies away and washing his hands while you stand and grab your coat.

“I- Um- I’m sorry,” He pauses washing his hands, letting the water run over them as he slowly looks up at you. He can feel something’s wrong. He quickly dries them and makes his way over to you hesitantly.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something else happen?” He tentatively puts his hand on your arm, his breath hitching as you move away from his touch.

“Yes- sorry- just made a mistake. Thank you for taking care of me. It was nice to see you.” You avoid his concerned gaze, holding your coat to your chest tightly as you make your way to the door.

“Y/N- Wait!” He grabs your arm once again, and you feel yourself wince at his touch, tears bubbling to your eyes that you didn’t know existed. “I don’t understand- what happened?”

“Ani- I just,” you take a deep breath, squeezing your hands into fists. Finally turning to face him, you whisper, “I-I I just can’t do this anymore.”

His face instantly drops at the sight of you. You were so raw and emotional suddenly, the alcohol leaving a nasty taste in your mouth and bringing out a new side to you. One he was unfamiliar with. Before he could respond, you had shed a tear and left his quarters, leaving him hurt and confused once again.

This was different, it felt different- he could recognize that. The way you left made him nauseous. The things you said. He couldn’t help but stand there stunned, unable to move for quite some time until he realized just what happened. You ended things with him. He was more confused than ever.

In the passing weeks, as much as Anakin wanted to respect your boundaries and your wishes- he felt it to be nearly impossible. He took on more responsibilities as a Jedi, increasing his efforts in the war and politically. He did everything he could to stay away from you and get you off of his mind.

He became more closed off, distracting himself from any pain he felt possible. The people around him noticed, offering help and guidance when they could. His own padawan and old master poked and prodded about him relentlessly, but he never gave in to their concern.

Occasionally, he’d catch glimpses of you throughout the temple, and instead of his cock hardening at the sight of you like it once did, his heart only hurt. Your smile made him nauseous, your laugh a knife twisting inside of him. As much as he cared for you, he hated the idea of you doing well. Moving on without him.

And there he was, doing exactly what you did to him…

He knocked harshly, enough that if he ran away at this point it’d be fucking embarrassing. He forced himself to do this- at least he was sober when you weren’t. And he wasn’t exactly here for sex, but if it happened, well… he always heard breakup sex was nice. If he could even call this a ‘breakup’.

Anakin felt himself start to sweat a little. He didn’t know what to expect from this. What to expect from you. You were always different, always surprising him. Even when he thought he knew you- or loved you- there was always something knew that attempted to change that.

But Anakin knew deep down how hard he had fallen for you. And just how impossible it would be to change that. And while he was already sweating from nerves, it quickly turned into anger. He loved you. Loved. And yet you continued to walk all over him and his emotions? What the fuck? Has he not shown you just how devoted he was to you? Why were you so-

“Anakin,” His eyes instantly met your tired ones, darkened with a certain rage you couldn’t quite make out. “What are you doing here?”

He was silent. The scary kind of Anakin silent that sent shivers down the spines of those who witnessed it. And man, you felt it. His eyes trailed up your body, the silky lace nightgown you wore suddenly felt more revealing than it did a few minutes prior. You felt your breath hitch in your throat from his silence, your fingers fidgeting with your nightgown as you unconsciously straightened your posture a bit.

“Anakin, what are you- Hey!” He suddenly welcomed himself in your apartment, pushing through you and into your living room. You slam the door behind you, turning and facing the angry man behind you.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You sigh, attempting to stay calm as you watched the taller man in front of you unravel.

“Why? Is there someone else here?” He seethes, stepping closer to you.

“No! And even if there was- that’s none of your fucking business, Anakin. We aren’t fucking together. You are just a good fuck and that is all.” You step closer, your words twisting like knives but he never backs down. His finger meets your chest accusingly, his lips upturning into a smirk.

“Y/N, we both know that’s not it.” You shudder under his gaze, turning away from him to conceal your emotions.

“Anakin- we can’t.” You state plainly, and for once he can’t read you.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because we can’t!” You turn around and scream, “Because you’re a fucking JEDI and it’s against everything we stand for! And you’re the fucking chosen one! I’m not doing this. As much as I’d like to and as much as I fucking resent all of that- it doesn’t make the reality we are in any less of a problem.”

“I’d leave it all for you.”

“No you fucking won’t!” You give him a shove, “You’re so fucking frustrating!”

“I’m so fucking frustrating? That’s fucking rich.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to face him, “Do you know how fucking bad it hurts to watch you with other men? How hard it is to hear you call them baby? And you think that isn’t fucking frustrating? All I wanna fucking hear you say is that you’re mine. I just want you to be mine!”

“ANAKIN PLEASE!” You crumble beneath him, “It’s not like I fucking enjoy it! I spend my nights wishing it was you! It-It’s just all a fucking distraction! Because I want you so fucking bad and I can’t have you.” Your voice cracks slightly and his gaze softens upon seeing your teary eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Anakin, please stop,” You fall to your knees, feeling your heart ache at his confession, “Please- we can’t do this.”

“Baby,” He sits down next you softly, holding you in his arms, “I will do everything I can to make this possible. We can keep it a secret for now and after the war? Who knows what’s possible.” You glance up at him, eyes glossy and lip quivering.

“I-I don’t know.” You whisper, avoiding his eyes, “I’ve spent so long pushing this down. Feeling resentment towards you and your status and the fact that we could never make this work. I spent so much time having really awful sex just to try and take my mind off of you.”

“Did it work?” He whispers back, his lips curving into a soft smile.

“No,” You hiccup, a blush spreading to your cheeks, “I kept accidentally moaning your name.” You both giggle and he pulls you into his arms.

“That’s my girl.”

He pulls you in once more, letting your tears dry as you both take in the comfortable silence surrounding you. You can feel his heartbeat slow, the tension leaving his muscles as he holds you close. He was finally relaxed, and so were you.

“Y/N, can I call you mine?” He whispers against your neck, and you can feel his nerves return.

“You got me, baby, I’m yours.”

220 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Text

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

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

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

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze; you’re caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would have.

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

“But Anakin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too meticulous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He comes undone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a shirt on your bed.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

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

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

You and Obi-Wan.

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

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi fluff #obi-wan kenobi oneshot #obi-wan kenobi one-shot #obi-wan kenobi one shot #obi-wan kenobi headcanon #obi-wan kenobi headcanons #obi-wan kenobi hcs #obi-wan kenobi hc #obi-wan kenobi fan fiction #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan kenobi blurb #obi-wan kenobi drabble #obi-wan kenobi dialogue #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x you

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saphronethaleph · 4 months

Text

Task Failed Successfully

Senator Amidala closed the door to the Naboo senatorial office, and smiled.

“All right,” she said. “Knight Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker. I’m glad the two of you were available.”

“We are, of course, at the disposal of the Senate,” Obi-Wan said.

“And I can guess what the problem is,” Anakin added. “Can’t you, Master?”

“Of course, my young padawan,” Obi-Wan replied. “But what about if the Senator explains?”

“To put it simply, then,” the Senator said. “The Supreme Chancellor would like to know what in the galaxy the Kaminoans are talking about.”

Anakin blinked.

“You don’t know?” he asked. “He doesn’t know?”

“The Senate has some idea of some details, but at this point some or all of them could be incorrect,” Padme replied. “And the Chancellor wanted me to try and understand the specifics.”

“That… could be a problem,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Because the Council doesn’t have much idea either.”

“We were speaking with them for over an hour,” Anakin contributed. “Master is one of the better diplomats in the Jedi Order… we were actually told to try and find out who in the Senate might know what’s going on.”

Padme frowned, slightly. “You mean you were trying to find out if someone in the Senate had done this?” she asked. “But the army was ordered for the Jedi.”

“So we’ve been told,” Obi-Wan replied. “Obviously, it’s only been a few hours, but we haven’t been able to come to any conclusions – and, to put it bluntly, Senator, it could be that this army was ordered with the blame being placed on the Jedi in order to confuse the issue.”

Padme considered that.

“Possible, but I don’t think it’s likely,” she said. “Whoever ordered this army clearly had a reason behind what they were doing, we just don’t know what it is.”

“Which means we’re just going around in circles,” Anakin concluded.

“Perhaps, but simply hearing it from Padme has been useful,” Obi-Wan said. “I hope you’ll keep us informed if you learn anything?”

“Of course,” Padme smiled. “The two of you helped save my planet, Obi-Wan, Ani. You’re friends.”

“The Jedi Order teaches us to avoid attachment,” Anakin said, then grinned slightly. “But friends don’t count, right?”

“If friends did count, then I don’t think most of the Order would be very happy,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, true,” Anakin agreed. “I think Yoda still sends holocalls to his last padawan.”

“Is there something unusual about that?” Padme asked.

“It’s… more of Order business than anything,” Obi-Wan said. “My padawan really shouldn’t have passed on gossip like that. It’s not going to do him any good when it comes to whether he’ll be knighted.”

“Master,” Anakin complained. “You said I had nothing to worry about!”

“And you seem determined to prove me wrong,” Obi-Wan replied. “Perhaps you can prove me wrong about proving me wrong about that.”

Anakin’s lips moved.

“...okay?” he tried. “I’ll do my best, Master.”

“In that case, Anakin, I will have nothing to worry about,” Obi-Wan replied.

Padme smiled.

“So what are you going to do with the army, anyway?” she asked.

“That’s a very good question, but you should probably ask one of the members of the Council,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Master, everyone knows you’re going to be on the Council some time soon,” Anakin said.

“And I’m not one yet, and everyone doesn’t include me,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “But… really, that does depend on who and why there would be an order of over a million clones to fight for the Jedi. The only possibility I can think of is the Sith, but… why would the Sith order an army for the Jedi?”

“If it’s a Sith plot, do you have any chance of unravelling it?” Padme asked, worried. “You stopped whatever they were trying to do with Naboo.”

“Did we?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, I mean you, specifically,” Padme replied. “And you, Anakin. The Droid Control Ship was key to whatever it was they were doing, and Obi-Wan killed a Sith.”

“And there’s been no sign of the other in a decade,” Obi-Wan said, thinking back to the Naboo crisis. “Though… now I come to think about that particular series of events, Senator, I do have to ask whether a specific member of the Senate was involved.”

“With the Sith?” Padme asked.

“There’s got to have been some Senators working with the Sith, back then,” Anakin pointed out.

“Perhaps, but that’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan explained. “I mean the clone army. Because if there is anyone who could accidentally order an army, it is the junior Senator from Naboo.”

He turned, to direct something that was not quite a glare at Senator Binks. “Isn’t that right, Jar Jar?”

“Mesa not as bad as all dat,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa been doing quite well for mesa self in the last ten years. Mesa has been takin’ classes on avoidin’ disaster and not bein’ clumsy.”

“Perhaps you have,” Obi-Wan said, relenting slightly. “But you must admit, Jar Jar, that certain events have given you a reputation it will take many years to live down yet.”

Jar Jar sighed.

“Mesa knows dat,” he admitted. “Theres-a all kinds of jokes about mesa. It seems like even when mesa floatin’ legislation, people makin’ jokes about waterfalls.”

Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize, Jar Jar,” he said. “It’s easy for me to forget that you have to deal with that reputation all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jar Jar said.

“Speaking of which,” Anakin began. “Did anyone ever figure out how that happened? If they did, I missed it.”

“Mesa has said it over and over again,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa was simply showin’ the bombad Chancellor-Elect the really pretty bits of Theed that mesa wasn’t sure that he’sa seen before, and mesa was wavin’ mesa hands around, and mesa… made a boopjak, big mistake.”

“The Chancellor-Elect fell three hundred and eighty metres,” Obi-Wan said. “Then he hit the ground, and exploded. It put something of a damper on the celebrations.”

“Jar Jar does know this,” Padme pointed out. “And he’s heard it over and over. He’s done his very best to put it behind him, and is as valued an ally of Chancellor Stonk as I am.”

“Hesa was a big supporter of rebuildin’ Naboo!” Jar Jar said, brightening as he rebounded in the way only he could. “Stonks even gone to the moon!”

“I heard about the colonization project of Ohma-D’un,” Anakin said, interested. “Do you think the terraforming equipment could be used to help make a planet less dry and sandy?”

He frowned. “Actually, Master… could we use the army for that? The only reason the Republic won’t do anything about Outer Rim slavery is that it would mean building an army, right?”

Padme looked interested, but frowned.

“We’d probably need to find where it came from, first,” she said. “But… I’ll definitely suggest it, Ani.”

She smiled. “Assuming the Senate gets any say in what to do with the army, of course.”

#anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #jar jar binks #star wars #fall damage #They don't know what he landed on to explode like that #but it must have been something

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weixuldo · 10 months

Text

Missed me?

Sub!Anakin x Reader

a/n: Helloo!!! i apologize once again for going awol- but here is a small horny drabble i wrote for no reason hahah I hope u enjoy- ik it’s not my usual content, but i wanted to branch from my series for a moment- hope u enjoy!!

Anakin takes his role as a general very seriously, but sometimes he gets tired of giving orders and just needs to follow them

warnings: cursing, pwp, smut, overstim, masturbation (M!), gn reader, degredation(male receiving), shaming, handjob

_____________________

The council gathered to discuss the next steps the Jedi would take in their involvement in the clone wars; the meeting had gone on for hours- the masters couldn’t seem to agree.

Anakin grew impatient as he sat and listened to the elders bickering over politics; sure he was a general, but he was used to action. Getting things done. Not sitting in a stuffy room creating hypothetical scenarios.

He needed this meeting to be over.

As he leaned back in the chair provided to him (not a seat among the ranked masters) he found his mind wandering. The last battle was long and near the end, it became more so one of attrition rather than power. He had been gone for months and was exhausted. His orders were to return home for a brief period until the council could decide the best course of action- so he thought that meant he would be going directly home…to you.

He was under the impression he was to return to his home on Coruscant to recollect himself before discussing further matters with the council.

In preparation for his return to you, he had shamelessly been edging himself- so long in the tense heat of battle gave him little time to relieve stress.

In a way he took the build up as something to look forward to when he could finally return- something special he could share with you- that would be the most rewarding feeling.

He hadn’t seen you in so long, he hadn’t felt you in so long…hadn't tasted you in so long.

Months away had taken its toll on him in more ways than one; he felt himself becoming more irritable and having a shorter temper than the already short one he was known to have. His fists clenched under his jedi robes as he itched to run home.

He sat with his usual scowl on his shapely face as the others continued to talk.

“Isn’t that right, General Skywlker?” Master Windu asked.

His scarred eye twitched before he was snapped from his thoughts, “Ah, yes- our enemies are becoming weaker as they continue on”.

Master Windu nodded at Anakin in thanks and continued his point. A few other members took Anakin’s statement into consideration.

Little did they know he was hardly listening to them, instead he was trying to keep his pulsing erection hidden from his superiors. He was gripping onto his chair in fear that if he shifted a certain way he wouldn’t be able to subdue the moan building in the back of his throat.

Maker… he needed you.

When he was first deployed he was able to subdue his unnaturally high libido but as the time went on and tensions of the war grew, he needed some relief.

The Jedi would retreat to his tent and grab one of the military-issued rolled-up blankets and toss it onto his cot; after tying it tighter with his belt- it was ready.

He needed something other than his own fist to help him out and at least he could grip around the blanket as if he were gripping onto you.

The first few times he did this he was embarrassed- but he always kind of liked the shame. The famous General Skywalker desperately fucking himself into his blanket in the middle of the night… how pathetic.

He couldn't wait for you to scold him for being such a horny and desperate excuse of a jedi…

He wanted to hear it all.

Oftentimes he would thrust in and out of the bundle so vigorously that he would almost always collapse onto his cot from exhaustion afterwards. He just needed to get all of his cum out… he just had too much.

There were nights where he couldn’t help but moan and pant your pretty name as he bucked his hips into the makeshift pussy

“Meeting adjourned”.

Anakin blinkled himself back to reality and rushed out of the temple with great urgency. His master eyed his eagerness and simply shook his head.

Of course Obi Wan knew about you- he had known Anakin since he was a boy; he could read him like a book.

Also he had heard Anakin practically howling your name in his tent during his nightly walks more times than he would have liked.

But you were good for Anakin, plus Obi-Wan thought highly of you, so he kept his mouth shut.

You were also the only one who could put Anakin in his place.

__________________________________

You sat on the balcony of your large penthouse as you waited for your lover to arrive; Anakin sent you a message yesterday telling you he would be home today, but much to your chagrin the day had almost passed. You were getting a little worried.

Of course, being with a Jedi, you were well aware contact wouldn’t always be available- you had to keep your relationship a secret after all- but it didn’t help your anxiety.

You were about to head back to your room when you heard quick footsteps in the hallway outside of your apartment- could it be?

Before you knew it your door slid open at lightning speed and behind it was a panting Anakin. You took a moment to enjoy the beautiful scene in front of you; Anakin’s hand still outstretched form forcing the door open, his sandy locks windswept (from the speed at which he ran to you, no doubt), and a glint of desperation is his blue eyes.

Perfection.

Finally you gave in to the magnetic force pulling you to your lover and ran towards him with open arms.

“Ani!” you gasped as he met you halfway, engulfing you in a tight embrace.

Your senses filled with his force signature as you buried your face into his neck. His strong hands gripped at your back and he breathed in your sweet scent.

“It’s been too long, Angel,” he sighed into you.

“Too long” you agreed, starting to kiss up his neck.

His body shivered and a small moan escaped his plump lips.

“Fuck baby…” he groaned as he pawed at your ass through your night-robes.

You grabbed his face and pressed your lips into his; the kiss was full of passion and lust. He could barely stop his tongue from exploring your mouth- he just needed you so badly.

“Someone’s impatient” you smirked against his lips.

“You have no idea” he growled as he lifted you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

The way he held you, had your core right next to his bulging erection. He panted as you wiggled your hips against him.

“Lets go to the bedroom” you instructed and he nodded without hesitation.

Once inside you pushed yourself off of him and he backed up with a sad look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll give you what you want- but first I need to see how badly you really need it” your voice had a lilt of mischief to it.

“Anything- anything for you” he mewed as he began to take the glove around his mechanical hand off.

“On your knees” you demanded. You needed to see just how willing he was.

Without another word the powerful Jedi sunk to his knees and tilted his head up to meet your face. “I need you”.

The desperation in his voice made your spine tingle- he was so deprived. That only made you want to play with him even more.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem like you need my help much- you’re holding yourself together just fine- I might as well just leave the roo-”

“NO!” he exclaimed loudly, reaching for you.

After he realized he raised his voice too loud, he lowered his head, “please don’t go” he whispered.

“What was that baby?” you cooed.

“Please, don’t go- I can’t- I need you” he practically whined.

“Need me to what?” you tormented.

“I need you to touch me- I need you to help me cum” he said ashamedly.

You clicked your tongue and strode towards the man in front of you, “Alright, but you have to ask nicely alright?”.

He nodded vigorously, “Please, Please, I’ll do whatever you ask”.

You smiled and began to undo his robes. Slowly, you removed each strip of fabric from his tired body, every brush making him shiver. A new collection of scars and scrapes has accumulated on his sculpted torso- a beautiful sight. Soon all that was left was his pants, a painfully hard bulge obviously present.

“My poor pretty boy had no one to help him out huh?” you said, slowly pulling his waistband down with your fingers.

He shook his head, “no, no I didn’t”.

You freed his aching member from the constraints of his pants and he moaned as it slapped against his stomach. Anakin was truly a sight to behold; standing at 8.5 inches, a prominent vein running up his left side, his blushing red tip already leaking with precum.

Maker.

You bit your lower lip in anticipation- it took all of your willpower not to take him into your mouth then and there… but you needed to play with him some more- it would make the release all the much better.

You wrapped your fingers around him; he was hot to the touch and pulsating. He groaned and tossed his head back. With a smirk you pumped his length a few times before he began to move his hips with the up and down motion of your hand.

Once you could tell he was lost in the feeling, you removed your hand and his eyes shot open with desperation; he practically whimpered for you to continue.

“Are you sure you’ve been a good boy? I think you haven’t waited for me” you scolded.

You didn’t care if Anakin jerked off or not, but it was very enticing to berate him for doing so when it got such a visceral reaction from him.

“I-I tried not to, I really did, but wit-” he stuttered, dick still twitching.

You put on a fake displeased look and got up to take a seat in the chair adjacent to your shared bed; leaving a disheveled and agonizingly horny Anakin with a look of confusion.

“Go ahead.” you ordered.

He fixed his posture and sat on his knees once more on the plush bed, “I don’t understand-”.

“If you like the company of your own hand so much, go ahead and pleasure yourself” you said, crossing your legs.

He gave you a defeated look, “Angel, please”.

“I’m waiting.”

He huffed out a few curses under his breath before he brought his remaining human hand to his mouth and spit. This was humiliating- he was so exposed (but there was a certain allure to that).

He would never admit to anyone but you, but something about being belittled and degraded resonated with a deep part of him. All his life he had been taking orders, it was his nature by now.

“Show me how you did it while you were away, I know you needed to use something other than your hand”

The judgment in your sultry voice made his cock pulsate, Maker he loved your sweet degradations.

He grabbed a blanket and his utility belt to form a model of what he had been shooting his load into for the past few months. He mounted the bundle and began to thrust himself in and out, moans building at every snap of his hips.

Your eye twitched as you watched the scene infront of you- he was so desperate for you that he had been fucking his own bedding in wait to return to you.

Anakin was lost in the familiar pleasure of the plush blanket around himself, but the fact that he could feel you in the room was throwing him off- how could this be enough to make him cum when he could feel your presence right there.

Why would he waste his high on this when he could have you instead?

Between thrusts he managed his deep blue eyes open to see you had moved from your chair to his side. He gasped at the sensation of your cold hand on the base of his neck. You dragged your nails down his back and basked in the melodious noises he made.

You grabbed a fistful of his sandy locks and pulled his face back to look at you

“Do you even hear yourself right now Anakin, you’re moaning like a bitch in heat.”

Yes. more.

“If only those so frightened of you knew what a submissive little slut you really are; how does your battalion even take you seriously?” you taunted, standing behind him to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Fuck” he sputtered out… don’t stop.

At this point he was violently bucking his hips into the blanket, messy hair falling into his eyes, chest heaving with each snap.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby?” you whispered into his ear.

His whole body quivered at the feeling of your breath against him.

“Y-yes”

“How much do you want me t-”

“I need you! I can’t- I- Fuck!” he whined.

He was close- just a little more

The smile on your face widened and you kissed his temple before slipping your hand down his v line and finally grasping his dick- he gasped at the pressure and the coolness of your hand against his hot skin.

He leaned his head back against your shoulder as you worked on him. The overstimulation was insane- he whole body shuddered with each stroke of your hand.

“You’re so pathetic Anankin, does anyone actually respect you? Look at yourself” you taunted as you squeezed the tip of his pulsing cock garnering beads of milky precum.

He pried one of his eyes open to see the sweaty mess between his legs, precum coated his thighs, his dick, and your hands. Maker.

So close.

You took your other hand to grab around his neck, “cum for me like the good slut you are”.

There it was.

Anakin exploded in your grasp, milky cum erupted from his overworked tip. His moans rang through the walls of your bedroom and his whole body spasmed with each wave of his high. He wasn’t sure of anything in that moment except for the pleasure that filled his body.

“F-fuck fuck” he stuttered, grabbing onto your with his mechanical arm; cold metal clawing at you flesh.

His cock finally settled down, only a few twitches here and there. The scene in front of him was his ruined sheets and ropes of white.

He leaned against you as he caught his breath.

“That’s my good boy” you praised, brushing his sweaty locks from his forehead.

He whimpered at your words because his aching cock responded to your praise.

“It looks like you want more; would I be correct, or are you too tired to continue?” you smirked.

He opened his eyes and weakly propped himself up, “m-more, I can do more- need to please you” he insisted.

“please me then Ani” you cooed into his ear, running your hands up his chest.

“please me with your mouth, please me with your cock…” you trailed off before he closed his eyes once more.

And with what seemed to be a flip of a switch, he grabbed you with his strong hands and flipped you onto your back.

“I’ll show you how much of a good boy I can be”

***

(a/n: ik this was mainly just a handjob lol- but i feel like doing a whole smex scene would been too long- but lmk how u felt abt subby ani!!!)

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madeinnaboo · 11 months

Text

His master pt.2 | Anakin Skywalker

aaa thank you so so much for all the nice comments and msgs! I can't even express how happy I am you guys like what I write:`)

part one.

words: 2.8k warnings: sub! anakin, praising, unprotected sex, nicknames, smut, dom! reader,

requests are open:)

!this is my secondary blog, I can't answer comments, please msg me in my inbox or private msgs:)!

,,Master, is everything okay?" The voice of your padawn has stopped you in your tracks. You turned around to see him leaning against the marble wall.

,,Have you been waiting here the whole time?" You asked, trying not to sound annoyed. You weren't upset at him, but you were scared he might think so.

,,I heard you arguing" He ignored your question as he took a step closer to you. With a deep panic inside of you, you took a step back and looked around to make sure no one was there.

,,Let's talk somewhere else, please" You practically begged him, and with a quick nod, he followed you. The final destination was your room, since it was very far away from everything and everyone. The walk was quiet as you went through what happened a couple of minutes ago with the Jedi Council. On your last mission with Anakin, a mother with an injured child asked if you could provide a safe shelter for them and a couple more people on Coruscant. Your heart ached for them, and you promised you'd help them. After arriving back from the mission, you called for an emergency meeting, fully believing the council would help. Helping everyone was what the Jedi fought for, right? You couldn't believe your ears when everyone voted for not helping the people. Apparently it was too dangerous, and it would cross some sort of deal with the oppressors of the people. After a long fight with them, you had to back away due to a very carefully placed threat against you and your position in the council. With a quick lie that you understood, you left the room, knowing very well that you'd be calling someone to go get the people and hide them on some remote planet.

,,Now it's you who's lost in their thoughts, master" Anakin broke the silence after following you into your room. You looked up at him and gave him a tired smile. The two of you haven't talked about what happened between you the other day. You tried very hard not to even think about it.

You sat down on your bed and gestured Anakin to sit next to you. With no hesitation, he sat down, studying your worried face. You then took some time to tell him about the situation, carefully explaining the mess. When you were done, Anakin looked even more upset than you, which made you relax a little bit, knowing you weren't overreacting.

,,What are we going to do?" He asked, almost ready to go fight the council himself. You grabbed his hand, gently caressing the top of it. A feeling you've been trying to hide from him for so long fully filled your whole body.

,,You..." you implied ,,...are not going to do anything Anakin" You said with a serious voice, trying to ignore the fact that you fully accepted how deeply you cared about your padawn. Anakin looked more than confused.

,,But-" He started, and you stood up, turning to face him.

,,But nothing. I am not going to risk the council expelling you and ruining your life, Anakin. If they ever find out... you had nothing to do with it, that's an order. Understand?" You said as images of the council punishing Anakin filled your mind. You couldn't let that happen. He was quiet, looking at you.

,,Understand?" You tilted your head, sounding maybe a bit too harsh. He stood up before walking to you.

,,I understand, master" He whispered as his eyes traveled down to your lips. Both of you knowing that was a lie. He reached down to you, planning on kissing you, but you quickly stopped it by turning around.

,,I am going to call one of my friends about this plan" You told him before hurrying out of the room. It was absurd, you were trying to protect him from getting into this mess while literally putting him into even more danger by allowing him to feel something towards you. You wanted to scream and cry, but instead you headed to your office. Where you spent over 5 hours going over the plan again and again, making sure it was perfect. There was a lot on the line. Your childhood friend, whom you haven't seen for years, was more than happy to help you save a couple of lives. He agreed to take all the people to his home planet, where he would get them a job on his farm and pay them well. It was the best you could do on such a short notice, and you found yourself thanking him repeatedly for the whole duration of the call. You gave him the coordinates where he would find their village and told him to tell them you had sent him. The last thing before the call ended was him promising to let you know as soon as they would be safe. You sat in your chair for another couple of minutes before getting up and heading back to your room. The hall was lit since it was already very dark outside. You entered your room just to see Anakin sitting on your bed. You let out a groan as you closed the door behind you.

,,What are you doing here, Anakin?" You asked him before walking to your mirror. Your hair has been in a tight ponytail for just too long now.

,,You didn't dismiss me, master," he said, looking at you in the mirror. You furrowed your brows as you turned around to look at him. A smirk grew across his lips.

,,I am joking, I wanted to make sure you were okay...emotionally" He said as he walked to you. You quickly shifted your gaze back to yourself as you loosened the ponytail, letting your hair freely fall down your back. Anakin was standing just a few inches away from you.

,,I like when you have your hair like this" He said quietly before placing a wet kiss on your neck. The room quickly became airless, and you closed your eyes.

,,Anakin" You said with a warning tone, without actually doing anything to stop him. His hands grabbed your hips as he continued to kiss the side of your neck from behind. You finally gave in and rested your body against his. His kisses went from your neck to your shoulder, where he gently bit you. His hands on your hips made you turn around. You looked up at him as you placed your hands on his chest.

,,Can I kiss you?`` He asked, his cheeks completely red. He looked so adorable. His eyes were glued to your lips, and you just simply nodded. With no more hesitation, he broke the distance between you, kissing your lips. The kiss was needy and sloppy. It was clear it was his first time kissing someone, and you felt your knees wobble. His large hands cupped your face, and you deepened the kiss, sort of taking the lead again. Your hands traveled across his clothed chest, feeling his muscles. You pressed into his chest to make him walk backward while still making out with him. When his legs hit your bed, he sat down, clearly upset he had to stop kissing you. His hands needily went to your hips. You were quiet as you watched him for a moment. His face became even more red. He then watched as your hands went to the bow on your shirt that was holding it together. With a quick motion, you untied it, letting the shirt fall open before fully removing it from your upper body. Anakin's eyes widened as he was met with your breasts. While he was busy staring at your bare chest, you removed your pants. You were now almost fully naked in front of him, surprisingly not feeling shy at all. Clearly, that was an emotion only he felt—probably enough for the both of you. With a smirk, you tilted your head at him, showing him you didn't like the fact he was still fully clothed. With almost inhumane speed, he pulled his long black shirt over his head before removing his loose pants. His hands then started to grab his underwear, but you shook his head, making him stop.

,,Leave yours on" You ordered, and with a gulp, he nodded. Then you reached for his hands, guiding them to the last piece of clothing on your body. Once they were on the soft fabric, you let go of him. His breathing was heavy as he looked up at you before looking down at your panties again. Almost painfully slowly, he pulled them down, and once they were fully down, you stepped out of them, tossing them away with your foot. The way he couldn't control where he was looking made you smile. You reached to cup his face before making out with him again. Then you got on top of him, placing both your legs on his sides and holding yourself up so you wouldn't yet fully sit on him. His upper body laid down on your bed. You had full control over the make out as his hands went once again to your hips. Before they could reach any lower, you broke the kiss, looking at him with a smirk. You finally lowered yourself onto him, teasing his hard cock over his underwear with your pussy. His eyes shot closed as his fingers dug into your skin. You bit your lower lip at the sight of him under you before slowly rocking your hips on his cock. You teased him like that for a short moment before a needy whine escaped his lips.

,,What's wrong, pretty boy?" You teased him as your hands danced on his chest. He opened his eyes to look at you. He looked almost in pain.

,,Master..." He said shyly, and you tilted your head. You continued rocking your hips, waiting for him to speak. He was too shy to tell you what he wanted, and he hoped you would just do it. But where's the fun in that?

,,Tell me what you want" You ordered before reaching to hiss his abs, which made you lift your lower body, taking away the pleasure you were causing him. With a disagreeing moan, he made you stop kissing his body.

,,I want- I want you to make me feel good, master" He said before he closed his eyes with embarrassment. You purred your lips at how cute he was.

,,And how would you want me to do that?" You teased, enjoying his suffering maybe a bit too much. He whined again, but you just waited, not touching him anywhere. He fought so hard to tell you.

,,I want you to r-ride me, please" He said quickly, and a smile took over your whole face. You were so proud of him, ready to reward him for being such a good boy.

,,Since you asked so nicely" You responded, before lowering his underwear and freeing his cock. After that, you sat on it again, wetting it with your wet folds. You weren't doing anything too crazy, and he was already a moaning mess. You were planning on playing with him like this for longer, but you felt your own neediness taking over. After that, you lifted yourself up on your knees while grabbing his cock. You lined his tip with your hole before slowly pushing yourself down again. You stopped moving when his tip was inside of you, making sure everything was okay and nothing hurt him. His fingers were still digging into your hips, but you knew that was because of the pleasure he was feeling. His thigh muscles were flexed as his eyes were closed. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and you weren't even fully sitting on him. After a while of you not moving, his hands pushed you lower on his cock, which made you moan unexpectedly, causing him to moan as well. You then fully sat down on him, throwing your head back. His cock was buried deep inside of you, stretching you out nicely.

,,You feel so good" He whispered with his eyes still closed. You moaned at his comment, focusing on steadying your breathing. Your hands then found his on your hips, and you grabbed them before lifting yourself up on his cock. You shifted your body weight onto his arms before you started to actually ride him. You started slowly before adding speed.

His eyebrows were scrunched together, and you slowed down a bit. ,,Are you okay?" You asked, worrying, but he quickly nodded his head, lifting his hips, pushing his cock back inside of you. You closed your eyes as you sped up again, fucking yourself on him. You fought hard to keep your eyes open, wanting or actually needing to see his face. Sweat was building up on his forehead, his chest was moving with his deep breaths, and his bottom lip was stuck in between his teeth. His needy whines filling your room were the nicest sound you've ever heard.

,,M-Master can I ple-please cum inside of you?" He struggled so hard due to the fact that his constant moans didn't allow him to speak.

,,You want me to fuck the cum out of you?" You asked with a husky voice, and he let out almost an animalistic sound. His hips started to meet yours halfway, causing the both of you even more pleasure.

,,Yes, please" He begged, and tears of pleasure filled your eyes as he hit the right spot again and again. He opened his eyes as he felt you shift even more of your body weight onto his arms. Your eyes were closed, and he almost came by looking at you. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this good.

,,Am I doing good?" He whispered, and you didn't bother to open your eyes. You realized how hard it must have been for him to talk, since it was the same for you now.

,,So good" You answered him, and he nodded his head more for himself than you before focusing on thrusting into you. Your hands left his, and instead you put them on his chest, which made you move more freely. You felt your high closing on you, but you pushed it away, wanting him to cum first. That didn't take too long. His muscles tensed even more, and his toes curled up as he came inside of you with loud moans. You slow down a little bit, letting him hold you as hard as he wanted. He looked almost like he was in pain. His breathing was even heavier, but his muscles started to loosen up a bit. After a while, he opened his eyes, and you looked up at him. His eyes then traveled to his cock still inside of you, realizing you haven't came yet. His hands held you in one place as his hips started fucking back into you. A wave of pleasure filling you again.

,,Tell me if it gets too much for you" You told him before another moan took over you, not wanting him to get too overstimulated. He hasn't answered you; instead, he sped up more.

,,Anakin" You cried out as your high made its presence known again. The feeling was building up in your stomach faster and faster every second. Anakin was mesmerized by your face filled with pleasure, and he swore he would do anything to make you feel like this again. Your hands shot to his stomach to hold yourself more as the feeling you'd been chasing exploded deep inside your stomach. Anakin slowed his thrusts as he watched you enjoy your orgasm. Your whole body was filled with unspeakable warmth. Your legs shook as you started to come back to reality. By then, Anakin had stopped moving completely. With a deep breath, you opened your eyes to be met with his. You pushed yourself up on your jelly knees, so you could get down from him. He whined as he no longer felt you around him. Your body hit your soft bed as you laid next to him. He sat up, moving further away from you. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but you stopped as he grabbed your thigh and moved it away from the other one, spreading you out. He then pushed your folds apart, watching his cum slowly spill out of you. The sight made you want to fuck him again right away. He took his time watching your abused pussy before forcing himself to get back to you. He laid next to you, grabbing the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed. Then he placed it over the two of you, and you put your head on his chest. You knew you should go take a shower, but the warmth his body was giving you was just too addicting. His hand hugged you, lovingly pushing you closer to him.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars smut #anakin fic #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker

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underacalicosky · 4 months

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I continue to torture myself with fix-it scenarios where Anakin just can't handle seeing Obi-Wan having an emotional meltdown and gives up the dark side as a result. What if Obi-Wan was a wibbly mess on Mustafar?

“Until now, you’ve become the very thing you swore to destroy.”

“Don’t lecture me, Obi-Wan. I see—“

“Lecture you?!” Obi-Wan snaps suddenly, his voice bellowing. “You think I came here to lecture you?”

His sharp tone makes Anakin take a step back. He sucks in a shaky breath and straightens his posture, refusing to be rattled. As he opens his mouth to respond, Obi-Wan continues interrupting him.

“No, Anakin, I lecture you for staying up too late. For not folding your tunics properly.” His voice gets progressively louder and more impatient. “For not getting enough fiber in your diet! I’m not here to lecture you. I was sent here to kill you!” Obi-Wan yells.

Anakin knows it’s the reason why Obi-Wan is here, but to hear him say the words, with such certainty, makes his heart plummet. He’d hoped, with whatever little hope was left, that he wouldn’t have to fight Obi-Wan. His chest aches, knowing that this is how it must end. But he ignores the weakness that still lives in him and draws on the dark side for strength. The Force ripples around them when he pulls on it.

“And kill the rest of myself along with you,” Obi-Wan says furiously. “Part of me has already died.” He fixes Anakin with an intense stare, a seething fire in his eyes.

Taking another deep breath, Anakin narrows his eyes and returns his glare. He’s never seen Obi-Wan angry like this. It frightens him, but he keeps pacing like he's a caged wild animal because he can’t let it show.

“It died when you knelt in front of a Sith lord and proclaimed him your Master!” Obi-Wan’s face twists with uncontrolled and un-Jedi-like rage. “It died knowing that you would trade me for him. Do I mean that little to you?” he demands, spreading his hands and arms out in front of him. “I poured all of myself into training you and raising you and—”

With matching ferocity, Anakin shakes his head. “This isn’t about you!” Anakin yells, pointing at him.

“Of course it’s about me!” Obi-Wan yells back. “Your mother entrusted you to Qui-Gon and he entrusted you to me. Do you know what it was like everyday being scared out of my mind that I would let them down? That I would let you down?”

This is not Obi-Wan. Anakin was prepared for Obi-Wan to use reason. To remain somewhat collected as he projected his disappointment. Perhaps confronting Anakin with all the ways he’s violated the Jedi code, betrayed the Republic and democracy.

Obi-Wan’s skillfully talked circles around politicians, foreign royalty, the Jedi Council and kept his emotions at bay every time.

But this… Anakin is unprepared for this.

“No,” Anakin says with another shake of his head. “No, I made these choices,” he insists.

“Maybe I should’ve left the Order with you. We would’ve found our own way.” Obi-Wan was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes ticking everywhere at once, unable to focus. “And I wouldn’t have had to train you to be a soldier. Wouldn’t have dragged you through a war. Wouldn’t have let Palpatine near you.”

“I never wanted to be a burden!” Anakin cries.

“You weren’t a burden! You were my brother, Anakin! My greatest joy!” Obi-Wan screams. “What could I have done differently to stop this?” Obi-Wan asks, nearly begging.

With his fists balled at his sides, Anakin holds onto the last vestiges of his resolve. He can’t let Obi-Wan break him.

“We can’t change the past,” Anakin says, his voice hollow.

“Did I not love you enough?” Obi-Wan asks sadly, tears streaming down his face.

Instinctively, Anakin reaches for him through their bond, a habit formed from years of training and bickering and teasing and laughing and to his horror, it recoils and his heart shatters.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Anakin stomps his foot. He can’t have both. He can’t embrace the dark side to exploit its unnatural powers and still expect to find comfort in the golden and pure light that tethers him to Obi-Wan.

Anakin Skywalker has made a lot of choices in the last day. And here, he makes another.

With his head hung, he relaxes his hands and releases. The ground beneath them shakes as the dark, consuming anger bleeds from him.

Again he touches their bond, tenderly. Lovingly. Apologetically.

“I can’t change the past, but help me change the future,” Anakin sobs. “Please. We need to save Padmé. And the baby.”

Finally, Obi-Wan blinks as he snaps out of his trance. His eyes lock on Padme’s unmoving form on the ground and Anakin sees the moment that Obi-Wan realizes his renewed purpose.

“Yes. Get her onto the ship,” Obi-Wan says with the authority of a war General. “I’ll make sure 3PO and Artoo are both accounted for and have them help me find the nearest medical facility,” Obi-Wan says.

“If the Republic finds me… after what I’ve done…”

“Then we need to be careful where we go so they won’t find us,” Obi-Wan tells him and glances at Padmé, then back at Anakin before he boards the ship.

#obikin #obikin fix-it #it's obikin but not obikin #you understand

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sugarrrvenomm · 1 month

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is somebody gonna match my freak? // obi-wan x reader

sorry i couldn't help it with the title LMAO

word count: 3k

summary: this is disgusting <3

PS if u want me to make a taglist and would like to be on it leave a reply !!

In the beginning, Obi-Wan felt guilty; depraved. He was a Jedi Knight, had been a Jedi Knight for many years—while you still wore a braid in your hair. It wasn’t necessarily written anywhere that having sexual relations with Padawans was against the rules, but if he was being honest with himself, he knows that’s because it’s the kind of expectation that is so obvious no one thought it even needed to put in writing. Still, the fact that it wasn’t explicitly forbidden didn’t do much to quell his shame.

And in the end, his shame didn’t do much—or anything at all, really—to stop him from fucking you.

In his defense, you made the first move. Drunk off the single glass of wine your Master had allowed you during the Temple’s Life Day celebrations. Anakin had slunk off to Force knows where, and Obi-Wan was content with standing at the edge of the grand banquet hall, making sure no one got too reckless, taking another drink every time a server-droid buzzed passed him, and watching you.

You’d greeted him earlier, twirling in your little white dress that certainly wasn’t Jedi issued. It was becoming more and more common for younger Jedi to scrap together fabric into their own personalized garments—apparently it didn’t bother the Council enough to do anything about it. And it certainly didn’t bother Obi-Wan, especially when the fabric was so thin he could tell very easily you weren’t wearing a bra.

“What do you think?” You’d asked, smiling with teeth as white as the dress.

Obi-Wan had cleared his throat, biting back the first few entirely inappropriate responses that came to him, before answering, “You’re very creative.”

The way you deflated slightly, clearly expecting a little more, bothered him more than it should have, so he smiled as genuinely as he could, and added, “Go enjoy the party, little one.” And then you blushed, like you always did when he called you that. Without another word, you had turned on your heel and did exactly as he said. He’d be lying if he said the obedience wasn’t a turn on.

All night he watched you, and when you finally started to drift toward the exit, he made sure to be there so he could ask, “Would you like me to walk you back?”

The yes he got in response wasn’t very surprising. The way you had kissed him at the door of your quarters was, though. Obi-Wan couldn’t even enjoy it—instinctively pulling back and looking around to see if anyone had witnessed it. No one had, but you were grabbing at his tunics, trying to get his attention, and he’d pushed you inside of your rooms with the intention fo simply getting the two of you away from any prying eyes that may come.

And once the door slid shut behind the both of you, and you were truly alone—he couldn’t help himself. Obi-Wan leant down and pressed your lips together, groaning low in his chest, walking you back until you were against the door, and slid his tongue into your mouth so you could taste him. You made such sweet, little noises—some of surprise, like you’d never done this before, and that made him roll his hips, desperate to get any kind of friction on his thick, swelling cock.

When he’d done that, you’d pulled back, blinking up at him all doe-eyed with your lips pink and swollen. “I’m a virgin,” you said, in one quiet breath.

Obi-Wan was far from a virgin, but he certainly felt like one for a moment, the words arousing him so much he feared he might finish in his pants right then and there.

“That’s alright,” he managed to tell you, cupping your pretty face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Nothing has to happen.” As much as I’d like it to, he left out.

You’d sent him away with another kiss, and he wondered if when the morning came, you’d regret it. He never got a direct answer for that—you carried on almost entirely as if it had never happened when the two of you were around each other. If it wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s frequent replaying of the memory while he stroked his cock at night, he might have thought he imagined it.

Then, you were assigned a mission together.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin found you tolerable at least, so he only gave him a warning to be on his best behavior—for most of the mission, the two of you only spoke when necessary, while Obi-Wan and your Master were more comfortable with each other. Or, used to be. Obi-Wan had trouble looking the other Jedi in the eye after kissing you. When the mission was completed, the four of you boarded the ship once more, Anakin in the cockpit navigating you away form the planet, while the rest settled in.

Even while wrapped up in a conversation with your Master, Obi-Wan’s focus was on you. The other Jedi stood in front of Obi-Wan, so he couldn’t see what you were doing behind him, but Obi-Wan could. Obi-Wan could see the way you cleaned your lightsaber hilt, could see the way you removed the emergency medical supplies and rations from your belt and put them back in their proper place.

Obi-Wan could see you bend over to take your boots off, and the way your panties clung to your little cunt.

A Jedi in a skirt wasn’t a completely foreign sight, though most chose to wear leggings underneath. Obi-Wan had assumed you’d skipped them due to the heat of the planet, but had also assumed it was at least the kind of skirt with little shorts sewn in underneath. For practicality’s sake. He’d assumed wrong, of course. You had done this on purpose. There was no denying it when you turned your head to look at him, still bent over, and bit your lip.

As soon as your Master moved a muscle, you were up again, straightening yourself and bowing respectfully as he walked away to another area of the ship. When he was gone, you resumed your position, hands around your ankles. “I’m ready for something to happen now, Master Kenobi,” you said.

Possessed, Obi-Wan took long strides to reach you as quickly as possible, grabbing your hips, thumbing your skirt up to see more of you. “I thought you were a virgin,” he breathed out, eyes glued to the place where your underwear hugged your slit, outlining the folds of your pussy.

“I am,” you pouted, turning to look at him.

Obi-Wan ran a thumb over your center, his cock twitching. “Then how are you so fucking filthy?”

“Because of you.”

In response, Obi-Wan cursed, and cupped your pussy with a big hand. “Is that so?”

“Yes, yes!” You whined, and he let you rock yourself back, trying to make him rub you. “I always think of you when I—when I—“ you started, but you couldn’t seem to finish.

“When you touch yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, taking his hand away as you nodded eagerly. He gripped your hips again, and pushed his own forward, after lifting his tunics out of the way so the bulge of his hard cock in his trousers could press snug and hot against your needy, covered cunt. “Me too, little one. Every time I touch my cock I’m thinking of you; of your darling face and this tight fucking virgin pussy,” he gritted out, humping against you with the last words, making you tip forward and claw at the wall in front of you.

“Master Kenobi,” you mewled. “Please, touch me.”

Obi-Wan wanted to. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to pull down your underwear and have you right here, pop your cherry and make you his. But he couldn’t.

“I can’t fuck you, little one,” he breathed out.

You made a bratty, unhappy noise. “Why not?”

“You’ll scream,” he bent over and whispered in your ear.

♡♡♡♡♡

Eventually, Obi-Wan does take your virginity, and lets you scream all you’d like. Laid back in his bed, clawing at his hair while he rubs the drippy, pink head of his cock over your center, tapping your clit and barely pushing into your cunt.

“Do you think it’ll even fit?” He asks. It’s not just dirty talk—he really doesn’t know for sure. You’re so tiny, and untouched, and his cock is quite big. Your eyes had gone wide when he first took it out, and he’d sat you on his lap and let you play with it until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Now, he sinks the tip of it into your pussy, and even as sloppy wet as you are, he wonders.

“It will, it will,” you chant, trying to push down on it. Adorable.

He rubs a thumb over your clit to make you settle, then coos at you, “It’s alright if it doesn’t—little girls have tight, little pussies. You’ll just need practice, darling.” The words just pour out of him, so obscene he shocks himself a bit. It seems that all his guilt has turned into filth, and the very things he used to be ashamed of are now the very things he finds the most arousing. The braid in your hair, your untouched body, your innocence.

Still, he indulges you, and as it would turn out, you were right. It does fit. It’s so tight that Obi-Wan feels as if his dick might break off, but that only makes him more determined to open your pussy up for him. As you cry and whine and chant his name, he fucks you into the mattress, pounding away at your cunt and groaning at the sounds the two of you make together; obnoxiously wet.

What makes him come is the realization that you haven’t even inquired about a condom, not even once. Obi-Wan had a vasectomy years ago, but you certainly don’t know that. For all you know, he’s about to knock you up. In his mind, he sees you, sat on his lap with your back to his chest, letting him bounce you up and down on his cock, your sweet belly swollen with his baby. His cock pushes out another weak spurt when he imagines your Master walking in on it.

With his cock softening inside of you, he rubs your clit and laves his tongue over your nipples. “Sweet girl, come all over me. I want to feel my little one come,” he orders. And you do; so obedient.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan can’t stop taking firsts from you after that, especially with how you want it. Messaging him whenever you’re away from each other about how you can’t live without his cock and his tongue and his hands. Every moment your Master is away, you’re at his door, and Obi-Wan thanks the Force that Anakin’s teenage mood swings have led him to making himself scarce in their free time—it means Obi-Wan gets to have you however he’d like.

He gets you bouncing on his cock, just like he imagined, minus the pregnancy. His hands tucked under your knees, spreading you and opening you up so he can fuck you up and down on his fat cock until you squirt all over the mirror he’s set the two of you in front of.

“Clean it up,” he tells you, pulling you off his cock and setting you on the floor.

Without hesitation, you crawl over, and he’s torn between where he wants to look—your glistening pussy, pink and puffy from use, or your tongue, licking along the dirty mirror, unashamed. You do it so easily that he gets an idea, getting on the floor himself and stuffing himself back inside of you aggressively, fucking into you messily, watching the way your ass ripples until he’s about to come—then he quickly pulls out, stands, and tugs at his cock until his milky spend is dripping down the mirror.

He grabs you by the hair and guides you to it, “Mm,” he hums, pleased at the way you moan and eagerly lick it up and swallow it all down. “Little come slut.” His cock is stirring to life again already, and he rubs it against your cheek, tapping your swollen lips with it. “Next time, I’ll fill you up and you can be my come dump, too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

When forced into situations with your Master, Obi-Wan really loathes how you obey the other Jedi so readily. He knows you should, and he knows he’s being unreasonable. It doesn’t stop him from ordering you to come to his quarters before your Master awakes, so he can swirl his tongue over the pretty little rim of the only hole he hasn’t touched yet. He moans against your skin, shoving his tongue inside of you and drooling all over his beard, lost in it until your com goes off, signaling that your Master’s awake.

Obi-Wan can barely stand it—sending you away without coming, your precious cunt so soaked it’s surely going to show even through your leggings.

It’s a consolation when he visits the training salles later and knows you’re going through all your katas with a plug in your ass, put there by him. Sparring with your Master while your entrance clenches around it and your pussy drools helplessly all the while.

On the days there’s no time for such things, he strokes his cock while you’re on your way over. The only thing you do when you arrive is tug your panties down, and Obi-Wan comes all over the inside of them. He pulls them up your legs, smiling at the way they immediately become transparent and stick to you.

“Does it feel yucky?” He asks.

You rub your thighs together and nod. “I like it, though.”

Pride swells in Obi-Wan’s chest and he kisses your forehead, while one hand reaches back under your skirt to massage your cunt, rubbing his seed all over your folds and the swollen button of your tiny clit. “Good girl. You keep that nice and warm for me all day, okay?”

You rock into his touch, and he sends you off with a smack to your ass. All day, he imagines you humping your seat during your lessons.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan eats your pussy from the back, because you make him nasty like that. He bends you over a table in a dark corner of the archives and kneels behind you, shoving his face between your legs and trying to see if he can make you squirt in public.

He can. He sucks greedily at your clit and sends you an image through the Force of him doing this right in the middle of one of the Temple’s grand hallways, and you come so hard he has to take off his robe and sop up your mess from the table and the floor.

Perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical, spanking you for such a stunt when you get back to his quarters, because really, it’s his own fault—but he does it anyway.

“Naughty, naughty girl. You’re so filthy I’m beginning to think you’d let anyone do that to you. Is that true, little one? When I’m not around, do you flash your pussy to other Jedi? Is your little cunt so insatiable that you’d hump the boot of anyone that offered?” Obi-Wan knows none of these things are true; he knows as well as you do that you belong to him, but you blush so pretty and your cunt drips so much when he talks like this, so he always does.

When your ass is red and you begin to cry, he pulls you into his lap and lets you rock against his thigh until you’ve calmed down. You suck on his tongue like it’s candy and rub your tits against his hairy chest.

Eventually, you pull back and pinch your own nipples, before pushing your breasts together and looking at him from under your eyelashes. “Do you think you could fuck me here?”

Obi-Wan throws you on the bed so fiercely he fears for a moment that he hurt you, but then you’re moaning and playing with your tits again, sticking your tongue out like a whore to beckon him closer. Rather than lube his cock up, he shoves it in your mouth and lets you wet it for him. You’ve gotten so good at this, you barely gag, even when your nose is buried in the auburn thatch of hair above his cock.

When he fucks your tits, it’s more about the fact that you’ve asked him to do it, rather than the physical sensation of it. Sweet Padawan, little one, hugging her breasts around the cock of a man twice her age while she goes crosseyed and cockdumb.

Obi-Wan’s mouth gets away from him, but he knows you love it. “Imagine if your Master could see you right now—he wouldn’t believe his little girl likes to suck my cock and empty my balls over her tits.”

He does just that, and then asks you to stick your tongue out again so he can take a holo of you, come on your tits and eyes glazed over.

♡♡♡♡♡

“Think your cute little pussy can handle daddy’s big fat cock?”

He doesn’t know which one of you started the daddy thing, but it drives the both of you crazy. The fantasies where you just plain call him dad, he keeps to himself.

You’re on all fours on his bed, and you reach between your legs to spread your cunt for him.

“I can take anything you give me, daddy,” you say sweetly, and Obi-Wan knows it’s true.

#u know this started as a fic and then just became insane nasty ramblings i think #oh well #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi smut #🐇#btw this was inspired by several different asks ive gotten so if something seems familiar then congratulations you made me h word

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thedarlingdearestdead · 1 year

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Anakin the Mechanic:

Summary: Your ship had been badly damaged on your last mission and you were the one stuck fixing it. Anakin finds you looking lost and wants to help you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, banter, pretty safe.

Word count: 1,630

It was a rare day off for you, a single moment in between the chaos as the Jedi council discussed you and your master’s next assignment. You were grateful for it. Though it was not exactly an opportunity for respite.

Your ship had been badly damaged in your last fire fight, you’d come back with a rocky descent filled with horrible noises and smoke, not a happy landing. Some of the big stuff you could understand, you got it patched up fairly easily, working all evening yesterday with a team of mechanics on the main hull. But this morning, upon trying to start it up, you found it was still having some sort of issue.

It was frustrating as you would much rather be training, or doing your research. Or pretty much be anywhere else doing anything else. The grease from the engine was gathered underneath your nails in a most unpleasant way, your hair gone frizzy from the smoke and heat, your head aching from the fumes.

You had been staring into one of the side panels for about 10 minutes now. Determined that it was these circuits that had been causing such trouble, part of you wanted to give up and just hit it with the screwdriver that you held in your hand, just so you’d know what, and where, the damage was.

You must have been glaring, face stony as you zoned out, very close to a small melt-down. You were very tired and this had to get done. That’s probably why when Anakin Skywalker came up behind you, you jumped, dropping your tool as he starts to laugh at you.

“That’s not funny, Anakin! I could have hurt myself!” You say as a response to his mirth.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so focused, I couldn’t help myself!” He settles down slightly, leaning casually against the ship. The ship groaned and something sparked up by his sleeve comically causing his to jump back in fright himself. “Force, what have you done to this?”

You shrug, “We got hit a few times trying to go into hyperspace.”

He steps back and surveys the fresh patch jobs, still not painted over, and he rubs his arm near where the spark had almost got him almost unconsciously, thinking. Then he takes in the piles scattering of tools, rags, and equipment, as well as your, probably very, bedraggled state.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Anakin had always been a bit of a wild card, unpredictable and impulsive. You had been assigned to work with him before, and four him to be such an overwhelming, distracting presence. There was always an energy around him, a sense of barely-contained chaos that made you nervous.

"So, what's the plan?" Anakin finally asked, squinting and trying to stay nice and diplomatic. Though you could tell by his fidgeting that he desperately wanted to start fixing your ship for you.

You sighed, wiping your hands on your already spoiled robes, trying to decide whether your pride and patience could accept. "I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with the circuits. I think it's a power issue, but I can't seem to pinpoint the source."

Anakin nodded, his eyes scanning the ship once again, eyes moving straight towards the other end of it, and fixing on the anterior electric panel. “Well, do you want some help?” He was edging away from you, an eagerness growing in his eyes, “I can pop her open, take a look?” He had already reached his target and took your non-resistance as a yes.

You were annoyed that he headed towards the opposite side of the ship to where you had been working. It was a subtle way of telling you ‘you’re doing it completely wrong.’ Judging by your success throughout the day he was probably right and you could probably use the help. It was still irritating though.

You watched as Anakin expertly open the panel and began to examine the circuits. His fingers moved deftly over the wires and switches, awfully confident and easy. You couldn't help but appreciate the intense concentration on his face.

You leaned against the ship and watched him, grateful for his help, feeling a pang of affection for how content he looked. "How did you get so good at this?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Anakin shrugged, not looking up from his work. "I've had a lot of practice. My mom used to scavenge parts and I would help her fix things up. It was a good way to learn."

You nodded, impressed and slightly sad at the mention of his mother, you never knew yours. "You know, I never imagined I would have to fix my own ship when I became a Jedi," you commented, smiling wryly.

Anakin chuckled, finally looking up at you. "Technically you're not fixing your own ship." He closed the small door and stepped back. Ushering you backwards as he walks around the ship, entering it and leading you to the cockpit.

Anakin sits down in the pilot's seat and begins typing away at the control panel. "I can reroute power from the engines to the circuits, that should give us the boost we need to get this baby off the ground," he explains, his fingers moving over the controls with lightning speed.

Watching him was incredible. Anakin was so talented, so skilled at everything he did. You had seen him in combat, seen him take down entire armies with his lightsaber. And yet here he was, fixing a broken ship with the same level of intensity and focus.

He must have noticed your eyes. "What?" Anakin asked, glancing up at you from where he was working.

"I'm just impressed," you admitted. "You're so good at everything you do."

Anakin grinned at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You're not wrong." And with that he pressed a final button and the engine came to life. Not spluttering or sparking, not roaring or shaking as it had been when you tried.

You tried to ignore the cocky smile on his face, his obvious pleasure at your surprise and joy which came out of you in a small 'whoop!'. But it was difficult. It was easy to ignore Anakins shine when in battle, in meetings, or in a large vehicle hangar. But in this small space you felt blinded.

"Thank you, Anakin- really you saved the day, my day... I would have been here for hours staring at the wrong place and making an even bigger mess.

"Well, I couldn't stand to watch you destroy this ship. I had to come in and save her..." He stroked the control unit lovingly, mocking your attempts at mechanics.

"Hey I would have gotten it eventually!" You say indignantly.

"Yeah, you would've." He concedes. "But sometimes it's good to take a break from all the fighting, all the politics. Just work with your hands, fix something. It's therapeutic. I don't mind helping you, you just need to ask."

He was standing now, the two of you cramped behind the pilots seats, in the small dark alcove between them, and the cabin.

Anakin's words echoed in your mind, and you realised that he was right. Sometimes, it was good to take a break from the chaos of being a Jedi and just focus on something simple and tangible.

Anakin had a kind heart and a willingness to help others, even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

You both leaned in at the same time, meeting in the middle for a gloriously light and gentle kiss.

As your lips met, you felt a spark ignite between you, a spark that had been building for a long time. And now, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you felt a sense of rightness, a sense that this was where you were meant to be.

For a long moment, you lost yourself in the kiss, forgetting everything else except the feel of Anakin's lips against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It was like nothing else mattered except this moment, this connection between the two of you.

But as the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of urgency creeping in, unlike anything you'd felt before. A sense that this moment was fleeting and you needed to make the most of it. As Anakin's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back, you felt a shiver, curving into him, pushing him up against the doorway.

He smirked into your mouth. He cupped your face in his hands, running his fingers down your cheeks, tilting your face up into the kiss.

Before he pushed you backwards, not violent but rough, you hit the opposite wall and now he was the one to press you against the frame, his body pressed full against yours, as the kiss intensified. You felt a breath catch in your throat, as you pulled away briefly to take a moment, to look at him. Both of you panting for air, Anakin staring at you with those intense dark eyes.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he confesses. "I know we can't, not now, not with everything going on, the war, the constant missions, but I just wanted you to know... how I feel," he explained, his voice breathy.

There was no hesitation, no stopping to think about it. You just knew. You knew he was right, no matter what tomorrow or the next day might bring, you knew you couldn't ignore your feelings. And you couldn't ignore the way you felt right now.

"Just kiss me Anakin." You say, and he does.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin x reader #star wars fandom #star wars anakin #star wars prequels

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forever--darling · 8 months

Text

the chosen one

summary: a new life awaits you & yet you can't help the darkness that looms over the old one. to be a jedi seemed wrong to you so much so that the overwhelming feelings for the young jedi you were forced to spend every day with became overshadowed by other things instead, things no jedi were ever to act upon.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, swearing, evidence of past reader & anakin, conceited!anakin, angst (early but important for future character development), mentions of the force, fluff near the end

series masterlist | 02

“Master, you have returned from the council I have seen. What did they say? About the princess?” The young Padawan stared up at his mentor, eyes so uncertain as he met the older man’s gaze.

Obi-Wan met the young man’s question with just as much uncertainty. How was he to put it into words? Words of what he had proposed to the Jedi Council? Of just how exactly he might have jeopardized the very chosen one’s training. Obi-Wan was not proud then of what he had done in the council meeting. Of how persistent he had been without even talking to his young Padawan learner beforehand, but his mind had already been made up the second he had seen your face upon meeting the outside ruins of Bakura, your father left behind to burn with it.

They successfully extracted you — just to leave you with nothing.

“Padawan…” Obi-Wan began but trailed off, instead taking a seat upon the couch, hesitant then as the younger man remained standing, a single dark brow arched in obvious confusion.

Obi-Wan corrected himself then, “Anakin, with regarding the princess I have talked to them about her staying on a more permanent note.”

“In Coruscant?”

“Yes, but not exactly,” Obi-Wan said, watching carefully as his young Padawan’s face fell, the confusion melting at the relization.

“Within the Jedi Temple, you mean.”

The older Jedi nodded in confirmation.

“You wish for her to become a Jedi?” Anakin asked, forming the conclusions as quickly as they appeared over Obi-Wan’s face. He could feel it as well through his senses, the anxiety that had befallen his master. The sudden question swarmed him of what exactly his mentor had done; of what deal he had exactly struck with the council.

“She knows the force, Anakin. I have seen it, with my own eyes. There is a piece of her she has yet to even explore, and I know that with much focus and practice, she could become a strong Jedi. She could will the force just as well as you or I.”

The young man froze, the very admittance shielding him useless then. Unable to barely fathom what to say or a single coherent thought. He could only stand there, senses wavering, opening up to the mere feeling from just across the temple. You.

Even from rooms away, it felt as if he sat across from you, observing the expressions on your face, just asking to see your pretty eyes weaken from their steel. You were unaware of his senses, unaware of how well he could feel you. Unaware of how well he knew the pain you dwelled on and the devastation that filled your chest with a gentle ache. Your sadness was loud to him, his Jedi powers strong then.

But one question still remained.

“Master, who would she train under? Who would be her Master?”

Obi-Wan remained silent. His head suddenly bowing in slight shame. Slight worry of offering up himself to the council willingly.

“I see,” Anakin frowned, “And what about me?”

The older Jedi’s eyes found his then quickly, trying to offer as much comfort as he could with a soft smile, trying to ease the panic that was surely swirling within the chosen one’s mighty mind, “You would still be my young Padawan learner if that is what you wish.”

Anakin’s brows furrowed again, “But, I thought no Master could have two Padawans. The code—”

“Yes, the code does forbid it. But you see at one time ago I was one Padawan of two to my own master. The other being Y/N’s father.”

“The king?” the young Padawan corrected.

“Yes, the king,” Obi-Wan frowned, his face wavering at the thought of the loss of his old friend, “He was a great Jedi and an even greater friend. Because of that, our bond within the force was powerful. I was able to remind the council of that. There can be exceptions even within the code.”

The Padawan nodded understandingly, it all aligning within his mind, and yet that furrowed look still would not cease from his face. Hesitancy was present behind his eyes, the blueness in them holding Obi-Wan’s attention as he tried to read the younger Jedi’s feelings. But Anakin held up a front, his walls strong against his mentor. There was something else not being said. He could feel it.

“Then what is it? What exactly are you not telling me, Master?”

Obi-Wan inhaled, “They would only allow it upon your approval. You are still the chosen one, Anakin. They want to ensure your learning is not minimized by the addition of someone else.”

“So it’s up to me?”

“Yes, very much so,” Obi-Wan nodded.

Anakin hummed in understanding. Much understanding of the sudden weight that had befallen him. This was no dire decision to make. With nothing and no one, Obi-Wan has stepped forward, offering up a solace for you — something that was not foreign for the older Jedi to do. Though Anakin wasn’t sure he would have done the same, there was a certain power he felt with this foreboding ask of him. Your life, that is. He liked how it felt within his palms, just as your back had against his firm chest upon your first meeting.

There was something about you. He couldn’t know it then. Begin to understand, how the force was so willful in him to look into you, to try and understand you. He pushed the reasoning onto his senses, how strong they had become — how successful his training had been dubbing him lately. So much so that the trials would be a simple task.

This was an opportunity though, to forge a connection separate from his master but with you as well. To showcase to the council how truly powerful and one with the Jedi code he could be. To lead you and protect you as his own mentor had done for him. This was a chance to get ahead, but on top of it save you.

“She has no one,” Anakin said, surveying the obvious fact.

“No, she does not,” Obi-Wan confirmed.

He was conceded he knew that, as he imagined saving you over and over again just for the swell his chest would receive at the praise of those around him. He wanted his name known. Anakin Skywalker.

There was more he was destined for, and that was enough paired with the wallows of sadness he could still very well feel to make up his mind.

The grass was so green, even soft as if it was Bakura itself. That single field by the capital. It didn’t matter how much it rained, how it seemed to flood the streets, that field remained just as perfect as always. Closing your eyes with ease, you felt the wind, how it tickled your skin around the base of your neck from where your hair was pulled up and out of your face. It smelled like saltwater but not enough to be considered irritating. With fluttered eyelids, you sighed, a deep breath invading your chest before releasing.

There was a shift then though — within the air.

A certain sort of energy coaligning with yours enough to make your pulse quicken. You could feel him, that much was certain.

There was a step, it heavy on the ground, not as quiet as either of you had expected. As another one approached, you quickly swung around on your heels, eyes peeling open just as the flash of light came towards you. With a wielding nature, your own saber ignited a strong blue just like the one before you. Shielding the blow, they collided harshly, sending your heels to dig into the ground while air admitted from the energy collision of the two sabers.

Peering up, you met his narrowed blue stare with one of your own. Dark furrowed brows shone along his face but there just as it always was — that smirk of his. The single and most infuriating thing about him.

“Not as quiet as you thought you’d be?” you asked, the sarcasm dripping freely.

Your ask alone had him leaning closer, challenging you with the newly added tension upon your saber.

He chuckled, the sound hitting you in the chest, as that Padawan braid of his swung as he stepped back, saber releasing yours, “Not at all. Was trying to test your senses is all.”

“Sure.”

Stepping back yourself, you felt the crunch underneath your feet. Peering down quickly, he watched you carefully as you traced the brown and withered grass beneath you. Tracing it along the once billowing weeds, it all was dead and turned to ash. A smog had filled the air, and it was eerily too familiar to you then.

Sensing your master’s watchful eyes, the Padawan fenced forward, his saber moving around his back into his opposite palm just to meet yours once more as he lunged. A grunt admitted from your throat at the impact, it enough to make you stumble. Shifting your weight forward, his strength loosened, allowing you to swing your blue lightsaber up and toward his left shoulder. With little ease it collided with his once more.

Then, within a matter of seconds, it had become a swinging match between the two blue sabers. It was a light show of poking, swinging, and prodding at the receiving opponent, only for each blow to be matched. That look was still in his eyes. It was guarded and cold like a warrior appeared even as a young Padawan. It was a look you couldn’t fully understand but felt through every bone and particle within your body. You responded to it as if he was just asking for you to give everything to him, and you hated it. Hated how well he knew you, or how well he could sense every move you made before you did it.

You had gotten better yourself over the course of the months, learning and studying the code as well as interacting closely with the force. It had intensified in the way that it moved through your veins, not to the extent it did for him, but enough that you were able to sense him, too. When he was near, maybe a doorway away or even a hall. Or which move he was willing to use first within training that day. Even the pit that would form at the base of his stomach every time he and Obi-Wan disagreed on something.

You knew more than you ever wished.

He chuckled then, as if able to hear your thoughts so blatantly about him. That look darkened further but remained playful even as he darted for you, only for you to spin completely switching sides with him to meet his saber again with a mighty clash.

“You’ve gotten better,” he said, voice teasing as he leaned in closer enough that the pair of blue lights reflected rings within his eyes. It drew your attention away from them to him instead. To the way they deliberately stared into your own — too intensely.

“But not quite good enough,” he finished his saber releasing yours rather quickly.

It was then you felt the harsh blade sweep you up from under your feet, the pain only coming from where your back met the ground. Leaning over you, that smirk of his remained that glint overwhelming as the smoke-filled haze and the dead grass disappeared. He remained as you were brought back out of your minds and into the training room. The walls transforming around you into their usual metal view.

The mat was sticky under your form, felt across your bare back where the tight top didn’t cover. Your stick was prodding at your side, not truly your saber as it had felt only moments ago. You sighed then, melting into the ground momentarily as the chosen one laughed from above you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It seems I have won again,” he teased, “Shocker.”

You rolled your eyes, suddenly unamused by his charming wit or wandering stare. Sitting up on your forearms, you heard the hiss from the other side of the room. The disappointment filled your chest as you looked over to find Obi-Wan tutting softly to himself at the sight of the two of you.

“Anakin,” he warned then as he felt the heat that truly was forming within your veins.

The young Padawan sighed as he looked back down at you and offered both of his hands to you. With much hesitation on your end and a quirk of his lips, you were taking hold of his outstretched palms. A tingle shot up through your arms, and you wondered briefly if he had felt it, too. He pulled you up from the ground quickly, enough that you almost collided with him. Laughing like a teenage boy at the mere stumble of your feet, he didn’t dare comment on it, still fully aware of master staring him down.

Playfully flicking a piece of your hair behind your ear with a simple curl of his fingers, you slapped his hand away from where it engaged within the force. Glaring, you couldn’t help the frustration that formed, the anger that you knew was not to be acted on or used by a Jedi — it wasn’t applicable with the force, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he stood inches above you, sweat gathering along his brow, shirt tight on his chest, and that look upon his face. It was humiliating the more it happened day after day.

“It isn’t fair,” you muttered then, taking a step back, enough that you could no longer feel the heat radiating from him.

“What isn’t?” he asked, almost feigning a sense of compassion but that was replaced quickly, “That I’m better than you.”

Obi-Wan sighed from off to the side but neither of you disengaged from the gaze of the other. Anakin smirked again and you grumbled in response. “No that you know every move before I do it.”

“Well if you expanded on them, I wouldn’t know every single one so well. You will find sweet Padawan that you’re enemy will soon become accustomed to it as well.”

You huffed then, hating how he spoke to you as if he were the master and not Obi-Wan. It was so enraging knowing how he truly saw you. “You’re infuriating!”

“Because I’m right?”

“No, because you are so fucking full of yourself,” you snapped then, knowing how off putting it really sounded at the way his eyes widened slightly, brows raising.

Gawking, you tried to withhold from glancing at Obi-Wan too afraid of what glare he would hold then. The moment had become too great and you had gone against the basic traits of the code with so much ease. It billowed up, consuming you, how much he could affect you, draw out the most outrageous words that you had never used for anyone in all your life. Worst of all he found it entertaining.

“So, is that what you truly think of me?” Anakin asked, that smirk of his never ceasing, but somehow lessening as he realized the extent of your feelings towards him. His face hardened then as if feeling too the code slipping from the confines of his mind. “Well, maybe if the council had actually considered a Padawan I could compete with, I wouldn’t be. Instead, they brought me you.”

You felt your resolve crack then, something in you shifting at the hardness in his tone. Sure he liked to tease you, be sarcastic in anyway he could to gain a reaction out of you, but in all those months you had spent training together, discussing the true works of the Jedi, he had never been so cruel. Since the day he had rescued you, he had never been anything short of kind and a little immersive towards you.

Anakin was very passionate, held so much inside, but it had never transferred to anything other than that towards you. Until then.

You couldn’t help it. The force and not even Obi-Wan could stop it then. Lifting your hand, you flickered your fingers so naturally, Anakin had not even noticed. Not until the stick from the ground had smacked him across the back of the head. The sound echoed off the walls and he barely even flinched at the contact.

You noticed though how his eyes had darkened, the blue more intimidating than it ever had been. He huffed out watching the way your chest rose and fell with anger. The worst you had ever directed towards him. He couldn’t help it either in the way his own hand lifted, ready to surely do something he would regret but his master’s voice stopped him all too quickly.

“Anakin!”

You both were pulled back from one another, stares finding Obi-Wan’s, and you crumbled slightly at the realization of what you had done. His glare was set on both of you, a frown evident. A disappointment that the two young Padawans couldn’t be more similar to how he had been with your father. Anakin’s form deflated slightly, his hand dropping to his side, and his eyes found yours again, this time far lighter, softer, as if realizing too his actions. Shaking your head, you turned then, unable to take it anymore. You left the room, the door closing behind you in a fit of steam that very well could have matched the kind coming out of your ears.

Anakin watched you go, suddenly filled with guilt at the thought of his senslessness having taken over. He was young but had been commended on his wisdom, his understanding, his strength and yet he couldn’t feel as if he had any of those things then. Turning cautiously to face Obi-Wan, he struggled to even speak.

“Master—”

“Why are you always so hard on her?” Obi-Wan asked then, taking the young Padawan back by surprise.

“Me?” Anakin gawked then at the way Obi-Wan easily took your side more so like he always did. The chosen one became spiteful then, “Well somebody has to be.”

“Anakin—”

The young Padawan stepped closer, tall enough and old enough now to meet his master’s height. He felt defensive, how could he not as his master looked at him as he did. “She has been acting out against me for nearly two months now, Master.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t provoke her with your words as you do she wouldn’t be so indifferent.”

Anakin chuckled then almost finding it amusing at how Obi-Wan went about explaining your reactions to him. That boyish look appeared again, showing yet again that even though he appeared old, an adult like his mentor, there was still much to be taught. “Oh come on, Master, you know I don’t mean any of that. It is all in good fun. My words are never to bring her any harm.”

“Intentions are not always seen so clearly.”

Obi-Wan watched as the young man huffed, annoyance proudly showing once again, “Well, it is hard when all she wishes is to act upon anger and frustration towards me. It’s set clearly in the code, but—”

“You know this, and yet you act back upon it towards her. You know better, Padawan. I have taught you to be better than this. You are a wise young Jedi which is why I can’t understand why you don’t see any of this for yourself.”

“Becuase it seems she has blinded me,” the young Jedi admitted, sounding suddenly far older than he was.

“What?”

“Everyone is trying so hard to push us together, even the force is willful of us getting close, and yet it seems she wants nothing to do with me, Master. Where I try, she pushes me away as much as possible. She doesn’t trust me,” he sighed, eyes not wavering from his mentor’s then as he repeated, “She has blinded me, and thus I feel lost.”

Obi-Wan felt his own frustrations subside at his young Padawans, both trying so hard to seem wiser than they truly were. The chosen one, especially. He had so much pressure on him all the time; he thought he had to be older and seem more ready than he really was. One day, he would make a powerful Jedi; Obi-Wan knew that. As did everyone else, and yet it takes time, energy, and understanding to get there. Most of all, it takes the simplest compassions.

The older Jedi reached forward his hand sliding along Anakin’s shoulder with ease. “You have to give her a reason.”

“What?” The younger Jedi let the question fall freely from his lips those eyes of his once again narrowed in confusion, his pink lips slightly parted.

“If you want her to trust you, you must give her a reason to.”

The sun was setting on Cruscant, and its four moons would soon take its place in the sky. The stack of books were heavy in your palms — ancient ones — anything you could use to rid yourself of him and what had happened earlier. Yet as you gave up upon reading them in the library and began to bring them to your chambers, you knew it would be no use. Not even as you had showered, brushed your hair, or tried to meditate, he still remained.

Anakin Skywalker.

It was as if he had folded himself within your chest, and the force was accepting of it. He was everywhere all of the time and you couldn’t, just couldn’t escape it. Or the simple pull you got when you felt him near, even as you felt him from across the temple. It wasn’t something you had ever had before, not when you were a little girl having first discovered the force or even upon becoming a Padawan. You had never been able to sense someone as you had been with him, and it was too much to bear. Too much to understand as you tried to wrap your head around the universe’s reasoning.

It made you despise him. Him and his handsome face — his smile or his laugh or a mere look from his eyes. It was as if you would never be free, free from this hold, from this strange feeling that had encompassed your entire being. It was also why you knew you couldn’t leave the Jedi Temple or Obi-Wan. He knew of this strange connection which meant so did the council. It was as if you owed this to the chosen one, to sacrifice yourself for him.

Your robes hung loose around your frame, almost dragging across the floor; you realized because it was one of Anakin’s from the first day he had come to your chambers, the stack in your hands. As if he couldn’t have even thought to get some from the few women of the temple, but rather wished to give you another reminder of him. They were warm, no longer smelling of his sweet cologne as they had on that first day.

Cursing yourself for having even thought about it, you strayed in the long corridor of the temple, the towering pillars unable to even grace your attention then. Even as other Padawans and Jedis strolled by, you couldn’t move but instead leaned back on the wall, eyes locked onto the rays of disappearing sunlight. Bathing your skin in the softest of colors, you closed your eyes unable to fully rid the anger that had been permanently tattooed upon you since that day. That godforsaken day in Bakura. A version of yourself you didn’t even remember anymore.

Jedi’s who engaged in anger, in aggression, would be forsaken. Especially those given up to the council. It seemed that is all you had accomplished so far, the exact things that opposed the code of being a Jedi at all. And yet you felt it in him too. Within the chosen one, the anger, that hatred that was brewing — for what you couldn’t be sure — but only knew that it was there. Hidden away behind the banter, the smiles, the boyish actions he played into on most occasions. It was there just as it was within most of humanity.

How had the two of you gotten here? To this point, to this unspoken feeling rooted deeply between you and him? You couldn’t help if a part of it was you. Had it been you that had done this? Manifested this feeling upon you and him? This conflict.

It hadn’t always been that way. Not even close.

“Are you going to lock yourself away in this room forever?”

You sighed because, sure enough, he found you. He always did amidst the temple. You sat within the confines of a small lounge, one often Master Obi-Wan would go to for mediation. It was decorated with some of the comfiest couches, places to sink yourself into for hours on end. Then there were the plants, so green, so large, all reminding you more of home in ways you couldn’t have imagined. Weeks had gone by, weeks of beginning your Jedi training, and for some reason, it had all felt like a temporary dream sure to fade in due time.

Turning, the young Jedi leaned within the doorway, that familiar light forming across his expression, one you had found to be quite common since that morning within your chambers where he had brought you a stack of robes — the very ones that drowned your frame at that moment. It seemed he almost knew you were thinking about it and chuckled at the sight of you swallowed up in his clothes.

“No. It’s not as if I have been in here for days,” you bated back as he stalked closer, towering over your seated frame upon the small couch, knees hugged closely to your chest, almost resembling a child.

“Could have fooled me. I have felt you sulking away in here for almost three hours now.”

Your brows quirked up in curiosity, a bashful look forming and heat appearing across your cheeks at his small confession. His smile widened, that glint intensifying as he stopped just before you. He looked just as handsome as the day you had met him weeks before, with broad shoulders confined behind loose robes, his Padawan braid that now matched your own laid across his shoulder.

“Master has sent me to come find you. He wants to try another mediation session and thinks it will help you with your lightsaber training.”

You nodded but didn’t respond to his ask of your Master. You couldn’t, not when his previous words were still holding your attention.

It seemed he had known what you’re questionable staring was from. His sole words of how he had been able to feel you through the force, through his senses — something he had quickly become accustomed to as you had moved into the Jedi temple.

“My senses are strong,” he explained, taking a seat on the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel his heat but not enough that he was touching you. Leaning back, he stretched his legs out, eyes refusing to leave your smaller frame, “They have gotten quite strong more so recently. The force has been all-knowing with me, and because of that, I have had the ability to see into the feelings of those who remain close around me. Jedis are very in tune with their surroundings, and one day you will feel that as well.”

“So, you’ve been spying on me?” you asked carefully, the only thing of his whole explanation you could focus on.

He chuckled, the sound deep, and causing goosebumps to form along your arms and neck, “Not exactly. It’s not something I can particularly control.”

“As a Jedi or the chosen one?”

His brows furrowed, too, taking in your features carefully, “Both, I guess. You know, one day, I will be the most powerful Jedi the council has ever seen, or at least that is what they say.”

“You are very fond of yourself, young Skywalker,” you teased then, a smile of your own slowly forming. Only one of few he had ever seen, and he couldn’t help the feeling it gave him, some sort of comfort at the fact as if the sight could wash away any frustrations he felt.

“I suppose I am,” he agreed, leaning in closer to test the waters by bumping his shoulder lightly with yours, “Is that so wrong of me?”

There was a pause, some hesitation on your end, as your eyes somehow betrayed you then in favor of tracing his features, slowly as if you would never have the chance again. You shook your head then, holding his attention completely as you said, “No, not at all.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sun near the edge of the horizon, no longer holding much comfort as you felt something else instead. That stutter within your chest that was called a heartbeat seemed to shift, almost like it was pulled by a string. His aura seemed to invade as his heavy footsteps could be heard entering the corridor, the energy buzzing around your frame. He was desperate to find you. You could feel it. Hear it in the way he walked all while he picked up his speed, upon spotting your frame.

Appearing around the corner, dressed in a set of robes and tunics aside from what he had been wearing earlier, that all too familiar look was there. That smirk of his, you could never escape.

Huffing, you went to turn to head in the opposite direction of the corridor of where you came from, not caring as long as you were away from him. It didn’t matter, though, as he broke out into a jog and stopped you short with one hand blocking you in by your head. Not daring to face him, you continued to look at his hand and the way it caged you in so close, fully aware of his blue pupils locked in on the side of your face. His scent swarmed you and despite the despair and the contempt you felt for him, you couldn’t help inevitably how that scent made you feel. How it had since the first day you met him — comforted.

“What do you want Anakin?” You finally asked, turning enough to face him and his intense gaze.

Your back flushed against the cool wall, and his other hand appeared on the other side of your head, so you were completely caged in beneath him. That smirk of his widened slightly, not quite ready to ask you what he needed from you. “Seriously, first names, now? No, Skywalker or asshole, even?”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t engage in his playfulness. Not then. Not like that.

“Y/N…” he scolded then, your name coming out intently upon his tongue.

Your silence was insulting. You knew that. Knew it based on the annoyance that appeared in his eyes, the discomfort at just the thought. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you sighed, chest tightening just as the mere fact he was as close as he was, lips pursed, brows of his furrowed in concentration. Seeming to not care about the other Jedis close by who noticed the strange interaction.

As you went to slip out from under his arm, he moved closer, enough that his chest was pressed up against the books in your arms, the only thing separating the two of you. He refused to look anywhere else than you as if he needed you to know how serious this was, how serious he was being. He needed you to know just how much he needed this.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

He was being serious. So completely serious, it had you almost collapsing to the ground. Unsure of where it had suddenly come from.

“You’re stubborn,” you observed, unable to keep your gaze from faltering, flickering ever so slightly to his mouth.

If he had noticed he hadn’t done anything to give it away.

“And you’re closed off,” he replied back, the corners of his lips lifting in slight satisfaction, “I never said either of us was perfect.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help the way he had begun to wiggle his way past the barrier you had been hiding behind for far too long. It was those eyes and that smile of his as he tried to be humorous. Slipping under his arm again, this time succeeding, you reached back to take hold of his forearm, palm meeting skin from where his sleeve had been pushed up. The warmth of it had your full attention as you pulled him further down the corridor and into the first empty room you could find.

It was empty, dark, and slightly dusty, with mediocre desks and mats for mediation. Closing the door behind the two of you, Anakin watched as you set the books down on a nearby desk and then turned to face him. Leaning against the small furniture, one arm crossed over your chest, you waved him on as if telling him to continue.

He was surprised, slightly taken aback by how forthcoming you seemed at that moment, and could only internally curse that he hadn’t prepared what he wanted to say. He paused for a moment, unable to as he watched the remaining peaks of golden light wash over your face, illuminating the long hair that fell along your back, the top pulled back in small braids. It was shorter than when he had met you, as you had cut almost four inches off a few days into staying at the temple. There was so much more about you that had seemed to change since that first day.

You weren’t you anymore, that much was clear.

“I’m sorry,” he said it with so much conviction that you felt your eyes lock upon his, the way he had never held so much care in them for you until that very moment. As if he ever could.

You couldn’t believe it, and suddenly you couldn’t want it. Not if he didn’t mean it.

Standing then, you reached your hands out, unsure of how to even feel as just the sight of him every day reminded you of where you came from and how you got here. “Anakin—”

“Just let me say what I have to say.”

“Why?” you asked, suddenly exasperated with your arms outstretched, “As if it could change anything. As if none of it wasn’t true.”

“W-What?” he stammered, suddenly aware of the glassiness that was appearing within your eyes, the true pain he had always felt a few walls or perhaps corridors away but never this closely. Never like this, where it was so loud he felt as if his senses were on overdrive.

“I don’t belong here. I never did, and you know that.”

He stepped closer then as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. Not after the countless hours, days, and months that had been spent alongside one another. You had dedicated so much to being a Padawan and had sacrificed so much to understand the ways of the Jedi. For you to question that, he couldn’t understand.

“What are you saying? That you wish to leave?”

You shrugged, the tears threatening to spill, threatening to reveal just how broken you truly were to the only man who had been able to feel it. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“How can you even think that? Y/N, you have what it takes to be a great Jedi,” Anakin took another step closer, his frame suddenly towering over yours once more, his gaze unable to leave the tear-filled ones of yours.

“I don’t think that I do. I feel like I’m only here because Obi-Wan knows I don’t have anywhere else to go. He pities me. I mean, look around you; Padawans are beginning their training when they are merely children. I am an adult, Anakin. I am so behind in everything, so why else would I be here?”

“No. He cares for you. He knows what you are capable of.”

The tear slipped then, and Anakin followed it slowly with his eyes, the way it bathed your soft cheek, wetting the surface of it. Your lips were chapped, practically chewed to bits, and you appeared as if you hadn’t slept for days.

Noticing the way he was looking at you so intently, you wiped the stray tear away, hating the thought of him seeing you like this.

“How can I be capable of being a Jedi if I don’t even know who I am?” You offered, hands suddenly shaking so much he just wished to take hold of them to ground you at least. Turning, you faced the inside wall of the room, using all the strength you had to will those tears away. “I don’t even know if I am a good person.”

“Y/N, how could you even—”

“There is something inside of me, Anakin. Something cold. Dark. You’ve seen it, you know. Since that day, I have felt nothing but pure hatred. I want them all to burn. I want them all to be destroyed, those who did what they did to me, to my people.”

Slowly stepping back towards him, you turned to find his stare had never wavered. But something else had appeared. This look as if he knew you were right, a confirmation of your words. Something that now no longer only remained within the confines of your mind. Guilt appeared on his face as you smiled sadly.

“The princess of Bakura is truly dead,” you mumbled, turning to grab your books but stopping at the feeling of his hand taking your arm gently, “Some Jedi, huh?”

You halted then, able to feel his breathing as he stepped closer, so close it was enrapturing. With the smallest whisper, he said, “Stay.”

Your eyes flickered up to him, unsure if you had even heard him right. You shook your head in confusion as he said it again.

“Stay anyway.”

“How in good conscious could I ever—”

“Because you’ll have me,” he cut you off, so much intention behind every word then, hand refusing to drop the gentle hold it had around your arm. The most he had ever touched you since the day he had swept you up from Bakura. “You are a product of war, Y/N. That doesn’t make you a bad person, not in the slightest. And I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

You were leaning into him without even realizing it. Pulled in by his words, some of which you could have never expected, especially from him. “Anakin…”

“You need time. You need guidance. You need to be able to instill your trust in me. There is something here, and you know it too. The force favors us together, but that can only be if we can trust one another. If I truly am the chosen one, I am capable of something such as this.”

His hand slid from it’s hold around your arm down across your wrist and to your smaller palm. It was cold and unsteady but he didn’t care, not as he held it within his own.

You knew then that this wasn’t normal; it couldn’t be. People couldn’t have the ability to feel this way, not even the most powerful Jedis. Anakin Skywalker had become your only line of vision, and as that feeling returned — that warmth upon your chest, that evident shift in energy, you couldn’t accept that any of it wasn’t more than either of you thought it was.

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