#war fanfiction
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I love it when I scroll through AO3 and I read a good fic, and Iâm like âwow!! I canât believe I didnât read this before! Iâm gonna bookmark this!â
But I did
It was already bookmarked
Which means I read it, liked it, saved it, then read it for the first time again because I completely forgot it existed
Benefits of the occasional goldfish brain
#hijinks#fanfiction#Batman#dc#marvel#Spider-Man#spiderman#mlb#danny phantom#star wars#khr#ao3#ao3 fanfic
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Talk to me about your lost fanfiction. I'm listening. I've been there. I'm here for you.
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focus on me
â©â qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k
SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.
WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)
RATING | explicit
NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!
You stumble back with your palm soiled wet.Â
Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for whatâs to come next.Â
Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.
It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you breakâand he knows youâre far from your breaking point.Â
Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too.Â
Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. Heâs gained followers over time since you've known him, but youâre his one and only acolyte.Â
Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk?Â
Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day andâÂ
Your master calls out your name playfully, âI hope youâre focusing on me.â
âYou know I am, Master.â Youâre not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction.Â
He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body. Â
âYou're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,ââhe paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every stepââIf this was a real fight, youâd be dead.â
âWell, I canât help it that my master can be so distracting!â you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him.Â
Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts.Â
Master Qimirâs style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so youâve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him.Â
However, your confidence blinds you.
Too close.Â
He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop. Â
Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down.Â
In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength.Â
âBreathe, think, and focus,â he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him.Â
You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.
Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.
And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core.Â
Your sparring composure absolutely shattersâa gasp and small moan release, and youâre back to struggling once more.Â
You assume it was a mistake, but youâre relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress.Â
âFocus, my acolyte,â Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. âFocus!âÂ
Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation.Â
With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions.Â
Now, your staff is pressed against his throat.Â
âIs this better, Master?â you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. âAm I focused now?âÂ
He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes.Â
It reads as a rare time heâs overly impressed, but thereâs something else.Â
Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why heâs letting down his guard against you during training.
âMaster Qimir,â you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, âis this another test of yours?â Â
He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from himâtenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face.Â
âTrainingâs over for today.âÂ
The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards.Â
His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame.Â
Youâd be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better. Â
âMasterââ you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more.Â
âYou like this a lotâŠâ His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.  Â
You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, âSo it was intentional before.â
âOf course.â His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. âYou need to learn to push aside your desires when training.âÂ
âShould we stop then?â The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. âTo teach me a lesson?âÂ
He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth.Â
âIt doesnât mean I want to push aside my desires.âÂ
You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.
Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs.Â
Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; youâre back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours.Â
In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest.Â
The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him.Â
You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.
The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimirâs throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you.Â
He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes youâre giving him.Â
Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerabilityâa sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch.Â
âYou donât know how long Iâve held myself backâŠâ
The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple.Â
â...wanting to see you like this for me.âÂ
You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit.Â
At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what heâs suggesting.  Â
Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock.Â
When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir.Â
As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him.Â
You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length. Â
The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest.Â
He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.
When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.
âYou take my cock so well.âÂ
A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. Itâs drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.  Â
You freeze, and then you feel it.
The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.
But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh.Â
On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act. Â
âDo you enjoy this?â he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.
âYes,â you mentally scream.
âI want to hear you say it.âÂ
âYes,â you manage to croak.Â
He raises an eyebrow. âYes, what?â
âYes, Master.âÂ
âNu-uh,â he says. âSay my name, my beautiful acolyte.â
You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you donât reply, he might not let you get there.Â
âYes, Qimir.â
His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.
âAnd how does my cock feel?â He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.
âFeels good, feels so fucking goodâŠâÂ
Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so closeâÂ
And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.
You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.
âBefore I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.â
That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
âCan you do that for me?âÂ
You nod breathlessly.
Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.
âQimirQimirQimirââÂ
And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like youâre praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe.Â
Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later.Â
Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.
You couldnât just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated?Â
But of course, Master Qimir can hear whatâs going on in your mind, and he doesnât even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code:Â
ââPeace is a lie. There is only passionâŠââÂ
He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.
ââThrough passion, I gain strength.ââÂ
Holds your hand against his beating chest.Â
ââThrough strength, I gain power.ââÂ
His grip tightens.Â
ââThrough power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.ââÂ
Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.
And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, heâll always care for you.Â
That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, heâs just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.
#qimir x reader#qimir x you#qimir smut#qimir fanfic#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars x you#star wars fanfiction
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I was reading some transformers fanfiction and it's a solely underutilized idea to have humans and Cybertronians be in a symbiotic relationship. In nature all the time big animals will rely on smaller animals' help.
For example humans could give repairs, clean them, and help them reach smaller places. Cybertronians can give transportation and protection of course. They're emotional benefits too; humans are really nice soft things to touch and humans like having big robot friends :3.
So I'm imagining transformers realize how useful it is to have a human partner around so they start going around trying to get one. Anyways this leads to shenanigans of course and a lot of cracky moments.
Suspiciously nice looking car in a driveway with its door opened: ....
The random human who owns the driveway: ...
Human: *turns around* Screw that! I'm not becoming part of the human distribution system today, no sir I am not.
Cybertronian: *sad beeping noises*
#transformers#autobots#it be very funny if humans are the equivalent to cats for transformers#noah x mirage#there's no war but there's still beef between autbots and decprticons#spelled that wrong i know#Megatron#he even wants a human#so he keeps trying to steal ones#optimus prime#bumblebee#i only know stuff from fanfiction so please don't judge me to much#sam witwicky
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this would go crazy on the holonet
#the bad batch#tbb#clone wars series#sw rebels#tbb spoilers#star wars the clone wars#star wars rebels#tbb tech#tbb hunter#captain rex#79s clone bar#clone cadets#clone culture#clone trooper#clone thirsting#clone trooper crosshair#clone trooper dogma#clone trooper hardcase#clone trooper tup#clone troopers#cloneshipping#codywan#crosshair and omega#crosshunt#ct 9904#tbb crosshair#the clone wars#star wars#clone wars fanfiction#star wars bad batch
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With the amount of Clones created, there was always going to be an overlap of names.
Marshall Commander Cody of the 212th was not the only Cody.
Jesse of the 501st shared a name with many soldiers across many battalions.
There were so many Foxes, younger Clones naming themselves after the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guards in a bout of hero worship.
But there was a set of Clones on each Venator that, after passing their normal tests and combat training, went into specialized training before their assignments. A majority of them didnât have names before the specialized training, and those that did, werenât really attached to their names and chose their new names amongst the others they worked with.
Obi-Wan met them on the flight deck, the group disembarking from the drop ship and saluting the Jedi.
All of them would join in on the battles and train with the others during hyperspace flight, but it was fairly quick to see that these soldiers worked together in a specific way.
âMay I know your names?â Obi-Wan asked. He was still hesitant in asking, knowing names could be a private thing amongst the soldiers.
âMy name is Spoon, sir!â
âCup, sir!â
âIâm called Whisk!â
Eyebrows rose, and a glance to Cody told Obi-Wan that this group was a bit of a surprise to him.
âAre all of you working in the mess hall?â Obi-Wan, not bothering to hide his amusement.
âOf course, sir,â Whisk answered. âWeâre all trained in ways to make the nutripaste more appealing, and not to give the soldiers food poisoning. We also know how and what to hunt and forage in case we run low on supplies during a campaign.â
âI see,â Obi-Wan said. And it did make sense. Many Padawans got the same training, especially if their missions took them to the more remote planets.
Obi-Wan continued to smile as he got the names of Fork, Lid, Pan, Pot, and Kettle, but he paused when he heard a second Spoon. He glanced back at the first one for a moment before looking at the second one.
âItâs not often that squad mates share a name,â he offered.
The second Spoon shrugged. âYou can call me little Spoon if it helps, sir, but itâs silly if a kitchen only has one Spoon in it.â
The snort of amusement from Cody was more surprising than anything, and Obi-Wan accepted the explanation with a nod and chuckle of his own.
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#the clone wars#Star Wars clone wars#Clone Original Characters#Exploring the GAR
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A Simple Trick for Fic Writers
Hey, if you're a fic writer and a character speaks in a different language, you don't just have to add the translation in the notes. Use the following HTML coding to add 'text on hover' to the word(s). If the reader is on a computer they can hover over the text to see the translation.
<span title="This is the text in the box!">This is the text that shows in your fic!<;/span>
Here are some examples from a fic on my AO3.
This coding here <span title="a fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)">Eyn utreekov</span> will show this on hover.
This next example shows that you can add a lot of text. The formatting is the same as above.
PS: When doing this, there may be spacing issues, but you can edit the text through AO3's html or rich text editor. From there you can add italics (like I did), bold, etc, and fix any weird spacing issues. Just be careful not to delete the coding that you worked so hard on đ
#ao3#archive of our own#guide#tricks and tips#Fic Writers#Fanfiction#Writers#NiteArmor#bo katan x the armorer#The Mandalorian#Star Wars#Haven't seen this floating around so thought I'd share
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#Fanfiction#Fanfic#Doctor who x reader#Star wars x reader#Clone wars x reader#Bad batch x reader#Marvel x reader#MCU x reader#Anakin Skywalker x reader#Peter parker x reader#wolverine x reader#Deadpool x reader#wade wilson x reader#Arcane x reader#Vi x reader#silco x reader#caitlyn kiramman x reader#natasha Romanoff x reader#Agatha harkness x reader
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@justrainandcoffee there was so my scenes in this chapter that pulled at my heartstrings, Flor đâ€ïž.
Their goodbye was beautiful yet so heartbreaking. It echoed exactly what I would imagine a soldiers goodbye would be like to his family. Telling his wife he loved her, his daughter to help her mum and his son to look after them now he's the head of the house, urghh đ đ.
You made such a sad moment feel hopeful and comforting. This is why I always love WW1/WW2 stories, the strength families hade to muster when their men left is something I'll always respect.
"Together as always," Maggie said trying to smile. But a single tear betrayed her. It's comforting to know his best friend will be with him, but Maggie's sadness that she can't be with him "always" is so evident đ.
"I promise to be back, sweetheart. To you and to the kids." I'm so in my feels with this story đ„ș...I hope he does make it back, so many soldiers didn't đ.
Although, Maggie said, he was determinated to give his money to the soldiers. Until one of them, gently, told the boy that any soldier could be happy if he kept the coin for himself or bought something nice for his mother. I loved this little part. I found it so incredibly sweet that he wanted to give his money to the soldiers. But the fighting men knew how much his mother was suffering with her husband being at war, and suggested it would make her happier than it would them đ...see, still in my feels!
That would be beautiful. I'm planning to buy a new tree and Clara wants to decorate it with ribbons. Do you remember that doll she saw in town? I bought it already." I was gutted for him that he wasn't able to make it back, and I honestly had doubts he'd make it back for Christmas too. But, how lovely is Maggie? She doesn't further rile him up, or take her frustrations out in him that he's not able to visit them. Instead she reminds him of home and their children and gives him something to distract his thoughts with that makes him smile â€ïž.
Farrier sip the beer in front of him and looked at his best friend "if something happens to me, promise me you're going to take care of them." When I read this part it made me wonder how many promises were made during the war. That fear must have crept up on every man, and I'm not surprised that he asked his best friend to look after them if the unthinkable happened.
I know very well that you could sell your soul to the devil if that means to go back to them, Farrier!". "The devil nowadays live in Germany, Collins, and don't think he wants my soul." Arghhh!! I loved this line, Flor đ! It's so chilling, and perfectly executed at the right time by Farrier!
And there she was, like the woman she promised herself not to be. This whole scene captured me. I find it so interesting how you have described the parallels between her and her mother. Generational history repeating itself. It happens a lot in families. And I just love how you added it into this story đ.
Even though we see the following scenes in the movie, it didn't stop me from being on the edge of my seat. You can never trust a fanfic writer and how they might twist the story đđ!
A black haired soldier was there wrapped around a blanket, shaking and apparently in his own mind. My poor dark haired baby đ©. I couldn't not mention him!
Farrier didn't know that, but in that moment to calm her anxiety and nerves, his wife was at the beach. Her feet were touching the sea, like if somehow she could connect with him. Her red hair was moving in the wind. Beautiful, beautiful, BEAUTIFUL! I loved this part, Flor! The image of her standing with her feet in the water, and him on the opposite side on the beach...đâ€ïž! I love how through it all, through the evacuation of Dunkirk you connected them. As the reader, I can't help but smile at the idea of them being closer than they actually think they are.
Jack Collins nodded and said goodbye. He fell asleep in the train thinking what and how, he's going to tell Maggie the news. But what will Collins tell her đł?? He's missing, he's dead...? Does he even know himself?? Will he even make it out alive with the Germans right behind him? I have so many questions and so many possibilities running though my mind that I'm going straight to the next chapter!
Incredible chapter, hun â€ïž!
The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part II.
Masterlist - Part I
Summary: 1940 Dunkirk, France. Farrier, Collins and thousands of soldiers are fighting at the same time they're waiting for their evacuation. The Air Force is exactly where they need them to be. || In Sussex, his wife and kids are awaiting for him, although something tells Maggie that it wasn't going to be easy.
Warnings: Angst. Some old fashioned thoughts. Mentions of war and all related to it. Daisy Preston belongs to @emotionalcadaver. || Same as I did with Farrier, I also invented Collins' name.
Words: 3k.
1938-1940
"I bought you something," Maggie said giving him a small box that contained a new watch.
"Love, you didn't have to. It's really nice."
"I wanted you to have something that reminds you of me. It has our initials engraved on the back.
"And our wedding date," he added reading it.
Maggie nodded. She had been avoiding to show her sorrow, but every minute it has become difficult to achieve.
They needed him, of course they needed him. An elite pilot as he was, it was always necessary. The air force was an essential part of this new, but not unexpected, war. Although probably, no one knew the magnitude of it nor the damage that it was about to cause.
"Jack is already there?" she asked refering to Collins. His best friend and also their son's godfather.
"He is. And the rest of them as well. But they're going to separate us. Although, at least, Collins and I we're going to be in the same group."
"Together as always," Maggie said trying to smile. But a single tear betrayed her.
William knew she was trying to show him that she was going to be fine, that she was strong so he could leave without worrying, but he knew better. Of course his wife was strong and was perfectly capable of taking care of the house, the kids and herself. But that didn't mean she was okay with it. Farrier put the watch in his pocket and hugged her. He felt her hands clutching his jacket and how she started to sob against his chest.
"I promise to be back, sweetheart. To you and to the kids."
"I'm scared," Maggie finally confessed.
"I know, love. But, I'll be back and when I do, I think we can make another mini-us," he said, putting his hand on her belly and smiling at her. "Or two. We did it well before."
"Maybe we can," she admitted, feeling his arms embracing her tightly.
"I know I don't say it so frequently as I should, but I love you, Maggie. I really love you."
"I know you do, Will. I don't need you to tell me it all the time, I can see it. You're the most perfect husband I could ask for. I wish I could do something about this and prevent you to go to hell."
"You can't. But I'll survive."
Alone in the kitchen, William kissed his wife. It was a soft, slow kiss. Like trying to keep this memory of them together for the last time forever in his mind. Her hand was caressing his cheek and he had the other against his chest. Her tears fell down her cheeks and he could taste them in his own mouth but he didn't mind. When they pulled apart, he wiped them away with his thumb.
"You don't know how lucky I am," William said looking at her. "I love you, Maggie."
"I love you too, Will."
A car outside was already waiting for him, but he took his time to kiss her again.
Their kids were in the living room. Clara ran into his father arms and hid her little face in his neck "don't go, papa."
"I have to, Clarie, but I'm going to return, yes? Be a good girl. Can you promise me that? Help your mother, okay darling?"
The little girl nodded. Then, William turned to look at his son "you too, Ed. You're the man of the house, now. Don't make your mother angry and helped her. She needs you. Will you behave and help her?"
"Yes, sir!" The kid responded, saluting him.
His father nodded "You're a good little man, Edward."
William kissed Maggie once last time. He touched reddish hair with his fingers. He always loved her hair. In the mornings, when the sunlight entered through the bedroom's window it seemed to shine. And the freckles on her shoulders accentuated that.
Farrier was going to miss his family. He knew that. The last image he saw of them was the children hugging their mother and Maggie looking at him go, without knowing if he was going to return.
Contrary to regular soldiers forced to be on the battlefield for long periods, his position required him to go back to safe place because planes required maintenance and fuel.
After six months there, Farrier asked permission to return home for two weeks as it's was allowed to do but they refused his request. They needed him.
"They needed me, too!" He wasn't a man who easily lost his temper, but sometimes his superiors tested his patience.
Collins and Farrier had a free day. Farrier could call his wife and heard her calmed him a bit. Things back in home were fine. Edward lost one of his deciduous teeth and was happy when he saw that the fairy teeth left him money under his pillow. Although, Maggie said, he was determinated to give his money to the soldiers. Until one of them, gently, told the boy that any soldier could be happy if he kept the coin for himself or bought something nice for his mother.
"He bought me a cake," Maggie said and Farrier knew she was smiling. "Clara, him and me ate it drinking tea that same afternoon."
"He's a good boy. Kind as you are, my love."
"Ed is a little gentleman as his father is," she said "it's really sad that you can't come, Will."
"I'm furious. They promised me time with my family, like the rest of them! It's⊠it's frustrating. Maybe I can do it for Christmas."
"That would be beautiful. I'm planning to buy a new tree and Clara wants to decorate it with ribbons. Do you remember that doll she saw in town? I bought it already."
William couldn't help but smile imagining the house decorated for holidays. When he was there, the four of them helped to decorate it. The smell of the delicious food, his kids playing in front of the fireplace⊠he missed them. Marguerite was the best wife and mother he knew. It wasn't egocentrism, but he knew she really missed him. Farrier knew her very well and knew how difficult it was for her and yet, there she was proving herself that she was stronger than she believed.
"You have to go, I know," she said later "I love you."
"I love you too. I'll call as soon as I can."
"I'll be waiting. Kids send you their love, too. Take care, okay, Will?"
"Promise."
.
"If it's helps," Collins said to him later when they were walking into a bar where other soldiers were and looking how annoyed he was, "They don't allowed me to go home either. How's the family?"
"Kids are waiting for Christmas already and Maggie is trying her best to keep them entertained."
"I need to send them something, I think. What kind of cool uncle I am, if not?"
"Edward presumes the planes you sent him to anyone who has time to listen to him," Farrier commented refering to a collection of wooden planes that Collins sent to him a year ago for his birthday. "You already are the coolest uncle."
"I know, of course I am," the blond man smirked, but then added more seriously "your kids are good and so is Maggie. This has to end sooner than later and you'll be able to get back to them."
Farrier sip the beer in front of him and looked at his best friend "if something happens to me, promise me you're going to take care of them."
"WiliamâŠ"
"No, don't try to tell me that everything will be alright because we both know how things work. How many of our soldiers already died? Pilots, too! We're not the exception, Jack! So if I die, I want to do it knowing that my kids and Maggie will be okay. They trust you."
"They're waiting for you, not me. So don't think those stupid things because I know very well that you could sell your soul to the devil if that means to go back to them, Farrier!"
"The devil nowadays live in Germany, Collins, and don't think he wants my soul."
Jack Collins nodded "if something happens to you, I'll take care of your family, William."
"Thanks."
.
But William couldn't go to his house that Christmas, although he sent cards, chocolate and money to them. And the morning of the 25th, he had the chance to talk to his children.
Both Edward and Clara were already sleeping, but Maggie wasn't. The woman was in the dining room with a cup of tea in her hands and a plate of cookies next to her, that she and the kids baked that morning. Through the window, she could hear the ocean, too dark to see it, but the sound of the waves was clear. Some lights in the distance indicated that fishermen were in their boats waiting to catch the best fish.
Maggie wonder how many times her own mother sat exactly where she was waiting for her husband while Maggie and her brother were sleeping same as her kids right now. She promised herself more than once not to follow her mother's steps. Mrs. Lewis didn't abandon them, but her mind always seemed to be somewhere else and not in the present. Like it was always 1914 and the man she loved was going to return.
Maggie dreamt about having a family like the one she now had, but William wasn't in her plans. Probably she hoped to marry a carpenter, a teacher or a fisherman even, but she didn't want nothing to do with men involved in the military field. She didn't want to be her mother. And yet, when William appeared everything she promised herself evaporated the moment her eyes found his. And there she was, like the woman she promised herself not to be.
She didn't know what her father promised her mother, if he even promised something, but she did believe William's word. He promised to return and something made her believe his words.
The Farriers saw the landscape of Sussex changed with every season that passed. Christmas arrived again and the man of the house was still absent.
By 1940, Edward was already seven years and Clara five. Maggie found a new job as the secretary of a doctor near the school were the kids studied. With almost no men in whole Great Britain, pubs were almost empty all the time and incomings weren't the best. This new job also gave her the opportunity to spend more time in her house and didn't take time from his old neighbor who looked after her kids when she wasn't around.
"We're going to France. Dunkirk."
That was the last time she spoke to him. A rescue mission organised by Churchill himself.
May of 1940 was ending and the news weren't good at all. Operation Dynamo, it was called. The objective was to rescue at least 29,000 soldiers from France and bring them back to England. The Royal Air Force, where William and Collins served, was required. It was the only way to stop the bombings of the enemies.
"You can do this, Will," she said. "I love you."
.
"You can do this, Will. I love you."
William saw the panel in front of him and checked the fuel. Still had enough gallons to do that.
The vast and infinite sea was behind him. Under any other circumstances he'd take some minutes to enjoy the view but he couldn't.
Farrier only wanted to leave that place as soon as possible and doing it alive. Now yes, his superiors authorized him to return home. Finally, after a year and a half. All he wanted in this world was that. His kids and Maggie hugging him, his house and the smell of the food prepared by her. He loved her meals. He loved her.
"Fortis 2," he called.
Collins replied immediately. "Here, Fortis 2."
"What's your fuel, Fortis 2?"
"70 gallons, Fortis 1."
Farrier took notes.
At the beach, hospital ships were carrying the injured soldiers. A lot of them in critical conditions, so bad that probably lot of them were going to die before reaching England. Thousand of soldiers strong enough to be on their feet were waiting their turn to be evacuated.
And above their heads, the enemies. It didn't matter if the hospital ships should be untouchable, in theory. They dropped bombs against them, too, killing the poor soldiers, nurses and doctors.
"Where's the bloody air force?!"
Dodging the enemies and down them, was easier to say that to do. The Spitfires were amazing planes piloted by elite pilots but so were the others.
"I have no eyes on Fortis Leader," William said. He had shot one of the enemies and it collapsed in front of him. "Fortis, 2, answer."
Collins dodged another plane before responding "Understood, Fortis 1. Orbit for a look."
Over the sea, help was coming but not quickly enough. Not when you're floating in middle of the ocean with seawater entering your lungs. When despair is filling your mind.
When your best friend is floating next to you already dead.
.
Maggie was nervous that day. The skies above her were clean and only birds were flying there.
No planes. Not Spitfires. Not him.
She knew something was wrong and couldn't explain why, but she feel it in her heart.
Her kids were fighting that day. It wasn't uncommon they were just kids, and siblings, but in her current state she couldn't tolerate it and yelled at them. Both kids stayed quiet immediately and apologized. She regretted in the moment, too.m, she wasn't like that. Every time she corrected them, she did it firmly but calm, not like that.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she said kissing their heads
"It's okay, mom. We're going to behave. We promise dad that," Edward said and his sister nodded.
"Thanks, Ed. Today I'm not feeling well, that's all. But it's anyone fault. JustâŠjust a bad day."
.
"He's on me, Fortis 1!" announced Collins to Farrier.
"And I am on him!"
William managed to destroyed that plane. But Collins didn't have time to celebrate because another one, shot him.
Farrier wanted to swear. He wasn't that kind of man, but that was a good moment to say fuck. Not Collins. Not his best friend. He saw smoke in one of the wings.
William allowed himself to look down. Some ships were around them. Collins was prepared enough to water landing, if he succeeded, then he could be safe. And then, only him will remain in the air.
"Forty gallons," said his friend and Farrier nodded.
"Just do it," Farrier commanded. "Jack, remember your promise."
Jack stayed quiet as he began to descend on the sea "I do remember. Good luck, Farrier."
"Good luck, Collins."
.
He was rescued. Luckily alive. A man, his son and a pretty lady helped him to get in the boat. A black haired soldier was there wrapped around a blanket, shaking and apparently in his own mind.
Collins raised his eyes to the sky. Only one plane against the rest. The odds weren't favourable, but it was also true that his friend was a hell of pilot. If anyone could do it was him.
"Come on, Farrier." He said for first, but not last time.
.
The fuel tank was almost empty but he felt in his heart that he could do that.
His mind was focus on his target and every enemy plane that fell, meant that he was nearing home.
Maggie. He needed to do that for her. If he wanted to return home, he needed to succeed.
There wasn't more fuel on the tank and the the plane was using the propulsion system to stay in the air. New bombs from the enemies but those were the last ones before Farrier destroyed in hundreds of pieces the last enemy. Where he was, he didn't hear the cheers. The happiness of them, meant the victory that Churchill wanted.
He flew over his heads. He could see the boats and ships rescue them and felt peace. Although he didn't know what was going to happen to him. Sun was starting to hide as he began to land his faithful plane. And yet, Fortis 1 needed to die.
He was alone in the beach, or so he believed, when finally the wheels touched the sand. He took his gun from his vest and shot at it. Fortis 1 combusted almost immediately and he remained in silence watching the fire that contrasted with the sunset in that moment. Then, he heard voices and a gun on his back. Germans.
Farrier didn't know that, but in that moment to calm her anxiety and nerves, his wife was at the beach. Her feet were touching the sea, like if somehow she could connect with him. Her red hair was moving in the wind.
She was crying and he wasn't there to comfort her. She didn't want to think the worst, but why her heart ached that bad? Maggie sat down on the sand and hugged her knees, she hid her face against them and cried.
Her mother was right. All those years, she was right. The pain of waiting couldn't be described.
.
"Going home?" The sweet girl named Daisy asked Collins when they were finally at the pier and the train was ready to take the soldiers home. Some of them were rude towards him, but he ignored them.
"Sussex," he replied.
"You live there?"
"No. My best friend live there⊠the other pilot. William Farrier is his name, his wife and kids⊠I need to tell them that him-"
Collins couldn't finish the sentence. Daisy put a hand in his arm.
"Maybe he's alive and well⊠hope is something invaluable these times. Have hope, Collins."
Jack Collins nodded and said goodbye. He fell asleep in the train thinking what and how, he's going to tell Maggie the news.
_____
FINAL
#dunkirk series#dunkirk#dunkirk fanfic#farrier x oc#farrier x ofc#farrier dunkirk#tom hardy#tom hardy series#tom hardy fanfic#tom hardy imagine#tom hardy x oc#tom hardy x ofc#war fanfic#war fanfiction
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gentle reminder for anyone that needs it!! creating fanart and fanfic and OCs for your favourite series or franchise is not cringe, it is joyful!!!!! dedicating time and energy and creativity to what makes you happy is NOT unproductive!!!!! have fun and be kind to yourself in your fandom experiences
#moonie speaks#ocs#original characters#fanart#fanfiction#fanfic#gentle reminder#star wars oc#star wars#star wars fandom#love you#fandom
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Another illustration for @lovelyelbowleechâs âAllâs fairâ.
More fluffy this time.
#atla#avatar the last airbender#sokka#atla fanart#atla sokka#atla zuko#zukka#zuko x sokka#ao3#fanfiction#illustration#allâs fair#war games#fanart#how the fuck dres this have twice as many notes as the piece iâve spent do much more time on :â))
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Cross is sleepy, let him sleep! đŽ đđ
@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @anxiouspineapple99 @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa
#leena the green girl#sniper sunday#happy sniper sunday#the bad batch#star wars#tbb#i love the bad batch#star wars the bad batch#tbb crosshair#bad batch#crosshair the bad batch#crosshair bad batch#crosshair tbb#tbb lula#the bad batch happy on pabu#he deserves rest#he deserves peace#he deserves the world#I love him#star wars fanfiction#starwars fanart#starwars au#the bad batch fanfiction#the bad batch fan art#the bad batch au#hopefully he wonât be sleeping alone for long#my art <3#my art#artists on tumblr#the bad batch crosshair
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devilish
â©â merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k
SUMMARY | you fall into bed with sweet, goofy qimir, expecting a tame tryst... but he's not as sweet as he seems in between the sheets.
WARNINGS | smut, dirty talk, breastplay, f*ngering, oral s*x (male receiving), breathplay (safe choking), praise kink (good girl!), piv s*x, unprotected s*x
RATING | explicit
NOTES | please leave some love in comments/tags or inbox if you liked this fic!!! thanks for those who were waiting for this fic <3
Heâs going to kill me.Â
The thought rings through your mind as youâre sitting in Qimirâs lap, lips intertwined with his. His hands grasp the back of your head and the side of your thigh, while yours tug on the nape of his neck and run through his perpetually messy hair.Â
Itâs screwed up that youâre thinking of the master you and Qimir share at a moment like this, but itâs impossible not to.Â
If your master finds out youâre about to bed the guide he assigned to you, he may never let you see him again. A deeper fear gnaws at you; he might not only kill you for breaking some unspoken protocol, but also Qimir. Â
But itâs worth the risk, one youâre both willing to take.Â
Consequences be damned, because Qimirâs been undressing you with his eyes all night.Â
The same sweet, goofy Qimir who always greets you with a lopsided grin, constantly annoys you about drinking enough water, and trips when he walks up the stairs or even flat ground.
But tonightâs circumstances were different. Both of you were dressed up formally to infiltrate a Senate Gala undercover.Â
Him, working as a waiter, his signature disheveled hair temporarily tamed in a small bun and wearing a uniform that highlighted his broad shoulders you werenât accustomed to. You, adorning a floor-length red halter dress that hugged your body in all the right places.Â
The second he saw you step into the ballroom, he stammered into his ear-piece (âWow, you lookâwow.â). And when you blended in by grabbing a drink from his tray, his eyes could not help but roam your body. Your exposed shoulders, the expanse of your bare back, and the amount of leg showing with your high slit.Â
After finishing your tasks for the night, you two stormed off in the Exile II to a nearby planet, seeking refuge at a run-down safehouse. What began as winding down with a few drinks soon morphed into spontaneous slow-dancing without any music.
Youâve always had a soft spot for him, and when he mustered the courage to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight, followed by the loaded questionâif he could kiss youâyou obviously said yes.Â
Which led to this current beautiful scene being played out on this grungy, old couch.Â
In his loosened button-up shirt, Qimir kisses so delicately, each movement and touch just as gentle, perfectly reflecting his personality. Frankly, youâre not expecting anything more than a pleasant evening with a coworker you've grown to adore. If he's spectacular in bed, thatâs merely a bonus.Â
As his lips leave yours and travel to the side of your neck, you arch into him while your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt. He holds you close, lips never straying from your skin, and lowers you down onto the couch.
But then, your eyes drift up to the ceiling, and the weight of where you are and who owns this place hits you again, causing you to tense up.Â
âStop thinking about him,â Qimir murmurs against your neck, his hands kneading your waist. This elicits a low groan from you, pulling you back into the moment.
âBut what if heââ
âHeâll never know,â he cuts in reassuringly.Â
âAnd if he does?â
âHeâll be fine with this,â he insists, tone bordering frustration.Â
âHow do you know?âÂ
Drawing away from your neck, he gazes down at you with a hand braced on the couchâs armrest. His messy, yet gorgeous, hair nearly brushes against your face. When he palms your cheek, his eyes soften.Â
âJust be with me for tonight. All of you. Donât think about anything else besides you and me. Can you do that for me?âÂ
You glance up at him for a few beats, taking in his beauty, along with his saccharine pleading words. Then, with a small smile, you nod.Â
Suddenly, like lightning cutting through a storm, a smirk replaces Qimirâs warmth.  Â
âGood girl,â he says, his voice now a lower, more seductive tone than youâre used to. You reflexively tighten at the praise. Â
Swiftly, he unties your halter dress and pulls the fabric down, baring your breasts to the cool air.Â
You gasp sharply as his mouth descends, capturing your nipple between his teeth, gently nipping before he swirls and darts his tongue against it. Your fingers tug at his hair, while his free hand kneads your other breast, his thumb strumming and teasing the hardened tip.Â
Hovering over your body, he trails kisses along your skin, switching his attention from one breast to the other, ensuring every inch of your chest is teased and pleasured.Â
Eventually, his hand slides down from your breast, the tips of his fingers grazing you in a slow, deliberate path until they find their way between your legs.Â
Your breath becomes ragged and your eyes tremble as he drags two fingers over your thin underwear.Â
âFuck,â he chuckles, and you detect a cocky note to it, âyouâre so wet for me already.âÂ
His cockiness, paired with the vulgar comment, makes you shiver. You involuntarily buck your hips in need; he continues to chuckle, clearly indulging his power over you and how weak you become by a mere touch.Â
Qimir deftly pushes your panties to one side and plunges his digits into you. Your hands slip underneath his button-up shirt, fingers pressing into the smooth skin of his upper back and shoulders while your rising moans and needy whimpers fill the room.Â
But heâs far from finishedâhe jacks his fingers straighter, angling them even deeper than before.
Your whimpers evolve into heavy groans and wails, your fingers practically leaving marks on him. If he was this good with just his fingers, you were dying to know what he could do with his cock. Despite the raw pleasure, he grounds you with the press of his forehead against yours.
For the cherry on top, his thumb rubs your clit in small circles, each stroke sending you closer to the edge.Â
âBe a good girl and come for me.âÂ
And you obediently do so with the rolling of your eyes, the uncontrollable jolting of your hips, and the ceaseless panting of his own name into Qimir's lips.Â
You take a second to come down from your high, but decide not to waste any time and pull away from underneath Qimir to shimmy out of your dress and panties, standing up and kicking them off beside the foot of the couch.
He sits relaxed on the couch now with a hand behind his head, watching you intently as you, now completely bare, drop to your knees in front of him.Â
Your hands tremble in anticipation when you reach for his pants, evidently feeling his desire around the seams. Removing his pants and undergarment to his ankles, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his cock springing up against his shirt.
Said shirt is in the way, so Qimir unbuttons it fully and you become slack-jawed over his gorgeous abs, so awestruck that you canât resist stroking them.Â
You continue to touch his abs as you hold his length in your other hand, gifting him gradual, firm strokes. Qimir releases a soft moan, leaning his head back while one of his hands squeeze your shoulder tenderly.Â
Finally, you take him into your mouth. On your knees, you worship him. Your tongue traces every inch of him and your lips and palm work together in tandem until his length is slick with your devotion.Â
In this moment, you feel an unspoken, strong reverence for Qimir. You canât explain why you feel this way, but you let your body speak for itself. Each motion you provide is a testament to how much you respect himâas if letting him fill your mouth completely, even occasionally hitting the back of your throat, will prove your admiration.
Although he watches your every move, in such moments such as when you take him fully, squeeze his length harder, or suck hard on his blunt head, his composure slips; he releases throaty groans and his eyes lose focus.
At one point, he warns you heâs close, and you retreat, not wanting the evening to end just yet. Decisively, he rids of his shirt, revealing the expanse of his upper body, and steps out of his other clothes. You ogle at his presence; the more you experience Qimir tonight, the more you realize just how little you know about him. Â
Gently taking you by your wrist, Qimir guides you to bend forward in front of him on the couch. Youâre surprised at this unexpected position from what you anticipatedâa more traditional one like missionaryâsince it places him in control and leaves you vulnerable, with your face turned away from his.Â
His hands grip your hips firmly, and he lines himself up behind you. He eases into you slowly, and you throw your head back when heâs fully inside. Once youâve adjusted, his thrusts are slow and deep. You savor the feeling of him inside of you, gripping the couch for release with each penetration.Â
He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. âDo you feel me? Every inch of me?âÂ
You nod, breathless and overwhelmed.
âAnd do you like it?âÂ
âI doââyou gasp, throwing your head back at a sudden thrustââI love it so much.âÂ
âSuch a good girlâŠâ Qimir presses a kiss at the nape of your neck. Just as you're about to lean into it, heâs already gone.Â
He removes himself from your warmth, disappointment rising within you in the form of a pout, but he quickly turns you around.Â
Qimir lays you on the couch again beneath him once more. As he re-enters you, you think about how the vulnerability of your previous position pales in comparison to this. Now, this position makes you feel even more exposed with how he pins you down with his tenacious gaze with each thrust into your pussy.
Then, intensity flickers in his eyes. His gaze sharpens, and you sense his desire for something more, particularly with how hard he grips your waist.Â
âIâmâIâm going to place my hand around your neck,â he pants. âIf itâs too much at any point, you double-tap me and Iâll stop. Do you understand?â
You nod, drowning in the pleasure, and you barely whisper, âI understand.âÂ
His fingers first trace the contours of your throat, barely touching it, almost as if he's giving you one last out to say no if you want. But you don't want to; your curiosity is piqued for this darker, dominant side of Qimir you've never seen before.
His hand wraps around your throat with a firm, yet controlled pressure. You can feel the tightness and the pulse of your own blood under his touch, but the sensation is exhilarating, never crossing into pain.
When you don't seem to mind the amount of pressure, Qimir pushes you further, strengthening his hold against the sides of your windpipes. You moan harder, your pussy clenching in tandem with the thrill.
âRemember to breathe,â he instructs. âFocus on how good I feel inside of you.â
Seeing this intense, commanding side of Qimir is addicting. You want moreâno, you need more of him like this. Your eyes roll, feeling the rising tension in the pits of your abdomen.
Your gaze drifts to the point where you and he connect, captivated by the sight of his relentless thrusts. You watch the way his body moves against yours, each thrust pushing you closer and closer.
âLook at me as I fuck you,â he demands, his gaze unyielding the whole time.Â
You struggle to keep your eyes locked on his, but you try your best to in order to avoid disappointing him. At this point, he's almost just as much of a mess as you: hair sticking to his perspired forehead, eyelids fluttering, teeth gritting hard as if he's holding himself back.
âGood girl. Thatâs my goodââhe hesitates with an elongated moanââmy good girl.â
Pleasure seizes you both, and your faces contort in ecstasy. Jagged moans permeate the air as you come undone first, with Qimir following behind as he paints your stomach with thick, white streaks.
After the clean-up, you lie on the couch on your side, facing him. On the other hand, heâs facing the ceiling with a hand above his head, and youâre in disbelief over the fact that he hides such a toned and chiseled form underneath layers of clothes all the time. You take advantage of the moment and let your hands graze the planes of his chest.
âYouâre a completely different person when sex is on the table,â you observe with a hint of awe.Â
âYeah?â He glances at you with a glimmer of a smirk. His voice seems huskier than usual, more seductive really. âDo you like that side of me?âÂ
âI do,â you admit shyly.Â
His hand reaches out from beneath the sheet over your bodies, brushing against your thigh. âWasnât too much for you?âÂ
You shake your head. âNot at all.âÂ
âDo youâŠâ He absentmindedly draws shapes on your skin. âDo you prefer that side of me over how I normally am?âÂ
You think about it for a second.
âNo,â you say with confidence, reaching for him and tucking some of his loose hair behind his ear. âThat was undoubtedly one of the hottest things Iâve ever experienced, but I also like how you are with me every day. You respect me, you treat me well, and you make me laugh all the time; youâre one of the funniest guys I know.âÂ
âOn that noteââhe leans in to rub his nose against the top of your arm before placing a light kiss on the same areaââcan you call me master when we have sex?âÂ
You immediately swat him on his chest and laugh. âOh, my God!âÂ
âIâm kidding, Iâm kidding!â he says, his pitch now returning to its normal state. âUnlessïżœïżœ?âÂ
âIf youâre really into it, Iâll consider it.â you tease, then look away. The mention of the word drags you back to reality. âWhat are we going to do about him?âÂ
âI told you already; heâs fine with it,â he says dismissively, waving a hand. It bothers you that he doesnât seem to care, but then you squint and wonderâŠ
âYou say that as if he already knows.âÂ
He shrugs. âMaybe he does.âÂ
Your eyes widen as your suspicions seem to be true. âDid you tell him?!âÂ
âNo,â he grunts, âbut, I mean, he probably has the place bugged.â
âOh, GodâŠâ You bury your face in one of your hands. âHeâs not gonna be happy, especially if he heard everything. I do not look forward to training tomorrow.âÂ
âLike I said,â he takes one of your hands and presses a kiss onto the inside of your wrist, âheâll be fine with it. Iâm willing to bet on it.â
âYou donât know him like I do, Qimir! How do you know itâll be okay?âÂ
âTrust me, all right?â He smiles and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his armsâ
âI just know.â Â
#qimir x reader#qimir x you#qimir smut#qimir fanfic#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars x you#star wars fanfiction
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â qimir x f!reader why would you run from him after everything he's shown and given to you. you are supposed to be his perfect acolyte. crafted for him. contents: p in v, over stimulation, semi yandere qimir | wc: 559+
Youâve lost track of how many times youâve come. How many positions he has put you in. How many times you have begged him for a break, to rest, to catch your breath, to stop the throbbing between your thighs that only gets worse the more he fucks you.Â
The more the underside of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. His fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your squirming thighs apart. The force taking over when he grows tired of holding you open for him.Â
âPlease.â You whined.Â
âYou sound like you didnât cause this.â The lack of empathy on his face only makes it worse. Only makes your skin burn and gather sweat, barely filling your lungs. The underside of his cock pushing back and forth through your slit, wet and loud in your eyes. âYou did this to yourself.â His words mock you just as much as your arousal does. Evidence of how many times youâve come, of how your body is spent and canât stop giving itself over to him. Letting him pull, take, and use you.Â
The more his mouth sucks at your clit, the more his fingers curl up inside of you and press against your walls, the more you gush around him. His eyes on yours when you declare you canât come anymore, and he pulls another from you.Â
He allows your fingers to dig into his hair to try and push him away from your swollen cunt. The corner of his mouth pulled up when the flick of his wrist has your hands unable to move.Â
Making a show of how powerless you truly are against him in so many ways. So many ways that should fill you with fear. Should anger you. But only heat your cheeks in the opposite effect. The reasons as to why you ran from him long forgotten, long regretted, long praised and thanked by the haze of pleasure, want, the need to restâto be devoured by him.Â
An overwhelming feeling of not being whole, not being able to be put back together unless itâs by his hands taking you apart in the first place.Â
His fingers dig into your wrists, your knees pressed against his chest, pushing your ass up from the bed enough to have his hips driving deeper, harder, against it. The tip of his cock hits that part of your pussy that no longer aches when heâs this deep. When your walls are this swollen and fluttering around the thickness of him.Â
His mouth leaves bites against your jaw, âare you going to leave me again?â You shake your head, tears sting your eyes, your body spent and overstimulated yet still pulling him in. Still aching for another release and to be awarded his.Â
He groans against your cheek, âall Iâve shown you, given you, and you run from me. What happened to my good little acolyte?â His dark eyes look down at you, a hand at the crown of your head, thumb rubbing a soothing circle against your skull. âAre you still my girl?â
Youâll feel pathetic later, no matter how fast your head nods. A sick swoop of joy shoots through your stomach when he smiles down at you. His kisses, once rough, hard, and demanding, now filled with a passion fueled gentleness that makes you come again.Â
#qimir smut#qimir x reader#the acolyte smut#qimir x you#star wars smut#star wars x reader#qimir x y/n#qimir imagine#the acolyte fanfiction#laur writes star wars
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A PLACE IN THE SEA OF STARS
anakin skywalker x f!naberrie!reader word count: 10.4k (my longest yet... i'm so sorry) warnings: two idiots pining, pining, reader is padme's younger sister (whether biological or adopted is up to you), first time having sex, soft smut, angst synopsis: a life spent in padmé amidala's shadow and never once did she ever think she'd be envious of her sister. that is, until anakin skywalker walks his way into her life and she finds herself praying that one day, he'd look at her the way he does at padmé, that she'll be given a place in the sea of stars, that her destiny will include him.
read on ao3
 It came as no surprise that Anakin Skywalker would be enamored with her second-to-oldest sister.
 After a life spent behind PadmĂ© Amidalaâs shadow, sheâd grown accustomed to itâ being overlooked. But for once, just this once, she wished history wouldnât repeat itself, wished the prophecy could be rewritten and for once, let it be her who was chosen, who was noticed.Â
 But of course, itâs futile.Â
 You can sink to your knees and pray to whatever higher being is in the sky but at the end of the day, there are millions of lost souls just like you doing the same. You can have faith, you can believe that someday youâll be heard but with each silent day that passes, your voice still falls on deaf ears.Â
 Sheâs done her time playing the fool who sinks to her knees and pleads with the night sky to find her a place in the sea of stars, so that she may fit in a constellation too. Sheâs been the statue who's been made to waitâ and sheâs started to crumble.Â
 She remembers the day she started to pray like it was yesterday. It was the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, back when he was only a Padawan, still searching for his own place in the world. Her parents were restless then, having heard of the multiple assassination attempts on their dear second oldest daughter. Of course she was worried too, but she still could feel the guilt that settled into the marrow of her bones when she found herself pondering whether her parents would react the same way if it had been her life at stake instead.Â
 She remembers helping her eldest sister, Sola, and her mother with dinner in preparation for the arrival of their sister PadmĂ© and her Jedi escort. Sheâd been tasked with bringing a bowl of fruit to the table and she remembered nearly being trampled over by her nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, as they squeal PadmĂ©âs name, sprinting for the door.Â
 She remembers huffing, mumbling a curse in an alien language beneath her breath just as their guests step inside, looking up from where she leaned over the table, dropping the bowl down onto the surface. She remembers her breath catching in her throat when her gaze found a sea of blue that put the Naboo waters to shame.Â
 PadmĂ©âs lips curved into a grin as she exclaimed her sisterâs name, circling the table to capture her in an embrace. Her sister wrapped her arms around her and her chin found PadmĂ©âs shoulder as the blue that took her breath away crashed into her and she swore everything changed in that moment.Â
 She remembers the first time Anakin Skywalker looked at her. It was a brief, friendly locking of the eyes but a fleeting moment for him felt like lightyears for her. His eyes were the blue of the water where the sunâs reflection gently ripples and warps. They were the blue of the sky after it rains and the sun begins to spill through the cracks of the wall of clouds.Â
 Sheâs never understood what it meant to be speechless, for something to literally steal the breath away from her lungs. But from the moment her eyes met his, she began to understand.Â
 âAnakin! This is my youngest sister,â PadmĂ© announced, pulling away from their embrace. Her spine stiffened when her sister introduced her and she watched as his full, pink lips moved to form her name. His voice is like nails scraping against the itch she canât reach on her back, his voice is like velvet she can swallow, deliciously soft and rich against her throat.Â
 âItâs nice to meet you,â Anakin dipped his chin in greeting, the silly, little braid falling off his shoulder. She drained the lump that had formed in her throat, bowing her head. Her lips trembled and her breath was shaky as she prepared her salutations but her words fell dead on the tip of her tongue when PadmĂ©âs squeal permeated the room.Â
 âAnd my eldest sister Sola!â
 And just like that, all attention rolled away from her and onto her eldest sisters but she still watched him, heart beating against her chest.Â
 And that was the moment she began to pray.Â
 She prayed, even though the looks heâd given PadmĂ© didnât go unnoticed. The way he watched her, even when she wasnât the one speaking, the way heâd soak in every word, every praise for her that fell past her parentsâ mouths. The way he stared longingly at her sister when he was certain nobody was watchingâ and no one was, for their attentions were on PadmĂ©, save for hers.Â
 It was typical.Â
 It should come as no surprise that everyone would worship the ground her sisterâ the former Queen, current Senator of Nabooâ walked on. Sheâs not surprised that someone young and benign like him would fall in love with her sisterâ sheâd only seen it happen more times than she ever really cared to count.Â
 And sheâd never really cared about all the suitors on their knees at PadmĂ©âs feet beforeâ they were her sisterâs problems, not hers. Sheâd never even really envied her sister, at least in that sense.Â
 But everything changed the moment Anakin stepped through the door. Everything changed the moment their eyes met, if only for the most fleeting of seconds.Â
 So she prayed.Â
 Inside the inner realms of her mind, she sinks to her knees and stares into the void above her, the stars that beamed down at her twinkling, almost as if they taunted her. She swallowed her pride, folding her hands together and raising them to her chin, brow dipping as she pleaded with the higher being in the sky to hear her cry.Â
 âPlease, hear me, Maker,â she whispered into her mind, externally staring at Anakin, internally losing her gaze amongst the stars as if the Maker himself would appear between them. âHear my plea. Whatever destiny youâve pre-written for me, please be sure it includes Anakin Skywalker.â
 She didnât see Anakin Skywalker again for another year after that.Â
 Apparently, being a Jedi means heâs constantly from place to place, but next time they do end up in the same place, itâs even more fleeting than the last. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again, if she was foolish to continue hoping that he might notice her, that he might even love her. But she still remembers the way his eyes flickered in recognition when they caught hers across the courtyard of Theed Royal Palace. His hair was longer and he didnât have that ridiculous braid or tiny ponytail on the back of his neck anymore. The Chancellor was speaking to him and another Jedi with umber hair and a matching beard, but his attention was on her.Â
 He looked⊠darker. As if the years of war had finally begun taking its toll on him. But heâs still the same man heâs always been, still the same one sheâs dreamed about. He even looked better. Â
 They donât get the chance to talk, only share knowing glances, as he was on duty and their paths unfortunately didnât cross. But that gleaming in his eyes, the one that blazes with knowing is all the kindling in the pit of her belly needs to bloom, to blossom into a raging wildfire.Â
 So, she prayed again.Â
 âMaker,â she said into that night sky inside of her head. The stars shone brighter, as if to laugh at the foolish girl beneath them. She ignored them of courseâ because she truly believed that one day, sheâd prove them wrong. âPlease. Hear my plea. Let Anakin Skywalker see me again. Give me a place in your sea of stars and make sure it is in Anakin Skywalkerâs orbit.â
 She doesnât see him again for another two years.Â
 But still, he lingers, just like a phantom weaving through every corner she passes, cloaked in shadow. She sees Anakin Skywalker everywhere she goesâ in the lakes of shining waters out in the country, in the rain that falls on a dark, cloudy day, in the litany of stars that idle in the sky.Â
 She sees him in her dreams, staring the way he did at PadmĂ©. Only, in her dreams, his gaze finds her. Almost like he had that day in the courtyard, but in her dreams, his eyes would linger longer.Â
 His voice calls out to her whenever sheâs sleeping and it lingers in gooseflesh on her skin, frosting over her bones. Sheâll open her eyes when he calls but sheâs never truly awake. Alas, if dreaming is the only way sheâll see Anakin Skywalker again, sheâd gladly succumb to her sleep and trick herself into believing it is real.Â
 Except tonight, she does not think she can take it much longer.Â
 âAnakin,â she whispers one day when she peels her eyelids open after he calls. She says his name like itâll be the last time she ever will. That look is on his face againâ the one sheâs seen so many times directed at her in her dreams, sheâs nearly forgotten it wasnât meant for her in the first place.Â
 She used to wake and long for sleep to come again, just so she could watch him look at her like that.Â
 But three long years of waiting and foolishly praying to beings who do not hear have begun to rust the illusion sheâs deluded herself into hopelessly believing in. Three long years of silence and sheâs finally cracked. She is brokenâ she sees it now. Sheâs grown weary of hoping heâd be the one to fix her.Â
 His lips curve to form a smile and for three years, sheâs fooled herself into believing it could be for herâ truly be for her, outside of her dreams. But to be forthright, sheâs tired. Sheâs grown tired of pretending, tired of clinging onto the dying embers of mere memories of how a man looked at someone that wasnât herâ but rather her sister. Sheâs grown tired of hoping, waiting, praying that one day, he may wander back into her life and thread his way into the tapestry that her destinyâs been woven into.
 Tonight is the night she forfeits with her palms to the sky, tonight is the night she yields to the stars that have taunted her for far too long and admits her defeat. That they were right all along. Tonight is the night she blows away the ashes sheâs desperately held so close to her chest and sealed away in secret urns inside for far too long.Â
 Tonight is the night she lets go.Â
 When she wakes the following morning, birds chirp outside her window. Sunlight spills into her room as it rises over the mountains across the lake and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. Today is merryâ it is the day her sister, PadmĂ© Amidala, marries.Â
 Today is merry but instead, she feels dread seep into the marrow of her bones. Sheâs happy for her sister, really, she is, but it serves only as a reminder that her time is ticking, and time has turned vexing. It serves as a reminder that she must make haste to find her own purpose, to find someone who will cherish her the way sheâs spent many fortnights dreaming about. Solaâs already married and found her purpose, and PadmĂ©âs had her entire life laid out before her since she was only fourteen years of age.Â
 Sola, the wife and mother, PadmĂ©, the Queen and then the Senator, and then thereâs her. Unsure. Undecided. An ellipsis.Â
 Sheâs envious. How could she not be? Sheâs envious that sheâll never be the perfect mother like Sola, envious that sheâll never live up to PadmĂ©âs legacy, sheâs even grown envious of the stars: they simply idle in the night sky but even their idleness has a purpose because their places have reason, to create constellations that in turn, tell stories.Â
 She knows that after today, the pressure of fulfilling whatever destinyâs been written for her will only further suffocate her. She will suffocate beneath the weight of this pressure and she will be expected to continue breathing. Sheâs tried for so long to keep the air in her lungs but itâs so hard when with each day that passes by, the darkness grows more appealing.Â
 Sheâs tried so hard to find the right path sheâs supposed to take, but there are so many roads, so many choices and so many consequences. Sheâs afraidâ and itâs why sheâs allowed herself to hide in her sistersâ shadows for so long. But it feels so stifling now.Â
 She sighs and blinks up to the terracotta ceiling. And then of course, dread wears her bones for an entirely different reason. Because itâs inevitable that sheâs going to see Anakin Skywalker today. And things will be different.Â
 Itâs been lingering like an annoying, little insect since PadmĂ© announced sheâd invited her Jedi friends to the wedding, ever since she heard Anakinâs name being read off the list. Things were certain to change because he is but a mere guest, and not the groom.Â
 It may have come as no surprise that Anakin would fall for her, but it certainly came as a shock that PadmĂ© wouldnât fall for him.Â
 It makes her flesh blaze with a strange anger sheâs not quite sure how to describe. How could her sister have something she so desperately wanted but not pursue it? How could she reject Anakin when he would willingly break and bend to her every whim? Why must her sister take his infatuation for grantedâ why could it not be given to her instead?
 She thinks it must be some cruel trick the Maker is playing on her, dangling Anakin in front of her like that, cursing him with an unrequited love when she was right there. She thinks it must be the Makerâsâ damn himâ cruel way of taunting her, as if the sneering stars had eyes, his eyes. Even if part of her is relieved Anakin is not marrying her sister, it still feels like a blaster wound to her chest, puncturing her skin and searing her insides.Â
 She hears her name called from outside her roomâs door and groans.Â
 âWhat do you want?â She replies in displeasure as the door slides open. Her eldest sister, Sola, steps into the room and glowers at her youngest sisterâs tone.Â
 âWell, good morning sunshine,â Sola remarks and she rolls her eyes. Sola makes her way towards the bed, dropping a dress the color of fire onto the mattress. âIs there a reason for your ill-temper today?â
 She pushes herself to sit upright, wrinkling her nose at the dress as she takes a fistful of it in her hand. âOrange?â She scoffs, tossing it back down onto the bed. âI thought we were wearing blue?â
 Sola shrugs, plopping down onto the mattress. âPadmĂ© changed her mind last minute,â she says. âI suppose if we wore blue, weâd mesh with the background, donât you think?â
 She sighs and flops back down against her pillows, one arm folded over her stomach, the other folded behind her head. Sola pokes her forefinger against her knee and she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the ceiling.Â
 âNow, answer the question,â her oldest sister insists. âWhatâs the matter with you?â
 Her eyelids flutter closed and she wishes more than anything that she could simply wink out of existence. Itâs not that she doesnât want to be here for PadmĂ©, she does, but sheâs uncertain how she could possibly explain how she feels to Sola in a way she could understand. Itâs exactly this thatâs made her feel so alone all these years.Â
 Sheâs never had someone who could understand her, really get her. Sheâs always been different from her sisters, even before marriage and coronations and political promotions. Itâs something sheâs certain her sisters have known, that even her parents mustâve known. Sheâs never been jovial and nurturing like Sola, or clever and independent like PadmĂ©. Sheâs always preferred silence and privacy, and maybe thatâs been her problem. But itâs all she knows, being alone.Â
 Solaâs never spent years yearning for a boy who yearns for another, so she couldnât possibly understand. She doesnât think she could even make her understand.Â
 She sighs, lolling her head to the side until her gaze finds Solaâs.Â
 âNot looking forward to wearing that dress for the entire evening,â she says instead. Solaâs eyes roll and she leans over to pinch her calf beneath the covers. She hisses and swats her sisterâs hand away as she clicks her tongue, moving out of the way.Â
 âOh come on, itâs not that bad,â Sola tries to reason.Â
 âItâs hideous,â she deadpans.Â
 Sola deflates with the acceptance of her defeat. She grabs her sisterâs knee, giving it a shake. She glares at her older sister.Â
 âCome on, that canât be the only reason why youâre in such a foul mood,â Sola insists, her bottom lip rolling in a pout and she swears itâs almost comical how her eldest sister can act like such a child. Itâs a wonder how she has children of her own.Â
 She blinks at Sola as a sort of realization creeps onto her eldest sisterâs face and she blinks, internally grimacing. For she knows that whatever is bound to come out of her sisterâs mouth next is going to be completely and utterly wrong.Â
 âI think I get it now,â Solaâs tone is softer, her face falling to match it. âYouâre upset youâll be the last of us to be married.â
 And there it is.Â
 She internally cringes at just how wrong Sola is but she says nothing, further prompting her sister to lean forward, reaching for the hand that rests on her stomach. Her muscles stiffen when she takes it and she wills herself to stay still. It was better to let Sola say whatever she had to say than recoil and deny itâ itâs not like she had any better excuse anyways.Â
 âI know it can be tough,â she begins. âFeeling like youâre left out. Believe me, I had my fair share of it. I was so jealous of yours and PadmĂ©âs relationship when you were younger because I was so much older, I felt like I just didnât quite fit in with you two.â
 Her eyes finally meet Solaâs and she begins to see her eldest sister in a different light. All this time, sheâs believed sheâs the only one whoâs felt this wayâ lost, left behind. While this isnât quite the same context, she still feels her heart tremble in her chest for her sister, still feels like somethingâs shifted. Itâs at least one thing they can understand each other on.Â
 âBut then, I found my husband. And then I had Ryoo and Pooja,â Sola continues. âAnd it was the best thing thatâs ever happened to me. Iâve never been so happy in my life.â
 Solaâs grip tightens around her hand and she leans forward to place her other one on top. âI know it must seem hard, seeing as both PadmĂ© and I are marriedâ well, almost anyway.â Her lips curve into a soft, reassuring grin. âBut youâll find that same happiness one day. I just know it. So donât fret, little sister.â
And there, she fears, is where her sister misses the plot.Â
 She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all sounds. She remains silent, however, and Sola gives the back of her hand one last reassuring pat before she lets go, sliding off of the mattress.Â
 âAnyways, Iâm going to breakfast. You should come too before all the blue waffles are gone.â
 She watches as her eldest sister slips out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and she sighs, digging her knuckles into her closed eyelids until the galaxy shimmers before her. How could Sola have come so close to understanding her one minute only to read her so wrong the next?
 She doesnât make any effort to get out of bed and in all honesty, she wishes she could simply stay here forever, or at least for the rest of the night. At least long enough that she doesnât have to face Anakin Skywalker.Â
 Because even though sheâs already promised herself that sheâd let him go, she wasnât entirely certain she could hold true to her own word when she sees him again.
 The day goes by in a blur. In the blink of an eye, sheâs wearing a satin dress in that deep orange she finds hideous beside Sola who stands beside PadmĂ©. PadmĂ© stands facing her husband-to-be, fingertips delicately placed in his palms as they recite their vows.Â
 The sun paints the villaâs terrace with an orange glow and she watches it sink beneath the mountains across the lake from the corner of her eye. The sunlight looks like fire rippling in the gentle waves of the water below and she has to look away because she thinks of Anakin, how his eyes glimmer just the same.Â
 Sheâs determined to keep her gaze away from the audience, however, because she knows heâs there, the incarnation of all sheâs ever wanted, of all her bad ideas, of everything she cannot trust herself with in one. She searches the ground below, watches the way her dress ruffles with the breeze, like fire askew in the wind.Â
 PadmĂ© says something that makes the audience erupt in laughter and it startles her, so much that the hair on the back of her neck erects. When she flinches, she makes the mistake of blinking upâ right into the eyes sheâd been bound to avoid all night.Â
 The world around Anakin Skywalker seems to stir until itâs all wet, blurry hues of orange, green, and white. Anakin is the only one she sees in high resolutionâ she can see every lock of wavy, dark blonde hair, every rippling wave in his irises, the scarlet line that slices just beside his right eye. Sheâd never seen this scar beforeâ it must be new.Â
 But whatâs the most peculiar of all is that she meets his eyesâ she meets his eyes. Sheâd blinked up to find heâd already been staring, already transfixed on her by the time their gazes met and his eyes had illuminated with that same knowing gleam sheâd seen in them that day in the royal courtyard.Â
 Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she is not in a dream. Itâs both momentous and utterly devastating all the same.
 She isnât quite sure whether to look away or not. This is what she's mooned over more times than her pride will allow her to admit. Sheâs dreamed this many nights, for Anakin Skywalker to simply look at her and now he is. Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she should feel elated but instead she feels⊠conflicted.Â
 Does her heart flutter in her chest? Sure.Â
 Does her stomach twist itself into knots? Certainly.Â
 She felt so confident just the night before when she threw her hands up in surrender to the black sky, admitting her defeat to the stars who spent many moons mocking her that she was done. She felt so confident that she was ready to move on, to let go of this desire sheâs harbored for Anakin for so long.Â
 With the simplest of looks, Anakin Skywalker has proven capable of crumpling the paper walls sheâd placed around herself. She was left feeling feeble, exposed and any sense of courage she thought she had was now lost.Â
 Because three years of waiting and praying to higher entities who did not hear her pleas could not cease overnight. Her attraction to Anakin Skywalker could not cease in hours. She thought sheâd extinguished the last flames of her withering hope but, as it turns out, a single dying ember remained. It means a part of her still yearned for him. A part of her still burned for him.Â
 She wonders now, that heâs still looking at her, what possibly goes on inside his head. Why does he look at her now? Why does he stare, why do his lips twitch before curving in a smile when their eyes meet, why do they irradiate the longer her gaze lingers on his? Why does he not look sad at the wedding of the woman he loves? Why does he not even look at PadmĂ©?
 Her mind swirls like a tempestâ churning with unhinged, vicious anguish. She has to look away before the acid that bubbles in her throat can come to fruition but she canât, and Anakin seemingly canât tear his gaze away from her either. Itâs all the more sickening and earth-shattering nonetheless. Her heart swells and pounds in her chest, the border of her vision beginning to blur with the familiar sting of tears. Her head is aching and itâs all just too muchâ she needs an escape.Â
 âI now pronounce you, husband and wife.â
 She blinks away her emotion to the best of her ability, using the end of the ceremony as an excuse to look away as the crowd around her thunders with applause. Her mind is reeling and she feels like her head is spinning as she subconsciously claps her palms together, the sound muffled like water in her ears. The watercolor around her stirs until itâs clear again and the entire world suddenly seems to move againâ itâs her, this time, thatâs in slow motion.Â
 The cheering sounds like thunder, the applause like rain pelting against a window, and her mind begins to crumple, just like metal. She longs for escape, to flee and to be beside herself for the rest of the night. PadmĂ© and her husband begin walking back down the aisle as their guests congratulate them, tossing flower petals into the air above them. She thinks that this is her chance to escape, she thinks everyone is distracted enough that no one will notice her leaving.Â
 They never cared to notice her before anyways.Â
 She begins to shuffle away but she doesnât make it very far before her stomach lurches when someone clasps a hand around her wrist, tugging her forward. She snaps her head to the source to find her eldest sister, Sola, with her face illuminated by a grin.Â
 âCome on!â Sola exclaims, dragging her down the aisle and back inside the villa. âItâs time to party!â
 Dread drains the blood from her cheeks but sheâs given no time to protest before sheâs being dragged down the aisle, right past Anakin Skywalker. She doesnât dare look up but she feels him when she passes by, a mere brush of the arms, the feeling of his elbow brushing going just as fast as it came.Â
 And itâs still enough to make liquid of her insides.Â
 She drowns in a sea of people as she and Sola find PadmĂ©, wrapped in their motherâs arms. She can hear her heart drum in her ears as Sola releases her hand to draw PadmĂ© into an embrace, tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks. Everyone around her is so happy and she should be tooâ but she still feels like sheâs beside the altar, caught in the trap Anakin has seemingly laid out for her.Â
 A tear thatâs been painfully dormant in her eye falls and sheâs certain her distress shows on her face but it must be easily mistaken for tears of joy, because PadmĂ© pulls away from Sola to turn to her, drawing her in for a hug. Her sisterâs arms wrap around her body, a palm on her back, the other cupping the back of her head. Even Sola reaches forward to give her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly thinking back to the conversation theyâd had earlier.Â
 âDonât cry for me, baby sister,â PadmĂ© laughs tearfully beside her ear. She can feel PadmĂ©âs smile against her shoulder. She pulls away and rubs her palms up and down the length of her arms. âIâm still the same PadmĂ© Iâve always been.â
 Sheâs unable to replyâ again, sheâs misunderstood. But itâs her sisterâs wedding day, she wonât burden her with her own confliction. So she swallows the boulder-sized lump in her throat, curving her lips just enough to form a tight-lipped smile.Â
 âIâm just⊠happy for you,â she manages. PadmĂ© cups her cheek and soothes the pad of her thumb over her skin before Ryoo and Pooja draw her attention away. PadmĂ©âs hands fall from her arms and finally, she can breathe.Â
 But even that is momentary.Â
 âYou make a perfectly fine bride if I do say so myself, Senator.â
 Her spine stiffens. She knows that voice. And she knows exactly who is near when she hears it.Â
 PadmĂ© laughs and tosses her hands. âObi-Wan,â she greets him just like an old friend would, pulling him in for an embrace. âAnd little Ani.â
 How is it that sheâs already seen him more tonight than she has in the past three years? She sees Anakinâs dark boots from the top of her vision, not daring to tear her gaze from the ground.Â
 âPadmĂ©,â Anakinâs deep, enriching voice sounds and rumbles deep in her belly. She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, desperate to flee. She thinks she can manage it nowâ Obi-Wan and Anakin are engrossed with PadmĂ© now, right?Â
 She begins to make her first attempt of escape, taking slow, careful steps to the side until her second effort crumbles when Anakin speaks her name.Â
 Ice frosts over her spine and sheâs no choice but to acknowledge the man she was so intent on avoiding the entire evening. PadmĂ© and Obi-Wan are engrossed in their own conversation but Anakinâs gaze remains on her, eyes even sparkling when she finally meets them.Â
 Her mouth is a desiccated oasis and her throat feels like a desert as it constricts painfully when she swallows. Still, she manages to breathe out, âAnakin.â
 Itâs the first time she can ever recall having a true, proper conversation with him. The last time being when they said their goodbyes that very first time before he and PadmĂ© left for the Lake Country. Itâs confusing how this is everything sheâs ever wanted yet, she feels an urge to push it all away.Â
 Anakin clears his throat and his eyes flicker to his feet for a moment as if he could possibly be nervous before they find hers again. âYou look good,â he says and her heart stops beating in her chest. âThat dress is beautiful on you.â
 She thinks she could punch him.Â
 Or kiss him.Â
 She has to look away, or she may very well do the latter.Â
 She wonders if this is some cruel, senseless joke the Maker is playing on her. She wonders if sheâd upset him by unlatching herself from his hook and this is his way of reeling her back in. She hates that it has the potential to work.Â
 âIâŠâ she stammers and closes her lids frustratedly, willing air back into her lungs. She shakes her headâ she cannot be here any longer. She may very well explode if she has to succumb to this torture for even a second more. ââŠthanks. Now, if youâll excuse me.â
 And then, she bolts.Â
 Sheâs lost track of how long sheâs been locked in her room, sitting in the window, staring at the moonlight that ripples in the water below. It was long enough for the chatter downstairs to quiet to murmurs until it finally ceased altogether. The villa is now quiet and suddenly, her room feels suffocating.Â
 With a sigh, her feet meet the floor and she pushes away from the window seat, cupping her neck to roll it around her shoulders as she pads towards the door. It slides open and she slips through, making her way down the hallway leading towards the main foyer. Her dress flows behind her like flames in the wind, the satin cool against her legs as she walks. Fresh, night air greets her and she inhales, letting it flood her lungs as she saunters to the wide terrace ahead.Â
 She stops at the stone arches of the railing and exhales, feeling the wind sift its fingers through her hair, breathing on her skin like a lover in the throes of passion. It caresses her neck and rolls down her back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.Â
 Sheâd spent many nights just like this one. Staring at the moon rippling through the water, at the stars that twinkle overhead, the sky that blackens behind them. Sheâd spent many nights praying, releasing her pleas into the air and letting it drift away with the breeze.Â
 She does not pray this time. When she lifts her head to brave the dark that faces her, she merely asks why.Â
 âWhy, Maker,â she whispers beneath her breath. Thereâs an edge, a strain to her voice that stings her throat, that feels like daggers to her chest. âWhy must you be so cruel? I have done everything, I have given you everything. Why wasnât it enough? Why do you mock me now?â
 The stars overhead gleam as they cackle, sneering at the misfit below. âYouâll never have a place among us,â they seem to say. Tears well in her eyes and she drops her head, fingernails scraping the stone edge of the railing. She leans back on her heels and wills herself to breathe before a sob could wrack her body.Â
 She feels lost and utterly alone, and she truly begins to feel like the weight of this prolonged pain has started to fall on top of her. Sheâs lost and alone and her entire world has started to crumble around her. And then she hears her name.Â
 Itâs like the call that haunts her every time she closes her eyes, the same velvety voice that caresses her ear every night when she lies down in bed. But it is not a ghostly whisper this time, because it is real.Â
 Footsteps sound behind her and she further scratches her nails against the railing.Â
 âI was wondering where you wandered off to,â Anakin remarks as he approaches and she can feel him beside her, like a whisper of shadow creeping along her skin. She rolls back onto the balls of her feet and stands straight, sniffing.Â
 âAnakin,â she says, steadily, methodically. As if it took great effort to say it without stammering. She can see him out of her peripheral, dark blonde curls falling when he leans an elbow against the railing, tilting his head in an attempt to meet her eye.Â
 She does not move.Â
 âI was looking for you, you know,â he continues. âYou mustâve found a good hiding spot.â
 She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. âI was in my room,â she replies simply, a steely, monotone in her voice.
 Anakin inhales and hums. âThen it makes sense why I could not find you. I would never barge into a ladyâs room.â
 Itâs an attempt at humor but she feels anything but. Sheâs stuck between a rock and a hard place with seemingly no clear solution in sight. She could walk away. She should walk away. She shouldn't spend a single second more in Anakin Skywalkerâs presenceâ she simply couldnât trust herself to not betray her own vow.Â
 Or she could stay. She could stay and once again succumb to the foolâs game sheâs been playing. She could stay and let Anakin Skywalker tie another noose around her neck, allowing him to drag her along for another three years.Â
 She knows what is right. She knows what she should do.Â
 But sheâs frozen.Â
 She cannot move, cannot even bring her lips to move so she can speak. She instead wilts, like a rose who once stood beautifully now losing its color, shriveling in on herself until she inevitably withers away.Â
 She can feel Anakin draw himself just an inch closer beside her, and heâs like a single drop of rain thatâs enough to somewhat salvage the husk of who she once was.Â
 âWhy do you avoid me?â He asks and itâs a question so simply but so damn infuriating all the while. Sheâs been a volcano in dormancy up until this point, but thereâs a rumbling deep within her, threatening to erupt.Â
 âWhy are you doing this?â She questions, snapping her head towards him, brows dipped and drawn. Anakin blinks and draws back, a dent forming between his own brows.Â
 âDoing what?â He asks and that feeling of wanting to ram her fist into his face comes back. She turns to fully face him and he pushes off the railing, uncertainty warping his features.Â
 âThis,â she gestures between them. âStaring at me. Talking to me. As if weâve spoken more than hellos and goodbyes to each other.â
 Anakin raises a brow, the one his scar pierces, and it warps with the movement.Â
 She continues. âAnd then you have the audacity to tell me I look beautiful in this gods-awful dress just to spite me.â She is a volcano, no longer dormant, no longer overlooked. She is exploding and Anakin is unfortunate enough to be in her wake.Â
 He shakes his head. âSpite you?â He repeats. She begins to pace, a hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. Anakin follows, exactly like a lost puppy. âI wasnâtâ I would neverââ
 âDonât say youâd never,â she turns on him, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. He blinks from it back to her, that ocean in the irises of his eyes raging, lightning cracking in the sinkhole at its center. She drops her hand and it curls at her side, her fists two shaking balls of fury. Blood bites her cheeks and she thinks of all the times sheâs imagined speaking with Anakin Skywalker, of being alone with him.Â
 This certainly was not how sheâd ever imagined the scenario playing out.Â
 She inhales. âDonât say youâd never do anything to spite me while you are actively using me to get over PadmĂ©,â she exhales, braving the stormy sea in his eyes. The tide shifts and his manner does too and she believes sheâs already cracked him. She thinks sheâs already shattered the illusion he was trying to create, that sheâs lifted the wool heâs tried to veil over her eyes.
 She thinks that he believes whatever game he was trying to play was over.Â
 Anakin straightens. âYou have no idea what you are talking about,â he says and she scoffs, backing away.Â
 âDonât I?â She retorts. âYou donât think Iâve noticed how youâve always looked at her? How youâve always loved her?âÂ
 It brings her great pain to merely mention it. Her palms wipe at her face as tears begin welling in her eyes again, her cheeks warm as she desperately tries to quell the beginnings of a sob that stutters through her chest. She realizes now that by keeping all of these emotions, these feelings sheâs harbored for Anakin for so long bottled has made her restless, has made her tick like a time bomb.Â
 And her time to detonate has come.Â
 He says her name again and tries to step forward, reeling back when she steps away from him. His hand wrapped in a leather glove hovers in the air between them and he drops it with an exasperated sigh.Â
 âYour sister means a great deal to me, yes,â he begins. âBut it is notââ
 âMy sister is the sole reason why you torment me!â She snaps. âAnd you have no right to use how I feel against me just because she does not love you back.â
 Her words are an arrow meant to strike, to pierce through his chest, his heart her target. Her words are meant to cut deep, to draw blood, to make him bleed just like she has everyday since they met. She thinks they will, she thinks her blows will etch deep, will even leave scars in their wake. Part of her longs to see that pained expression upon his face, just like the one she wears now.Â
 But her arrow merely grazes, soaring past until it sinks in the shining waters below.Â
 Anakinâs face shifts but it is not in the way she thought it would, not in the way she hoped it would. His brows dip and his eyes swarm with a pained sort of desperation sheâs never seen before in someone. She certainly never expected to see it in someone like him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths as he steps forward again. She stands still, unable to move. She is stunnedâ Anakin Skywalker has surprised her.Â
 âPadmĂ© does not love me,â he admits. âI met her when I was only a child. The only girl Iâd ever seen before her was my own mother. So, of course, I felt drawn to her.â Her jaw tightens and her lips fall together in a firm, thin line. Anakinâs brows knit closer together and thereâs a flicker in his eyes that she swears looks like the predecessor to tears.Â
 She doesnât quite want to believe it. He could not cry.Â
 âAnd I spent a decade pining, a decade praying that Iâd one day see her again, a decade hoping sheâd been counting down the days until she saw me again, just like I was.â
 She doesnât believe what sheâs hearing. Itâs a reflection of her own story, her own foolish pining, her own foolish praying but not hers, but Anakinâs. Her heart stutters in her chest and she forgets to breathe, having to gasp to gather air back into her lungs.Â
 Sheâs never once felt like she could be understood. Sheâs never once felt like anyone else could experience the inner turmoil she has, the seemingly fruitless yearning she has.Â
 But sheâs realizing now that that's not true. Not anymore, at least. Everything is changing right before her eyes.Â
 âAnd then I did,â Anakin shakes his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. âAnd I felt nothing. But I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved her. But I just⊠didnât.â
 Her brow furrows and Anakinâs gaze darkens as it finds hers.Â
 âI spent a decade obsessing over someone I didnât really know, and how could I? I was a child.â His eyes search hers, searching for something unbeknownst to her. But she lets him. âI didnât know what love was. All I knew was infatuation. I didnât know what it meant to truly feel seen, to truly feel drawn to someone.â
 Anakin pauses and she gets the feeling that whatever he says next will be calamitous.Â
 âUntil I saw you again, that day outside the palace.â
 Her lips tremble and her breath shudders, an icy chill frosting over her skin. To think heâs thought about her everyday since their eyes briefly met in the midst of a crowded courtyard was hard to believe yet, when she looks at Anakin Skywalker now, she sees the softening of his brow, the quiver in his lips, the honesty in his eyes.Â
 Sheâs only ever imagined one look in his eyes. Desire.Â
 But she looks at him now and finds an entire galaxyâ thereâs longing, thereâs earnest, thereâs optimism, thereâs burning. As it turns out, living creatures are not black and white like she initially thought them to be. Anakin Skywalker is a complex creature, made of flesh and blood and of an intricacy sheâd never stopped to consider before.Â
 Heâs even better than sheâs imagined heâd be.Â
 Every moment spent under the stars, praying that sheâd one day have a place among them, that she one day would sit among them with purpose rather than in an ellipsis suddenly begins to feel like it wasnât all for nothing after all. Every prayer sheâs whispered into the night breeze with Anakin Skywalkerâs name in it suddenly feels like they begin to matter, like they begin to come true.Â
 Still, she is wary, and Anakin seems to recognize this caution.Â
 He takes a step closer and he steals the breath from her chest, just like he had the first moment she saw him. Her fingers twitch, itching to find his, her palms tingling with the desire to feel his skin, her lips buzzing with yearning. She does not touch him, she does not kiss him, she does not do anything. She simply waits for the rest of his story to unfold and her brain aches with the hope that it will unravel into hers.Â
 âI saw you that day at the palace to find you were already looking at me. That you were already seeing me,â he mutters, a little breathlessly. âIt may have been for⊠for only a moment but when you looked at me, I feltâŠâ he trails off, a furrow in his brow as he searches for the correct word. ââŠI felt⊠like something shifted.â
 She watches as he rolls his lips together, watches as the moonlight catches how they glisten with spittle. Her breath catches a little bit, her gaze lingering there, her desire to lap it all up flaring.Â
 âIt felt like there was a string there between us Iâd never noticed before,â he continues. âThere was a connection Iâd never realized until the moment our eyes met. I felt you, and I felt you see me. There hasnât been a day thatâs passed by since where I didnât feel you, where I didnât feel like we were connected, like we were two stars written in the same constellation.â
 Her chest rises and falls to the erratic beating of her heart as Anakin draws nearer, the hand with his glove meeting her cheek with a tenderness sheâd felt from no one before. Sheâd never realized how starved of touch sheâs been until now and it feels so invigorating. Her stare drops to his lips and she feels that string Anakin mustâve been talking about, feels it drawing her closer into his mouth.Â
 âPadmĂ© does not love me back, and I do not care,â he says in just above a whisper, his voice rising and falling in a way that jellifies her knees, that makes liquid of her insides. âBecause I am burningâ foolishly, maybe, yesâ for you.â
 She inhales sharply and it truly feels like all her prayers are finally being answered, like sheâs being inducted into her rightful place in the sea of stars. And in her constellation, Anakin Skywalker resides too.Â
 She reaches up with a hand to hold the crook of his elbow thatâs strung between them as he brings his other, ungloved hand to rest on her other cheek. She feels his skin on her cheek as the pad of his thumb soothes over the warmth of her flesh and her body quakes with shivers that roll down her spine all the way to her toes. He begins to lean in, his breath hot where it fans against her skin but she tilts backwards, just enough for him to halt, a quirk in one of his brows.Â
 âI will not let you settle for me, Anakin Skywalker,â she whispers, admitting that insecurity still lingers, despite his words. Anakinâs eyes narrow as he uses his hands on either sides of her face to draw her in, his lips but a mere whisper away from hers when he murmurs, âsettle? This is not settling. This is binding.â
 Then, his lips are on hers in an electrifying bind that shatters her spine with cracks of lightning and she falls into him, her hands on either of his forearms to keep herself steady.Â
 Anakin kisses her with an ardor she could never even dream up in all of her wildest of fantasies. He kisses her and she feels like she finally fits in her dress, as it is the color of fire and sheâs engulfed in flames. He kisses her and he is the flame that lights her candle, the flame that melts her from the center, that makes heat course through her that washes all the way down to her toes. He kisses her and she is melting, right into him.Â
 His tongue pirouettes over hers and she hums into his mouth, feeling his fingers thread through her hair. Her heart is pounding and her lips are buzzing but all she feels is Anakin, she feels the muscles in his arms, the warmth that radiates off his body and spills into her. She feels the push and pull of the passion, the yearning heâs kept inside all this time. She feels her own longing and fervor pour into him and they are floating, two clouds that collide into one another to become one.Â
 Anakin steps forward and steps backwards until she hits a wall. When they pull away for breath, she realizes heâs backed her into one of the pillars, a vine caught in the hair on the back of her head. Their chests heave with the weight of their breaths and she watches as Anakinâs hand, not the gloved one, but the one with skin rises, following it as it reaches for her neck. She shudders when he touches her collarbone, exposed from the side of the fiery satin of her dress. His fingertips sear her skin as it drags to the neck of her dress, following the satin where it wraps around her throat, all the way to the back of her neck where the lace falls.Â
 Her breath catches when his fingers find the small strings keeping her dress together. Her gaze finds his again to find heâs already staring, a narrow, earnest look upon his face that darkens his eyes and hardens his features. There is a silent question that hangs in the air between them: âdo you want to stop?â
 Maybe theyâre moving too fast. Maybe this is crazy, maybe theyâre simply caught up in the moment, high off the feeling of burning for someone who burns for them too. But after years of pining, of waiting, of praying, it only feels right.Â
 But still, she asks, âwhat if someone sees? Someone like Obi-Wan who can get you in trouble?â
 Anakin shakes his head, âthey wonât. Now, I donât want to talk about Obi-Wan. Do you want to stop?â
 The shake of her head is all Anakin needs to see before he unlaces the strings holding her dress together, the satin falling like a spark blazing down the frayed edges of a rope until it pools at her elbows. Her breasts spill from the dress and the nightâs ghostly whisper chills her skin, peaking her nipples.Â
 Anakinâs eyes devour and she is prey.Â
 His stare pierces through her skin to the marrow of her bones that catch a chill and she quakes. He meets her eyes again as his hands drift lower, dipping until they finally find her chest. A sharp gasp escapes when his palms cup either of her breasts and she arches into his touch, already aching for more.Â
 âAnakin!â She gasps in a breathy exclaim when he dips his chin to press a kiss over the top of one of her breasts, heat blossoming in his lipsâ wake. His eyes catch her again, a little warily. âIs this okay?â He asks, his voice low and gravely, scratching the itch in her brain she didnât even know she had. It makes her knees feel weak and if it hadnât been for his body pressed up against hers, she wouldâve crumpled straight to the ground.Â
 âYes,â she breathes, chest heaving into his palms. âIâm sorry, Iâve just⊠neverâŠâ
 Anakinâs lips curve and she can see a flash of white peek between them. He shakes his head. âMe neither,â he admits with a breathy laugh and she titters too, grateful for the fact that sheâs not the only one whoâs a little green.Â
 âCan I keep going?â He questions and his voice is liquid desire, melting straight down to her core. She swallows the lump thatâs formed in her throat, nodding. âPlease,â she adds, feeling her heart beat straight into his palm.Â
 Anakinâs head dips again and she watches, cheeks warm as he places an open-mouthed kiss just above her nipple. His palm kneads the other breast as his lips venture just an inch lower, finding the peaked bud that awaits, suckling it into his mouth.Â
 Itâs like electricity flooding through her veins.Â
 She throws her head back, lips falling agape as her eyelids snap closed, soaking in the pleasure of Anakinâs lips on her nipple. He cautiously flicks his tongue against the bud, watching through his lids as a moan falls from her lips, encouraging him to do it again. He flattens his tongue against her nipple and licks a long, fat stripe from the underside of it up, feeling her tremble in his arms. He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses through the valley between them to make his way to the other.Â
 Touching him, feeling him, kissing him is somehow even better than sheâd ever imagined, even after all those years of dreaming for moments like this. She canât believe sheâs gone so long without feeling him like this, she doesnât think she can ever stop touching him.Â
 Anakin suckles on her breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as his hand not wrapped in a glove ventures down her body, past her waist, down her hip. He pulls the satin material of her dress up until his arm can sneak his way beneath it and she shivers when his fingers find her center over her underwear. Her nails dig into his sleeves above his shoulders, holding her breath as he finds the wet spot in her underwear, gently pressing against it.Â
 Her hands tighten on his shoulders and ceases all movement, peering up at her. âYouâre wet,â he says rather matter-of-factly because of course she is, how could she not be? She nods down at him, swallowing thick layers of saliva down her throat. âCan I touch you here?â He asks and his voice drops to that silky, velvety tone that makes her core ache. She presses her lips together to stifle her groan, head vigorously nodding up and down.Â
 âGods yes, Anakin,â she moans, slowly rocking her hips against his finger. âPlease.â
 She feels filthy in a way for asking, for needing friction so desperately. Sheâs only ever taken her own fingers when sheâs too lost in pleasure at night to sleep, never been touched by anyone else but itâs all she craves now, for Anakinâs fingers to touch her, for himâ whatever part it may beâ to be inside her.Â
 A flame had been ignited in the pit of her belly long ago, back when Anakin first stepped through the door the day they met. Itâs sat stagnant for too long, waiting for its moment to further bloom and now it has. It blossomed when her eyes met Anakinâs that day in the courtyard but itâs now in full bloom, now that they burn together, now that his kisses have seared her skin, now that his fingers are pulling her underwear down her thighs, just enough that he can reach her center.Â
 When his fingertips brush her clit, she bursts.Â
 Anakinâs arm wraps around her waist as she practically collapses into him, his middle finger drawing circles against her clit, his breath hot as his lips rest on her brow.Â
 âIs this good?â He asks against her forehead. âDo you feel good?â He questions again as he adds his forefinger to the mix, applying just a little more pressure and it makes her eyes roll.Â
 âYes, just⊠just donât stop,â she exhales, feeling her stomach twist itself into a knot, his fingers against her clit threatening to pull it undone any moment.Â
 So he doesnât.Â
 Heâs unrelenting in the way his fingers press to the aching bud in her center, tracing tight circles until her eyes squeeze closed so hard, milky-ways shimmer behind her lids. He dares venture lower, gathering her slick on the pads of his fingers as he teases near her entrance. Itâs a foreign and strange feeling, itâs a pattern sheâs traced many times with her own fingers but never been touched by someone else. Even in spite of how many nights she spent trekking that path wishing it was Anakinâs fingers instead, but itâs still strange feeling him there now.Â
 She clutches his arm tighter and he slows, beginning to retract his hand. She stops him, lifting her head until their eyes meet again.Â
 âNo,â she pants, shaking her head. âDonât stop, just⊠just take it slow.â
 He nods, his finger a little unsure as it circles her entrance, unintentionally teasing until she begins to crack. Sheâs panting, trying to wiggle her hips so that she can draw his fingers in, seeking that feeling of being full. Anakin dips his forefinger into her hole and she tosses her head back, her lips parting for an âohâ to emit.Â
 He watches her face, even if she canât see it, she can feel his gaze behind her closed lids. He is testing the waters, learning what makes her moan, what makes her squirm, what makes her come. Slowly, he sinks his finger further in and she feels every single millimeter that drags along her walls until heâs knuckle deep. Her legs feel like jelly and her knees begin to wobble, nails clinging to his sleeves like they were her lifeline.Â
 Pressure builds in the pit of her belly as Anakin carefully retracts his finger, just to sink it back in again, a slow, cautious rhythm that leaves her mind spinning. His fingers are so much bigger than hers and she already feels so stuffed despite it only being one finger. Somehow, itâs too much and not enough at the same time.Â
 âAna⊠Anakin,â she gasps, peeling open her lids to find heâs already looking. His finger slows but picks up its pace again when he realizes sheâs not in any pain. âAnother.â
 His brow dips and his head tilts in confusion, uncertain what she means. She gathers moisture on her lips, trying to speak through the pleasure-driven haze in her mind.Â
 âAnother finger. Please.â
 Their eyes lock and thereâs a flicker in his, a hint of doubt.Â
 âAre you suââ
 âPlease.â
 So, Anakin gathers her lips with his and she mewls into his mouth when he presses his middle against his pointer, sinking them into her cunt until they reach as far as they can. Sheâs trembling against him but he keeps her upright, with his arm and with his lips.Â
 Just one of Anakinâs fingers had made her feel stuffed but two of his fingers made her feel full to the brim. Her walls clench around his fingers and she gasps his name like the beginning of a prayer, pleading for more.Â
 Itâs a twist on the prayers she recites to the Maker every night. Itâs rewriting her every broken hymn, transforming it into something entirely new. She moans Anakinâs name and his fingers turn it into a song so that she cries like a dove into the night. The Maker may have left her feeling broken, wasted, unimportant but Anakin has found her, patched her up, polished her until sheâs brand new.Â
 The tangle in her belly begins to rupture, slowly unraveling and so she pushes his arm away, his fingers sliding out of her cunt, her walls pulsing with the loss. They both pant and Anakinâs face hardens in question as his chest heaves.Â
 âWhat is it?â He asks, searching her face.Â
 She gathers air deep in her chest. âI wantâŠâ She trails off, her embarrassment washing over her cheeks in blood. Her gaze drops and Anakin tilts his head to find it again, their eyes locked. He says nothing, only the nod of his head encourages her to continue. ââŠI want more. I want⊠I want you toâŠâ
 She purses her lips in frustration. For heavenâs sake, sheâs talking to the man who just had his fingers inside of her mere moments ago. Why does she feel embarrassed now?
 She takes another deep breath, mustering the courage to tell what she truly wants. ââŠI want you to feel good too.â
 Something shifts in Anakinâs eyes. It could be easily mistaken as a trick of the light but she sees it, she feels it. Anakin is burning just the same as her, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of desire, and she burns within it.Â
 She watches as Anakinâs hand sinks below the belt around his middle, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers beneath his dark tunic. She watches with her breath lodged at the base of her throat as he pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to be set free and oh, it is just like her dreams but even better.Â
 Nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of Anakin Skywalkerâs cock. Not even the wildest of her dreams could ever capture the essence of the art of Anakin Skywalker. He is handcrafted by the gods themselvesâ he is the physical embodiment of masterpiece.Â
 He steps forward and towers over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her face. She peers up at him, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. His hands find either side of her face and she stops breathing altogether, wondering what he will do next.Â
 Then, âput your arms here,â he whispers, guiding her arms over his shoulder. âAnd hold on.â
 She squeals when he drops his hands to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her off the ground so that her ankles lock behind his back. Her arms tighten around his neck as he presses her back against the pillar, his chest pressed into hers. She can feel his length as itâs squeezed between either of their bodies and her walls clench around nothing, practically sobbing to feel him inside.Â
 For a moment, the world stills around them and itâs like when she sees him in the audience during PadmĂ©âs wedding. The night stirs and blurs until itâs dark watercolor, but Anakin is what she sees in high resolution. Itâs the perfect mirageâ she and Anakin feel like two stars in the middle of the black abyss above, forming their own little constellation.Â
 And when Anakin finally slides himself inside of her, she feels like her place in the sea of stars has been cemented. She finally feels like sheâs where she belongs.
a/n; SO! MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET.... may or may not have gotten a bit carried away (more like a little too wordy...) BUT! i really hope some of you enjoy and i truly appreciate anyone who reads this all the way through. i know 10k words is a lot đ also i hope this doesnât seem too insta-lovey⊠this idea just came to me in a dream so i wrote what I dreamt lol
đ« if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me đ«¶
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#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker fanfiction#star wars anakin#anakin skywalker#anakin x reader#anakin smut#anakin x you#anakin skywalker x you#star wars#star wars prequels#star wars fanfiction#star wars imagine
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anakinâs reaction to tummy bulge. smut, f!reader, size kink. short little blurb.
requested by anon! á° masterlist
anakinâs large hands pulled your ass against him, deepening his length in you. his cock hitting that spongy part that makes your eyes roll back in your head. your cunt sucking him in and squeezing the life out of him.
âfuck, princess, always take me so good.â he's drunk on you, on the felling of filling you up, and stretching you out. your cunt hugs him like it was made to take his cock. you could only whine, too dumb from how he fucked you.
his hand sweetly wrapped around your stomach, to help you arch some more. when he digits glaze over the slight bulge in your tummy from his cock.
âoh baby,â he sighs almost dreamily. grabbing one of your hands and guiding it to the imprint of his length in you. you're whining again, his name this time. your hole tightens around him, making him groan in your ear. the sound is almost heavenly.
âyou feel that, doll? feel my cock inside you, so small I'm basically splitting you in half.â those words have you cumming on his cock, your juices pooling down at anakinâs trimmed hair.
he ruts into like an animal with no bounds, you can feel his seed shoot into you and the feeling has you grinding back into him.
ânever enough for you, huh? dirty little thing.â
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