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renlyslittlerose · 4 months

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omg it’s gotta be “just follow my lead” for the kiss prompts …

💖 You know we had to do it to 'em

This one is slightly NSFW and features Padawan Anakin (he's 19 but still, if it's not your vibe then maybe refrain!)

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Anakin had his ways to make Obi-Wan do things.

He knew just how to tilt his head and fiddle with the edges of his robes, casting Obi-Wan quick glances from behind his lashes as he asked for things in a tone that made Obi-Wan’s expression soften, his brows relax, his shoulders slump. But if that didn’t work he’d switch tactics, demure turned prideful, his voice rising as he pleaded his case and stalked after Obi-Wan’s determined gate as they weaved their way through the Temple hallways.

Most of the time Obi-Wan put up a fight - barrier upon barrier tossed up between them and in their bond, severing what little manipulation Anakin had until it felt like he was throwing himself against a wall. It happened enough where Anakin was ready with a quick barb and a glare for the inevitable rebuke or refusal.

But every so often Obi-Wan would give in; Anakin would ask for something in a manner that allowed him to slip beneath the carefully maintained armour Obi-Wan wore and pluck from his core - tearing little pieces away until he could fit himself inside, never to be parted from his Master.

And every so often, Obi-Wan agreed to something Anakin thought he would never agree to.

Like this time. Like right now. Like in this very moment: Anakin sat on his Master’s lap, thighs astride his thick waist, hands balled up on the dense fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic as he stared at the small beauty mark dotted on his cheek.

Anakin had admired the mark before. He’d stared at it as a small child while he was supposed to be studying, his head resting on his curled arms as Obi-Wan read through his datapads, face sharply angled by the dense shadows and bright lights that spilled across his features. Or when they were sat side by side as they meditated, Anakin opening his eyes now and again to flick across Obi-Wan’s form, attention wandering from the perfection of his pose and the grace of his hands along his knees, up to the cut of his beard and the lines of his lips before falling on that very mark - a small blemish on an otherwise perfect man.

But now it was up close - close enough that with very little effort Anakin could touch it. Rub his thumb across it, pressing his fingerprint into Obi-Wan’s skin, marking him with his touch if only for a brief moment.

Obi-Wan’s breath was hot across his lips, his focus sharp, his grip strong along Anakin’s hips. Anakin could feel him shifting beneath him - little movements that sent a jolt of arousal through Anakin, his cheeks heating, his palms becoming clammy. He refused to meet his Master’s gaze and instead stayed as still as he could, fearful that if he did something wrong then he’d be sent back to his room, cut off from this immense intimacy - an intimacy he’d craved for a millenia.

The remark had been made in jest, but had been answered in a seriousness that spoke more than the words themselves.

‘You should teach me how to kiss, Master. Wouldn’t want me going out there into Coruscant’s underbelly to find someone who will.’

‘You’re right, Anakin. I wouldn’t want that…’

‘So you’ll do it?’

‘Come here, Padawan.’

Anakin wasn’t sure how long they’d been like this; Anakin on Obi-Wan’s lap, their eyes skirting and avoiding, their breathing tight and quick and hot across their lips and chins. The door behind Anakin was locked, a soft beep that crashed through the room as Obi-Wan guided Anakin to his couch, and yet it felt like at any moment someone could walk in - throw open the door and expose the intensity of their bond.

There were rumours. Anakin had heard them, and he knew Obi-Wan ought to have as well. But they were just rumours.

Or had been.

Toes curling in his boots, Anakin bit his bottom lip when Obi-Wan reached up to play with his braid. The tips of his fingers brushed his neck, and Anakin’s cock pulsed in his trousers. He remained as he was - poised just above, hands gripping Obi-Wan’s shoulders, attention fixed on the beauty mark. Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh as their bond fluttered, Anakin’s arousal coiling with Obi-Wan’s admiration.

“Anakin…”

Obi-Wan’s voice melted into Anakin’s core, and he finally looked from the mark to lock eyes with Obi-Wan. He sucked in a breath and held a moment when he saw how dark Obi-Wan’s eyes had become - grey-blue hues cast in shadows that intrigued and excited Anakin. Licking his bottom lip, he let out a pitiful moan when Obi-Wan’s hand cupped his cheek. Turning into the touch, he closed his eyes as Obi-Wan rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, pressing into his pout, pulling up blood and making it tingle.

This was supposed to be an exercise - a teaching moment. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more, and yet…

“Relax, darling.”

A sweet name for a sweet boy, Obi-Wan had once remarked the first time he’d called Anakin darling. It had been months ago but Anakin still remembered how it made him feel. Desired and wanted, boastful and proud, humbled and unworthy. None of the other padawans were called ‘darling’ by their masters. Only Anakin - and only by Obi-Wan. Only by the one who mattered.

Anakin tried to relax, his body sinking downward until he was sat fully on Obi-Wan’s lap. He was warm and study beneath Anakin. Keeping his hands where they were, he squeezed down harder, his knuckles on his flesh hand aching while the newly formed metals of his mechno-hand trembled with the pressure. But the ache felt good. Almost as good as Obi-Wan’s thumb as it pressed into the groove of his chin and held him where he was.

He let out a shaky breath and stared at Obi-Wan. Something flashed in his Master’s gaze then - a quick thing that Anakin couldn’t decipher - before Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around his waist and held him closer still.

Breath, hot and smelling of clipped grasses like that of Obi-Wan’s tea, tickled Anakin’s lips and he held back another embarrassing moan. Instead a whimper came out, and Anakin watched as Obi-Wan’s pupils expanded ever so. He licked his bottom lip - a wet, pink tongue slipping past the dense hairs of his beard to swipe along the expanse of skin.

Anakin wanted to suck on it.

“Now… just follow my lead,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Anakin closed his eyes and sighed as Obi-Wan gently tilted his head to the left while he took up space to the right. A brief moment passed where Anakin thought maybe Obi-Wan was going to walk it all back - take his decency and his decorum and swath himself in his armour once more - but then the bristles of Obi-Wan’s beard tickled his lips before they joined. Anakin tried to relax as their lips rubbed together - a firm pressure followed by something softer before the pressure returned. Anakin wasn’t sure what to do and tried to mimic Obi-Wan’s movements even as his breath caught in his ribs and his mind rattled around in his skull.

He was kissing his Master.

He was kissing Obi-Wan.

And he wanted more.

Obi-Wan pulled away before Anakin could claim anything else. Anakin’s lips tingled, his groin tight with arousal, his mouth thick with spit. When Obi-Wan looked at him Anakin saw only the blackness of his pupils, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Without asking he moved in for more, desperate for the same sensation even if it remained chaste and demure. Proper, even though everything else was far from it.

But when they kissed again Obi-Wan parted his lips, hot breath skittering across Anakin’s, coaxing him to do the same. With a shaking sigh he opened his mouth and whimpered as their lips met again and again, quick and soft and slow and aching. Anakin followed Obi-Wan’s lead, mimicking his actions as he'd done so many times before, his hands relaxing to rest across Obi-Wan’s broad shoulders as they continued to kiss.

Anakin liked the feel of Obi-Wan’s lips, the brush of his beard, the strength in his hands. He liked how he could swallow Obi-Wan’s breath and hold it as his own; how he could smell the soaps on his skin and the sweat along his brow; feel his touch warm across his hip and along his cheek, and taste the tea and cakes he’d consumed just hours before, surrounded by his peers as he played perfect Master, perfect Jedi, perfect man.

And now he was panting in his Padawan’s mouth; gripping his Padwan’s waist; touching his Padwan and delighting in his Padawan and taking from his Padawan.

The kiss deepened and Anakin let out another moan as he felt Obi-Wan’s tongue slide into his mouth to rub along his own. The sensation was unfamiliar and yet pleasing all the same, Anakin shuddering as he thought about Obi-Wan being inside him. Anakin didn’t know what to do but followed along all the same, pushing back and rubbing when Obi-Wan retreated, licking up against the roof of his mouth, sliding along his teeth, collecting Obi-Wan’s spit and whatever else he could consume.

He was greedy for it - for Obi-Wan’s taste and touch and focus. He wanted to be good for Obi-Wan - wanted to prove his worth as he’d done with all their other lessons. He wanted to be the perfect Padawan for Obi-Wan, in all the ways he could.

Obi-Wan pulled away then, severing the cord that connected them with a gasp.

Opening his eyes Anakin stared at Obi-Wan’s beauty mark once more. His chest ached and he sucked back thick mouthfuls of muggy air, touch trembling as he pushed his palms into Obi-Wan’s shoulders until he could feel the press of his collarbone through the layers of robes. Obi-Wan’s breathing was heavy beneath him, his form taught and tense, his grip still demanding along Anakin’s hip and the side of his neck.

With an unsteady touch, Anakin reached up to touch Obi-Wan’s lips with the pads of his fingertips. He could feel his spit across his hairs and the plushness of his thin lips, and it was his turn to press and push, messing Obi-Wan up further.

Mine.

“Anakin…”

Obi-Wan’s voice was breathless, his tone unsteady - ragged - and Anakin finally looked up to lock eyes with him. He was greeted with an expression he knew all too well. He’d seen it on Obi-Wan’s face more times than he could count; before an argument and then right after, words biting, tone cutting, their bond rough and sharp. Or after a sparring session, sweat slick across their brows and down their backs, breath haggard, knuckles bruised and bloodied from when practice turned to real aggression. Or when Anakin manipulated the Force, the stink of it like electricity through the room, Anakin’s powers fluctuating and just on the edge, fear splashed across the faces of those in attendance except for one - except for Obi-Wan.

Anakin had never been able to place it before. But he knew now what it all meant - the sharpness to Obi-Wan’s gaze, the tension in his jaw, the tightness to his shoulders and the tendons of his neck.

Arousal.

“Master,” Anakin mumbled, before he took what he wanted once more and closed the gap.

#obikin #star wars fanfiction #lemon fanfiction #bunnywan #ask #reply #thanks peach

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nocturnest · 3 months

Text

Simple

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” ~ Oscar Wilde

It was supposed to be a quick job, this, thought Tangerine.

It was a snatch-and-grab job at a sketchy warehouse involving the retrieval of a hard drive. His and Lemon’s handler, Holmes, had assured them that the job was simple and likely didn’t involve any major run-ins. And so everything seemed to be going according to plan as Lemon and Tangerine made their way through the warehouse, shooting the occasional guard here and there, and then he saw you.

He and Lemon had first met you four years ago. You three had been paired up by chance on a job in Paris: you and Tangerine had posed as a married couple and Lemon his brother and the three of you attended a gala with the intent of delivering a long overdue message to a power-hungry drug lord. Tangerine had to admit that he was rather distracted throughout the mission. He found himself developing a sense of possessiveness as men at the gala eyed you eagerly. He liked the way one of his golden rings looked on your finger, the way your dress exposed your lovely collarbones, the way your subtle lipstick made your eyes pop. Tangerine had never noticed it before, the way your eyes seemed to shine as you talked passionately. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and shake his head as you entertained Lemon in one of his character analysis rants about Thomas the Tank Engine.

But now… well, you certainly seen better days but still managed to look stunning nonetheless. You had a cut along your cheek and a bruised lip, whether from fighting or interrogation Tangerine wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that seeing you tied up and injured made him into a bundle of raging anger yet concern.

He and Lemon looked at one another before Tangerine cleared his throat, “Hello, love.”

You knew that voice. You loved that voice. It gave you a thrill and made you tighten your thighs with heat. You leaned forward as well as you could and squinted into the darkness of the room, “Tangerine?”

Tangerine stepped forward into your field of view and gave a lopsided smile, “The one and only.”

There was a pause and then you fucking giggled, all while practically gazing into the piercing blue depths of Tangerine’s eyes.

Tangerine was confused. You were a contract killer. He’d certainly heard your laugh before, which to him sounded like tinkling bells, but he’d never heard you giggle. It was novel to him, but he didn’t mind it; in fact, he wished he could make that same sound among others come from you.

“The hell you laughing for?” asked Lemon bluntly as he too stepped into your periphery.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed theatrically while giving Tangerine a sly wink.

Tangerine opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He shook his head as if waking up from a dream.

Get your priorities straight, bruv, he thought.

Tangerine reached toward you and began cutting the ropes around you with his handy knife. You visibly shuddered as his hands grazed your wrists.

Tangerine noticed you shiver and muttered “Sorry, love. You hurt anywhere?"

"Just a small stab wound. And maybe a concussion" You lift your bleeding leg half-heartedly.

Lemon paces, assessing the situation. "What are you doing here?"

You couldn't help but suggest that your handler assign you the codename Peach to complete the fruit triad.

“You know - the usual mission and whatnot. Kicking names and taking ass one interrogation at a time.”

Lemon frowned, "Not sure that's how the saying goes..."

"And I had the whole thing under control, truly - until some fucking geezer went and hit me over the head with a damn crowbar."

The ropes around you came undone and you move to stand but your legs just aren’t fucking working today. Tangerine caught you before you tumbled and you found your face pressed up against his chest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as Tangerine gripped your forearms to keep you steady. You inhale deeply and whisper loudly, “Mmm, you smell like a forest.”

Tangerine blinked back in surprise at your bluntness and you eyed him cautiously as you take his hand and squeeze it.

Lemon, always one to stick to his priorities, coughed, "Um - we'd uh better get out of here like right to the fuck now before some more of these fuckers emerge for round two...."

“I’m never opposed to a 'round two',” You nodded, looking pointedly at Tangerine and wiggling your eyebrows.

Lemon gives Tangerine a look that translates roughly to “What the fuck?” And Tangerine can’t help but laugh nervously, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. Something about you seemed off. You seemed way more open than usual, too open at that. Your eyes had a glazed look to them and your pupils were heavily dilated as you gazed at Tangerine.

“Yo, did they give you something, Peach? Some kind of drug?"

You pause and rub your forearm subconsciously, "Hmm... They may have injected me with something while I was out, now that I think about it...."

"So that's what’s got you all googly-eyed.”

“Nice detective work. You learned that from Thomas then, did ya, Lemon,” Tangerine asks dryly.

“Nah, from Kill Bill. Movie talks some shit about some truth serum called the The Undisputed Truth.”

You bit your lip and reflected proudly, “Well they didn't get much out of me! They kept asking questions about you two but didn’t quite appreciate my extensive insight on the likely size of Tangerine's d-"

"Okaaaay - I think that's enough now, Peach!" Lemon interrupted.

Tangerine just raised an eyebrow and gave you an amused, boyish grin. He seemed like he was enjoying this a bit too much.

"Alright, here's how it's gonna go: I'm going to grab the hard drive and you guys head back to the car. We'll meet back there."

"Oh, I won't be a bother, Lemon. I won't mention anything about Tangerine's appendages. Eyes? I can talk about eyes instead! Tangerine's eyes are the color of wild waves at sea and they compliment his suits quite nicely. You know what else his suits compliment? His a-"

"I think you're just proving the point, love,"' said Tangerine.

"Oh, alright," you relented, perhaps for the sake of Lemon's sanity. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else, and you can hardly blame him.

Lemon hesitated before heading down the hall of the warehouse, his gun at the ready in case he comes across any lingering guards.

Meanwhile, Tangerine took in the sight of you. Your cheeks were flushed on the account of speaking so quickly and your growing embarrassment due to those unfiltered thoughts of yours. He had never seen you look quite so angelic.

Tangerine noticed you were still holding his hand and found it was not an unwelcoming feeling.

"Come on, then," he murmured.

The two of you made your way through the twists and turns of the furniture warehouse. Tangerine led you through the bodies of guards he and Lemon took down with ease. It's quiet between the two of you, and you seemed quite lost in your thoughts.

As you two neared the car outside of the warehouse, Tangerine glanced down at you, noticing the contented hum escaping your lips. Despite the chaos that had just unfolded, there was a sense of tranquility in your demeanor that he finds oddly captivating.

"You seem awfully cheerful considering the circumstances," Tangerine remarked with a smirk, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

You glanced up at him, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "Well, what can I say? Being rescued by a devilishly handsome man such as yourself certainly brightened my day."

"You're too kind, Peach," Tangerine said, waving his hand dismissively.

You leaned against the car door and sighed, "But I'm serious, Tan. Sometimes, I wonder if you don't realize how truly beautiful you are. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Tangerine stills, head titling with curiosity, "You think I'm..." He swallows, "beautiful?"

You blush with slight embarrassment but continue nonetheless, "Well - yeah. I mean every time I look at you I feel like I'm looking at some kind of entrancing angel. You're so fucking captivating with those eyes of yours. And there's so many wonderful things about you. Like how you swear like an absolute sailor and yet some of the most delightful things I've ever heard have come out of your mouth. And your accent - my god! The things I've imagined you doing to me with that voice of yours..."

Something unrecognizable to you stirs up across Tangerine's face as he listens to you vehemently. He grips your arm, the graze of his fingertips causing you to shiver.

"You-You're so kind. And people don't see that. Only Lemon does. And me.... I can only imagine how lonely you must be. It's hard in this line of work, to make connections, to have true friends. But it doesn't matter... You make me feel safe - you feel like home. And at some point I think I realized that I-"

Your eyes water slightly, "I- oh, I didn't want you to find out this way."

You avoid his eyes, but he brings his hand to your face, delicately - as if you're made of glass. Tangerine pushes a strand of hair from your face.

Tangerine's touch is gentle, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek as he lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his own. "Peach... tell me."

His voice is soft, filled with a tenderness that melts away any remaining doubts or fears. In that moment, you feel as though you're the only two people in the world, cocooned in a bubble of intimacy and understanding.

"I-I love you," you whisper, your voice cracking as you try to cover your eyes.

His eyes widen and he stops your movement. Tangerine puts his hand around your neck. He looks at you as if you're the only person in the world.

"May I kiss you?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you nod, unable to trust your voice to respond. The intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you wait for his next move.

With a tender smile, Tangerine leans in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wish. But you find yourself leaning in too, drawn to him like a magnet, unable to resist the pull of his presence.

And then, his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels like coming home. It's gentle yet passionate, filled with all the unspoken emotions that have been building between you.

In that moment, everything else fades away – the danger, the uncertainty, the chaos of your world – leaving only the two of you, lost in each other's embrace.

As you deepen the kiss, the weight of your confession lifts off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and fulfillment that you've never known before.

And as you pull away, breathless and flushed, you meet Tangerine's gaze, finding nothing but love and acceptance reflected in his eyes.

"I love you too, Peach," he whispers, his voice low and hoarse. "More than you'll ever know."

You pull him by his tie with a smile. Your lips meet again and you murmur, "It's always been you. Only you."

He chases your lips ravenously, his tongue begging entry into your mouth.

As Tangerine's tongue explores the depths of your mouth, you find yourself surrendering completely to the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every caress, every kiss, ignites a fire within you, consuming you in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Your hands roam over his body, tracing the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you find yourself craving more of him – more of his touch, more of his love, more of everything that makes him who he is. And as Tangerine responds eagerly to your advances, you realize that he feels the same way too.

You hear the sound of approaching footsteps but are too dazed to notice.

"Oi! Not on my fucking car!" Lemon yells from afar.

Tangerine looks up briefly and growls, "Fuck your bloody car! I'll get you another one."

Caught in the heat of the moment, you and Tangerine are momentarily oblivious to the world around you. But as Lemon's voice pierces through the haze of passion, you both startle, pulling away from each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Tangerine's growl of defiance only serves to add to the tension in the air, his protective instincts kicking in even in the midst of desire.

Lemon approaches, his expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "I swear, you two are a bloody nightmare. Couldn't you find somewhere more private to get frisky?"

You straighten your clothes, feeling a flush of embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position. "Sorry, Lemon. We got carried away."

Tangerine shoots Lemon a defiant glare, his tone unapologetic. "Like I said, I'll get you another car. But right now, we've got more important things to worry about."

Lemon rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep it in your pants until we're back at the safe house, alright? We've still got a job to finish."

With a nod of agreement, you and Tangerine exchange a knowing glance, a silent promise passing between you. And as you climb into the car with Tangerine by our side, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for the adventures that await.

Thank you to these wonderful writers who inspired me to start writing fics - check these guys out for more Bullet Train fics!

@tangerinesgf @sebsbarnes @little-miss-dilf-lover @feralforfruit

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