#master kenobi

[rex-meshla]

SWTCW | S7.E4 Unfinished Business

— This has to be one of the most iconic scenes of TCW

[dinagastuff]

After the AOTC

[andorsdoll]

All Grown Up || DBF!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: Your father trusts Obi-Wan Kenobi—his oldest friend and confidant. A man bound by duty, by discipline, a man who should know better.

Word Count: 1k || Warnings: not rly smut(i wish) but nsfw; younger!reader, dad's bestfriend!obi wan, age gap, morally dubious i guess idfk

authors note: my first tumblr post! i had an epiphany the other day to start writing fanfiction. uhh, i am new to writing fanfiction especially for star wars so bare w me. er, i also would have made this smut but i currently have zero idea how to even begin with that.. but TRUST that once i can wrap my walnut brain around the concept/excecution of writing smut, it WILL happen (threat). last thing.. requests are open but like i said im NEW (yelling) so PLS... bare w me. thx everybody!! ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ || ao3: @andorsdoll 🩷

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Your father trusts Obi-Wan Kenobi more than anyone. He’s known him longer than he can remember—long enough that he never questions it when Obi-Wan’s hands linger at your waist a second too long or when his gaze darkens as he watches you across the room. Long enough that he doesn’t see the way Obi-Wan looks at you.

Like a man who’s been starving for years.

While its true that there are other factors at play, your father's trust is what keeps Obi-Wan in check— what keeps him standing in your bedroom doorway everytime he visits you, with his arms folded instead of on his knees infront of you with his hands clutching at your hips, his mouth trailing sinful, forbidden kisses against your skin.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

“You shouldn’t be here,” Obi-Wan says, but he doesn’t make you leave. He’s still in his travel-worn robes, still carrying the dust of another distant planet, another mission that kept him away too long. And yet, somehow, he smells like home—like smoke and spice and something achingly familiar.

Your father is asleep downstairs, trusting, unknowing. And you’re here, in Obi-Wan's room.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you say, stepping closer, your satin nightgown trailing behind you.

“I couldn’t.” His throat tries to work around the words, his jaw tight. His hands stay by his sides, itching, yearing, dying to touch you. “I shouldn’t be here at all.” He always says that. And yet, he's always here.

You lift a hand, pressing your palm to his chest, feeling the way his breath hitches just slightly and how he acts like it doesnt phase him, but when your fingers curl on the fabric of his tunic, just enough to make him exhale sharply through his nose.. he knows inside that its a lost cause.

“Then why are you?” you ask, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.

His restraint is exquisite—carved into every tense line of his body and every careful inhale. You can see it in his eyes, the battle in real-time between duty and desire. And then.. he finally loses.

His hand lifts, almost on instinct, to cradle your jaw. His thumb ghosts over your cheek with his calloused fingertips trembling.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His words sound like surrender. Like something he’s been holding back for so long that it tastes foreign on his tongue, that he cant even register if he actually said it outloud this time.

He’s spent years denying this. And maybe it should make you pause or hesitate. But it doesn’t because this moment with all its tension and need, the way his hands tremble as they hover near your skin—it’s familiar.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

You remember the first time you saw something different in his gaze.

It was your 19th birthday—nothing particularly grand, just a gathering at your father’s estate. You were still getting used to wearing dresses that fit a little differently, still adjusting to the way men were starting to look at you now.

And Obi-Wan had looked at you that night.

But not like the other boys who barely concealed their hunger and their corrupt intentions, staring at your legs and your pouty red lips like they were something to be won, conquered. No, Obi-Wan's gaze was something different, something dark, something restrained.

Later that night, when the festivities had died down, and the evening air had cooled, you found yourself on the veranda of your father's estate with Obi-Wan.

“You look…” He had trailed off, drink in hand, clearing his throat.

You had smiled, teasing. “All grown up?”

His gaze dropped to the curves of your body, to your cleavage, and to the way your dress clung in places it hadn't before. “Yes.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by his answer and the flicker of something forbidden in his expression. “Do you like that?”

And it was there, when he tried to think of an appropiate answer and the air was palpable, you had felt the weight of his restraint.

His jaw had clenched, a muscle feathering in his cheek. He hadn't answered but he hadn’t looked away either. He left shortly after, excusing himself before your father could notice. But that night you knew.

And it had stayed in your mind for years after.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

But now, standing in his room, Obi-Wan had finally admitted that you were all he thought of every waking second, the words barely a whisper as his forehead presses against yours. His hands are shaking, once again at his sides, like he’s one breath away from losing it completely. He had finally admitted that you were all he thought of every waking second.

With his breath hot against your lips,you say the words you shouldn’t: "Stop fighting it.” you whisper, pressing your body flush against his, feeling the way his breath shudders at the contact.

His restraint fractures.

And with that, he's on you with his mouth crushing against yours like the starved man he was, dying for this.

"I’ve tried—I swear I’ve tried—” he groans against your lips, his voice rough, desperate, pleading.

You silence him with another kiss, threading your fingers through his auburn hair tugging enough to make him groan again.

You gasp and his hands find your waist, dragging you even closer, pulling you in against his chest as it rises and falls in ragged uneven breaths

“Don’t stop,” your soft sultry words pierce through him and then he snaps.

He lifts you effortlessly, like you weigh nothing, pinning you against the nearest wall, his mouth hungry: kissing, bruising, sucking, claiming you like he’s waited his whole fucking life for this.

His hands grip your thighs, your hips, your waist—possessive, frantic, like he’s memorizing the feel of you to burn into his mind for the rest of time.

“Say it,” he demands against your neck, his breath ragged, his teeth just barely scraping against your skin.

“Say what?” you tease him like you always do, even now, breathless and euphorically dizzy from the way his hands are everywhere, the way his body cages yours, his leg seperating your legs, his thigh resting underneath your core, sending hot traces all throughout your body.

His grip tightens. “Say you’re mine, darling"

You shiver—because fuck, you are. You always have been.

“Yours,” you whisper.

[qo-promise-me]

General Kenobi

[beingafangirlrocks]

I think we, as a fandom, moved on way too quickly from that one episode of the clone war where Obi-Wan and Anakin have to rescue Luminara under Geonosis, and Obi-Wan is like "Wait, let's press pause on the rescue, I want to see how they plan on turning her into a zombie 😀 " while she is RIGHT THERE

[thegreatwicked]

Padawan

Padawan

May I proudly present....! My first reader insert, I wrote this for all you lovelies who follow/like/reblog/comment on my stuff. This is for you! Obi-Wan/You/Reader Insert. Master/Padawan, SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. That is all. Or is it? Should I write more???

Summary: After disappearing from your Master for thirteen years, the Clone Wars has brought you back to the same planet and a brush with death back into each other's lives. But you’re not his Padawan anymore, you’re a knight, right? No, you’ll always be his Padawan, and he, your Master.

~~~

He wasn't a fool; he had sensed your presence the moment you set foot on the planet, like a blinding light or the ring of a bell only he could hear. Of course, he could feel you—how could he not? At least, he could feel you for a while, long enough for him to be certain that he didn’t imagine it in a post-battle haze. You were here.

The first time your force signature vanished, his heart skipped a beat, and a cold rush of panic coursed through his veins and a horrible cold weight settled in his stomach, making him feel like he may be sick. Determined and distracted, he abandoned his conversation in a mad sprint. Searching. He tracked down anyone who had been alongside you on the battlefield, questioning them relentlessly, not caring how he came off as slightly unhinged as opposed to his normal calm and stoic manner, but each inquiry was met with disappointment and vacant glances. 

It wasn't until he caught sight of the familiar sight of a blue and white lekku of Ahsoka that a glimmer of hope ignited within him, brighter than any lightsaber. Ahsoka, Anakin’s padawan. She was seemingly unaffected and greeted him with a smile as though she were seeing a dear friend or distant relative, and that in itself was calming. If Ahsoka wasn't distressed, it meant one of two things: either she hadn't heard of your demise, or, more optimistically, you were still alive.

A wave of relief washed over Obi-Wan as Ahsoka confirmed that you were indeed unharmed and engaged in another mission, your paths had briefly crossed long enough for friendly banter involving drinks later. You were not only alive but also hailed as a hero. Your proficiency with the light your orange, lightsaber had garnered admiration, and the news of your success spread across the battlefield.

As he processed this new information, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the questions that haunted him since the day you disappeared, thirteen years ago. What happened? Where had you been? Why had you left without a word? 

Had he been too strict, too distant? He paced in his quarters, the weight of uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. Thirteen years of silence, and now he learned you were not only alive but thriving in the chaos of war. Had he been oblivious to your struggles and triumphs as a padawan? Had he overlooked something crucial?

His distress and confusion fueled his determination to find you, to understand the reasons behind your disappearance. The bond between Padawan and Master was meant to endure, but his had been severed without warning or explanation. The quest for answers became a relentless pursuit, driven by a mix of concern, guilt, and an unyielding desire to reconnect with the one he had lost.

Ilum's gift had bestowed upon you a most unique kyber crystal, weaving the essence of the Force into your arsenal—a radiant burnt orange lightsaber. Obi-Wan swelled with pride, recognizing that your exceptional skills not only ensured your safety but also turned the tide amid battle.

Sharing the tale with Ahsoka, Obi-Wan recounted the moments of uncertainty, the fear that gripped him when the disturbance in the Force signaled potential danger. Ahsoka responded with a knowing smile and a playful eye roll, acknowledging your tendency to dive headfirst into peril and emerge victorious as if it was the only possible outcome. Relief washed over Obi-Wan, mirrored by a grateful grin exchanged with Ahsoka, reassured that you navigated the challenges in your own distinctive way.

“She’s gotten quite good at cloaking, hasn’t she?” And with those words, all his nervous energy fell away.

The reality settled, Obi-Wan marveled at the intricacy of your Force signature concealment. Your mastery of the technique was so impeccable that it eluded even his well-honed Jedi senses. In moments of deep meditation, he attempted to reach out, seeking the familiar touch of your intangible presence, only to encounter a mysterious void. Your cloak, flawlessly executed, had transformed you into a Ghost—a moniker that, suddenly, filled him with pride for your evolving abilities.

Days melted into an endless procession of battles, the smoke of war shrouding the fates of those who entered its domain. Unable to locate you through the Force, Obi-Wan sought solace in updates from Ahsoka and the soldiers who served under your command, the Echo Squadron they were called. 'The Ghost,' a symbol of your evasive prowess, deepened his admiration for the padawan who had become an elusive figure amid the chaos of war.

Despite the promising news, Obi-Wan Kenobi's frustration deepened. Thirteen years had passed since he last saw you, his once-promising Padawan and the silence surrounding your disappearance gnawed at him. Pacing his quarters, he questioned the events that had led to this point. You had excelled in your Jedi trials, proving yourself worthy of knighthood, and yet, without a word, you vanished from his life.

The lack of closure weighed heavily on him. Had he failed you as a master? The memories of your training together, the countless missions you undertook side by side, haunted him. Had he missed something? Obi-Wan couldn't fathom why you chose to sever ties so abruptly and so completely. The bond between a Padawan and a master was meant to transcend time and distance even the Force itself.

His mind danced through potential reasons. Perhaps he had been too stern, too demanding, but he couldn't recall any unresolved conflicts or bitter disagreements. It fueled his restless pacing, so much he thought he might wear a hole in the floor. The war had claimed many, and the unpredictability of life in those times made such disappearances common. Yet, the absence of a farewell, a simple goodbye, perplexed him.

Obi-Wan stopped, staring at the transmission device on his desk. He contemplated reaching out through the Force, attempting to sense your presence, but a lingering doubt held him back. If you wished to remain hidden, he knew the Force would not easily reveal your location.

With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that he needed answers. The Jedi Master reluctantly accepted that, without your cooperation, he might never unravel the mystery of your departure. The internal conflict played across his features as he grappled with the uncertainty, the pain of an unanswered question tugging at his Jedi calm. ~~~

 Obi-Wan flickered back into his senses, and he’d had enough, your Force signature, elusive and soft, presented a challenge to pinpoint. Yet, now seemed as opportune a moment as any to seek you out. He anticipated that the moment he reached out, you would sense it, and the possibility lingered that you might vanish as swiftly as you'd appeared. Despite the odds, he had to try.

For days, throughout his search, panic clawed at him as your signature exhibited erratic behavior—flickering, softening, going dim and occasionally blazing intensely. Unsettled, he worried about your well-being. Had something happened with your men or yourself? When news of Echo Squadron’s return came across his com, he decided on a more direct approach. The uncertainty fueled his urgency as he raced through the compound's halls, drawing closer to potential answers.

The revelations unfolded when the heavy blast doors swung open, and a chill gripped Obi-Wan's heart revealing a fractured company of clone troopers stumbling in, wearied from the throes of war.

Amidst the chaos, Obi-Wan's voice cut through the clamor, a determined command in battle's aftermath. 

"You! Where is your Commander?" he bellowed to the nearest trooper. The man, a walking testament to the horrors he'd witnessed, appeared as if he had traversed through realms of death and fire. His gaze held the weight of someone who had glimpsed into the abyss, far beyond the immediate surroundings.

Obi-Wan called to the trooper, attempting to shake him from his trance, but it was evident that shock had claimed the soldier, rendering him useless for any immediate assistance. A surge of frustration gripped Obi-Wan, that familiar icy sensation taking root within him, he could stand it no more. 

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of combat. Heads turned in response, and a battle-worn trooper, fatigue etched on his face, stepped forward.

"General Kenobi," the trooper addressed him with a weary acknowledgment, capturing Obi-Wan's attention. With practiced discipline, the trooper began to relay the grim news that had been haunting his thoughts.

A surprise attack, swift and ruthless, caught the entire company off guard, unleashing chaos and claiming numerous lives. Amidst the chaos, your unwavering courage emerged as the linchpin that prevented even greater losses. The trooper, his voice tinged with awe, spoke your name with a reverence that echoed through the hushed murmurs of your fellow soldiers. Their expressions carried profound respect, acknowledging the pivotal role you played in turning the tide of the ambush.

The trooper went on to reveal a tale of resilience and determination. The men who managed to return from the battleground owed their lives to you. Your strategic prowess, coupled with an indomitable will, had become the catalyst for the survival of those under your command. The atmosphere grew heavy with gratitude and admiration as the trooper unfolded the narrative, and the unspoken bond between soldiers resonated with the unyielding spirit that defined your leadership.

“Injured?” Obi-wan breathed not wanting to believe it, “How badly?”

The trooper wore a solemn look before explaining; three. You had been hit by three blaster bolts and thrown back in an explosion that you had only barely managed to contain with your force shield, Obi-wan felt as though the breath had been punched out of his lungs. Murmurs of agreement sounded with troopers calling you a hero, and they would go into battle with you any day. 

The trooper initiated the playback of the security holo, and the room was enveloped in the eerie glow of the holographic display. The flickering images revealed a chaotic battlefield, where your orange lightsaber danced in a brilliant display of skill, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting through the air. The scene, however, took a grim turn as the explosion unfolded.

The trooper's narration painted a vivid picture of your unwavering determination. Your face, illuminated by the glow of the lightsaber, displayed a fierce concentration as you called upon the Force. The protective barrier you conjured was a testament to the immense power you harnessed. Smoke, flames, and debris relentlessly assaulted the shield, crashing against it with an intensity that seemed insurmountable.

As the holographic depiction continued, the strain on your shield became evident. Each impact pushed you back, a slow and relentless retreat under the overwhelming assault. The trooper's commentary reflected the increasing tension in the room, capturing the collective breaths held by those witnessing the event. Finally, with a heart-wrenching collapse, the protective barrier gave way, and your motionless form was violently thrown backward by the force of the explosion, resembling a discarded puppet.

The disturbing imagery etched itself into the minds of those present, leaving a haunting impression of the sacrifice you had made for your comrades. The room fell silent as the holographic display faded, and the gravity of the moment lingered in the air.

“Where is she?” Obi-Wan’s voice a hoarse whisper.

The troopers exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions shifting from a state of surprise to one of guarded curiosity. Why did General Kenobi, the renowned Jedi leader, express such concern about the whereabouts of a single Jedi, especially one who hadn't reported directly to him? The very nature of Jedi loyalty was well-known, but this level of interest seemed unusual, especially considering General Kenobi had never spoken your name and had no prior connection with your company.

In the austere world of warrior monks, emotional attachments were often deemed a distraction, a sentiment echoed by the Jedi Code. The troopers, accustomed to the stoic and disciplined demeanor of their Jedi commanders, found it perplexing that General Kenobi, known for his wisdom and strategic brilliance, was showing a level of personal investment that transcended the typical chain of command.

As the trooper spoke, the realization hit Obi-Wan like a sudden gust of cold wind. The men, once indifferent, now wore expressions of awe and respect. He had been the mentor to their leader, the padawan of the legendary General Kenobi, and none of them had been aware. It was a revelation that changed the dynamics within the group.

“I apologize, General Kenobi, we didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan's confusion deepened. How was it possible that you had never spoken of your training under him? He couldn't fathom why you would erase any mention of your master, especially considering the strong bonds that typically formed between Jedi and their mentors.

“What do you mean? Has she never spoken of it?”

The trooper shook his head solemnly. His name had never left your lips. There was no connection with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and your silence regarding your master left him perplexed and troubled. What had transpired to make you erase the very existence of your training and relationship with him from your history? It was a mystery that left him with an unsettling sense of guilt and regret.

Dread settled over Obi-Wan as the clone recounted the events in the medical wing. The last remnants of the company had made it back, battered and bruised, their fallen comrades in tow. However, you were conspicuously absent, having been transported to the medical wing for intensive care due to the injuries you sustained. Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan set his sights on the medical facilities.

In his urgency to find you, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the bustling corridors, barely sparing a glance for those he unintentionally bumped into. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical machinery. The chaos within the medical wing mirrored the turmoil in Obi-Wan's mind as he scanned the rows of occupied beds and the busy healers tending to the wounded.

He sought your name among the patients but found no trace. Panic tightened its grip on him, as each unoccupied bed intensified his worry. In the organized chaos, Obi-Wan grappled with the fear that he might be too late, that he had lost you in the vast sea of casualties.

"She’s alright. She was moved out of intensive treatment yesterday; she’s recuperating in private quarters on deck five."

Obi-wan's tension eased at Ahsoka's reassurance. The weight that had settled on his shoulders lifted as he absorbed the news. Ahsoka's brief but impactful update became a lifeline, giving him direction in the chaos. Gratitude filled his eyes as he nodded, silently expressing his thanks. The urgency to find you intensified, but now armed with information, he promptly set off towards the turbo-lift, leaving Ahsoka with the unspoken promise that he would find you.

Inside the lift, the monotonous hum did little to alleviate his restlessness, in fact, it made them worse. The usually swift elevators felt unusually slow on this particular day, and he entertained the thought that taking the stairs might have been a faster option. As he impatiently waited unconsciously tapping his boot, the seconds felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened on the desired floor, he bolted out, the urgency in his steps reflecting as he raced down the corridor. This was the most cardio he’d had in days. His eyes darted around erratically, scanning the room names, and he eventually found yours. 

Adorned next to the door like a beacon, and with a mix of hope and trepidation, he pressed the call button, but only silence answered back. He pushed it again. Then again. And each time the ominous silence was his only response. Mad with anxiety he pushed to override the security lock, a move usually foreign to his respectful nature. 

The door slid open, and his heart stilled, there you were on a sofa bathed in daylight from the small window close to the ceiling. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting; his heart remained uneasy and it would until he saw some indication that you were truly alive. Striding purposefully, he crossed the room, the force signature around you echoing your weakened condition like a medical monitoring device would communicate a pulse or heartbeat.

The aftermath of battle left its gritty mark across your features—bacta patches firmly affixed your shoulder and upper arm worked to make you whole though the tendrils of bruising could be seen around the borders. The marks on your skin were like a gritty painting, telling the vivid story of explosions, blaster fire, and flying debris. Scratches added rough brushstrokes to your face, tracing the chaotic path of the battlefield. Minor burns left fiery imprints on your neck, marking close encounters with searing heat. Bruises, like somber echoes, formed a mosaic on your arms and hands, narrating the intense dance with projectile-like debris. 

Despite this, you lay in peaceful repose on your side, facing him, eyes closed in sleep; an elusive serenity amidst the chaos of war. Your head was cradled in your arms, one leg casually folded beneath you while the other stretched out, a blanket loosely entwined around your legs and gathered at your waist. As he crouched down to study you, he sought the familiar essence of the padawan he remembered. The passing of thirteen years had left its mark in the longer strands of hair and the refined, soft features that shaped you into a woman, a stark departure from the Padawan he once guided. No longer bound by the apprentice title, you had evolved into a Jedi Knight—a seasoned warrior.

A close call with death, all for the sake of your men who deeply admired you, almost snuffed out your light. But, your command and growing mastery of the Force made him prouder than ever at that moment.

A subtle shift in your sleep saw a strand of your hair falling gently over your face, just over your nose each little breath lifting it slightly, It brought a smile to his face, and for the first time in days, he felt a sense of tranquility, his pulse calming in the warmth of that precious moment. The chaos of the war outside felt distant within the confines of the cozy room.

Unbeknownst to him, his hand had instinctively reached out, delicately brushing the strand of hair away from your face, inadvertently prompting you to stir in your sleep, accompanied by a soft, sleepy groan.

Wakefulness pulled you from the warm embrace of sleep and instinctively you stretched, a grimace of pain crossed your lips as you moved, prompting you to recoil slightly into a ball once more. Then your eyelashes fluttered open gradually met by crystal blue eyes, quickly filling with a storm of fatigue, confusion, and curiosity. 

"Hello, young one," he uttered, his voice a gentle murmur rich with affection, and his smile extended to the corners of his eyes, creating subtle crinkles.

"Obi-Wan?" 

"Yes, it's Obi-Wan."

Was this a dream? It didn't feel like one. You scanned the room, casting a questioning glance at your surroundings and the unfolding reality. Your expression wasn't one of pleasure upon seeing him; instead, it bore confusion and distance, as if you were looking at a stranger. He couldn't ignore the palpable sense of disconnect. Hoping for a misunderstanding, that perhaps you had maintained secrecy for a mission, he observed the passing seconds, realizing it wasn't as simple as that.

"What day is it?" 

Not the question he had expected, but he was so relieved to hear your voice, that it didn’t matter.

"Primday. You've been in medical for two days, released from the intensive treatment wing just yesterday."

Thirteen years melted away, and those familiar, brilliant blue eyes, so kind and warm. Nostalgia washed over you, and you couldn't deny the yearning for the comforting presence of your former master. 

However, as the waves of reminiscence subsided, the reality you'd been avoiding for thirteen years resurfaced. Obi-Wan's knowledge about your condition, coupled with his intense worry, unsettled you, you had to get away from him. Sitting up was a struggle, and as you finally managed to rise, the blanket slipped away, laying bare the toll of battle on your body—a sight that triggered anger, and concern in Obi-Wan's eyes.

A large portion of your left thigh was concealed beneath a sizable bacta patch, and the same superficial injuries that littered the rest of your body continued, it seemed no part of you had been spared, your less-than-optimal state caught him off guard. 

“You should be in a bacta tank! They released you like this?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted, the worry etched on his face evident. “Come, I’m taking you back to the medical wing.”

“Absolutely not!” Your bold assertion caught him off guard and he stopped, there had only been a handful of times where you had defied your master. You adjusted your tone to a more calm and measured cadence before adding, “The bacta tanks are at capacity, and there are far more injured than I. –I’m fine. Just scratches.”

He blinked rapidly, his concern escalating. “Scratches? These are NOT scratches.” Oblivious to your state of undress, he gestured to your leg. “You were nearly killed! I saw the holo myself!”

Feeling the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, you searched for any excuse to put more space between you and your master. Ignoring his pleas for you to stay put, you tried to stand again, driven by your stubborn nature. It wasn't until Obi-Wan physically stepped in, restraining you, that you finally came to a stop.

“You can't go back like this,” he insisted, “You're in terrible shape, you need time to recover.”

You made a final attempt to push past him, but Obi-Wan wasn't having it. A firm but considerate hand on your chest gently pushed you back, and a wave of discomfort washed over you as the dull throb of your muscles crying out caught up with your exertions. Glancing to the side table, he spotted a hypo syringe, and without hesitation, he reached for it, eager to bring an end to your pain. However, you extended your hand and vehemently shook your head, intensifying his disbelief as you refused pain medication despite the evident discomfort you were in.

“I don’t need it,” you insisted, defiantly rejecting any relief for your pain. Obi-Wan couldn't fathom your refusal, considering the severity of your injuries.

“You were hit by three blaster bolts and blown up, and you refuse pain medicine?” His voice rose unintentionally, a mix of concern and frustration evident. He shook his head in disbelief, disappointed by your seemingly stubborn choices. He set the syringe down and rose turning away from you, hands on his hips trying to make sense of you but you’d never made it easy on him.

“And you expected to make it down the hall, into the turbo life through the halls, and into the squad bay like this?” He gestured vaguely to you and huffed out a breath The internal conflict of caring for someone who refused care etched across his face and he shut his eyes in exasperation. “What am I to do with you?”

The room settled into a calm stillness, and he could feel the Force flowing gently, like a quiet river moving past him. Eager to offer support, he laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, connecting his own Force presence with yours. A tranquil hush filled the space as you both embraced the ancient practice, seeking solace for the aches and pains that lingered.

The room filled with the soothing hum of the Force, a brief moment of relief washing over you like waves tickling at your toes, easing the discomfort. The pain began to melt away, replaced by a comforting warmth. Yet, as soon as you felt his added touch, your eyes snapped open, and you jerked back abruptly cutting off both the Force connection and the physical contact. It was as if you pulled back as if the sensation burned you. Confusion widened his eyes, hurt creasing his handsome features. He lowered his head into his hands, his voice tinged with a tremor of pain as he grappled with the mystery of your sudden distance and coldness toward him.

"What have I done to you?" 

His eyes closed in unbearable agony, and his head bowed forward, hair cascading over his face. 

"How have I wronged you? In what way did I hurt you so profoundly that my own padawan refrains from uttering my name to her company, or anyone else? That she remains a secret, that no one knows she was mine?" 

His?

An ocean of hurt filled those beautiful blue eyes as he looked up, and for the first time, he saw you gaze back at him and actually see him.

"Nothing, you did nothing. Obi-Wan I–" 

Shaking your head, you reached out to him, but this time it was he who recoiled, taking several steps back, attempting to regain control over his faltering composure. Pain welled up within you, the knowledge that you tried to follow what you believed was right, what you were taught was right, and still it had caused harm.

"I must have done something to you for you to treat me this way." His voice carried a hint of indignation now. "Was I too harsh? Unjust? A cruel master? What did I do to make you harbor such hatred towards me?" Hate? 

No, no, no. This was all wrong. What had you done?

"I don't hate you," You pleaded, your voice carrying the weight of regret. "I could never hate you, Obi-Wan."

"Oh? What else am I left to believe? One moment I'm watching you being knighted, the youngest of your clan, my heart swelling with pride at knowing the galaxy will never see another Jedi like you. And the next, you're just gone! No goodbye, no farewells, no communications, nothing. As if the years I trained you were of no consequence, as if the bond that follows a Padawan and Master throughout life meant nothing."

Your heart hurt, and you weren't sure which was more painful: the idea that he thought he had wronged you so much that you hated him, or the realization that you had hurt him and continued to do so.

"That's not what it was." 

Your voice was meek, and you struggled to explain but it felt useless, the damage had ben done, by your hand. You had hoped to avoid this conversation, knowing there was only one inevitable outcome: the loss of your relationship with your master, forever. Yet fate seemed determined to unfold it now.

“Then what? What, padawan?”

As he closed the distance between you, your internal turmoil heightened. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself, a feeble attempt to shield not just your body but the vulnerability you felt at that moment. 

"Please, don't call me that."

You sank into the protection of the blanket, avoiding the term that carried memories of a time when things were simpler, a time you desperately wanted to distance yourself from. The weight of the past lingered in the air, leaving you exposed and uncertain about the path this conversation would take.

He seemed both confused and offended now. How could such an important name hold such bitterness for you?

“Padawan,” You flinched at hearing him speak the word in what felt like spite, each syllable caressed by his thick Coruscatnti accent.

“Look at me, padawan.” His commanding presence made it difficult to resist, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, you just couldn’t. The last threads of resistance faded when he spoke as he had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Master’s command,” 

Of course, you would. You always would when he called, as instinctive a reaction to you as breathing. Painfully slowly, you looked up eyes still fighting it the whole time hoping he would understand without any further explanation, but stubbornness and snark was something the Great Negotiator was famed for, and he would not be denied any longer. 

As your eyes locked with his, an unexpected vulnerability washed over you, and you felt more naked than you were. It had been more than a decade since you looked into those eyes, yet the magnetic pull was just as potent now as it had been thirteen years ago. You subtly shook your head, silently pleading.

As the seconds passed, realization dawned on him. Your face, colored by shades of shame and embarrassment, betrayed the unspoken truths. The hand reaching up to your temple was the final revelation, leaving you with nothing to do but let him see.

In the jumble of thoughts racing through your interconnected minds, fragments of him surged to the forefront. His deep blue eyes, the warmth of his smile, the soft touch of his hands—all tangled memories, causing a storm within. He saw the moment you grappled with the painful truth: the man you desired could never be truly yours, shackled by the rigid Jedi code and Obi-Wan's unwavering commitment. Faced with this agony, disappearing into the void seemed like the only refuge, a self-imposed exile to shield both of you from inevitable heartache. So, when you had heard Master Yoda speaking of a mission on the other side of the galaxy, you seized the opportunity. Leaving right away? Perfect. Despite hating the choice, it felt like the only way. You’d have done anything to protect him from yourself. 

He understood now, that whenever he uttered "Padawan" the word brought you pain because it was as close as you could ever be. The pain reverberated, and he, peering into your thoughts, could sense it all. As he withdrew, his eyes conveyed not disappointment but a poignant sadness, leaving a lingering ache that cut deeper than any vibroblade could.

The emptiness he left in your thoughts was unbearable. Your head sank into your hands as you whispered apologies—apologies for keeping secrets, for causing him pain, for leaving him, for unintentionally making him believe you were angry or had betrayed him with these unspoken thoughts. The weight of it all overwhelmed you, and grief started to take hold.

"You ran away, for my benefit?" the weight of his words hung heavily in the air. 

With a single nod, you admitted the harsh truth. And what good did it do? The heartbreak you'd been dodging finally caught up with you, but you’d given it one hell of a run.

You could hear him taking a cautious step back as if you were a dangerous threat to him, but then again, weren’t you? The impending void that would stretch between you two loomed now, and it would stretch for far longer than the span of a few years. This was exactly what you'd hoped to avoid—the door opening, him walking away, and leaving behind an emptiness that nothing could fill.

In the aftermath, you'd head back to your company, join your men, skillfully avoid their questions, and bury the sound of his name so deep it might never resurface. No more uttering it, not even in the quiet corners of your mind. The once-warm memories of your kind master guiding you in the Jedi ways would become bittersweet relics, stained by your own choices.

A profound hopelessness settled in as you rested your head against your hands, hair falling like a curtain. You braced for the tears, waiting for the sound of the doors to open and close one final time before you’d let them fall, shutting your eyes tightly to keep them in. Any second now.

However, the doors remained sealed, he was still there. Was he about to scold you? To make you feel more the foolish girl who should have had better control over her stupid emotions? Guess every wound needed a little salt, though, didn’t it? The situation seemed to only get worse and you found yourself wishing that the blast you struggled to hold back might have killed you instead, that you might be spared this pain.

His voice was almost a whisper, prompting you to glance up. "You don’t hate me?"

You shook your head vigorously, "How could I?"

Was there a chance to salvage this? In any way? You struggled to get back on your feet, your movements thwarted by a shooting persistent pain that would sooner see you fail in your attempt to reach him. And stumble you did, barely managing a few steps before you failed, but your master was right there, catching you before you could hit the ground. With his support, you managed to stand, though he still towered over you. His arm wrapped around you, a reassurance that you were safe. This shouldn't be happening, and he should have left, but he stayed. Why? Would this be it? It had to be. 

Giving in to a momentary desire, you let yourself enjoy a small gesture—your fingers slipping through the back of his neck, remembering the softness of his hair. It was shorter now, and although it suited him, you couldn't help but miss the longer locks that used to invite such thoughts.

“What am I to do with you, padawan?”

His choice of words sent a shiver down your spine, but not in the way it used to. There was a strange undertone in his voice, something you hadn't heard before. You had no answers to his question, but it seemed like responses didn't much matter to him. Then, out of the blue, he stooped down and picked you up in his arms, something you'd only dared dream about.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking you to bed, where I can take you properly." 

You froze. What did he say? Could he really mean what you thought he did? There had to be some misunderstanding. Your love-struck brain must be playing tricks on you. Your master wouldn't actually give in to those desires, right? Your blood raced, your heart thundered and your skin tingled as he effortlessly carried you, making your weight seem inconsequential.

The bed, though not exceptionally soft, transformed into the most comforting spot in the galaxy as he tenderly placed you upon it. Kneeling beside you the mattress dipping to accommodate him as well, he cradled your face in his hands, prompting a shaky "Wha-?" from your trembling voice.

"Stubborn girl," his words hung in the air, accompanied by that unforgettable tone, yes, it was slightly critical but there was something else to it. "You're not leaving this bed until you're fully recovered. Understand, Padawan?" Confusion swirled in your mind at hearing his command, but you managed a small nod. "You will obey your master's commands, won't you?" The authoritative tone was unfamiliar, prompting another slow nod from you. "Say it."

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl," he affirmed, drawing closer, and his lips met yours in an unexpectedly ferocious kiss. 

His mouth quickly took control of yours, leaving no room for confusion about what his intentions were when he said ‘take you properly’. It felt like a tempest, threatening to engulf you, carrying you to the darkest depths but after thirteen years of wanting, and needing, the storm could do as it wanted, if he was the storm.

He smelled like blaster fire, adrenaline, smoke, and lightning—the aftermath of the battlefield sticking to him. Mingling with his scent, like the promise of rain, held traces of incense, taking you back to moments meditating in temples and deserts during your years of travel together. It was a smell that whispered safety and felt like home, a unique cologne you'd spend countless credits on. Something you wanted to drown in.

In countless dreams, you'd imagined moments where your master sought you out after hard battles, dangerous missions, or late at night, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. You dreamed of clandestine rendezvous with his hand covering your mouth urging you to be quiet. 

Now, it wasn't just a fantasy; it was real. His lips moving against yours, licking at your lips, sucking on the tip of your own tongue, fueled by hunger as intense as that of a starving man, confirmed the reality of the moment.

During your trials, he had worn his beard and mustache, and it had long sparked your carnal curiosity about the sensations they might bring – a persistent tickle or a pleasurable burn? It turned out to be both, exquisitely and painfully so, surpassing the allure of any narcotic. The intensity of his mouth against yours was relentless, lips brushing yours before his tongue entered the equation. It delved into your mouth, leaving your usually sharp mind in a state of struggle, accompanied by shaky moans. Yet, none of it mattered. The moment he pressed himself between your legs, seizing the hem of your shirt, all rational thought vanished. Your hungry mind could only process the overwhelming realization that your master was kissing you, his tongue licking at your mouth, and he was pawing at you, undressing you like your clothes were an unforgivable offense. 

His hands, leaving trails of smoldering embers, intensified the moment, but the euphoria came at a cost. When you moved to discard your shirt, a sharp pain shot through your shoulder, stealing a cry from your lips. Clutching your wound, you fought back the urge to cry.

The sudden sound shattered the enchantment, and his eyes snapped open. He pulled away abruptly, looking as if he were shocked to find himself in this situation with you. Clarity returned to his gaze, and a heavy feeling settled in your stomach as he stepped back, his features clouded with alarm, shaking his head.

"No, we can't," he uttered, releasing you abruptly. In an instant, it was over. A desperate breath escaped you as you reached out, but he vanished.

The urge to scream, cry, or tear down the walls clawed at you, but none of it could change what had just happened. Flopping back on the bed, your shoulder met the mattress with a wince. Anger pulsed through your core, fueled by both the recovering blaster wound and the missed opportunity.

He'd kissed you, and touched you, and just when the promise of something more seemed within reach, it slipped away, leaving a bitter taste of disappointment. The thought of his bare skin against yours, a tantalizing dream, now felt elusive. Despair settled in, but the sudden sound of hurried steps shattered the silence—Obi-Wan's unexpected return.

Before you could fully rise, he gently pressed you back down, his body covering you. His lips sought yours again in a softer, slower kiss, dispelling confusion but introducing a new layer of uncertainty.

He hadn’t left. "Master?" You could barely get the word out before his lips crashed into yours again, a hungry, intense kiss that made you forget about everything—the sudden exit, the unexplained return—all vanished in the heat of the moment. A sharp sting in your arm brought you back, and you pulled away with a surprised 'Ow!' Glancing down, you noticed the hypo-syringe in his hand and the red mark on your arm. "Wha-?"

He came back for another kiss, a hungry and urgent embrace that left you breathless. His tongue teased at your lips, an intrusion you found hard to be angry about. During this heated exchange, he murmured, "I'm sorry," between breathless kisses, his hand entangled in your hair, adding an electrifying thrill to the encounter.

His voice, heavy with sincerity and restraint, trailed down your neck as he continued the assault of hungry kisses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” The tingling sensation from the hypo spread through your body, replacing pain with a welcomed numbness. Now his words made sense – he had injected you with an anesthetic, he wasn’t going anywhere.

"But being gentle is not an option right now," he confessed against your skin, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "And I can't wait any longer."

And neither could you.

His presence enveloped you, a promise to soothe the ache that had haunted you. Rational thoughts and hesitations melted in the passionate exchange, leaving behind an urgent desire for his tongue to dance with yours, to savor the taste of you.

The pain became a distant murmur, overshadowed by the seductive cadence of his armor shedding away. The unmistakable sound of metal parts cascading to the floor filled the air, a harmonious unveiling that played like a haunting melody, laced with the promise of imminent closeness. Each metallic clink and rustle, orchestrated with practiced finesse, blended seamlessly with the mounting heat, composing a sensual symphony that underscored the unfolding intimacy.

"Padawan-” He sounded so full of need. “Have you waited this whole time to touch me, only to just lay there?"

No, you hadn't. Your senses snapped back into focus, and the relentless ache demanded action. Rising up with fiery determination, you seized his lip between your teeth, fingers tangled in his tousled locks. Leg wrapped around his waist, you provocatively thrust your hips into his, stirring a primal hunger. A low, appreciative groan escaped him, and the remaining shreds of restraint evaporated in the scorching intensity of the moment.

“Very good, padawan,” he whispered between searing kisses "Now, tell me what you want. Tell me every craving, every ache you've hidden from your master."

The legendary negotiator, renowned for his poise, eloquence, grace, and dignity in the heat of battle or the midst of a debate, was always portrayed as a polished and composed figure. However, the General Kenobi before you was a stark departure from that image—a persona that sensually grazed your neck with his lips, tenderly explored the curves of your breasts with his hands and moved his hips in a rhythm that ignited an intense passion. This wasn't just the great negotiator; it was the manifestation of a double life—a formidable lover hidden beneath the veneer of a respected leader.

His shorter locks proved to be the perfect handhold, their soft strands entwining with your fingers. The subtle roughness of his beard intensified the already electric atmosphere, adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. 

In the fiery dance of passion and longing, he'd always preached the power of actions over words. Guided by that intimate lesson, you eagerly set out to unravel the layers of his robes, with a gentle push, he rose back up to stand while you sat on the bed, your hands moving with a fervor fueled by desire. The belt surrendered first, dropping to the ground with a soft thud, the lightsaber noticeably absent, carefully stowed away. Urgently, the ties of his loose robe followed suit in the passionate race to undress him. The linen shirt glided away from his broad shoulders, gracefully descending to the floor, revealing the lush expanse of his bare chest. With unwavering determination, you committed every inch of your master's body to the canvas of your memory, each touch a sensual exploration of his lean, muscled skin, a sensory feast that ignited the flames of desire.

"This." 

Your fingers traced the shape of his already hard length beneath the fabric of his trousers, coaxing a low moan from Obi-Wan against your neck. "Master, I want this." A firm squeeze elicited a shudder, coursing through him as you continued to tease through his clothing. "I want it in my mouth." His breath hitched, and his hips responded eagerly. Slowly untying the laces of his trousers, your hand slipped inside, embracing his him. The guttural groan that escaped him sent warmth rippling through your body. "Between my legs."

Your master's throbbing cock pulsed in your hands, radiating heat against your skin—hard and demanding. Each stroke elicited untamed pleasure, breaking through the disciplined walls the Jedi Order had meticulously built over the decades. The symphony of his responses played out in sensual notes: the quivers across his skin, the ragged gasps, and the vulnerable moans, all orchestrated by your skilled touch. Hypnotized by the power you held over him, you savored every moment, captivated by the way his body reacted to your every movement. How his hips surged forward in a hungry plea as your hand teased and retreated, and then faltered when you squeezed him with deliberate, unhurried strokes. An irresistible urge surged within you, a yearning to fulfill the fantasies that had simmered within your soul for a decade.

“Master, your padawan wants your cock.” 

His hips faltered again at the sheer filth that you spoke of, the way your voice caressed such dirty thoughts, he twitched in your hand and you tried not to moan. Like a siren call you began to dip your head forward, desperate to satisfy the curiosity of how he tasted, your goal so close, a breath away from your lips when it was cruelly ripped away from you. His hand wrapped gently but assertively around your throat giving the softest squeeze that prompted you to rub your thighs together to still the full body shudder. 

“My padawan will learn patience. I asked you to tell me your thoughts, not to carry them out.” 

You wanted to cry, maybe he expected a submissive little padawan.

“Up, further on the bed.” 

He let you go, and you followed his command, scooting back towards the middle of the bed. The intensity of his gaze made it challenging not to tremble. The sight of your master, shirtless, messy hair, swollen lips, and trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips, carried the knowledge that his hard arousal had been in your hands. Knowing you had driven him to that point made obeying his commands a fierce internal struggle. The difficulty only intensified as he knelt on the bed, crawling toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. His eyes held an unfamiliar, burning intensity, setting your own desires ablaze. How was it possible for blue eyes to burn?

His voice, low and commanding, demanded you to lie back, leaving no room for protest. The once-lacy barrier of your panties and bra felt like an unnecessary formality as he leaned over, his arms creating a delicious trap against the bed. Escape wasn't even a consideration, not that you wanted it. He peered at your shoulder, voice holding a hint of soft concern as he asked, "Are you in any pain?" With a shake of your head, A wolfish grin played on his handsome face. "Good. Though, you might when I'm done with you." Oh, stars. Denying you a proper kiss, his tongue traced the trail of desire from your lips down your jaw and neck.

“Going to have to punish you a bit for abandoning your master,” 

What? He was going to punish you? Your heart threatened to burst as his lips drifted down your chest, lavishing every imperfection marring your skin with a sweep of his tongue and a caress of his hands.

Despite having command of the force all your life, the very notion that it may be used against you, that it could be unseen hands acting on Obi-Wan’s will, tearing the rest of your clothes off thrilled you. But he surprised you, it seemed he was more hands-on, the bra you wore was quickly gone and that hot mouth of his found its way to your nipples delicately teasing. Slow and purposeful swipes of his tongue coupled with the soft seal of his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth made you arch wantonly into his waiting mouth with a whimper. 

Was this what he’d meant about punishment? 

He quickly answered that for you, the gentle vibrations of his moan passing through your teased nipples as he switched from one to treat the other to equal pleasure. 

“Your punishment can wait though,” That eloquently talented tongue of his drew sensual circles that brought a choked sob past your lips. “First, I’m going to take care of my padawan. Make her come for me in all the ways she’s ever dreamed, so she’ll never leave me again,” Your heart skipped a beat, several in fact, “Till her body shakes and she can no longer bear not having my cock in her.” 

He finally released your aching nipples moving down the soft flat expanse of your stomach tongue dipping into your navel. “My powerful,” he kissed your hip, “beautiful,” he sucked on the skin as his fingers tucked into your panties “Sensitive,” and pulled them down your legs. “Neglected,” His breath ghosted over your thigh, tossing the garment aside. “Padawan.” 

Never again would the word Padawan cause you pain, never again would it represent ache and loss and missed opportunities. Your chest rose in shallow breaths and you were fairly certain you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling before fluttering closed completely, listening to your master's voice, feeling his hot breath on your most delicate body parts. And for a few terrible moments he let you sit there feeling his breath, the occasional brush of his beard on your skin, the anticipation more horrible than a thousand lonely nights with only your fantasies and touch. 

“Master.” You wished you hadn’t sounded so pitiful, so needy and pathetic but you were and you couldn’t help it. Naked on a bed with your master’s breath teasing you between your legs, you were ready to beg. 

“Padawan,” 

The word whispered, barely audible a fraction of eternity passed before you felt the sweetly sinful furnace of his mouth on your lips before his tongue swept past them to taste you. A shrill and sudden intake of breath shattered the stillness of the room, and your hips canted up against his mouth and you cried out in a drawn-out moan. Not in any pain but the desperate tens of thousands of lonely nights where you cried his name in your mind each time you came against your hand. 

His strokes were sweet and slow and left no part of you untouched. You’re lungs seized up momentarily and your brain misfired too many impulses, the instinct to jump away upon the startling contact with his mouth warred the desire to watch him, which also struggled against the urge to seize his hair and beg him to take you right then and there.

All impulses crashed into one another with each broad stroke of his tongue against your pussy, you lay back practically panting desperately trying to remember how to breathe properly, but with every flick of his tongue saw to it that you forgot whatever it was you were trying to remember. 

Your toes curled slightly in shameless pleasure when you felt his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you with the promise of sublime ecstasy to be had if he would only use his fingers. The very ones calloused from years of wielding a lightsaber now brought blistering pleasure with every touch. The sounds of his breathing intermingled with deep groans as he lapped at you like he was dying of thirst, only adding to the symphony of sex you would play over and over in your head until the end of your days. 

As you lay there losing your mind in the velvet embrace of your master’s mouth, Obi-Wan was studying you, learning your pleasure through each taste, stroke, and flick of the tongue. Committing to memory how you reacted when he licked hard or sucked softly the cadence of your breathing and the buck of your hips, what drew sweet whimpers or unabashed moans. He found a rhythm, long, slow broad strokes, that made you gasp each time no matter how often he did it, you could never get used to it. Followed by the quick teasing flutter of his tongue on your clit, fingers sweeping gently along the length of your lips throwing fuel to the fire he that was beginning to rage out of control. The hot lazy hunger of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever felt and it was impossible to keep your eyes open for any length of time, it just felt so good, as if your brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening it would occasionally rapid-fire messages to you as though you were unaware of exactly what was going on.

‘Master’s mouth is between my legs.’

‘Stars! He’s licking me.’

‘He’s going to make me come!’

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the soft sound of a deep and throaty chuckle, the reverberations stole your breath and sidetracked your thoughts.

‘Yes, padawan, you will come for me. Until I grow weary of the noises you make.’

The words played out in your mind as if they came from everywhere echoing off the walls of your thoughts, but when you glanced down, Obi-Wan was focused on you. Not even a teasing expression, his eyes seemed closed in rapture as though he were enjoying an exquisite, delicacy catered to his palette only. And enjoying it thoroughly.

When not dancing teasing touches to your entrance, his hands stroked the inside of your thighs opening your legs further each time, mindful not to agitate your wounds, his touch so delicate that it made your skin tingle with sensitivity. 

It was unbelievable how quickly he’d gotten you so close to cumming but then his voice in your head tell you the most wicked thoughts aided in that considerably. 

Never before did you ever think such a thing would happen, your master hungrily feasting on your pussy. It had to be a dream, it was too good, any moment when you were nearly ready for the rolling torrent of orgasm to crash upon you, you would wake up and cling to the remnants of this dream while hurriedly bringing yourself to climax while muffling any sounds into your pillow.

“No, my padawan, this is no dream. I’m going to make you come for me now.”

His mouth found your clit again, giving it a series of slow licks and gentle, open-mouthed kisses before spreading your lips open giving you no reprieve from that masterful mouth of his. Then he truly went to work on you, stimulating that little bundle of nerves by flicking the tip of his tongue over and over increasing in speed until you could scarcely breathe and your body was writhing on the bed, the moans tumbling from your mouth. Your wails combined with your desperate pleas carried through the room with lick, swirl, and suckle. 

Obi-wan’s voice continued calling to you whispering so many salacious things to you; that he loved how you tasted so sweet to him, “My darling, padawan, your taste is divine, so sweet.” 

That your moans were what he would play in his head when he stroked himself if he couldn’t have you, “Yes, sing for me, tell me how good I’m making you feel,” 

How he knew you were going to strangle his cock when he finally let you have it, “S’going to feel so good when I bury my cock in you, isn’t it? Going to strangle me, aren’t you?” 

How gorgeous you looked like this for him and it was only for him, “So, beautiful all laid out for me, only for me, aren’t you?”

And for each whispered thought in your mind you moaned a ragged “Yes, master! Yes! Yes!”

This was it, he was going to kill you, this was how you would join the living Force, wildly in the throws of orgasm. You couldn’t even manage his name, barely able to utter the first syllable, voice raising in pitch, your body growing rigid as it all culminated towards an exquisite peak. It was the sound of Obi-wan’s half breath, half moan, and the demanding cadence of his order sounding in your mind rising above all other words; the command to come for him, and you did. The thick throaty satisfied moan of a man who wanted to be no other place than between your legs, reverberating through your flesh and raced up your core.

Waves of fire, hotter than any star, more molten than any lightsaber, radiated from your thoroughly stimulated pussy overtaking your body as his mouth worked you over slowly teasing out every ounce of pleasure he could, wringing it from you like water from a rag. 

Repeating the word "Master" like a mantra, a symphony of desire and surrender as you writhed against him. No longer in control, you became a willing captive to the relentless pulses dictated by Obi-Wan. The euphoric journey continued an unending cascade of sensations and shared ecstasy. And it didn’t stop, like a fire it grew more and more intense, shocking you, never before had you experienced sensations like what he was giving you. You just kept coming.

Would it ever stop? The overwhelming wave of pleasure seemed boundless. It was intoxicating, almost too much. As the peak of ecstasy subsided, it left behind little electric shocks of overstimulation with each additional stroke of Obi-Wan's tongue, trying to coax out a little more. The intensity lingered, a sensation that bordered on both pleasure and sweet torment.

The sweet agony of pleasure mixed with the sting of overstimulation was a cruelty of human physiology. You wanted more, a hungry desire pushing him to give you everything. But your body rebelled, aching for a momentary escape from the relentless assault. Your hips wriggled and began to buck trying to throw him off in a wordless plea for him to ease the intensity. Yet, he pressed on, undeterred, as you grappled with the conflicting sensations, lost in the dizzying dance of pleasure and pain.

“Master! Please! No more– I-I can’t!” The way your words sounded so weak and your voice nearly broken seemed to finally reach him and he slowed to a stop, depositing one final deep kiss and drawing an unadulterated moan from you before he finally released your overworked, quivering flesh. 

Your body shivered as he moved up the bed to kiss your lips. The lingering scent and taste of your orgasm clung to his mouth—a mix of sweat and satisfaction, intensified by the unique aroma coming from him. It was potent enough to make you teeter on the brink of another climax, a fortunate secret he remained unaware of.

For some reason you felt like you needed to thank him, which was ridiculous, thank him for what? For giving you the most amazing orgasm you’d ever had? It seemed a bit awkward and out of place but somehow given this new dominant side of your master, he might enjoy that.

He breathed in deeply as if savoring the aftermath of a fulfilling workout. But the look on his face spoke of more than just exertion; it was a blend of delight and contentment.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like you'd had one too many drinks. The air seemed to swirl around you, and his disheveled hair falling over his face only added to the effect. His smile was downright criminal, it seemed almost unnatural for a man to look so good wearing nothing but a smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled, the word sounding feeble even to your own ears, but Obi-Wan's pleased expression suggested he appreciated the sentiment.

“Did you enjoy that, my little padawan?” The endearment sent a shiver down your spine, and all you could manage was a nod. As his lips met yours once more, a wave of euphoria washed over you. Soft, powerful, firm—his kisses were everything you'd hoped for, stirring desire in every part of your being, and the knowledge that he’s just used that mouth on you made your heart race and your cunt ache.

“Tell me, before I take you, how many?” The question hung between you, a mix of desire and curiosity in Obi-Wan's voice. You were a bit baffled, trying to figure out the context of his question. Orgasms? It wasn’t something you kept tabs on. Sensing your confusion, he clarified, “Men. Lovers. How many?”

An awkward lump formed in your throat as you replied, “None.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. There was a momentary flicker in his expression that could almost be mistaken for anger, but his subsequent fervent return to kissing dispelled that notion. “None? How is that possible? That I am the first to ever touch you like this?”

“The first man.” He froze, his expression shifting to shock at your admission. The truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to be with a man when the one you desired was out of reach. Women, however...

“I’ve had lovers, just not any men; I didn’t want them.”

“You’ve taken female lovers?” he asked. You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t disapprove. His grin returned, now carrying a wolfish quality, and his mouth found its way back to your breast. His kiss turned fierce, hungry—a prelude to the kind of passion that precedes throwing someone onto a bed and ravishing them.  “Naughty thing,” he murmured. Relief flooded through you, quickly followed by euphoria. “Did you enjoy that? Letting other women touch you?”

"Sometimes." He appeared puzzled, and you nonchalantly shrugged, steering clear of his penetrating gaze. The notion of accepting disappointment felt like a subtle form of judgment.

"Women can be selfish lovers too." The idea of your satisfaction not being guaranteed seemed to trouble him. He shook his head slowly, 'tsking' you, as though imparting guidance on what was and wasn't acceptable.

"That won't do at all," he declared, lowering his lips to yours in a kiss that sent electric shivers down your spine. "I’m going to erase every memory of anyone who’s ever touched you." His tongue danced over your nipple again, barely tasting it and he stopped to savor your little breath. “Going to fuck you until you cry out my name, going to make sure you’re never left wanting again.” With a flick of his tongue, his hand started massaging your other breast, “Would you like that, padawan, for your master to make you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, Master! Please!”

“So respectful when you’ve had your cunt devoured, aren't you?” 

Those words, oh, they hit you in all the right places. You never thought he had it in him—the raw, unfiltered sexuality. Suddenly, you weren't just yearning for his touch; you wanted to be the one to make him quiver and groan, to do to him, what he did to you. To see how your words and caresses could unravel the composed Jedi Master. It wasn't just about fulfilling your own cravings; it was about sharing a dance of passion and exploring uncharted realms of desire together.

Strength surged within you, not the physical kind, but a potent force you had at your command. Calling upon the Force was as natural as breathing, and with a graceful wave of your hand, Obi-Wan found himself unceremoniously tossed onto his back, a look of astonishment etched across his features as if captivated by an unexpected dance. Yes, you had just harnessed the Force against your master.

The sight of your master supine, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, hair tousled in disarray, trousers precariously low on his hips, and all because you had put him there. His eyes held a mesmerizing blend of surprise and desire, mirroring the emotions flickering within yourself. Seizing the moment before he could recover, you took a daring leap and went in to lay siege.

Obi-Wan, caught off guard by your bold moves, sank into the softness of the bed. Your fingers danced through his hair and beard, jerking his head back to expose his neck, ensuring he wouldn't forget this moment. A low, appreciative purr escaped his chest, silently praising your audacity. With each kiss and playful nip, he seemed to yield to your lead, responding with soft sounds of approval.

You savored the blissful aftermath of victory, those suspended seconds lingering in the air. In that fleeting time, your senses buzzed with playful thoughts, tempting fantasies, and desires long confined. He might have allowed the moment to stretch a bit more, but then came your teasing nips, tracing the spots that made him flinch with delightful sensitivity.

“Want to taste you,” You muttered, fairly certain you hadn’t imagined that little ‘oh.’

"Padawan..." His voice, a touch hoarse, accompanied the journey of your fingers down his ribs and along his toned stomach. Moving closer to the tantalizing waistband of his trousers where your prize awaited you, the desire to feel him in your hand became almost unbearable. Yet, you found justification for a bit more teasing. Fingers dipped just inside the band of his trousers, close enough to feel him twitch and buck at your almost-touches, it was too delicious to only do once.

Perhaps you shouldn't have pushed your luck.

Because, like the fabric of Jedi robes, his patience wore thin. It was then that your Master's restraint snapped, like a stretched cord finally giving way.

In an instant, he grabbed your waist, executing a swift and aggressive flip that left him looming above you, pinning you down on the bed. His body pressed into yours, and a sly grin hinted that the game was about to get a lot more daring. The air hummed with anticipation as he shook his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss that left you breathless.

"What were you thinking, Padawan?" His voice, low and husky, carried a thick layer of desire, each word steeped in need. His intense gaze locked onto yours, silently questioning.

"Touching your master without permission?" 

Stunned. You struggled to form a response, your lips moved, and no words broke free. Was he serious? After the intoxicating dance of his mouth had just brought you to an unparalleled climax, he expected you to ask permission to touch him? It felt absurd.

Questions raced through your mind. Was this some kind of test? A dominance play? Your stomach dropped. Maybe this was the punishment he’d spoken of, an exercise in humility? Searching his cerulean eyes for a hint of jest, the intense atmosphere from before remained, now layered with a different kind of tension. He simply shook his head slightly. The weight of his expectation hung in the room, leaving you torn between the impulse to surrender and the desire to meet his challenge with your own fiery response.

 "Yes, I do. I expect my padawan to remain obedient and respectful, no matter how she hungers." 

His fingers lingered just above your cheek, a subtle reminder of his ability to pluck your thoughts effortlessly, like plucking a flower from the grass. However, you had long since outgrown the status of a padawan, having ascended to the rank of Jedi Knight. If he expected pleading or begging, he was in for disappointment. A steely determination cast a shadow across your features. With narrowed eyes, you threw down a challenge. If he sought access to your mind, you were prepared to offer more than he had bargained for.

A coy smile danced on your lips, causing his own smile to falter ever so slightly. That mischievous glint in your eyes was a familiar precursor to something daring, and you had no intention of disappointing your master in this unexplored realm. Shutting your eyes, you tilted your head, letting his fingers brush against your face, shifting the battleground from the physical to the unseen.

Instead of engaging him through physical means, you chose to confront him on the mental plane, projecting your thoughts with an intensity that demanded attention. He took a sharp breath, caught off guard by the rush of images, thoughts, and sounds hitting him like a brisk breeze. The unexpected depth of your mental communication briefly disrupted the seamless flow of the physical connection.

This wasn't just a subtle act of rebellion; it was a declaration that you were no longer the Padawan he once trained. As a Jedi Knight, you wielded more than just a lightsaber—you possessed a will of your own, armed with a bag of tricks beyond anyone's expectations.

Though he could still address you as Padawan to elicit a reaction, you were so much more. Long-concealed thoughts, years hidden in secrecy, surged forth, intertwining with stolen glances and intimate moments—all now laid bare before Obi-Wan.

A mosaic of self-indulgent pleasures unfolded—whispered calls of his name amid moments of personal bliss. Stolen encounters, and lingering desires, all painted a picture of your yearning. The once-private fantasies, meant for the sanctuary of your thoughts, now exposed—a checklist of desires you had secretly harbored for him.

Breathless, he found himself caught in the private corners of your mind, imagined scenes unfolded, that saw you in a passionate dance, bodies entwined, covered in sweat, exploring countless positions. An insatiable hunger for him, even if he lay prone and exhausted, pleading with him for more.

The many ways you wanted to touch him, to pleasure him, and hear him echo your name as you had cried his— to render him powerless and explore his body until he succumbed to climax after climax and could give no more. 

He shivered with excitement, lost in the fantasy of the intense bliss you painted in his mind. Those throaty moans of pleasure felt so real, almost like he could taste them. Surprised by the raw intensity of your craving to taste him and drink him, he moaned your name in the tangled passion, every drop of his essence landing on your eager tongue as he lay back lost of the haze of sex and stimulation.

It wasn't merely about satisfying him; your desire surpassed that. There was an unquenchable hunger for him to seize control, to witness him unrestrained and consumed by passion and dominance. Whether he threw you onto the bed or pressed you against the wall, positions that brought a delightful twinge of discomfort on your end, all aimed at bringing him ecstasy, standing unassisted became an impossible task. The profound intensity of your yearning unfurled like a revelation, taking him by surprise.

The cat was out of the bag; the secret lay bare. Now, with an untamed glint in his eyes, it seemed you might have ventured into territory beyond your expectations.

"Padawan, my sweet, sinful, Padawan," His lips dipped to your ear, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I should enlighten you with some of MY thoughts."

Composure became a fleeting notion as he placed his hand firmly on your temple and a rush of sensations overwhelmed you, powerful enough that the right touch might send you into another blinding climax, akin to a torrent of whitewater tossing a stick of dry driftwood.

His unfiltered thoughts surged into your mind, a river of forbidden fantasies and suppressed desires. In the shared space of his consciousness, visions unfurled like an intimate tapestry—a clandestine gallery of how he yearned for you, each scene a seductive exploration of passion.

In one vivid fantasy more powerful than your own, you found yourself pressed against the cold metal of a ship's wall, arms held captive overhead by an unseen force naked while he still wore his full robes. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he knelt before you, entirely at the mercy of his desires, and he had none. He skillfully coaxed orgasm after orgasm from your quivering form, every touch and caress hearing you cry out and wail his name until you were hoarse. Overwhelmed by the sensations, until you were rendered speechless, too weak to utter the word "Master" as pleasure consumed your senses.

Then the landscape shifted with your master now behind you, his hands exploring your body with practiced skill. Fingers danced between your legs, teasing your aching clit, perfectly synchronized with the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips. In the shared intimacy, he praised you, “Such a good girl” and admiring your patience in holding back on coming until he granted permission. His voice, a velvety whisper, encouraged you to hang on, promising to reward your patience but only after he had cum inside you, again.

“You think your desires are greater and darker than my own? So innocent of you…” 

His words hit you like a revelation, unraveling a new side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that forever changed the way you saw him.

Another shift of vision saw you in the High Council Chamber, he sat naked in his seat, his strong thighs spread wide, and there you knelt before him. His hand gripped your hair, guiding his cock down your throat, and you obediently swallowed it all. With a gritty grunt, he demanded you not waste a drop, telling you to swallow all of it, praising your beauty as you served your master on your knees.

Your body pulsed and throbbed with each vision he gave you until the sights, sounds, and sensations grew so powerful all it took was the gentle stroke of his fingers between your legs to set you off. You threw your head back into the bed and moaned as the strength of your orgasm was amplified by your connection to your master as his most private thoughts continued playing in your head.

As he let you go, the fantasies slowly faded, and you found yourself returning to the tangible present. It was like your vision was coming back to focus, bit by bit, from the edges to the center. The room's immediate surroundings started to replace the lingering echoes of those intense daydreams.

In that moment, it was clear—he had won. The sly grin on his face revealed a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. It was the look of someone who had conquered and was eagerly anticipating claiming their prize.

“Tell me, Padawan, are you ready to ask your master if you can touch him?” 

But there you were, a flicker of fight still dancing in your eyes. Trying to push against him to sit up, that burning desire to kiss him ignited, fueled by a longing to make him yearn for you. You wanted to kindle the flames of passion until he begged for your touch. Yet, your Master had other plans. Suddenly your body refused to cooperate, stubbornly resisting your every attempt. Even the simplest tasks, like wiggling your toes, proved to be impossible.

As your efforts were thwarted, Obi-Wan's grin grew, taking on a dark intensity. His stormy eyes promised something profound, something that transcended the physical. His gaze seemed to revel in the power he held over your immobilized form, piercing through the struggle within.

“Use the Force on your master to tease him, will you? Let us see how you like it?” His lips ghosted over your breast, barely warming your nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “You will ask permission, Padawan. I can wait.” His mouth enclosed over the hard bud lazily stroking, teeth occasionally grazing as your pathetic little whimpers danced in the air. 

He seemed perfectly content in his torturous teasing, but he had to be aching himself. Had to want to fuck you as badly as you wanted him to fuck you. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!

"Life is never fair, padawan," he murmured, as if reading the turmoil in your mind. "I had a very different plan for you until you chose to utilize the Force on your master. Now, you'll beg for the privilege to touch me."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and as he continued his fervent exploration, his hands tracing paths on your body that bordered on pain due to the lingering sensitivity from previous climaxes, you couldn't fathom how he remained so composed. The dichotomy of your desperation and his controlled demeanor only added to the maddening allure of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I want to sink my cock into this tight, perfect cunt,” His fingers grazed your lips and you were powerless to stop him, you could barely tremble at his touch. “How badly I want to feel you squeeze my cock, but I’ve not achieved the rank of master without considerable discipline.” 

He returned to your breast sucking harder, as his fingers employed a more delicate touch between your legs, which you were powerless to close, soft, sweet strokes on your thighs, and your lips but cruelly or mercifully avoiding your clit. Your lips trembled at the delicate touch, and in that moment, the unfairness of it all struck you like a tidal wave. 

For years, he had been your mentor, teaching you the art of patience and urging you to play the long game. "Be patient," he would say, "gauge your opponent."

But in the whirlwind of your desires, the very lessons he drilled into you seemed to crumble. Impatience surged, a desperate yearning for instant gratification that clashed with the wise teachings of your master. He offered to fulfill your every desire, promising pleasures beyond imagination. Yet, in your haste to assert newfound power, eager to prove you were more than just his padawan, you discovered there were still lessons for him to teach, more wisdom to share.

Your urgency led to a clash of power dynamics, revealing your master still held the upper hand. A soft sob of frustration escaped, breaking his focused demeanor. His once passionate cerulean eyes now held a glimmer of concern and curiosity as he paused.

"Say the words, padawan," His voice entreated gently, a soft call laced with a plea that tugged at the strings of your stubborn pride. You might have resisted longer if not for the unsaid words that reverberated in the echoes of your mind. "Padawan, please!"

Your eyes shot open, scanning the room for any hint that the desperation in Obi-Wan Kenobi's gaze was just a figment of your imagination. Yet, there it was—a pleading look that intertwined compassion and desire in a delicate dance across his face.

At that moment, it dawned on you: you had won. The silent struggle between you and your former master, the unspoken battle of wills, had reached its conclusion. The walls you'd built around your emotions had crumbled in the face of that unspoken plea. It wasn't about conquest; it was a surrender, and the victory was yours. 

You might be the first to say the words but he was the first to beg.

"Please, Master," Your voice, a sweet melody of desire, reached into the core of his being. His gaze narrowed, and he froze, the invisible bonds around you weakening, his resistance giving way. "Let me touch you, Master," You pleaded sweetly, your words dripping with need. "I want you," You added, turning up the heat until the bonds snapped completely. “Let me taste you, let me have you.”

With their release, he was on your lips again, kissing you with a desperate hunger, untamed and wild. Yet, despite your newfound freedom, you lay still beneath him, a silent presence he couldn't resist. 

"Padawan! Are you going to touch me or not?" 

His outrage was amusing. A playful grin toyed with the corners of your lips, hinting at your delight. 

Feigning innocence, you shot back, "You haven’t given me permission to touch you."

His eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of anticipation coursing through him as a deep, appreciative groan escaped him, acknowledging your skillful play as his Padawan. 

"Darling, please, touch your master," 

With a surge of passion, you seized the moment, fingers seizing his hair with purpose, jerking hard enough that he cried out, a pull that danced on the edge of sweet pain. 

Defying the limits of control, you launched a fervent attack on his lips, reclaiming the kiss with an intensity that screamed desire. Your tongue demanded entry, a forceful and unapologetic dive into the depths of his mouth. A low grunt slipped from him, a mix of surprise and a hint of surrender, adding fuel to the blaze sparking between you. The dance of your intertwined tongues became a symphony of passion, a primal declaration signaling the end of any lingering boundaries.

Your hips rolled into a painfully hard erection, and any trace of Obi-Wan's usual witty banter vanished into the charged air. The playful banter was replaced by a more primal language.

Pushing him onto his back was effortless now; he offered no resistance. Finally. The tension that had once held him captive had melted away into bliss. His half-lidded eyes, lost in a dreamy state, promised memories that would keep you warm for days to come. 

With deliberate intent, you explored every inch of his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. His deep breathing echoed in the room, accompanied by the subtle sounds of contentment that escaped his lips. As your journey continued downward, tracing the path of pleasure, you encountered the nearly pained expression that adorned his face. His chest heaved with anticipation as you approached his trousers, the memory of how close you had been to having him earlier playing in your mind. A grin danced on your lips, fueled by the sharp gasps escaping him, as you mouthed his cock through the fabric.

You couldn't wait to have him, the urgency taking over. The waistband tugged down in a hurry, your mouth watering in anticipation. Your hand wrapped around him, and he stuttered at the touch. His cock, just as perfect as you'd imagined—long, thick, and undeniably eager to be touched—and positively leaking. It felt like the room might collapse when your tongue licked at the pearlescent precum gathering from his weeping cock, you swept around his swollen head, savoring every delicious drop. His hands shook, gripping the bed in an immediate white-knuckled hold. As you kissed it and slowly swallowed the crown of his cock, he howled in ecstasy. The salty taste of him filled your mouth and he wept at the exquisite, wet heat. Jolting with every swirl of your tongue, each lick, and suckle, the delightful vibrations echoing from the back of your throat to his cock.

“Yes!”

His body arched, his signature flickering wildly, and then you truly went to work on him. Wanting to show him exactly how much you had thought of this moment. With each eager motion, you took more of him, brushing off the impending jaw ache. Your master was sprawled on your bed, fervently chanting your name, but coherent words were out of reach. He tasted just perfect, filling your mouth just right. You traced the veins on his cock like an old familiar map, committing every detail to memory. As you slid over his head sucking gently like one would enjoy a sweet treat, his hips surged, and he let out another wild moan of pleasure. 

“Padawan! Padwan! Padawan!” 

But you had more, oh so much more to give him, but you wouldn’t tease him as he had you, you gripped firmly what you couldn’t swallow, and aided by the slickness of your own saliva you stroked and twisted his length in your hand. And your other hand? It didn’t sit idle, no, it reached into his trousers to offer gentle almost tickling caresses to his neglected balls. Lesireuly massaging and softly squeezing. Surely, someone must have heard the moan that tore from his chest, it was primal and almost powerful enough to make you come again. 

The flood of sensations overwhelmed him, a storm of desire and vulnerability that left him at a loss for words. Normally eloquent, his tongue now stumbled in this unfamiliar territory. His disciplined mind, usually a stronghold of wisdom, faltered under the onslaught of passion. Every muscle rebelled against his rational commands, caught in a moment of indecision the muscles of his stomach flexed and contracted wildly. The composed master was briefly overshadowed by raw, primal forces, his tense muscles reflecting the battle of a man surrendering control to overwhelming desire. He became a disheveled mess, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and then tightly shut, breath hitching in short, irregular gasps as if he kept forgetting how to breathe smoothly. His lips clumsily grazed the edge of words, catching and then losing them amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

“Oh! Maker!”

Oh, another word? Impressive. His disciplined nature must be paying off. Using the last bit of strength he had, he propped himself up on his elbows, determined not to miss the spectacle. There you were, between his legs, your lips wrapped around his cock, all slick with your saliva, disappearing into your mouth. It hit the back of your throat in a way that made him shudder from head to toe. He could watch you do that for as long as the stars lit up the sky. It was something else—beautiful, the way you handled his cock like his pleasure belonged to you.

You were determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from him, poised to take him to the brink, so close to tasting him completely, but your mission hit a pause when his hand gently grasped your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze. His needy “Please,” didn’t go unnoticed either. A slender strand of saliva linked your lips to his throbbing length, and the disbelief in his eyes was palpable. It was as if he couldn't fathom witnessing what lay before him. A ragged breath escaped him, followed by a hard swallow. Redirecting your attention from his pulsating, slick arousal, he steered you into a deep, passionate kiss, one you didn't resist.

“Darling, enough foreplay. I need to feel you on my cock. Tell me that’s what you want.” 

His eyes sparkled when you whispered, "I want it, Master," with desire glowing in your own. It made you wonder if anyone had ever been so upfront with him, if anyone had looked into those captivating eyes and just said, "I want you." Had he ever known how it felt to be so openly desired before?

"Good girl, now, up you get." 

He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, surprising you even more because he didn't employ the Force; it was the strength of his own muscles at play. Observing them flex and shift beneath his skin was nearly as gratifying as witnessing him in the throes of pleasure. He held you over his lap for a moment, lips tangling with yours, muttering against them. 

“Look at me, want to see you properly.”

How could you ignore a request like that? Oh, no, you couldn’t. And with a nod from you, he began to release you.

Never had anything felt as exquisite as the moment his cock slid effortlessly into your pussy. The sensation of that satisfying first stretch surpassed any pleasure you had ever known—far superior to the touch of your own fingers, toys, or any previous lover. As gravity took its course, guiding you down onto him, there was nothing left to say or do. Your head rolled back and you moaned his name. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, every ounce of strength dedicated to maintaining control. Surprisingly, his energy remained entirely serene.

The experience was a symphony of wetness, heat, tightness, and perfect slickness. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close, mirroring the way you squeezed his cock. It was perfect. You would ache for this later, he was right, you’d be sore to the touch everywhere he’d touched you but it would be worth it for the exquisite ecstasy you felt right now.

Damn the code, to hell with forbidden attachments; the High Council could go up in flames for all you cared. In this moment, he belonged to you—every inch of him. His response to your body defied description. He was unequivocally yours.

He uttered your name, his mouth tracing up your neck in search of your lips. "Darling, kiss me."

Not padawan, not master. He called you by your name.

Your lips met his, as he’d asked, sweetly, gently as lovers did. The high of shoving your tongue into hi mouth was wonderful but not so wonderful as this simple brushing of lips the added heat and girth of his cock buried in you, there were no more barriers. You kissed him like that for a few minutes until your cunt throbbed demanding more, then you shifted, rising up savoring the way his lips parted in shock before sliding back down slow enough you could see his eyelashes flutter. “Again,” His voice was so full of need and heat, how could you deny him? The warmth of his breath against your skin was like a balm, soothing every ache, alleviating every burden, and imparting tranquility to long-standing wounds.

As his arms encircled your legs, lifting you up to help you along, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. The dichotomy of wanting to sing or cry left you unable to suppress the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His name escaped your lips again.

His arms held you securely, and he buried his face in your neck, releasing a deeply contented breath. With deliberate slowness, he began to thrust upward. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him up for another smoldering kiss, swallowing his moan.

Passion surged like wildfire between you and the man you had yearned for over the years. The connection between your bodies was intense, each thrust an urgent proclamation of desire. The air was thick with the mingling of hot breaths, punctuated by the sound of lewdly slapping skin and fervent kisses exchanged in the throes of lust.

His movements were powerful and rhythmic, and left you gasping for more, all you could do was hang on. With every thrust, he hit that perfect angle that sent shivers through your entire body. The sensation was electric, a tantalizing dance on the precipice of pleasure.

As your breaths intertwined, the shared rhythm hinted at the imminent climax, drawing you both closer to the edge. 

In the throes of passion, your murmurs of his name reverberated against his lips as he quickened the pace, both of you on the precipice of an imminent release. The urgency in your voice only fueled his desire, and he nodded in approval as you moaned: 

"Obi-Wan…"

Encouraged by your compliance, he implored you for more, his hunger evident. "Again, darling, say it again!"

In a cascade of breathless utterances, you willingly complied, chanting his name with increasing fervor. 

"Obi-wan! Obi-wan! Obi-wan!"

With a fluid blend of strength, grace, and skill, he effortlessly tipped you onto your back. The swift change momentarily took you by surprise, but before the disorientation settled, he surged back into you with newfound intensity. Each movement reached deeper, and he committed his entire weight to each forceful thrust, immersing both of you in a realm of heightened pleasure.

His frame shook with each thrust, and with every motion, he felt a piece of himself slipping away, lost in the fervor of the moment. Desperation marked his every move as he teetered on the precipice of oblivion, but determined to hold off just a little longer. The urgency in his actions spoke of a desire to witness you unraveling in the throes of pleasure, to experience the cascade of ecstasy like a tidal wave crashing over him.

His fingers laced with yours, holding a connection that transcended the physical, while his kisses conveyed a hunger that mirrored the intensity of the act. Amid groans and the forceful snap of his hips, he dropped his lips to your ear, breathing hot against your skin.

"Come, darling, come for me!" He moved with an increasingly wild and intense rhythm, his passion reaching new heights. The affectionate term "Padawan" slipped from his lips like a whispered plea, an irresistible command, urging you to surrender to the pleasure he was offering, to climax for your master.

And you did, your body arching in response to the unrelenting intensity, hips bucking wildly against his, meeting his every thrust. Lips locked with his, you welcomed the furious pace he set each time he bottomed out, your bodies entwined in a dance without inhibitions. He threw his weight behind every motion, determined to make you feel every bit of him, to give you everything he had.

His desperate cries of "Padawan!" grew louder in the heated air, a mantra underscoring the intimacy of the moment. The repetition of the endearing term only served to heighten the exquisite pleasure, acknowledging a connection that surpassed the physical act. As he reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, a shudder ran through his entire body, and a helplessly primal howl escaped his lips. The heat of his seed spilling deep within you was the final catalyst, triggering a powerful climax of your own that rocked your entire body.

The Obi-Wan Kenobi you knew, with all his composure and eloquence, had vanished into thin air. In his place was a man, wild and satisfied, fucking you senseless, thrusting his erupting cock hurriedly back into your cunt as though he might die if he stopped. It just kept coming, he thrust harder with each rope you pulled from him until his body had nothing left to give and he began to still after one final hard thrust.

His breaths slowed, and he fought to stay upright. The only thing keeping him from melting into the mattress and pulling you into him entirely was the awareness of your injuries. Thankfully, the pain that had plagued you earlier had quieted down during your passionate love-making, granting a brief moment of relief. His cerulean eyes shifted from the storm of passion to their usual cool and compassionate state. The aftermath unfolded a scene of vulnerability—echoes of shared passion and lingering concerns for your well-being.

He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close, and skillfully rolled both of you onto your sides. With his arm firmly around your waist, he stayed seated, still in your warmth, unwilling to leave it just yet.

In the ensuing silence, the room was filled only with the sounds of your shared and labored breathing. 

"Are you alright?" His voice returned to its soft and warm timbre, the familiar hum that felt like a safe, warm home. When you remained silent, he shifted slightly, concern lacing his words, "Darling, is your leg in any pain?" Despite his own exhaustion, his concern for your well-being was touching. The way he called you darling further added to your sated state, and it made you smile.

"What leg?" 

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, a comforting warmth you hadn't felt in ages. Shifting to a more serious tone, he inquired again about your injuries, but the light-hearted demeanor lingered.

"I don’t care. Ask me in the morning," You replied unbothered, arms wrapping around his neck. Nestling into the comforting warmth of his chest, you threw a leg around his hips, pulling him closer. His gasp of pleasure, maybe mixed with a hint of overstimulation, brought a satisfied smile to your face, ignoring the subtle throb echoing through your body. It was worth it—the pains, the frustrations—just to lie in your master's arms, his cock still buried in you basking in warmth, safety, and a newfound satisfaction.

"Mmm, Master?" You murmured, your voice laced with the weight of drowsiness.

He chuckled bashfully, "Darling, you don't have to call me Master, anymore."

"Just trying to be an obedient padawan," you teased, planting a kiss on the sensitive spot on his neck, earning a delightful twitch from his cock.

"Careful, darling. I still owe you a punishment for abandoning me," He playfully reminded, his words hanging in the air. "What was your question?"

"If I abandon you again, and you happened to find me. Would you follow through with your 'punishment' against the wall on a ship?" 

The recollection of that fantasy, coupled with the echo of his playful threat, coaxed a deep groan from him, as both of you relived those shared fantasies. "Please, Master?" You breathed against his neck, your request underscored by a subtle roll of your hips.

His arm wrapped possessively around you, the warmth of his breath tingling against your ear. A soft growl slipped past his lips, melding with the restrained rhythm of his hips, you could feel him driving into you once more wringing out a moan from your lips. His voice, tinged with both amusement and authority, whispered,

"It seems my Padawan still needs a bit of instruction."

Why, yes, there's more...

~~~

If you would like to see more stuff like this (reader inserts) let me know and let me know if you'd like to join the tag list! For my faithful Obi-Wan content readers! @split-spectrum (you helped inspire this!), @heyhawtdawgs. @pickleprickle @decembermidnight

Alright! I need a cigarette!

[therainjumper]

Yet another Kenobi art and with a quote!

[sharpasanaro]

You know that trending sound with the woman humming into the fan, something slow, maybe mournful? And you know how it’s been sending fanfic writers into a tizzy going, “actually that’s {Insert Character Here} when they were going through {Scenarios}.”

Don’t think about Obi-Wan Kenobi humming Jedi songs of mourning under his breath as he heads to Polis Massa to rendezvous with Yoda and Bail, mourning his brother in all but blood, mourning him in more ways than any one person could count. His brother his friend his son his whole world for an entire ten years his brother in arms his hope for himself and his people is shattered

Obi-Wan singing quietly in the delivery room after Padmé dies, begging the Force for answers, why did she have to go why was it her time why didn’t she tell me did her and Anakin not trust me was this always my fault???

Obi-Wan’s voice finally cracking as he holds the twins together in his arms, the final time he will see them together as children, whispering songs of hope and healing into their soft hair they could have grown up in the Temple they are as strong as their father they need more than I can give them that can’t be given anything more than this why is separation the best option they will never know peace as long as the empire reigns but oh Force what can two Jedi do to stop what an entire Temple could not?

Ben humming for the first time in a decade as he rescues Leia to soothe her to sleep on their way back to Alderaan, finally safe and sound is this to soothe him after having to fight the thing that wears Anakin’s face and speaks with his voice or to comfort a traumatized child welcome home welcome home

Ben singing to Maul after he dies a tragic and wandering soul, forever haunted by a path he never asked to take he joins the Force he is whole at last welcome home welcome home

Old Ben whispering pleasant nonsense while aboard the Millennium Falcon, Han thinks it’s because he’s a crazy desert hermit, but Luke is entranced and can’t explain why the language is Dai Bendu the language of the Jedi the language of the Light the language of the Force the language of his people welcome home welcome home welcome home

Old Ben hears the Force singing aboard the Death Star as he faces Vader one last time, he sees the twins reunited at last, he knows it is his Time

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi finally joins his Order, his people, in the Force, and it sings with Light and so does he

[emperorkenobi]

if i die tomorrow its because of emotions with ewan getting his hollywood walk of fame star

im already losing my mind over this the ceremony is gonna kill me

[coline7373]

Week 2: Advices/Inspiration & Balance

@jedijune

[sendpseuds]

"I was wondering if I’m as good a kisser as they say— among other things…”

[Go Fuck Yourself Obi-Wan]

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Obi-Wan Kenobi (re-trial)…

Propaganda for the mic skills:

he's described as snarky and sarcasitc more times than i can count. He comes face to face with, like, the worst villains and he STILL finds a way to talk shit. He also is very smart and quick witted, so he could not only pre write promos, but also improv.

/

/

/

Propaganda for the wrestling skills:

hes a seasoned knight and war veteran, who does stupid little flips and twirls all the time. the top rope would be heaven to him. also, he can throw a mean punch.

/

/

/

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[thatcutenerdygirl]

I'm sorry. I'm laughing and crying at the same time

Star Wars: Padawan by Kiersten White

[qo-promise-me]

For @psina-dubina

The boys in kilts.

[queer-irritator]

An Unexpected Padawan | Obi-wan x GN! Reader

!MINORS DNI!

A/N: This is my first obi-wan fic and I sorta mashed a lot of the ideas I had into one super long story (you've been warned). I'm just down so bad for this man. It's a slow burn, but worth it in the end 😉

I also did not proof read any of this. I just finished writing it at 2am, the endings kinda rushed but I might make a little sequel in the future.

CW: Violence, assault, strong language, alcohol, smut, unprotected piv, oral, afab anatomy described

Word count: 7.8k

(Set during the clone wars)

You always felt different than everyone around you. Everyone told you it was just part of growing up, teenage hormones. But only it never went away. In fact, it got worse. The older you got, the harder it became to control your feelings and emotions. You were celebrating your 25th birthday in your favorite club when everything escalated. 

“25! You finally got that fully developed brain everyone’s always talking about!” Your friend playfully elbowed you and handed you a shot glass. 

“Yup, guess this is the brain I’m stuck with now!” You chuckled, clinking your glasses together then swallowing your drink in one gulp.

“Woah, did I hear there’s a birthday over here?” a man approached you and placed his hand on your lower back.

A chill shot up your spine as you recoiled from the strangers touch and moved away. You looked over the man, he was visibly drunk and could barely stand upright. 

“Uhm, I don’t know anything about a birthday, man.” You lied, hoping he would leave you alone. 

“Ah, I know what I heard! Lemme buy you a drink, sweet cheeks.” He persisted. 

“C’mon, they’re obviously not interested. Just let us enjoy our night.” Your friend chimed in. 

The man sighed and dramatically rolled his eyes, “No one fuckin’ asked you, bitch.”

A twinge of anger coursed through your veins and you balled one hand up into a fist.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” You warned the scumbag. 

“Or what?” He prodded, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you a smirk.

Your jaw clenched and your fist tightened, you didn’t want to cause a scene, but this guy was going to get what was coming to him. Before you could open your mouth to tell him off the man gasped for air and began choking. 

This brought some slight amusement to you, seeing as karma had taken care of this jerk before you could. But when his hands grasped at his throat and his lips were turning blue, your anger turned to concern. You unclenched your fist as worry overcame your thoughts, but just as suddenly as it began, his fit ended. He collapsed to the floor, tears welling in his eyes and face red as he desperately tried to catch his breath. 

You crouched down by him, “Are you okay? Do you need some water??” Sure, the guy was an asshole but he didn’t deserve to die for being a drunken idiot. 

“Get away from me!” He yelled, backing up from you, “What the fuck did you do to me?!” 

“I… you were choking, I didn’t do anything!” You defended yourself. 

The man scrambled to his feet and mumbled something about a jedi before bolting out of the club. 

“Serves you right, asshole!” Your friend called after the man. 

You stood up and glanced around, noticing all eyes were on you. Your gaze awkwardly darted across the room and it landed on a stranger. The stranger looked away from your gaze immediately and hurried to leave the establishment. 

You sighed and ordered another drink, trying to put whatever just happened to the back of your mind, “Some birthday, huh?” 

-

The next morning you awoke to loud knocking at your door. With sleepy eyes and a pounding headache, you reluctantly got up from your bed and dragged yourself to the door. When you opened to door to your small apartment, you were greeted by the stranger you had briefly made eye contact last night. 

“Can I help you?” You squinted as sunlight from behind the figure glared into your vision. 

“Yes, I am here on behalf of the Jedi Council. My name is Plo Koon.”

You straightened your posture and perked up, “Oh, hello sir! What brings you here?” 

“You. I have reasonable suspicion that you may be force-sensitive and have been overlooked when you were a child.” Plo Koon explained. 

“Me? Are you sure you have the right person?” 

Plo Kloon recited your full name, your parents names, and your home planet.

“Wow.. uhm, so what does this mean?” You didn’t know if this was some weird hangover dream you can’t wake up from. 

“We would like to take a blood sample, and if my suspicion is correct, come to meet the Jedi Council on Coruscant.” he explained.

“Wow.” You repeated yourself, “Well, I guess a blood test wouldn’t hurt… Please, come in.” 

You stepped aside to let the Jedi in. You watched as he set down a small machine and set up some supplies. You’ve never encountered a Jedi before, but from what you heard they were incredibly serious and strict.

“It will just be a poke on the tip of your finger.” Master Plo Koon approached you. 

You nodded and held out your hand for him. He gently took your hand and pricked your finger, collecting a drop of blood on the machine he held. 

“It will just take a moment to get the results.” He assured you, sending a message over his comlink. 

You wiped your finger clean and went to your small dinette to get a cup of caf to try and wake you up some more. 

You invited Master Plo Koon to sit on the couch with you and offered him a cup of caf he gladly accepted. You made small talk for a few minutes before a message came over Plo Koon’s comlink. 

“The sample you’ve sent contains midi-chlorians consistent with those who are force sensitive.”

“Thank you.” The Jedi spoke into his comlink then looked to you, “Would you come to meet the council?”

“Right now?” You got a sudden wave of anxiety. Is your whole life about to get uprooted because some idiot decided to harass you in the bar last night?

“Yes. You are already 20 years late.” The jedi joked. 

You chuckled, “Okay… just give me an hour to get ready, please. You’re welcome to wait here.” 

You stood up and headed to your bathroom to take a shower and prepare for this adventure. 

-

It took the entire day to arrive at Coruscant, but the cushy Jedi accommodations helped the long journey. Master Plo Koon led you to modest sleeping quarters and bid you goodnight. 

You took a moment to take in your surroundings. The room was decently sized, but was too industrial for your liking. Plopping your bag on the bed, you dug around for your nightwear and got ready for bed. You could only assume it would be a long day tomorrow. 

-

“Rise and shine.” A robotic voice jolted you awake. 

“Uhm, hello…” You warily greeted the droid that barged into your room.

“I am BNI-393, but you can call me Bunny.” The droid explained as she set down a bowl of food for you, “In 15 minutes Master Plo Koon will escort you to meet the Jedi Council.”

You nodded as you sat up, rubbing your eyes. “Thank you, Bunny.” you said, starting to eat your breakfast.

You enjoyed a comfortable silence as you finished eating and got dressed for the day. A knock at your door signaled it was time to go. 

You opened the door and greeted the Jedi with a smile, “Good morning.” 

“Good morning, (y/n).” He reciprocated. 

Plo Kloon guided you through the Jedi Temple. It was much larger than you could have imagined. He pointed out different rooms and wings of the temple as you made your way. He led you through a large door and you entered a circular room with the members of the Jedi Council sitting in chairs arranged in a circle. Most were there in person, only a few holograms. You looked around the room, starting to feel quite intimidated. Trying to calm yourself, you took a deep breath.

Master Plo Koon began to address the Council, “I am here before you with (y/n), someone who I believe was unfortunately overlooked as being a force-sensitive child. They display impressive strength for never having knowledge or training in the ways of the force.” 

A hologram popped up with your midi-chlorian readings.

“Just two days ago I personally witnessed a display of (y/n)’s strength.” 

The hologram switched to a video of the events that unfolded on your birthday.

“I believe this was not done intentionally. However, without proper training and guidance I suspect (y/n) will unknowingly cause harm. Or worse, the Separatists will get to them.” The Jedi concluded. 

Your attention was redirected from Plo Koon when a voice spoke up, “Aware of your actions, were you?”

You turned toward a small green man, “No, I didn’t know I was hurting that man. I didn’t mean to.” 

“Hmm. Confusion and isolation, I sense in you.” he continued.

You nodded slowly, “I… I always felt different than everyone else. But I had no clue it was because of something like this. Can you help me?” 

“They are much too old to begin Jedi training.” One man noted

“Yes, but what choice do we have? They’re obviously powerful, without training who knows what could happen.” A younger man with a scar across his right eye chimed in. 

“I have to agree with Anakin.” A slightly older man with light brown hair and a full beard said. 

“(y/n)’s choice, it must be.” The green man said, “Use them for our own gain or out of fear, we cannot.”

All eyes were on you, waiting for an answer. “Yes, I would like to be trained.” You needed to know how to control your emotions. 

“Join the younglings, you will.” He stated, “Advance quickly, I suspect you will.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

-

The next few months were filled with studying, learning everything about the Jedi code, the force, your brain was jammed so full of knowledge, you didn’t know if you could physically read another sentence. 

You were in the library, head face down on the desk with five different books open in front of you. You needed a break. 

“Studying hard I see.” 

The sudden voice filling the silence made you jump, you looked up and a smile spread across your face. 

“I’m trying to, Master Kenobi.” you admitted sheepishly.

You two always seemed to bump into each other, and it didn’t help that you’ve become fast friends with Anakin. At first Obi-wan had seemed very stoic, all business. But once you started to talk to Anakin and he told you stories when he was Obi-wan’s padawan, you started to see his cool demeanor was a front. You only caught glimpses of the real Obi-wan, when you walked into a room where he was alone or with Anakin and he was able to take a break from being a General. The moment he noticed you he would straighten up and play the part of a typical Jedi Master. To be honest, you’ve become infatuated with cracking him. 

“Well, I’m not sure sleeping in the library is going to help you.” He poked fun at you.

You playfully scoffed at him, “I was not sleeping, I was just… taking a break.” You defended yourself. 

“Ah, well would you like to take a break outside with me?” Obi-wan offered. 

You nodded, closed your books and followed him to a balcony nearby. It was a few hours past mid-day, the usual hustle and bustle of the planet could be observed in the distance. 

“The council has noticed how hard you’ve been working.” Obi-wan spoke, looking out to the horizon. “That’s good.” You shifted your gaze to the man beside you. Since you first saw him in the council room, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous. So far you’ve been able to ignore your feelings by drowning yourself in training. 

“Yes, it’s so good in fact,” he turned to face you, “that they have appointed you to be my padawan.” 

You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping open and your eyes widening, “Are you serious??” Obi-wan let out a chuckle, “Very serious, my young apprentice.” 

A huge smile spread across your face and you enveloped your new Master in a tight hug. 

“O-oh my.” Obi-wan was caught off guard by your actions, but he placed a hand on your back. 

You released him from your death grip and beamed up at Obi-wan, “So, Master. What will my first lesson be?” 

“I was thinking sparring.” Obi-wan lifted his hand to his chin.

“You’re on.” you smirked and walked to the training room, matching your stride with Obi-wan’s. 

-

After giving you his spiel about how your lightsaber is like your life and how important it is, the real training began. 

“Show me what you’ve learned.” Obi-wan held up his lightsaber in a defensive stance. 

You nodded and activated your lightsaber. After taking a few deep breaths to regulate your emotions and excitement, you began your sparring match. 

Obi-wan was expertly blocking each of your strikes, giving you tips or praise depending on how you were doing. Before long, you were out of breath and starting to sweat. Meanwhile, Obi-wan still looked utterly perfect. 

You took a break and were taking a long sip of water. Your chest heavily moved up and down and a few droplets of water were dripping down your neck. You could feel a pair of eyes on you, so you opened your own to catch Obi-wan staring. You swore you saw some light pink sprinkled on his cheeks before he turned his head away. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “We need to work on your stamina.” 

You almost choked on your last drink of water from his words. They caused some very inappropriate images to come to your mind of different ways Obi-wan could “help your stamina”. 

“How do we do that?” You asked once you regained your composure. 

“More practice. It will increase in time.” He turned to face you again, “But for now, you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you, Master. How about we celebrate tonight?” You proposed. “Oh, I don’t know…” Obi-wan got the feeling he would need to enforce strict Master-Padawan boundaries with you. 

“Come on, I know you’ve had a padawan before, but this is my first time having a Master!” You protested. 

You could see the hesitance on your Master’s face. 

“...Please, Obi-wan?” You walked closer to him and gave him your best pout and pleading eyes. He reluctantly met your gaze, and after thinking for a moment he gave in, “Fine.” 

You smiled at him, “Great! I’ll go get ready!” you said as you ran off to your room to shower. -

Later that day, you had cleaned up and gotten ready in your best clothes and were currently sitting in a speeder, waiting for Obi-wan. You’d sent him a message telling him where to meet you. 

Obi-wan approached you, “Does Anakin know you’re using his speeder?”

“Uhm…yeah, of course. I wouldn’t use a Jedi’s vehicle without their permission.” You tried your best to seem convincing. Obi-wan raised an eyebrow at you, but got into the speeder anyway. 

You looked him up and down a few times and let a small “Hmm” escape your lips. 

“What?” Obi-wan questioned you as you began flying. 

“Nothing.” You tried to assure him, trying to focus on your flying skills. Anakin had only given you three lessons so far. 

“It must have been something.” He pressed. 

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off, chewing on your lip.

“Just what?” Obi-wan was beginning to sound inpatient and childish.

You chuckled at his serious Jedi Master facade cracking, “I just had a feeling that’s what you’d wear.” You finally admitted. 

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” His defensiveness was honestly adorable.

“Nothing’s wrong with them! I guess I just couldn’t picture you in anything else but your Jedi robe.” 

Obi-wan huffed softly and crossed his arms. You glanced over at him. 

“I didn’t know you thought so highly of my opinion, Master.” You teased. 

He sighed, “You’ve been spending too much time with Anakin.”

Once you parked and hopped out of the speeder, Obi-wan was able to get a good look at you. You wore tight-fitting pants that clung to your body nicely and a slightly cropped shirt with fishnets underneath it. Obi-wan watched your ass as you walked in front of him. He noticed something very important missing from you. 

He stopped you in front of the bar you were about to enter, “Where is your lightsaber?” 

You gave him a confused look, “Uhm.. hidden.” You pointed to the boots you were wearing. 

You were about to question why he was looking for your lightsaber when he interrupted you.

“Oh, good. You should always be prepared.” Obi wan opened the door for you. 

You decided to let it go and walked right up to the bar and ordered a few drinks. Obi-wan strolled up next to you.

“Quite a lively crowd tonight.” he commented. 

“Tonight? You come here often, Master?” You leaned against the bar and looked at him with a sultry smile. 

“No, I just-” He began to defend himself but was cut off by the drinks being served. 

“My stars, how many drinks did you order?” He questioned, seeing the line of cups grow.

“A normal amount, calm down.” You assured him, dividing up the drinks between the two of you. You each had two shots and a mixed drink. 

You handed him the first shot, “To Masters.” You clinked your glass with Obi-wan’s and swallowed the liquid and Obi-wan followed your lead. 

“To Padawans.” You followed the same ritual with the next shot. 

“And, to us.” You raised the mixed drink.

“To us.” Obi-wan repeated before clinking your glass one last time and taking a long sip of the drink. 

A band came on a small stage at the farside of the bar and began playing some music. “Ooh, come on!” You started to walk towards the band. 

Obi-wan followed behind you reluctantly, downing his drink on the walk over. Seemingly out of thin air, you handed him another shot and drink and started to sway to the music. 

After downing his shot Obi-wan shook his head, “I drink, but I don’t dance.” 

“Come onnnn.” You urged him, taking his hands and swaying them to the beat. “No, no, really. You don’t want to see me dance.” He continued to protest

You began to move your hips to the beat as well. You were looking at him but his eyes were fixated to your body’s movements.

You stepped a little closer to him, “I do. Show me your moves, Master.” 

This time Obi-wan couldn’t turn away to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He silently scolded himself for letting his emotions overtake him for a moment. Instead of taking the chance on saying something that would make a fool out of himself, he reluctantly began to sway to the music, avoiding eye contact with you. 

Your smile grew and you chuckled, “There you go!” You encouraged him as you finally let go of his hands now that he was getting in the groove of things. 

As the song continued on and the drinks were starting to take effect, Obi-wan seemed to let his guard down some more. He took your hand and gave you a twirl. You gladly followed his lead and began to dance with him, not just next to him. 

With the music getting louder, he had to dip his head down next to your ear so you could hear him when he spoke, “ You’re a great dancer.” 

You laughed in response, looking up at Obi-wan’s face, seeing his smile and the way the corners of his eye crinkled, you realized he was being genuine. 

It was your turn to lean upwards to talk in Obi-wan’s ear, he lowered his head slightly to help you, “You must be drunk if you think that.” 

He echoed your chuckle from just moments ago, “It’ll take more than that to get me drunk, young padawan.” 

You smirked, “Good to know!”

The two of you spent the next few hours cycling between dancing to your favorite songs and sitting at the bar. You could definitely feel the full effects of the drinks you’ve been consuming now and Obi-wan had a light flush on his face, but was still acting somewhat put-together. 

“I don’t think either of us can drive back to the temple.” You confessed to your Master. 

“Yes, I believe you’re right.” He agreed. “We could always call a cab.” 

You shook your head, “Nu-uh, no way am I leaving Anakin’s speeder outside a bar all night. He doesn’t even know I took it!”

“You told me earlier he let you borrow it.” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow at you. 

You giggled slightly, “I lied.” 

“Well, there’s a hotel just down the street. We could stay there for tonight.” 

“That sounds good.” You were glad he was more observant than you had been, “I’m getting pretty tired anyways.” 

“Let us go then.” Obi-wan stood up and offered his elbow to you. 

You took it happily and followed him outside, where it was much quieter. You walked the block to the hotel in a comfortable silence. Mostly, you were trying to focus on not stumbling and leading on just how much the drinks had affected you. 

Obi-wan checked into the hotel and got a room for the night, he was also kind enough pay extra for a droid to pick up the speeder and bring it to the hotel. The moment you walked into your room you collapsed on the bed. You swore you heard a chuckle coming from Obi-wan, but when you lifted your head towards him he was locking the door. You decided to let it go and sat up. The entire room was spinning but you managed to pull off your boots without falling over. It wasn’t until you noticed Obi-wan laying an extra blanket he had fetched from the closet on the floor that there was only one bed in the room. 

“You’re sleeping down there?” You questioned him. 

He stopped in the middle of smoothing out the blanket to tilt his head to meet your eyes. He stood up straight from his previously bent over position.

“Yes, I figured this would be the most… appropriate.” He took a moment to find the right word to describe the current situation. 

“You’re gonna throw out your back if you sleep on this floor, Obi.” Your words were starting to slur slightly, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

But he did. He also noticed the new nickname you’ve appointed him. 

Before he could start to protest, you continued, “Get comfy and come up here. This bed is huge anyway.” You scooted over to one side of the bed and started to undo your pants.

Obi-wan snapped his head away from you and he felt his cheeks warming up, “W-What are you doing??” He put a hand up to further shield his eyes. 

“Gettin’ comfy. I can’t sleep with these tight-ass pants on.” You explained as you lifted your butt off the bed and slowly peeled the pants off of your body, tossing them on the floor next to you then getting under the covers. 

He let out a deep sigh, more so to calm his energy than anything else. “Are you finished?” He questioned, not daring to look over to you. “Yes sir.” You answered him sarcastically. 

Obi-wan cautiously let his hand down and glanced over at you. Seeing you tucked in under the covers was… underwhelming. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but deep down he was hoping to see you spread out half-naked on the bed, waiting for him. However, he did tell himself that you were right about the effects of sleeping on the floor. It would be irresponsible to knowingly cause his body more strain. 

You watched Obi-wan as he stood quietly for a minute before he took off his boots and picked up the blanket he had previously spread out on the floor. He turned off the light in the room and made his way over to the opposite side of the bed and sat down on the edge. 

You could make out the silhouette of his back as your eyes were adjusting to the newfound darkness. He took a few minutes before swinging his legs onto the bed and laying down stiffly. He kept himself as close to the edge of the bed as possible. It was almost comical how large of a gap there was between the both of you. 

Too tired to argue with him further, and not wanting to push his boundaries you closed your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Obi.” you muttered as sleep overtook you. 

“Goodnight, (y/n).” 

After a while of laying in silence, Obi-wan turned his head towards you. Your mouth was parted slightly and your chest was slowly rising and falling with each breath you took. It had been so long since he last shared a bed with someone. The war had taken up every waking moment of his time and attention, he rarely even talked about anything that didn’t relate to it somehow. He would need to answer a barrage of questions when he got back to the temple about where you two were tonight, but it would be worth it. His eyes were starting to feel heavy.

Obi-wan could have sworn he’d only shut his eyes for a few minutes, but when he woke up there was light pouring into the room. 

He sat up quickly and turned on a news hologram to check the time. It was already midday. 

“Oh no…” He mumbled to himself. He was going to get hell from Anakin for being out all night and half the day.

“(Y/n), we have to get going.” Obi-wan said as he turned to you. His cheeks immediately turned pink when he saw the state you were in. 

You had kicked the sheets half off of you in the middle of the night and were laying on your stomach with one leg bent, putting your ass on full-view. To seal the deal, you had worn quite revealing underwear due to your choice in pants the night before. 

Obi-wan felt his blood rush to his crotch as he stared at your ass. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to regain control of his body. It took a few minutes, but eventually he was once again in charge of his body and thoughts. You were his padawan, an apprentice. Nothing else. His job was to teach and train you to harness the force and the power you possess. Jedi cannot form attachments. Especially not to their padawans.

He carefully draped the sheets over your lower half and placed a hand on your shoulder, “(Y/n). It is time to wake up.”

You groaned and buried your face further in the pillow. “Come on, it’s already midday and I’ve missed two meetings this morning.” He removed his hand from your shoulder and got his boots on. 

“I feel like shit.” You didn’t bother to lift your head from the pillow.

Obi-wan could barely make out what your muffled voice, “And whose fault is that?” 

He grabbed your shoes and picked up your pants from the floor and sat them on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m going to get the speeder, please be ready when I come back.” He said before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. 

You groaned louder and reluctantly rolled over and got up and dressed. After you washed your face and gotten a cup of caf from the hotel lobby, you walked outside. Squinting as the sun’s rays violated your pupils, you saw your Master pull up in the speeder. You climbed in the passenger seat and took a long sip of your drink. 

“Did you get me any?” Obi-wan asked.

You looked to him, silently cursing yourself for forgetting about Obi-wan, “Uhm, I figured we could share!” You attempted to save your skin as you handed him the cup.

“Oh, did you?” He looked from you to the cup you were offering. After a moment of internal debate, he took the cup from you and sipped the drink. 

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder as he flew back to the temple. 

-

Obi-wan had gotten an earful from Master Windu, when the two of you had arrived back to the temple. Obi-wan was swept into a meeting and you were left to your own devices for a while. 

For the next week Obi-wan seemed to be more strict with you, keeping conversation to business only. After the initial week, you two had slowly fallen into a more comfortable and casual routine. Although he didn’t allow himself to relax as much as he had the first night you were together. It had been just about 3 months since becoming a padawan. You were doing great with everything, except for meditation and wielding the force.

“Master, I just don’t have the attention span for this type of stuff.” You sighed, becoming frustrated with yourself as you once again failed to enter a deep state of meditation. 

“You do, you just don’t believe you do.” Obi-wan corrected you. 

You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of a meditation room you and Obi-wan had to yourselves, due to your struggles. There was calming music, the sunset shining in the room, you wore comfortable clothes, there was a miniature waterfall for stars sake. But you couldn’t do it. You tried again to focus on your breathing, listening to your environment. You heard Obi-wan’s footsteps as he slowly walked in a circle around you. You could feel his eyes on you. 

You groaned and opened your eyes, “Master, I can’t… I need a break. Can’t we do some sparring?” 

“Your combat skills are coming along very well, you don’t need anymore practice at the moment. The only thing keeping you from success is you.” He always had something vague and cryptic to say, disguised as sage advice. 

“I don’t even know what that means.” You looked up at him with a slight pout. 

“It means, young padawan, that there’s something on your mind keeping you from achieving your goals.” He explained. 

Yeah, you were staring directly at what was on your mind. Obi-wan distracted you. He annoyed you, frustrated you, but worst of all he made you want him. When you made him laugh and crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks firmed up. When he was being consulted on important matters and his brows knitted together and he placed his hand on his beard. It was infuriating. Because you couldn’t have him. You were quite sure he didn’t even see you as anything besides a padawan. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Master Yoda enter the room until Obi-wan turned to greet him. 

“Any success, you are having?” Master Yoda questioned Obi-wan.

“Not yet. But we’re close, I can feel it.” He assured Yoda.

You couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. You stood up and greeted Yoda.

“Hello Master, it’s always a nice surprise to see you.” You smiled at the shorter man as you stood besides Obi-wan. 

“A mission, I have for you.” Yoda got right to the point, “Ready, are you?”

You stood up straighter and nodded, “Yes, Master.”

“To Naboo you will go. Represent the council, you will.” Yoda concluded.

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. You would get to represent the jedi council with THE Obi-wan Kenobi. 

“This is such an honor, Master Yoda. Thank you so much!” Your smile was beaming. 

“If you would like a head start, leave tonight you must.” Yoda turned to walk out of the room. 

“Of course, Master.” Obi-wan assured him. 

Once the door had closed, Obi-wan turned to you, “Looks like you’re getting that break you wanted.” 

You chuckled softly, smile still spread across your face. “I’m gonna go get ready!” You ran out the door and to your room. You can’t believe you finally got assigned your first mission as a padawan. 

-

It had been an uneventful few days in the starship. Your excitement had died down about 6 hours into the trip when you realized you would be stuck staring into space for a week straight. You’d gotten more used to the idea of the cramped ship being called home for the time being and you had some clothes strewn about the ship and trash from energy bars stuffed in your bed cubby. Obi-wan had complained about your mess earlier that day, so you figured you would surprise him by cleaning up while he took a nap. 

You started by disposing of the trash around the ship, wiped down the windows, then got started on picking up your clothes. The hiss of a door opening grabbed your attention, you quickly realized you were devoid of any pants, which had been a recurring issue since being on the ship with Obi-wan. To you, comfort = no pants. You found them to be constricting and uncomfortable so you never wore them when you were alone or asleep. 

Obi-wan stopped just a few inches short of bumping his crotch directly into your ass. He sighed and averted his eyes, “How many times do I have to ask you to wear clothes when I’m around…?” 

You blushed and quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and stepped out of the way for him, “Sorry, Master…” 

“Don’t-” Obi-wan had to stop himself. He was about to tell you to not call him ‘Master’. He never had an issue with anyone else saying it. But sometimes the way you said it made him picture some very inappropriate scenarios. 

“Just… do try to remember from now on.” He sent you an apologetic glance before heading to the cockpit. 

You nodded your head and continued to clean up. 

Obi-wan just needed a few moments to regain his composure. When he closed his eyes to focus, all he could see was you bent over in front of him. And the image was getting to his dick. 

“I cleaned up for you.” You said as you sat in the seat besides Obi-wan, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but…” 

“Oh, I got a surprise alright.” He retorted. 

You whipped your head to see Obi-wan’s eyes screwed shut and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You also noticed that he was breathing heavier than normal. 

“Are you okay, Master?” You asked cautiously, unsure if he was upset with you. 

He could feel his dick hardening, his only saving grace was to hope his layers of clothes hid it. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” He said, opening his eyes and putting his hand down. 

“I’m sorry. I really thought you were going to be asleep for a while.” You explained, but Obi-wan kept looking straight ahead. 

You didn’t get an answer, which was extremely unlike your Master. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on connecting to the environment and the force. You started to pick up a strong feeling coming from Obi-wan. You focused more intently on the feeling and then suddenly it was like you were inside his brain. You felt heat and arousal pool at your core and get a flash of an imagine of yourself bent over before your concentration was broken.

“Are you inside my head??” Obi-wan was finally looking at you.

“I…” You were at a loss for words, “I finally meditated.” You said with a sheepish grin. 

Obi-wan’s cheeks had a light dusting of pink growing across them, “(Y/n), that is a major invasion of privacy.” 

“I didn’t know that’s what I was doing! But- aren’t you proud of me?” You attempted to lighten the mood. 

“...Yes.” He reluctantly answered you, but adjusted his gaze so he was once again looking out the front of the starship. 

Your eyes stayed glued to him. You both knew what had just happened. That Obi-wan was aroused at the thought of you, and that you knew about it. You started to chew on your lower lip, the only questions that hung, unsaid in the air was if you were going to pretend this never happened or if one of you were going to make a move. You knew Obi-wan would never be the one to initiate something romantic. 

Your voice was barely above a whisper, “Do you think of me often, Master?” 

You visibly saw Obi-wan’s breath get caught in his throat when you asked your question. 

“That’s not an appropriate question, padawan.” He replied plainly, trying his best to ignore his feelings and bodily instincts. 

“Well, I don’t think you’re having very appropriate thoughts right now.” You said, standing up from your chair and begging your legs not to give out from under you. 

His eyes shifted slightly to glance to you but then were immediately fixated back on the stars ahead, like it hadn’t been your view for the last days. You started to walk towards him, closing the few feet that separated you. This caused his full attention to be turned to you. 

Obi-wan waited until you were standing directly besides him before looking up at you and speaking, “What are you doing?”

You gave him a soft smile and turned his chair so he was facing you. You leaned down so you were just a few inches from his face. You paused, waiting to hear his protests, but none came. The only sound was Obi-wan’s shaky breath he was desperately trying to hide. You placed one of your hands on the side of his chair and closed the gap between you, gently placing your lips on his. 

After a brief moment of shock and a sharp inhale, Obi-wan closed his eyes, used his hand to cup the side of your face and kissed you back. You let out an exhale you didn’t even know you’d been holding in. As you relaxed into the kiss you were sharing, you tilted your head to the side to deepen it. Obi-wan matched your enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, causing you to take a step back but never detaching from your lips. He placed his other free hand on your hip and backed you up until your legs were met with the control panel. He grazed your lower lip with his tongue which elicited a soft moan from you, allowing Obi-wan to slide his tongue into your mouth, which in turn elicited a bigger moan. You explored each other’s mouths and one of your hands came up to the back of Obi-wan’s neck. 

Seemingly, just as fast as it had started, Obi-wan broke away from you, panting slightly, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

His gaze held yours. His words said one thing, but his eyes said another. 

“Do you want to stop?” You asked him, afraid that he had come to realize this was a big mistake. 

“No.” He admitted, almost too quickly. “Do you..?” He shared your fear of rejection.

You shook your head, “No.”

Obi-wan connected with your lips once again and lifted you up onto an empty section of the control panel. Instinctively, you spread your legs and Obi-wan slid perfectly into the new space you made for him. He moved his mouth down to your neck and began to suck on a spot in the crook of your neck.

You moaned in response to his actions, grabbing a fistful of the robes he was wearing, “Please, I want you.” 

He responded by removing your shirt and then dropping to his knees and tugging down your shorts and underwear in one swift movement. All you could do was watch in anticipation as Obi-wan hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and placed soft kisses on your inner thigh. You opened your legs wider as he got closer to your throbbing core. His beard continued to tickle your thighs as he buried his head into you and started to lap you up. 

You moaned as your head fell back and bumped the glass windshield of the spaceship. Oh, the spaceship. This was Anakin’s ship and Obi-wan Kenobi was eating you out on the control panel. Your thoughts were brought back to the current moment when he took your clit into his mouth and began to suck on it. You entangled your fingers in his hair as sounds of pleasure escaped your mouth. That was seemingly always-perfect hair, well it won’t  be after you were done with him. 

Obi-wan’s tongue was relentless on your soaking cunt. You gripped his hair tighter as you felt your climax building up. 

“Shit, Obi,” you panted, arching your back and grinding yourself against his mouth, “‘M gonna cum soon.”

He moved his hands to your hips in an attempt to pull you closer and shove his face even deeper into your pussy. It was working, with one hand still on Obi-wan’s head and one hand with a death grip on the side of control panel, your orgasm washed over you in waves. Your moaning and panting echoes off the industrial metal of the starship and your thighs tightening around Obi-wan’s head as he continued to suck and kiss you all over. 

When you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to see Obi-wan panting in between your legs, his beard wet with your own juices. He looked utterly perfect sweaty, panting and covered in the mess you had made. He used one hand to get some excess mess off his beard before he stood back up and kissed you. You could smell and taste yourself from the kiss. 

“You are breathtaking.” He praised you when he broke your kiss, but kept your foreheads pressed together. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” You smiled at him and sat up slightly. 

You couldn’t help but glance down at the very evident bulge protruding from Obi-wan. He followed your gaze and looked down at himself as well. 

“You don’t have to-” You cut him off by beginning to peel his layers of clothes off.

Layer after layer of beige and brown were beginning to frustrate you, “Good hell, how many clothes does one man need to wear?” You muttered, more to yourself than to Obi-wan. 

He chuckled, as much as he enjoyed watching you undress him, he had been hard as a rock for some time now. So, he opted to help you out. After removing his top half, you paused to admire his body as he took off his pants. He was much more toned and muscular than his attire led on. He also had quite a few scars across his torso. You scanned his body as he stood upright once again. Your eyes led you down to a happy trail from his belly button, to where his dick was barely being contained. You noticed a small pool of wetness against the fabric from where his pre-cum and saturated the fabric.

Words were tumbling out of your mouth before you even processed what you said, “Please fuck me, Master.” 

You reached between you to push down his underwear and watching his cock spring free. His dick was also a pleasant surprise, he had so much hiding underneath the layers of his jedi attire.   You stroked him softly as you looked into his eyes. 

“Can you do that for me?” You questioned after not receiving a response to your earlier question.

“Yes, sweetheart. Of course.” He assured you and kissed the top of your head.

You leaned back once again and hooked your legs onto Obi-wan’s hips as he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly began to push himself inside of you. You gripped his biceps as you adjusted to his size as he filled you up. He started with a slower, rocking rhythm but was building it up so he was just pounding away inside you. He was savoring the way you looked beneath him, memorizing the sounds you made and the ways your face contorted in pleasure. 

“So beautiful.” He muttered to himself. 

He leaned over you to adjust his position and kissed your shoulder. Having his mouth right next to your ear was extremely welcomed. You could more clearly hear his grunts with each thrust. “I wanna hear you, Obi.” You encouraged him to not hold back, gripping onto his shoulders as you felt your second orgasm building up. 

You felt him nod against you, “Not going to last much longer, darling.” 

The sweet names he kept calling you were filling your heart even more than his cock was filling your pussy, if that was even possible. You began to help him out by meeting his thrusts and grinding against him, causing the tip of his dick to brush against the sensitive spot inside you. 

You let out a load moan and repeated your movements over and over again until you were cumming for the second time, digging your nails into Obi-wan’s shoulders. His movements were becoming slightly sloppy as he began to moan against your shoulder, then you felt his cock pulse inside you and shoot cum into your walls. With a few final thrusts, he emptied all he could inside of you and sloppily kissed your neck. 

You brought moved one of your hands to rubs Obi-wan’s shoulder blade lovingly, “You feel so good.” You gave him a final praise and kissed his cheek, that still vaguely tasted like you. 

“That’s good.” He said, still coming back down from his orgasm. He pulled himself off of you, your sweaty skin wanting to stay stuck together. He carefully pulled out of you and his large load came spilling out and trickled down your thigh. 

If he wasn’t so exhausted, Obi-wan would have taken you again at that very moment. 

“Stay here.” He instructed you as he walked out of sight, only to emerge a few seconds later with a towel to clean you up. 

You watched him as he gently wiped his dripping seed from your skin. You couldn’t help but smile, even after he had just fucked you senseless, Obi-wan was still such a gentleman. 

“Thank you.” You said softly, almost like talking any louder would burst the fragile bubble the two of you were in. 

He looked up at you after throwing the towel in the disposal, “Of course, darling.” He smiled sweetly at you and gave you a soft kiss.

It was a stark contrast from moments ago. He was rough, needy, and primal but now he was soft and gentle. 

For the rest of the trip the two of you existed in your own reality. The next evening you enthusiastically repaid Obi-wan for the oral sex. Then you proceeded to have sex on every surface you could in the cramped starship. 

~ Fin ~ 

@creatureoftheunderworldd

@onlystarwarsamdmarvel