#obi x you

[dollwritesarchive]

𝟣𝟣:𝟣𝟣⎹ 𝓞.𝓐.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ fire force / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ obi akitaru x reader ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ basically all smut, somnophilia ( kinda ), fluffy smut, SAFE sex, fucked to sleep

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.7k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

you were roused into a state of blurry consciousness upon feeling the familiar weight as Obi slid onto the bed. he always tried to be as gentle as possible, but his size makes him less than stealthy. besides, even when he didn’t want to wake you, he had to pull you close to him.

you shift, inching back with your eyes still closed as his rough hands ghost over your biceps, his lips finding your shoulder and littering it with slow, easy kisses. “So good to be home.” he whispers, more to himself, but you smile, sleepy, and hum against the pillow. you were half on your belly, one leg bent up towards you while the other was extended, and you could feel the wall of warmth that was Obi from your shoulders to your feet, but he was holding himself up with his elbow, so as not to crush you, only applying the faintest bit of his weight on your back. he smelled like soap, and you could feel the damp tips of his dark tendrils as he worshipped you with kisses— he’d no doubt showered at HQ before heading back to you, which you didn’t mind. the less time that he had to smell like an inferno around you, the easier it was to savor the moments he was home. you spent oh so much of his time away filled with dread that he might never come back, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded that he was on the brink of death before crawling into your bed.

he was naked, too, as Obi usually slept, only there was a prodding at your thigh— that familiar firmness when Obi missed you too much at work. “What time is it?” you mumbled, reaching back to pet at him. your uncouth hand blindly rubs at the dips in his abs, but you start to shift.

he stops you with a soft, “Shh…” and wraps his larger hand around yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with delicate, butterfly kisses, “don’t get up, sweetheart.” he whispers back, “‘S late.”

“Someone… didn’t get the memo…” you murmur, melting back into the mattress, but you poke your butt out to nudge his hard on as if showing him what you were referencing.

he chuckles, and it’s low and husky. he wants you, and you can hear it in his baritone. “Sorry, that’s my fault,” he replies, sheepish, “I thought about you all day. How soft you are—“ he pauses, lips coasting over your shoulder and to the sweet spots on your neck. you mewl in content. “How… good you smell…”

“Obi…” you breathe out, squirming. you could always sit up, roll over and pull him close, wrap your legs around his hips and let him bury himself in you. hell, you’d even wake up to ride him if that’s what he wanted, sleepy or not. but he’s already reaching for one of the fluffy pillows on his side of the bed, “I can—“

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.” he interjects, “Let me take care of it.” he hooks a strong forearm around your midsection and gingerly pulls your lower half up off the mattress to slide the pillow underneath, propping you up for him, and he whispers, needy, against the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you back to sleep, baby, All I want you to do is snuggle up and enjoy it.” you can feel his hips grinding against yours as he tells you, his cock poking against your flimsy panties, and the hand under you slips beneath the waistband to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. it was incredible to you; even in the dark, while he was needy and getting inside you was the only thing on his mind, he could still find your clit so easy— he could tease the sensitive nub just right. you moan, sleepily. your body wanted to keep resting, but the attention he was giving your core was just stimulating enough to get you wet. “There’s my girl.” he whispers again, feeling your slick start to glue his fingers together. “She missed me, too. I can feel it.” he wasn’t wrong. even as you snuggled against the pillow, your back arched for him, and your hips wanted to rut and ride his fingers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, muffling yourself with the pillow. you cheeks were hot with a blush, even though you knew he couldn’t see. he had to be able to hear the shyness in your soft plea. you were impatient, needy yourself, and you sounded pathetic. “Put it in…” your core throbbed with desire, squeezing around air, and your lower belly was tied in knots. “Obi…”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he mutters, his free hand reaching over you to fumble with the bedside table, grasping the knob on the drawer to pull it open. then, he blindly rustles about the contents of a box, retrieving a prophylactic in a chrome wrapper, “just about ready.”

you knew he didn’t much care for condoms, and neither did you. and even though you’d been dating him steady for a while, he always kept them by the bed. he never once forgot to put one on, even when you were so overtaken by lust and the need to feel him that you would beg him to just hurry and fuck you, he would always remember. you’d asked him one time why he even bothered with them at this point; you’d be content to take him raw whenever he wanted, but he’d just kissed the tip of your nose and replied, “I’ll always take care of you first.”

you knew he didn’t want to keep you up, but the longer he took to grip the wrapper with his teeth and tear it open, the more impatient you became, pushing yourself back against his erection to rub against it with a hapless whimper.

“You’re so goddamn cute.” he whispers, eyes dark as he stares down at your drowsy display, dragging your ass slowly against his cock, sliding the rubber onto his length, ensuring it’s snug and secure. then, he shifts again, laying against you once more, using his fingers between your legs to pull your panties to the side whilst the other takes hold of himself by his base and guides the tip to your treasure. the insertion elicits a thick exhale against the back of your neck, Obi is blissed to be able to feel your walls clamp around him, pulling him deeper. you whine, too, that familiar, sweet stretch much slower tonight. “Happy now, sweetheart?” it’s half a tease, half a genuine inquiry; Obi releases himself to reach up and turn your head to the side, planting a soft kiss against your lips when you nod and mumble a happy mhm, “Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod again, lazily smacking your lips against his mouth to kiss him back. “Me too.” his fingers linger against your cheek, petting it, before he carefully guides it back to the pillow and you nuzzle against it.

you’d been apprehensive at first; you’d not expected to find yourself even drowsier once he was inside you. you thought, for sure, you’d be wide awake, and ready to scream his name until your throat was sore. however, that wasn’t the case at all.

the rhythm he fell into was slow, a lullaby of deep thrusting. he didn’t hit a limit, he didn’t bottom out, and the consistent rocking had your body feeling heavier. sleepier.

“Obi…” you moan, but it’s slurred. drunken.

he allows both of his hands to careen around your body, pulling your pajama top up so he can pepper your shoulders with kisses, before tracing your spine with them, mouth open, panting hot air against your skin and raising goosebumps. “Shh, shhhh,” he replies in a partial moan, “don’t talk, sweetheart. Don’t think… just enjoy it for me.”

you could do that, you thought, allowing yourself to sink, limp, between his massive strength and the sturdy mattress.

“You feel so good, love,” he whispered, kissing wherever he could move your top to find a bare section of flesh, “my best girl, taking me so slow and easy.”

you tried to reply, show some gratitude for all of the praise, but you could only muster a soft, wordless babble as sleep takes hold of you, and claims control over your mind.

“Go ahead,” he urges; Obi must’ve expected you to be fighting it, “go to sleep, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you…” even though his hips twitched, and he so desperately wanted to speed up, to grip your waist and drive himself home over and over until he was dizzy and spent, he doesn’t. he holds that same, slow pace, savoring each thrust and the way the bulging veins on his cock rubbed against your walls, causing them to flutter and tighten.

his jaw tightens, grinding his teeth, one hand gliding down to caress your bent leg from calve to thigh, while the other pets your hair, as if he could never get enough of the feeling of you. and he couldn’t. “That’s it… Gonna give you very, very good dreams tonight, sweetheart.” he coos, feeling your breathing start to even out as you drifted off. in contrast, you clench around him even tighter, a telltale sign that your orgasm is close. his forehead dips to rest between your shoulder blades, closing his eyes. his breathing is ragged, his body wants more, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the softness of your lullaby.

[dollwrites]

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟏 — 𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, somnophilia ( kinda ), fluffy smut, SAFE sex, fucked to sleep, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ call me daddy by 11:11

you were roused into a state of blurry consciousness upon feeling the familiar weight as Obi slid onto the bed. he always tried to be as gentle as possible, but his size makes him less than stealthy. besides, even when he didn’t want to wake you, he had to pull you close to him.

you shift, inching back with your eyes still closed as his rough hands ghost over your biceps, his lips finding your shoulder and littering it with slow, easy kisses. “So good to be home.” he whispers, more to himself, but you smile, sleepy, and hum against the pillow. you were half on your belly, one leg bent up towards you while the other was extended, and you could feel the wall of warmth that was Obi from your shoulders to your feet, but he was holding himself up with his elbow, so as not to crush you, only applying the faintest bit of his weight on your back. he smelled like soap, and you could feel the damp tips of his dark tendrils as he worshipped you with kisses— he’d no doubt showered at HQ before heading back to you, which you didn’t mind. the less time that he had to smell like an inferno around you, the easier it was to savor the moments he was home. you spent oh so much of his time away filled with dread that he might never come back, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded that he was on the brink of death before crawling into your bed.

he was naked, too, as Obi usually slept, only there was a prodding at your thigh— that familiar firmness when Obi missed you too much at work. “What time is it?” you mumbled, reaching back to pet at him. your uncouth hand blindly rubs at the dips in his abs, but you start to shift.

he stops you with a soft, “Shh…” and wraps his larger hand around yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with delicate, butterfly kisses, “don’t get up, sweetheart.” he whispers back, “‘S late.”

“Someone… didn’t get the memo…” you murmur, melting back into the mattress, but you poke your butt out to nudge his hard on as if showing him what you were referencing.

he chuckles, and it’s low and husky. he wants you, and you can hear it in his baritone. “Sorry, that’s my fault,” he replies, sheepish, “I thought about you all day. How soft you are—“ he pauses, lips coasting over your shoulder and to the sweet spots on your neck. you mewl in content. “How… good you smell…”

“Obi…” you breathe out, squirming. you could always sit up, roll over and pull him close, wrap your legs around his hips and let him bury himself in you. hell, you’d even wake up to ride him if that’s what he wanted, sleepy or not. but he’s already reaching for one of the fluffy pillows on his side of the bed, “I can—“

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.” he interjects, “Let me take care of it.” he hooks a strong forearm around your midsection and gingerly pulls your lower half up off the mattress to slide the pillow underneath, propping you up for him, and he whispers, needy, against the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you back to sleep, baby, All I want you to do is snuggle up and enjoy it.” you can feel his hips grinding against yours as he tells you, his cock poking against your flimsy panties, and the hand under you slips beneath the waistband to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. it was incredible to you; even in the dark, while he was needy and getting inside you was the only thing on his mind, he could still find your clit so easy— he could tease the sensitive nub just right. you moan, sleepily. your body wanted to keep resting, but the attention he was giving your core was just stimulating enough to get you wet. “There’s my girl.” he whispers again, feeling your slick start to glue his fingers together. “She missed me, too. I can feel it.” he wasn’t wrong. even as you snuggled against the pillow, your back arched for him, and your hips wanted to rut and ride his fingers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, muffling yourself with the pillow. you cheeks were hot with a blush, even though you knew he couldn’t see. he had to be able to hear the shyness in your soft plea. you were impatient, needy yourself, and you sounded pathetic. “Put it in…” your core throbbed with desire, squeezing around air, and your lower belly was tied in knots. “Obi…”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he mutters, his free hand reaching over you to fumble with the bedside table, grasping the knob on the drawer to pull it open. then, he blindly rustles about the contents of a box, retrieving a prophylactic in a chrome wrapper, “just about ready.”

you knew he didn’t much care for condoms, and neither did you. and even though you’d been dating him steady for a while, he always kept them by the bed. he never once forgot to put one on, even when you were so overtaken by lust and the need to feel him that you would beg him to just hurry and fuck you, he would always remember. you’d asked him one time why he even bothered with them at this point; you’d be content to take him raw whenever he wanted, but he’d just kissed the tip of your nose and replied, “I’ll always take care of you first.”

you knew he didn’t want to keep you up, but the longer he took to grip the wrapper with his teeth and tear it open, the more impatient you became, pushing yourself back against his erection to rub against it with a hapless whimper.

“You’re so goddamn cute.” he whispers, eyes dark as he stares down at your drowsy display, dragging your ass slowly against his cock, sliding the rubber onto his length, ensuring it’s snug and secure. then, he shifts again, laying against you once more, using his fingers between your legs to pull your panties to the side whilst the other takes hold of himself by his base and guides the tip to your treasure. the insertion elicits a thick exhale against the back of your neck, Obi is blissed to be able to feel your walls clamp around him, pulling him deeper. you whine, too, that familiar, sweet stretch much slower tonight. “Happy now, sweetheart?” it’s half a tease, half a genuine inquiry; Obi releases himself to reach up and turn your head to the side, planting a soft kiss against your lips when you nod and mumble a happy mhm, “Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod again, lazily smacking your lips against his mouth to kiss him back. “Me too.” his fingers linger against your cheek, petting it, before he carefully guides it back to the pillow and you nuzzle against it.

you’d been apprehensive at first; you’d not expected to find yourself even drowsier once he was inside you. you thought, for sure, you’d be wide awake, and ready to scream his name until your throat was sore. however, that wasn’t the case at all.

the rhythm he fell into was slow, a lullaby of deep thrusting. he didn’t hit a limit, he didn’t bottom out, and the consistent rocking had your body feeling heavier. sleepier.

“Obi…” you moan, but it’s slurred. drunken.

he allows both of his hands to careen around your body, pulling your pajama top up so he can pepper your shoulders with kisses, before tracing your spine with them, mouth open, panting hot air against your skin and raising goosebumps. “Shh, shhhh,” he replies in a partial moan, “don’t talk, sweetheart. Don’t think… just enjoy it for me.”

you could do that, you thought, allowing yourself to sink, limp, between his massive strength and the sturdy mattress.

“You feel so good, love,” he whispered, kissing wherever he could move your top to find a bare section of flesh, “my best girl, taking me so slow and easy.”

you tried to reply, show some gratitude for all of the praise, but you could only muster a soft, wordless babble as sleep takes hold of you, and claims control over your mind.

“Go ahead,” he urges; Obi must’ve expected you to be fighting it, “go to sleep, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you…” even though his hips twitched, and he so desperately wanted to speed up, to grip your waist and drive himself home over and over until he was dizzy and spent, he doesn’t. he holds that same, slow pace, savoring each thrust and the way the bulging veins on his cock rubbed against your walls, causing them to flutter and tighten.

his jaw tightens, grinding his teeth, one hand gliding down to caress your bent leg from calve to thigh, while the other pets your hair, as if he could never get enough of the feeling of you. and he couldn’t. “That’s it… Gonna give you very, very good dreams tonight, sweetheart.” he coos, feeling your breathing start to even out as you drifted off. in contrast, you clench around him even tighter, a telltale sign that your orgasm is close. his forehead dips to rest between your shoulder blades, closing his eyes. his breathing is ragged, his body wants more, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the softness of your lullaby.

[antxlss]

I’ve recently been thinking about Anakin accidentally putting all his weight on you while you are fucking and you find out how much you love it…

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Anakin was holding himself overtop of you ramming into you at an unforgiving pace. You were on your stomach with a few pillows under your hipbones to keep your ass propped up for Anakin. Your face was buried into the comforter blocking all the lewd noise escaping from your mouth.

You were so close to your orgasm and you could tell Anakin was too by the way his thrusts got sloppier by the second. With one last snap of his hips, you both unraveled. Anakin’s arms immediately buckled and all his weight came crashing down, pinning you completely flat on the mattress. You let out an unintentional choked groan. That just did something to you. He quickly lifted himself off of you, holding himself up again.

“I’m so sorry darling. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He said quickly still out of breath from his climax.

“No.” You pant. “I like it.”

You reached your arm around and pulled him down as best you could in the awkward position you were in and his delicious weight crushed down on you again. His scent immediately ingulfed you. You couldn’t help but let out a moan this time.

You could feel Anakin’s smirk on the back of your neck.

“Oh…. I see what you mean, Love.”

Lets just say Anakin abuses this knowledge just about every time you guys have sex after he figured it out, and he is so fucking cocky about it.

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a/n: i hope this reaches the right audience lol. please tell me you guys understand this, because it has been on my mind for a while. send in your anakin thoughts (nsfw or sfw) and i’ll write a little drabble! much love! <3

[iburnedmyselfalive]

18+ -- saw someone do somethin' like this please lmk so I can give credits <3

Anakin Skywalker who fucks you cruelly, pounding your tight hole with no mercy whatsoever, with his firm grip on your hair, your body arches in perfect alignment for him, cries of pleasure escaping your lips exclusively for him, and him alone.

"yeah? you fuckin' like this huh?" he hisses into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and in mere moments, you nod eagerly, tears glistening in your eyes.

"mmph, so good ani!," you whimper, lost in the intoxicating bliss of his touch.

His lips, warm and eager, pepper kisses all along your neck, while his hand boldly grasps at your ass, fingers kneading the flesh with firmness, relishing in its ample curves.

Anakin Skywalker, the epitome of pleasure, satisfies you so profoundly that each withdrawal elicits a fervent whimper from your lips. Fortunately, he shows no inclination to leave your embrace anytime soon, keeping you blissfully consumed by his huge cock, touchin' at your good spot just perfectly.

"you're so unbelievably tight for me, doll," he coos, his words dripping with praise as he drives deeper into you, his pace quickening. Your hands clutch at the bedsheets, your back arching even more as his sweet words fuel your desire.

"oh my fuck," you whimpered, your eyes closing tightly as sensations threatened to overwhelm you.

"that's all you've got to say?" he taunts, his hand delivering a sharp smack to your ass before he grips your neck, his lips hovering just above your ear.

He's talking to you as if you could speak full on sentences with the way he was fucking you, with the way he fucks you, he's too good.

"tell me, baby, does this feel good?" he teases, a devilish glint in his eyes as he mocks your pleasure, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. All you can manage is a nod and a moan, which only fuels Anakin's desire to dominate you further.

"come on, use that pretty mouth, tell me," he demands, his voice laced with cruelty.

Anakin Skywalker who relentlessly pushes you to the brink until all you can muster are fragmented gasps of pleasure. With each assertive thrust, he claims you anew, pulling back only to tease before delving back in, melding your pussy while his cock is covered in your cum, not daring to put any of it to waste.

His lips find yours, a fleeting taste of heaven before his sultry voice commands your surrender, his awfully filthy words only leading you to make a mess all over him, again.

[realangelahernandez]

I love older men and I love fictional men you put them together……

[jediavengers]

Need some help? ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Warnings: 18+, smut, dom!ani, sub!reader, bratty!reader, oral (f receiving), squirting, praise kink, arm kink, overstimulation

Pairing: Gamer!Anakin x fem!reader

The glow of the holo tv wasn’t the only thing keeping you awake. Anakin’s relentless clicking of his game controller and the sounds of muttered insults directed towards his opponents wasn’t either.

The ache in your lower abdomen that had been eating away at you all day was the real reason you were tossing and turning. It seemed like every move you made caused the slight discomfort to worsen, so your back and forth movements definitely didn’t help.

You groaned, shoving your face into your pillow. Normally, you didn’t like to initiate anything in the bedroom between you and your partner. You preferred him to do that. But the ache was only worsening, so you felt it was time to hint that you needed some assistance.

Anakin, his back resting up against the headboard and his body covered in a blanket, was oblivious to your nearly painful arousal. He was far too caught up in the stupid game he was playing.

You turned so you were facing him, cheek smushed against your pillow as you peaked up at him. The dim light of the TV illuminated his face deliciously, outlining his jaw and extenuating the scar next to his eye. His pretty little lips were pursed and his nose was scrunched, focusing on whatever the hell he was doing in his game.

Anakin was shirtless, like he usually was at home. You didn’t mind it. Although, it was making your situation a little worse. Your eyes glued to his chest, admiring his muscled pecs and bulging arms. Maker, his arms..

You swore his arms were the biggest you’ve ever seen. Every move he made with his controller traveled up his limbs and made his muscles ripple.

Practically drooling, you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together as your thoughts got away from you.

Slowly, you scooted closer to him and snuggled into his side. The hint was subtle, especially since you were basically always in his arms. So, like a typical man, Anakin didn’t get the hint and thought you just wanted to cuddle.

“Oh, hey there, pretty girl,” He chuckled, lifting up his arm so you could snuggle in closer. You laid your head on his lap and he rested his forearm along your collarbones so he could continue playing. “I thought you were asleep.”

You rolled your eyes. Had he not noticed your constant tossing and turning? “Nope.” You breathed in his scent, his musk making you slightly dizzy. “Cant sleep, Ani.”

“Oh? Why not?” He asked, not taking his eyes away from the screen. “Dammit.” He muttered, his clicking getting more aggressive as he gritted his teeth and stared at his game.

You grumble, smushing your face into his stomach. You could feel a chuckle run through his body, causing you to whine.

Anakin started mumbling curse words as he aggressively pressed the buttons, moving his controller closer to his body as whatever situation he was in got more intense.

“Ani..” Your voice was almost bratty, but you could feel that your panties were practically soaked. It was nearly impossible not to snap and yell at him that you needed him to touch you.

“Hold on.” He gritted, tensing up. He continued smashing away at the buttons.

“But-“ You began, but you were cut off.

“Just let me finish this round.” He insisted, eyes not straying from the screen.

You began to pathetically pout. An idea came into your mind and you devilishly smirked. You shifted so you were no longer lying on his lap. Now, you on your stomach, your face hovering above his crotch. Peeling back the blanket, you peaked up at him while you did so. He paid you no attention, so focused on his precious game.

That made you even more frustrated, so you began to gently paw at his clothed length. You could hear his breath hitch and he tensed up. “What are you doing?” He squeaked. Anakin’s eyes finally tore away from the screen, landing on your innocent little face as you looked up at him, your movements slow.

“You’re ignoring me.” You whined, frowning. Feeling his cock harden underneath his sweatpants, you smiled triumphantly as he tossed his controller to the side and pulled you up into his lap.

Gasping as you sat on his clothed hard on, you subconsciously rocked right as you sat down on him. “This what you want?” He chuckled. Anakin’s large hands gripped your hips, resting on the bare skin. You were in merely some panties and a white tank top, giving him a show of your hardened nipples.

You frowned and buried your face in his neck. “Ani..”

“I see,” He ran his fingers through your hair and then traveled his fingertips down your spine. “Are you horny, baby? Do you need some help?” Gently gripping the back of your neck, he made you look at him. “Come on, pretty girl. I need you to use your words.”

“It hurts.” You whined, tears welling in your doe eyes. You could feel the dam about to burst, your tears threatening to spill out onto your flushed cheeks.

“Oh, baby.” Anakin cooed, cupping your cheek. You leaned into his touch, the ache in your core only growing. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve turned my game off immediately.”

You didn’t answer, you just sniffled and let a few tears fall from your eyes.

“Alright, lay back.” He spoke firmly yet so sweetly at the same time. You did as you were told, climbing off his lap, your head now at the foot of the bed. Just as Anakin was about to move, he glanced down.

Where you were sitting on his lap, there was a large wet spot. Your arousal had soaked through your panties onto his sweatpants, causing Anakin to chuckle. “Baby, you gotta tell me when you need me to do something for you. This won’t do.” You blushed furiously at his words.

Anakin crawled down so his face was a few inches from your clothed sex, your cotton pink panties completely soaked through. He didn’t waste any time, hooking the fabric with his fingers and pulling them down your creamy thighs.

Tossing the panties to the side, he groaned as he saw your sopping pussy. “Maker, Y/N..” He whispered, his fingers tracing over your slit.

You whined, arching your back and bucking your hips. Desperate for more, you couldn’t help but groan.

“Easy.” He scolded, placing a soft kiss to your swollen clit. That’s what he did for who knows how long. Anakin placed soft, gentle kisses around your pussy. On your clit, your hole, your thighs. He even placed some pecked on your puckered ring a couple times. Each touch caused you to whine and thrash, bucking your hips towards his face.

By the time he was done teasing, you were absolutely dripping. Your inner thighs were slick with arousal and your clit was painfully pulsing.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” He praised, spreading your legs further with both of his large palms. “Good girls deserve rewards, don’t you think?”

Then, something snapped. His face was now harshly pressed up against you, his mouth devouring your throbbing cunt. His pace was rough and quick, making your back arch painfully and your eyes to roll back into your head.

Loud moans came from your throat, which were music to Anakin’s ears. He’d only been lapping away at your pussy for a half of a minute, but you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

“F-fuck- Ani!” You mewled, fingers tugging at his blonde curls.

Moaning into your pussy, he shoved two of his digits into your hole as he continued to eagerly lap away. He felt your walls begin to clench around his fingers, so he began to harshly suck at your clit.

A nearly pornographic moan fled from your mouth as you came, your juices gushing all over his chin and into his mouth.

Anakin didn’t stop there. No, he didn’t slow down his pace. He kept going, viciously, roughly. The pleasure was almost too much to bear. The overstimulation of him not stopping made you begin to close your legs around his head, but he harshly shoved them back down after his fingers slid out of your cunt.

You already could feel a second orgasm approach, Anakin’s pace only quickening if that was even possible.

With another pathetic whine, you gushed again. This time, it was like a faucet was opened. Your slick gushed out of you at a rapid pace, squirting all over Anakin’s hands, his face and your bed.

You were shaking horribly, which made Anakin pull away from your soaked pussy.

“That’s what you wanted? Huh?” He smirked, licking his lips and chuckling. You whined, breathing heavily and letting your eyelids flutter shut. Anakin used his bare arm to wipe all of your juices off of his face. “I’m not done with you yet.”

[geminibsworld]

i have to be locked up

[yukipri]

💙❤️Happy Valentine's Day!❤️💙

This year, decided to do a set!

"Spice" - Alpha-17 x Obi-Wan

"Sugar" - Fordo x Obi-Wan

Do you prefer your romance to be Sweet❤️ or Spicy💙?

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REUPLOAD, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!

[ddejavvu]

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

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

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

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze; you’re caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would have.

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

“But Anakin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too meticulous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He comes undone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a shirt on your bed.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

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

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

You and Obi-Wan.

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

[anisbaby]

anakin skywalker who comes home from a mission completely worn out and agitated to find you lounging on the bed with a book.

he says nothing as he shrugs off his robe before crawling onto the bed and taking a hold of your legs. You squeak slightly looking down at him with wide eyes as he settles between your spread legs.

He meets your gaze for a moment before manoeuvring your shorts down your legs. "good girl." he mumbles as you lift your hips allowing him to pull your panties down.

Hooking his arms under your legs he blew out a breath on your core. A small sound of surprise escaped your lips as he tightened his grip around you.

"Stay still." he grits out before attaching his lips to your clit. You gasp, your hands flying to his hair.

He's quick in working you to your first climax, only tightening his grip more as you begin to squirm from overstimulation. "anakin. too much." you gasped pushing against his head.

a low growl escaped his throat as his hand came down against your thigh. "We're done when I say we're done."

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 ⎹ 𝓞.𝓐.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ fire force / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ obi akitaru x stripper!reader ( f ; stage name: darling )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ lapdance, dry humping ( obi gets away with A LOT more than you’re supposed to ), needy!obi, reader has a stage name but no physical descriptions, praise kink

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 2.4k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

“Darling!”

it was hardly audible over the thumping bass from the speakers, but you’d heard someone call out for you. you glance over your shoulder; you had been leaning against the bar, chatting up a regular, and pretending to sip on the cocktail he bought you, when one of the newer girls squeezed through the line at the bar, making a bee line for you. “‘Scuse me.” you flashed a smile at the patron, standing up straighter to meet her as she approached. you lean close with your ear inches from her lips so you can hear her over the music.

“Your fire soldier captain’s here. By the door. See?” as she speaks, she points a sharp, manicured nail towards the entrance. your eyeline follows and you find that she’s absolutely right. Captain Obi had wandered in. even with the Saturday night rush, he stood at least a head over everyone; still clad in a plain black tee that was dusted with ash, and his uniform bottoms, the arms of his suit tied like a belt around his hips. that wasn’t usual— he typically came to the club in his civvies.

you frown, reading his tense expression like a book that was opened just for you. brows knit tightly together, eyes dark and sporting black rings; hell, you could almost see how bloodshot they were from where you were standing. he was looking towards the stage, but when he sees that you’re not the one performing, he shuffled inside and headed for an empty table near the back.

“I need to…” you started, biting on your lip, you look at her and she gives you an affirming nod. “Thanks.” you reply, grateful, and press your hand to her bare back, letting her slip into your spot at the bar. you look to the patron with a flirty smile and lean close to his ear. “This is Angel. She’s brand new, and she’s dying to get to know you. Be good to my girl, okay?”

but, you didn’t exactly wait for an answer. you couldn’t. you gave his shoulder a polite pat, before you turned and weaved through the crowd of people, smiling when they said hello to you, but not bothering to stop and chat. if Obi wasn’t there, you would’ve been much more social, but he took priority. maybe it didn’t make sense to the other girls; there were plenty of bigger, richer fish in the sea, but Obi was special. maybe they’d never understand, and you didn’t mind.

as long as they didn’t get in the way.

and they didn’t.

you noticed that, even though Obi was about to sit by himself at a table, the other girls kept their distance— they knew he would send them away anyways; he only ever came for you. one of the waitresses handed him a drink for the wait, but she smiled when she saw you coming, and you did the same to her, mouthing a “thank you” before you were an arm’s length away from him. you approached from behind, reaching out, with your pinky hooking around his thick, calloused forefinger. he turns, a wave of pure relief on his features. he knew it was you. whether he could smell your sugary perfume in the mix with the others, or he knew the silkiness of your touch by heart, it didn’t matter.

and you didn’t have to say anything. you smiled, soft, and gave his finger a little tug, stepping backwards once, twice, until he was stumbling towards you, and then you led him around the tables. careening around them, you felt his finger twitch, trying to hold on to your pinky tighter as he followed you to the champagne room. you only had to give security time to see you, and the pathetic giant toddling behind you, and he stepped aside so you could draw Obi inside, and the door was closed behind, muffling the music and blocking the rest of the club out— leaving you two alone.

you let go, and step over to the bar, setting your clutch purse down on to it. it’d been a busy night, and the purse’s belly bulged with hundreds of crinkled bills stuffed inside. “You want to hold on to that?” you ask, eyeing the drink that he hadn’t even sipped on. he shook his head, though he was only staring at you, and you smile again, gently plucking it from his hand and setting it down beside your clutch. “Sit down, baby,” you cooed; you could still feel him lingering by you. “Get comfortable.”

he did as instructed, albeit a bit reluctant, plopping down on the velvety couch. he was twice the size meant to fit on such, so he always looked like he was sitting on dollhouse furniture. sometimes, it was funny to watch, especially when he was red faced and squirming, but now he fidgeted, his dark eyes deep, black oceans, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“I need…” he’d hunched forward, his elbows resting on his massive knees. “I need you.”

you’re already sauntering over to him, placing both hands on the expanse of his broad shoulders and urging him to lean back. “I’m right here.” you assure him, waiting until he’s reclined to step up onto the couch. you’d balanced on it so many times in your heels that it was second nature, now. you start slow, resting a knee against his massive shoulder, you lean forward, rolling your body against him, one of your hands delving into his dark tendrils. they were damp to the touch, probably from sweat, and you cradle the back of his head, combing him to drop it back against your palm. he looks up the length of your scantily clad figure, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Rough day?” you ask, combing through his hair as you drag yourself against him. you can practically feel the heat from whatever fire he’d just stumbled out of. he nods, but he doesn’t speak. he’s much too entranced, too focused on the way your body moved, fluid and graceful as a swan coasting on a sparkling, midnight lake. his hands ghost over your calf muscle, pulled taut as you balanced. typically, the second a customer reached for you, the dance was over, but you could admit to yourself ( and anyone else for that matter ) that Captain Obi Akitaru had special privileges. he could touch, because he never did so to hurt you. his fingers, though rough and split from countless hours of countless days training, always tried to be as kind and soft as one his size and strength could be.

“You can tell me about it.” you murmured, flipping yourself over so you can slide down his chest on your back. his hand follows up the flare of your hip to hold you close as you wiggled your ass against his groin. “I promise I’m a good listener.”

“No,” he whispers into your neck, perhaps a bit too quick, sitting up to press himself flush to your back, “no I don’t want to. I just want you. I just want to be here with you.”

you were happy to be facing away from him, because the way his voice cracked must’ve embarrassed him, he got quiet after that, simply holding on to your hip as you rubbed into him. even with those thick, uniform pants on, you could feel a firm lump against his thigh, hardening significantly when you targeted and slid over it. you’d be lying to tell yourself that it didn’t turn you on, every time you felt his clothed cock and just how hard it got for you. you’d never once seen it, but you knew every inch by heart, from touch alone. “You are,” you affirmed, “feel me?” you reach back to hook your arm around his neck. “Because I can feel you…”

his breath stuttered as he pushed closer to you, holding on to your hip with one hand, and the other grabbing desperately at the couch cushion underneath him. “I feel you.” it was a moan into your neck where he buried his face. you were hyper aware of his lips pressing against your glitter-coated skin, but you didn’t mind. in fact, he was worshipping the sweetest spots on your neck, and breathing heavy, hot air on to them; it felt so good you wished he’d never stop.

“Good,” you whisper; you’re surprised at just how shaky it is, planting your heels on the floor to lean forward. you had to get away from those addictive kisses, otherwise you might forget that you were only meant to be dancing for him. “Good, baby.” he made a quiet sound of disapproval as you bent over to grab your ankles, shaking your ass back and forth in his face, but both of his hands were holding on to your thighs, thumb pads rubbing firm circles over the skin.

“C’mere, Darling.” he pleaded, leaning back again. he didn’t want to let go, but he had to do so to pat his lap. you felt the heat of a blush on your cheeks and it felt… foreign. you’d been working in the club long enough not to blush like a schoolgirl anymore, but there was something in the baritone of his voice, a need so deep that you could feel it like electricity in the air, and it made you want to swoon. “Please.”

you stand up straight, twirling on your heels to face him, and straddle his gargantuan thighs like he wanted, hips oscillating to the faint baseline of the song booming just outside the door. your fingers are in his hair again, combing it back, but this time, both of his arms hook around your waist and pull you closer to him. “Obi—“ you gasp, surprised. his face nuzzled against your breasts his nose dragging along the sequinned bikini top. you could also feel his hips jutting forward, pressing his hard on against your panties. you stilled for a moment, wide eyed.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, voice husky with lust. you knew he didn’t want to, but if you told him to let go, he would.

you thought about it.

you knew you should say yes.

mixing business with pleasure was a terrible idea.

but you were so wet.

but you shook your head, and eased back down against his bulge, listening to the way he sucked in a harsh breath. “Don’t stop.” you replied, grabbing his hair at the root. fuck it, you thought. “Obi, don’t stop.”

he moans, desperate, pulling you down against his needy rutting, one arm snaking up to hold one of your shoulders, and the other keeping a tight vice on your waist. your back arches, rocking your hips to meet his grinding, and you tilt your head back, eyelids fluttering. the wet patch on your panties left your scent on his groin with each, furious buck of his hips. your lingerie was a flimsy shield from the roughness of his uniform, or the hardness of the cock that he used your body to tend to, so each slide over his lap had you mewling and squirming with pleasure.

“Moan for me again,” Obi begs, stifling his own sounds of ecstasy by killing them in his throat. “You sound… so beautiful… let me hear it again.”

you acquiesce with a happy purr when he litters your chest with eager love bites, and you pull on his hair with a tight fist, biting down on your lip to relieve some of the pressure building between your hips. “O—Obi, please… that feels good… you feel good…”

Obi grunts in approval, muscles in his herculean biceps bulging, veins poking out, as they contract. you’d never been locked in a hold this strong, and you didn’t mind it at all. if anything, you’d never felt safer.

“Just like that, baby,” you moaned again, back arching. his rutting was becoming more and more fervent, his mouth more passionate and insatiable as he nudges your top aside to bring your breast into his mouth and clamp his teeth on your nipple. “Fuck!” it’s a harsh whisper, the knots tying over and over in your belly pulling tight. you almost can’t believe it— you’re going to cum from this. “Obi! Cumming, oh god, I’m cumming!”

he holds you tighter when you come undone, bear hugging your much smaller frame so you can’t run away from euphoria, and instead ride out every, last wave of mind blowing pleasure, calling his name over and over, your eyes closing under the rush.

it was after several moments of shuddering and heavy panting that you finally came back, and realized you’d soaked not only your panties, but his uniform as well, and you sheepishly press a hand to it. “Sorry about that.” you mumble, but he shakes his head, letting go of you to cup one hand over yours.

“That’s not only you, sweetheart.” he replied, “I came minutes before you did.”

his massive chest was still heaving, but you were pleased to see his usual smile was tickling the corners of his lips.

your blush deepened in heat and magnitude. why hadn’t he told you? did he think that he owed it to you to make sure you enjoyed yourself, too? you mirror the smile, your own just as genuine, as you consider how lucky you were to have been working the first night he stumbled into the club the year prior.

you clear your throat, shifting on his lap, and tap his chest with both hands, “Well, luckily for you, I think my legs are pretty much jello right now, so we’re going to sit right here like this until I’m confident I won’t break my neck trying to wobble back out onto the floor.”

[dollwrites]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 — 𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!stripper!reader, lapdance, dry humping ( obi gets away with A LOT more than you’re supposed to ), needy!obi, reader has a stage name but no physical descriptions, praise kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ kiss me you animal by burn the ballroom

“Darling!”

it was hardly audible over the thumping bass from the speakers, but you’d heard someone call out for you. you glance over your shoulder; you had been leaning against the bar, chatting up a regular, and pretending to sip on the cocktail he bought you, when one of the newer girls squeezed through the line at the bar, making a bee line for you. “‘Scuse me.” you flashed a smile at the patron, standing up straighter to meet her as she approached. you lean close with your ear inches from her lips so you can hear her over the music.

“Your fire soldier captain’s here. By the door. See?” as she speaks, she points a sharp, manicured nail towards the entrance. your eyeline follows and you find that she’s absolutely right. Captain Obi had wandered in. even with the Saturday night rush, he stood at least a head over everyone; still clad in a plain black tee that was dusted with ash, and his uniform bottoms, the arms of his suit tied like a belt around his hips. that wasn’t usual— he typically came to the club in his civvies.

you frown, reading his tense expression like a book that was opened just for you. brows knit tightly together, eyes dark and sporting black rings; hell, you could almost see how bloodshot they were from where you were standing. he was looking towards the stage, but when he sees that you’re not the one performing, he shuffled inside and headed for an empty table near the back.

“I need to…” you started, biting on your lip, you look at her and she gives you an affirming nod. “Thanks.” you reply, grateful, and press your hand to her bare back, letting her slip into your spot at the bar. you look to the patron with a flirty smile and lean close to his ear. “This is Angel. She’s brand new, and she’s dying to get to know you. Be good to my girl, okay?”

but, you didn’t exactly wait for an answer. you couldn’t. you gave his shoulder a polite pat, before you turned and weaved through the crowd of people, smiling when they said hello to you, but not bothering to stop and chat. if Obi wasn’t there, you would’ve been much more social, but he took priority. maybe it didn’t make sense to the other girls; there were plenty of bigger, richer fish in the sea, but Obi was special. maybe they’d never understand, and you didn’t mind.

as long as they didn’t get in the way.

and they didn’t.

you noticed that, even though Obi was about to sit by himself at a table, the other girls kept their distance— they knew he would send them away anyways; he only ever came for you. one of the waitresses handed him a drink for the wait, but she smiled when she saw you coming, and you did the same to her, mouthing a “thank you” before you were an arm’s length away from him. you approached from behind, reaching out, with your pinky hooking around his thick, calloused forefinger. he turns, a wave of pure relief on his features. he knew it was you. whether he could smell your sugary perfume in the mix with the others, or he knew the silkiness of your touch by heart, it didn’t matter.

and you didn’t have to say anything. you smiled, soft, and gave his finger a little tug, stepping backwards once, twice, until he was stumbling towards you, and then you led him around the tables. careening around them, you felt his finger twitch, trying to hold on to your pinky tighter as he followed you to the champagne room. you only had to give security time to see you, and the pathetic giant toddling behind you, and he stepped aside so you could draw Obi inside, and the door was closed behind, muffling the music and blocking the rest of the club out— leaving you two alone.

you let go, and step over to the bar, setting your clutch purse down on to it. it’d been a busy night, and the purse’s belly bulged with hundreds of crinkled bills stuffed inside. “You want to hold on to that?” you ask, eyeing the drink that he hadn’t even sipped on. he shook his head, though he was only staring at you, and you smile again, gently plucking it from his hand and setting it down beside your clutch. “Sit down, baby,” you cooed; you could still feel him lingering by you. “Get comfortable.”

he did as instructed, albeit a bit reluctant, plopping down on the velvety couch. he was twice the size meant to fit on such, so he always looked like he was sitting on dollhouse furniture. sometimes, it was funny to watch, especially when he was red faced and squirming, but now he fidgeted, his dark eyes deep, black oceans, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“I need…” he’d hunched forward, his elbows resting on his massive knees. “I need you.”

you’re already sauntering over to him, placing both hands on the expanse of his broad shoulders and urging him to lean back. “I’m right here.” you assure him, waiting until he’s reclined to step up onto the couch. you’d balanced on it so many times in your heels that it was second nature, now. you start slow, resting a knee against his massive shoulder, you lean forward, rolling your body against him, one of your hands delving into his dark tendrils. they were damp to the touch, probably from sweat, and you cradle the back of his head, combing him to drop it back against your palm. he looks up the length of your scantily clad figure, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Rough day?” you ask, combing through his hair as you drag yourself against him. you can practically feel the heat from whatever fire he’d just stumbled out of. he nods, but he doesn’t speak. he’s much too entranced, too focused on the way your body moved, fluid and graceful as a swan coasting on a sparkling, midnight lake. his hands ghost over your calf muscle, pulled taut as you balanced. typically, the second a customer reached for you, the dance was over, but you could admit to yourself ( and anyone else for that matter ) that Captain Obi Akitaru had special privileges. he could touch, because he never did so to hurt you. his fingers, though rough and split from countless hours of countless days training, always tried to be as kind and soft as one his size and strength could be.

“You can tell me about it.” you murmured, flipping yourself over so you can slide down his chest on your back. his hand follows up the flare of your hip to hold you close as you wiggled your ass against his groin. “I promise I’m a good listener.”

“No,” he whispers into your neck, perhaps a bit too quick, sitting up to press himself flush to your back, “no I don’t want to. I just want you. I just want to be here with you.”

you were happy to be facing away from him, because the way his voice cracked must’ve embarrassed him, he got quiet after that, simply holding on to your hip as you rubbed into him. even with those thick, uniform pants on, you could feel a firm lump against his thigh, hardening significantly when you targeted and slid over it. you’d be lying to tell yourself that it didn’t turn you on, every time you felt his clothed cock and just how hard it got for you. you’d never once seen it, but you knew every inch by heart, from touch alone. “You are,” you affirmed, “feel me?” you reach back to hook your arm around his neck. “Because I can feel you…”

his breath stuttered as he pushed closer to you, holding on to your hip with one hand, and the other grabbing desperately at the couch cushion underneath him. “I feel you.” it was a moan into your neck where he buried his face. you were hyper aware of his lips pressing against your glitter-coated skin, but you didn’t mind. in fact, he was worshipping the sweetest spots on your neck, and breathing heavy, hot air on to them; it felt so good you wished he’d never stop.

“Good,” you whisper; you’re surprised at just how shaky it is, planting your heels on the floor to lean forward. you had to get away from those addictive kisses, otherwise you might forget that you were only meant to be dancing for him. “Good, baby.” he made a quiet sound of disapproval as you bent over to grab your ankles, shaking your ass back and forth in his face, but both of his hands were holding on to your thighs, thumb pads rubbing firm circles over the skin.

“C’mere, Darling.” he pleaded, leaning back again. he didn’t want to let go, but he had to do so to pat his lap. you felt the heat of a blush on your cheeks and it felt… foreign. you’d been working in the club long enough not to blush like a schoolgirl anymore, but there was something in the baritone of his voice, a need so deep that you could feel it like electricity in the air, and it made you want to swoon. “Please.”

you stand up straight, twirling on your heels to face him, and straddle his gargantuan thighs like he wanted, hips oscillating to the faint baseline of the song booming just outside the door. your fingers are in his hair again, combing it back, but this time, both of his arms hook around your waist and pull you closer to him. “Obi—“ you gasp, surprised. his face nuzzled against your breasts his nose dragging along the sequinned bikini top. you could also feel his hips jutting forward, pressing his hard on against your panties. you stilled for a moment, wide eyed.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, voice husky with lust. you knew he didn’t want to, but if you told him to let go, he would.

you thought about it.

you knew you should say yes.

mixing business with pleasure was a terrible idea.

but you were so wet.

but you shook your head, and eased back down against his bulge, listening to the way he sucked in a harsh breath. “Don’t stop.” you replied, grabbing his hair at the root. fuck it, you thought. “Obi, don’t stop.”

he moans, desperate, pulling you down against his needy rutting, one arm snaking up to hold one of your shoulders, and the other keeping a tight vice on your waist. your back arches, rocking your hips to meet his grinding, and you tilt your head back, eyelids fluttering. the wet patch on your panties left your scent on his groin with each, furious buck of his hips. your lingerie was a flimsy shield from the roughness of his uniform, or the hardness of the cock that he used your body to tend to, so each slide over his lap had you mewling and squirming with pleasure.

“Moan for me again,” Obi begs, stifling his own sounds of ecstasy by killing them in his throat. “You sound… so beautiful… let me hear it again.”

you acquiesce with a happy purr when he litters your chest with eager love bites, and you pull on his hair with a tight fist, biting down on your lip to relieve some of the pressure building between your hips. “O—Obi, please… that feels good… you feel good…”

Obi grunts in approval, muscles in his herculean biceps bulging, veins poking out, as they contract. you’d never been locked in a hold this strong, and you didn’t mind it at all. if anything, you’d never felt safer.

“Just like that, baby,” you moaned again, back arching. his rutting was becoming more and more fervent, his mouth more passionate and insatiable as he nudges your top aside to bring your breast into his mouth and clamp his teeth on your nipple. “Fuck!” it’s a harsh whisper, the knots tying over and over in your belly pulling tight. you almost can’t believe it— you’re going to cum from this. “Obi! Cumming, oh god, I’m cumming!”

he holds you tighter when you come undone, bear hugging your much smaller frame so you can’t run away from euphoria, and instead ride out every, last wave of mind blowing pleasure, calling his name over and over, your eyes closing under the rush.

it was after several moments of shuddering and heavy panting that you finally came back, and realized you’d soaked not only your panties, but his uniform as well, and you sheepishly press a hand to it. “Sorry about that.” you mumble, but he shakes his head, letting go of you to cup one hand over yours.

“That’s not only you, sweetheart.” he replied, “I came minutes before you did.”

his massive chest was still heaving, but you were pleased to see his usual smile was tickling the corners of his lips.

your blush deepened in heat and magnitude. why hadn’t he told you? did he think that he owed it to you to make sure you enjoyed yourself, too? you mirror the smile, your own just as genuine, as you consider how lucky you were to have been working the first night he stumbled into the club the year prior.

you clear your throat, shifting on his lap, and tap his chest with both hands, “Well, luckily for you, I think my legs are pretty much jello right now, so we’re going to sit right here like this until I’m confident I won’t break my neck trying to wobble back out onto the floor.”

[kingdomhate]

Calling Them Cute Scenarios!

Kylo Ren: He smiled and brought himself closer to you, intimately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a cozy hug. "I think you're adorable," Kylo raised your chin gently to look into your eyes. "And so, so precious." He leaned down and kissed you with an unspoken devotion. The act making your heart pound and a soft pink hue spread lightly across your cheeks. Kylo reaches for your hand, intertwining them as he deepens the kiss, steadily increasing his passion. His black leather gloves, deliciously cold in stark contrast to the heated kiss you both shared in the intimate moment.

As he pulled away, his eyes flutter open to meet yours, and his head spins. You are so pretty to him. He feels a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he embraces you again, resting your head against his chest.

Armitage Hux: Armitage stared down at you, his nose wrinkling at the thought. Him, cute? "Pardon me?! I am not cute, I am powerful! I am the brains of the First Order!" He spits. "You're adorable." You coo, touching his cheek. Despite his efforts to remain in control, he softens. Weak under your touch, under the influence of your words. He sighs and looks at you, the look in his eyes resembles deep affection and tender love. "I love you." He whispers to you, as you place a kiss to his forehead and lips. The kiss is tender, reassuring. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he wraps his around your waist, leaning you down slightly.

"You're so special," You utter into his ear, making his breath hitch. "I love you too."

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Obi smiles and blushes, hiding his face a bit. Once he has your composure, he turns back to you. "That title belongs to you, my dear. Just you." You smile and approach him, your hands going onto either of his cheeks. "Is that so? How adorable." You lean in to give him a kiss. Obi-Wan engulfs you in a warm, soothing embrace, reminding you of his endless love. "Yes, my love. Nothing short of it." He leans in to kiss you once more, holding you close, wrapping you in his brown Jedi robes, you welcomed the affection and giggled.

Resting his head against yours, he gazed into your eyes. His jade eyes boring into yours, more than ever, you feel like you could get lost in them. Would you be upset if you did? No. What a perfect paradise. "I adore you, Obi." You pull him closer, wanting nothing but the feeling of his skin against yours. "As do I, my love. As do I."

Luke Skywalker: Luke grins sheepishly at your compliment, was he really? Bashfully, he shied away from your eyes, and you playfully nudged him. "Do you think you aren't?" You asked, gazing at his blushing figure. "I-I do," He turns shyly to look at you. "Just- it sounds weird when you say it aloud." You tilt your head. "What? Why?" Luke rubs the back of his neck, seemingly nervous. "It's lovey-dovey." You cross your arms. "You love it." You tease. Luke turns away dismissively. "N-no! I don't.." You could practically see the blush in his words, as he spoke dismissively. You smirk. "Yes, you do!" You spin him to make him look at you and you plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

"It's fine if you don't, you know?" You assure him, sitting next to him. He nods. "No, I like it!" Luke insists, taking your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "Really?" A smug smirk begins forming on your lips. "I love you, my cute boy." You press your lips to his again.

Anakin Skywalker: He grins at you. "I am, aren't I?" He says smugly, and you giggle. "Of course you are." He goes over to you and looks at you, still grinning. "But you're adorable, so monumental." You blush at the sudden compliment and playfully shove him. "Aren't you a tease?" Anakin smirks at you, laughing a bit. "But you love it." You couldn't help but nod. "Duh." He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. "God, I love you." He admits, resting his he chin atop your head. Lightly caressing his hair with his mechanical hand and holding you with his normal one. "I don't know what I would do without you."

His words send affection straight to your hand, and you you smile uncontrollably. "Me neither. I love you more than I could ever describe, sweetie." You lean back, touching his cheek. "I live for you, my love. You are my purpose." You melt, his words causing small tears to prickle your eyes as you quickly wipe them away. "I love you so much, Ani."

[iburnedmyselfalive]

FOREVER.

┃synopsis brothers best friend!sam x female reader,, reader takes sam with her to get her nipples pierced.

┃18+ nsfw, all smutty n shit I know i said i would be taking a break for awhile but guys this is based on a true story (winks) and its been bugging me, not proofread sorry :’(

You and Sam Monroe have always shared a close bond, perhaps inevitable given his status as your brother's best friend. Over the years, with his frequent presence, your relationship naturally blossomed, forging a strong connection between the two of you.

Your birthday came and went, and just a couple of days prior, you finally mustered the courage to book an appointment for a piercing you'd been longing for. Despite your excitement, you couldn't shake the nerves; you were a total wimp when it came to pain. Faced with the prospect of enduring it alone, you pondered the idea of bringing along a friend for support.

Initially, Sam wasn't your first choice at mind, but with all your other friends tied up, you figured, why not? After all, he'd seen your body before, albeit accidentally during that awkward vacation moment when he stumbled upon you changing. Though flustered at the time, it was never brought up again.

As he locked his car and stood beside you, he gallantly held the door open. "So, y'feelin' nervous?" he teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"No," you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm, rolling your eyes as the piercing shop loomed ahead.

"Maybe a little," you confessed in a hushed whisper, earning a shake of his head and a chuckle. He reached out, grabbing the door for both of you, his easy confidence adding a touch of reassurance to your jittery nerves.

As you approached the front desk, butterflies twisted in your stomach, a nervous energy coursing through you. Confirming the appointment, the receptionist informed you that they'd be ready in about fifteen minutes due to the busy schedule. You nodded reassuringly, both you and Sam making your way to the small seating area.

He could sense your unease, fully aware that this moment would rattle your nerves. "Drink," he offered, handing you a bottle of water you hadn't even realized he brought along.

"Relax, I'm right here, remember? n' you've gotta stay hydrated, you look pale. Does this shit really get you that worked up?" he questioned as you accepted the cold bottle, nodding in response. A mixture of nerves and excitement coursed through you; after all, you'd been eagerly anticipating getting your nipples pierced for ages.

Shortly thereafter, you found yourself in the chair, your shirt pulled up and bra discarded, feeling a rush of vulnerability as the piercer meticulously arranged her equipment. With a gentle touch, she guided you to lie back on the piercing table, where she began the process of cleansing both of your nipples with precision, using alcohol and surgical scrub.

"I'm going to need you to take a deep breath, alright?" she asked, her voice calm but firm, as she positioned the needle within your line of sight. You nodded, steeling yourself for the inevitable discomfort, and closed your eyes, bracing for the sensation.

"Relax," Sam's voice broke through the tension, his tone soothing yet tinged with a hint of excitement. Despite his attempt at reassurance, you couldn't help but feel his gaze lingering on your exposed chest, his curiosity palpable.

As you focused on regulating your breathing, you couldn't shake the awareness of Sam's presence beside you, his unwavering attention drawing a flush to your cheeks. Despite the nerves that fluttered within you, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing that he was there, offering silent support during this intimate moment.

"Took it like a pro," he whispered softly, his hand a reassuring presence on your back as you both emerged from the place. There was no denying the pain, it was sharp and present, impossible to ignore. But even in the midst of it, you couldn't help but be aware of Sam's gaze, lingering a bit longer than necessary on your chest.

His eyes traced the movements of the piercer with keen interest, noting every grimace and subtle shift in your demeanor as the needle pierced your skin. It was as though he was cataloging every moment, every reaction, committing it to memory with a mixture of fascination and concern.

And damn well you were taking him like a pro now.

"You think you're special, princess?" he sneered as he loomed over you, your legs tucked up, stuffing you fully. "All dolled up, begging for it like a good little slut," he taunted, his gaze burning with raw dominance.

"Just like those piercings, you're gonna take every inch of me, whether you can handle it or not," he declared, with each aggressive thrust, he asserted his power over you, his cock buried deep in you, his balls slapping against your skin as your juices flowed freely, dripping all down your ass.

"You're nothing but a toy for me to use," he growled, reveling in your surrender. "Beg for more, beg for it like the desperate whore you are," he commanded, his voice dripping with authority.

"oh fuck, sam!" you cried out, eyes squeezing shut.

"That's right, take it all, take it like the filthy little slut you were meant to be," he snarled, his lips assaulting your neck in a possessive kiss before he left his mark, branding you as his in the most primal of ways.

"So fuckin' sexy," he murmured against your skin, his lips finding purchase around your breast, his eyes locked onto yours as his tongue teased over the piercing.

"Sam," you pathetically whimpered,

"mhm," he mocked in response, the vibrations sending a delicious sensation through you. "You like that?" he asked, pulling away for a brief moment before attacking your other nipple with a fierce hunger, sucking hard.

"yes, yes, yes," you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on as pleasure surged through your body.

"I can feel you getting off on this," he snarled while he pushed his fingers into your mouth. "You tryna' let everyone know what we're doing baby, hm?" he taunted, his lips grazing your ear with a hint of menace.

"m'gonna cum" you whined out, squirming beneath him.

"Even your dear brother?" he sneered, completely ignoring you.

"He'd tear me apart if he caught us like this," he warned, his fingers probing deeper. "But you know damn well I won't stop, no matter who walks in," he growled, his desire fueling his aggression.

"Do you like 'em?" you managed to choke out, your voice strained around his fingers, but he only chuckled darkly.

"You know I do. Watching you squirm as you got them had me throbbing," he admitted, his grip tightening on your hair.

"I've been waiting for this moment since the damn beginning," he spat, the anticipation making him reckless.

"And now that they're healed, I'm going to show you," he promised, his voice dripping with cruel intent.

"I'm going to show you just how much I love 'em, how much I love you ."

[mysticallystilinski]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

(𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - anakin despised you, but after getting in a fight with your boyfriend he had second thoughts about his feelings. you patched him up, but he wanted you to kiss it better.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2.8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 - (slight) enemies!lovers if u squint hard enough, modern au, college!reader, mentions of blood, substance use, porn!w/plot, oral fem!receiving, p in v intercourse.

『 masterlist + nav + taglist 』 𝜗𝜚

the chill of the vent hit your exposed back in the front of the library. you had expected to be warmer as you sat closer to the front, but you were mistaken. you shivered in your seat as your legs clenched together.

anakin couldn’t help but notice your demeanor. cold, but hot at the same time. his eyes slowly looked you up and down while you were focused on the book in front of your face. it wasn’t unlike him to stare at you, especially in the library. that was when he felt you looked your best. messy hair, sweats, and your dark glasses.

he may have despised you, but god he couldn’t deny you were hot. the things he wanted to do to you. he had a boner just thinking about bending you over that table, and ripping off every article of clothing. his hard cock thrusting into you slowly while you begged him to go faster.

of course that was just his imagination. in reality, he felt disconnected from you. from what he knew, you hated him since the beginning of freshman year. he didn’t know why, which made his liking for you go considerably down. not to mention, you had a boyfriend.

you turned around to scan the area for your friend isamora, but locked eyes with anakin. he immediately looked away, and locked eyes with his phone. you scoffed, what an ass. little did you know your instagram was on his screen. you turned back to your book, and scanned the page.

suddenly you had little interest to finish reading. catching anakin stare at you ignited something in your mind. you shouldn’t have been thinking about him. you had a boyfriend, and he was great. greatly boring, in the aspect of bed. jordan was toxic and manipulative, but you were still with him. you needed someone to attach yourself to, just to take your mind off anakin.

you suddenly felt a pair of hands being placed upon your back, and you jumped. “god, you scared me isa”, you said with a heavy voice. your heart was beating fast, mostly from the scare but anakin was some part of it.

“please just come with me, just once”, isamora pled. it was already ten o-clock, and she was begging you to go to the party next door. you sighed, wishing for a way out of it. “i mean, i don’t know”, you spoke. “i heard anakin will be there”, she joked.

your eyes widened at that comment. she knew you always hated him, but she felt the tension between you two at certain times. in some positions, you and anakin came face to face regarding academics, or just bantering. isamora had been friends with anakin longer than she was friends with you.

she knew how he felt, conflicted. the mix of lust, and hatred grew for you from anakin as the years passed on. “fine, i’ll go”, you huffed. isa jumped in excitement as you agreed to her plans. “now let me pick out what you’re going to wear”, she screeched.

you headed over to your shared closet door, and slid it to the right. a huge pile of clothes fell onto the floor, and made a path for a sexy, black dress. it was almost fate that it was perfectly there, with the seams delicately placed. you grabbed the dress, but isa was quick to grab it first. “you are trying this on, no complaints”, she said.

you stared at the dress in awe, “is it yours?”. she huffed, “yes but i haven’t found the perfect occasion, till now”, she laughed. she handed over the dress to you, and pushed you towards the entrance of your dorm. you swung the door open, and went out into the hall.

you were looking down, so you didn’t notice him walking your direction. the next thing you know, you were on the floor. he fell backwards after bumping into your figure. he wasn’t paying attention, until you caught his. anakin looked up into your eyes, then to your dress that was sprawled across the floor.

“woah”, he whispered under his breath. he scanned your eyes for any response, but as soon as you were about to talk he was lifted up by some of his friends. “c’mon anakin, let’s head to this party”, they spoke. he looked back as his friends dragged him to the door down the hall.

they stunk of weed and alcohol, mainly what the party contained of. you lifted yourself up, and grabbed the dress off the floor. you brushed off your clothes in disgust at the interaction that just happened. the communal bathroom opened up, and you knew it was go time.

you knocked on your dorm door with persistence for isamora to open it. you were all dolled up now, perfume all over, flawless makeup, and perfect jewelry. you checked your phone to call isa. she had texted you a few minutes ago that she was heading to the party, and to meet her there. are you fucking kidding me, you whispered under your breath.

you put your phone away, and headed down the hall to the party. your heels clacked onto the carpet, and you fixed your hair as your rushed down the hallway. you heard the loud bass come from dorm 201, so you knew that was where it was.

anakin was dreading to see you after your previous interaction. he was embarrassed, and frankly horny. before you came into the dorm, he imagined what your dress would look like on you. your features being prominent on the tight dress.

your hand latched onto the doorknob, and you pushed it open. isa could almost sense you coming in, so she headed for the door. “y/n!!”, she screamt. you laughed at her demeanor, and headed into the lofty dorm. your eyes burned almost immediately as smoke wafted into your face. weed and nicotine was heavily prominent in this dorm room.

the vibe of the party was your type. not too loud, but not too quiet. immediately, you locked eyes with anakin from across the room. he lowered his head, and you could’ve sworn you saw him smirk. it may have been all in your mind, but you wouldn’t have cared.

jordan was sitting on the couch, a blunt in hand, talking to one of his friends. his eyes wavered across the room, never hitting you once. it was typical of him to ignore you at these types of events, but tonight you didn’t have a care in the world. beginning to plan, your mind thought of pumping tons of shots into your system.

you headed over to the drink table. you felt anakin eyes upon your presence following you. the table was lined starting with malibu, ending with pink whitney. you groaned in disgust after seeing the whitney, bad memories. you grabbed a shot glass from the long table, and poured some tequila into it. on second thought, you grabbed another shot and poured vodka.

at once, you took both shots with no chaser. the liquid poured down your throat and left a heavy burning sensation. the aftertaste was disgusting, and made you start to gag. you felt a hand caress your back, “baby, don’t throw up”. immediately you knew who it was, anakin.

“anakin what the hell are you doing?”, you questioned. he smiled at your question, already 7 shots in. the smell of alcohol lingered from his breath, “i’m not doing anything.. i’m just talking.. can’t i just talk to you?”. immediately you were faced with the fact that he was heavily drunk. his hand began to rub up and down your back.

you began to feel your legs clench together mindlessly. anakin lowered his head down to your ear, “am i making you feel good?”. you felt his hot breath on your face as he stood there waiting for a response. star strucked, your mind went completely blank.

in a split second, anakin was on the floor. jordan was on top of him, trying to get many punches in. you screamt as ani’s face became bloodied. anakin rolled over and went on top of your boyfriend. jordan grabbed his wrists and flipped him back over. “this is what you get for flirting with my girlfriend”, jordan fumed.

anakin laughed through the pain, punches flew hardly missing him. his teeth became bloody, and his smile was still prominent as jordan tried harder to hurt him. anakin looked so hot smiling devilishly. even if he was hurt, god was he hot. campus security barged through the door, and lept onto both anakin and jordan.

many people ran out of the dorm, and scattered throughout the hallway. “THE COPS ARE HERE”, someone yelled, which caused panic to arise. anakin was pulled away from jordan, but jordan was still clawing at him. you laughed at the sorry attempt of jordan attacking anakin. anakin sat on the floor, head in his hands.

you quickly walked over to him, and grabbed under his shoulder. he was lifted up with your force, and taken to the private bathroom in the dorm. anakin sat on the covered toilet, and groaned in pain. blood ran down his face, and was entangled in his hair. the cabinets were easy to navigate for you to find washcloths, tylenol, and hydrogen peroxide.

your heels were forced off by your hands, and you were slightly less tall to be able to help him. “i’m fine”, anakin groaned in pain. “i’m not letting you sit here bloody, i’d rather help”, you said. motioning to the sink water, you grabbed 3 pills and handed them to anakin. “this will help”, you spoke. he cupped his hand and held some water. the pills were placed into his mouth, and he quickly swallowed them.

you had to admit, his adam’s apple looked so hot as he swallowed. the ache in your pussy was still prominent, and nothing was stopping it. the drinks caused you to have this heightened sense of realization that maybe you did find anakin attractive. you can’t think that y/n, you thought. in your daze of thoughts, anakin was staring into your eyes.

you heard small groans come from anakin, and in the corner of your eye you saw him using his hand to stroke himself. even though it was through his pants, it still turned you on to the max. he used his free hand the grab under your chin, and lift your gaze to meet his. his whimpers came out softly as he struggled to continue looking at you.

you smiled as you finally came to terms on what he was doing. realizing, you snapped out of your daze and detached his hand from your chin. you decided to guide his large land to the fabric covering your boob. he grasped at your breasts almost immediately. the music was enough to cover the groans coming from his mouth. anakin was rough, and harshly apprehended your boobs. going from one to the other, he stared in your eyes to see your reaction.

hearing his whimpers made you weak in the knees. although you felt good, you wanted to feel better. “anakin, stop”, he immediately unclaimed his hand from your breasts. “what do you want me to do?”, he groaned while continuing to please himself.

anakin got needier by the second as you haltered your response. your finger was placed upon your chin, and began tapping in a playful manner. he unclenched his hand from the top of his pants and grabbed your wrist. “please tell me what you need”, he whined. his eyes gazed up into yours as the angle was him slightly below you.

anakin started to play with the loop of where your belt would be. pulling on the fabric, he looked for your approval. you nodded, and he proceeded to unzip your jeans. slowly, but surely he held onto your clothing and pulled it down. teasingly, he stopped them at your ankles and waited for you to step out of them.

quickly, you stepped out of the long jeans and kicked them aside. “needy much?”, anakin questioned slyly. you giggled in response but stopped when his hands attached to your panties. “can i?”, he asked. again, you nodded at his examination. the panties dropped the the floor at the slight of his touch. anakin stared in awe, and stood up from the seat.

“sit on the counter”, he demanded. proceeding, he helped you onto the cold material. anakins only objective for tonight was to make you cum, and you better believe he was going to do so. as soon as your ass hit the counter, you flinched at the temperature.

“spread your legs”, he spoke chillingly. you seemingly obeyed, completely bare on the bottom half of your body. anakin kneeled onto both knees, and held his face to your heat. as soon as you were about to speak up, he delved in. whimpers left your mouth, especially within the first few seconds. his tongue began to slowly surround your clit, and he grasped at your thighs.

groans came from his mouth which caused you to feel the pleasure even more. his hands tightened around your thighs as you began to squirm. anakin was feeling ever little move you made, causing him to become even hornier. you felt slight cum drip from your pussy, but you could tell anakin wouldn’t miss a spot. his tongue began to shake as your legs did also.

your fingers entangled into his warm locks as he came closer to your area. lips sucked around your clit, he whimpered as you continued to pull onto his hair. stomach clenching, your high was beginning to build up. butterflies filled your stomach as anakin went at a fast pace. he didn’t intentionally mean to overstimulate you, but it was happening. “please anakin, can i cum?”, you begged. without a reply, he nodded his head in response. that nod caused you to feel even more overstimulation on your clit.

cum began dripping from you, and you felt your high almost there. anakin was at a great motion, and nothing would stop him. “ani- ani, i’m going to cum”, you groaned out. your orgasm caused your stomach to cave in, and your legs to tremble. his face was still near your heat as you began to grind on it for more. he retracted as you sat there with your elbows against the cabinet, still coming down from your bliss.

he stood up, leaving you a creaming mess. quickly, he pulled down his pants in an instant, underwear coming down with the removal. precum soaked his tip and he began to delve it between your folds. you whined as his tip hit your clit, “don’t you want me to make you feel good sweetheart?”. you nodded in response and he was quick to enter you.

his dick went fully inside of you, leaving no room behind. anakin slowly inhaled in, and out through his nose. behind him, you could see your reflection in the mirror. anakin quickly noticed your response to you seeing yourself in the mirror. smirking, he cupped under your ass, and backed up to the mirror. you bounced onto his cock slowly. he didn’t forgot to thrust hard, so he began to go faster.

“i want you to look at yourself taking my cock”, he said through small whimpers. obeying, you stared at yourself in the long mirror. every aspect of this intimate experience was seen through a whole new perspective. you could feel him fill you up, and it left you in heaven. you tits bounced through your shirt, while you mentally noted to make sure to take it off next time.

anakins cock went harder, and faster as your moans continued on. cum began to seep through your folds as it rushed out of you. your second orgasm was coming, and quick. anakins whimpers caused you to come closer to the desired high. “you’re so pretty”, he spoke while deep inside you. your face flushed as those words came out of his mouth.

“ani- you’re so handsome”, you praised. anakin definitely had a praise kink, and that tossed him off the brim. you felt his load shoot inside you, filling you up to the very brim. continually thirsting, anakin turned you around and placed your back against the mirror.

the wall began to shake as you bounced upon his cock. of course you were almost there, but everything exploded once his finger hit your swollen clit. your cum flowed out of you, and onto anakins dick. he pulled out, and placed you back onto the counter.

“i didn’t expect this to happen”, he said through huffs of deep breaths. “well i didn’t either”, you spoke out. your eyes lifted to his as he stared upon you. you sure didn’t expect this to happen tonight, but you didn’t mind kissing it better.

𝐥𝐚𝐯 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 this took me so long to write, probably the longest in a while. but i promise i will try to consistently post more because i seriously love all of you.

୭ ✧

taglist - @dwntwn-strnlo @worldsgreatestarcher @chiaraanatra @wrongframeofmind23 @sarahmichelle1624 @jediavengers @rafeinterlude @mwdhwtter @nin356 @sarahirmiz @rafesbabygirll @idek1214 @amarihutcherson @littlemissborntolose @zizuras @spideysimpossiblegirl @dollsay

[jediavengers]

I know you’re in love with him

WARNINGS: Smut, p in v, choking, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, dom!anakin, sub!reader, unestablished relationship

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

Summary: Anakin find out a little too much when eavesdropping on Y/N and Padmé.

"I can't thank you two enough for coming here on such short notice."

The sound of birds chirping and the feeling of the golden warm sun calmed both Anakin and Y/N, which made them kindly smile to the Senator in front of them.

"Of course, Padme. Anything for a friend." Y/N pulled Padme into a embrace. Anakin stood back, letting the two reunite.

As they pulled away, Padme politely nodded to Anakin. "I'm sorry to pull you away from more pressing duties, but it seems like my life is on the line yet again."

"Don't apologize." Y/N insisted. "Besides, we'd both rather be on Naboo for a few weeks then be fighting in the war. It's exhausting."

Anakin nodded in agreement. "It's kind of like a vacation for us."

Padme smiled at them both. "I'm glad you guys have some downtime then. I doubt anyone is going to try to hurt me here, but they just wanted someone to stay with me until the threat is caught." After a few more minutes of catching up, Padme began to lead them inside.

Y/N and Anakin had been to her lake house before, but the beauty of the interior still didn't fail to make them both look around in awe.

"I'll show you to your room." Padme gestured for them to follow her, leading them down a long hallway. "Here."

Padme opened a large oak door, leading them inside. As they walked in, Y/N's jaw dropped at the sight. A beautiful four poster king sized bed sat on one end of the room, and on the other end was a living space. An attached bathroom with two large doors that were wide open was on one wall, and Y/N could see the large jacuzzi that was implanted in the floor.

Even though it was glorious, her mind was on one thing. There was only one bed. Anakin's mind had drifted there too, obvious confusion and concern adorning his features.

"Padme, it's beautiful but.. There's only one bed." Anakin spoke, setting down his and Y/N's bags on the ground.

"Sorry about that, but I wanted to make sure you guys got the best room of the house." Padme smiled excitedly. "It's almost as nice as the master. I figured since you two have had a lot going on, as well as the fact that i'm taking you away from more pressing matters, you would enjoy a nice room like this."

"I love it- i really do, but um.. would it be possible for me to stay in a separate room?" Y/N asked.

"Do you not like it?" Padme frowned, sadly looking around at her decor.

Anakin shook his head quickly. "No, no, we both love it. It's just, one bed and there two of us."

"It's a king sized bed, i'm sure you'll have plenty of your own space." Padme smirked, causing Y/N to furrow her eyebrows. "Well, feel free to get unpacked. I'm going to go check if the chef has started on dinner yet." Padme gave no time for interjections, leaving the two Jedi alone.

Padme shut the door behind her, causing Y/N and Anakin to awkwardly stare at each other for a couple moments. Eventually, Y/N turned away, walking over to what she assumed was a closet. She began to unpack her clothes, hanging her robes and other pieces of clothing up. She left her panties and bras in her bag, figuring it would be better to hide them away.

"I'm sorry." Anakin spoke.

Y/N confusedly turned to him, furrowing her eye brows. "Sorry? For what?" She questioned, zipping up her bag.

"For having to share a room." Anakin shrugged. "I mean, it's not ideal. I'll try not to hog the bed."

"No, it's okay." Y/N turned back around, placing her bag in the closet. "We're best friends, it's not that big of a deal."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Y/N had gone to spend some girl time with Padme a few hours ago after dinner, leaving Anakin to have some time for himself. He was nervous, but honestly excited, about sharing a bed with Y/N so he took some time to calm his nerves.

After leaving them alone for a while, he figured he could give them some company. Stepping out of his room, he began to walk to Padmés room.

As he approached her room, he heard their voices through the door.

"God, I just wish there were some suitable men." Padme groaned. Anakin could hear shuffling through the cracked door, making him flinch and back away a few steps.

"I know there's someone out there for you, Mae. What's your type? Maybe I could hook you up with someone." Y/N suggested, chuckling at the finish of her sentence.

"You? Set me up with someone? I'm sorry, Y/N/N, but you're a Jedi. You don't know many men who are on the market." Padme replied.

"I guess you're right. Anyways, so tell me, what is your type?" Y/N asked again. Anakin could hear a heavy sigh and then a groan.

"I guess.. I like guys with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Tall, obviously. Oh and I don't like super sensitive men. Like grow up, ya know?" Padme ranted, making Y/N laugh.

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows at the last comment, but continued listening.

"What about you, Y/N? What's your type?" Padme questioned.

"I don't have a type." Y/N answered.

"Come on, Y/N/N. Even though you're not allowed to have attachments you can still think guys are hot." Padme teased, making Y/N giggle. "Come on girl, tell me."

"Fine. I guess.. Blonde curly hair. But not platinum blonde, more like a dirty blonde. Blue eyes.. Tall, muscular but not beefy. And ambition is really attractive. Loyalty and bravery. Oh and I love a man who's dominant." Y/N rambled, making a light blush appear on Anakin's cheeks.

"For someone who isn't supposed to have attachments and doesn't have a 'type', it sounds like you're describing a certain someone down to every small detail." Padme giggled. Anakin leaned against the wall, trying to hear them better. His heart fluttered followed by his stomach twisting.

Anakin heard a thump and then a soft groan, followed by Y/N huffing. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Don't hit me! And of course you don't." Padme teased. "It's not like you just described Anakin almost perfectly. The one thing you're forgetting about him is that he's a big baby. I don't know how you can handle being around him that often. He's such a whiner!" Anakin frowned deeply, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey!" Y/N snapped. "First of all, don't say that. He's just sensitive. Second of all, I was not describing Anakin!"

Padme let out a loud cackle, another thump and groan sounded after a moment. "I said that to get a rise out of you. And save it, Y/N I know you're in love with him."

Anakin's heart rate quickened, and he couldn't help but smile softly.

"Love? Seriously? If anything I just think he'd be good in bed." Y/N snorted. "I've had casual hookups before with no attachment, so thinking he's attractive isn't against the code."

"Whatever you say." Padme answered. "All I know is that friends don't look at friends that way."

There was a few moments of silence, causing Anakin to assume the conversation was over. Just as he was about to walk away, Padme began to speak again.

"You know, I'd bet if you asked him to fuck you he probably would."

"Padme!" Y/N scolded. "What's the matter with you?"

Loud giggles erupted and Anakin couldn't help but smirk. "Even though I wouldn't mind getting laid, I couldn't do that. Especially not with him. The council would flip if they knew two of their Jedi fucked each other, not to mention the fact that he's the chosen one and all."

"I guess." Padme whispered. "Good thing you're not on Coruscant right now.. No one would know."

"Mae, you can be such a bad influence, I swear." Y/N's tone of voice was irritated. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm never having sex with Anakin, as much as I'd like to." Anakin's eyes widened at the last statement, and he could feel his pants become uncomfortable as his mind began to wander.

"So you admit it! You do want him!"

"Fine. Yes. But even though I may feel something for him, I could never act on it." Y/N softly replied.

"At least you get to share a bed."

"Yeah, about that, what the hell were you thinking? Putting us in a room together?" Y/N shouted.

"Quiet down, unless you want Anakin to hear us." Padme whisper screamed. "I told you why I did it. I did it so you guys could have the nicest suite."

"Cut the bullshit, Ms. Matchmaker. I know for a fact every room in this damn house is nicer than any bedroom i've ever had." Y/N replied.

"Fine. You guys just needed a little shove, okay? You both are stubborn and would never admit to your feelings, so why not help out a little?" Padme reasoned. "Come on, just admit it. You know you like sharing a bed with him."

After a few more minutes of eavesdropping, Anakin backed away. Heading back to their shared room, he closed the door and began to nervously pace.

It wasn't long after that Y/N had entered, oblivious of Anakin's newfound knowledge. As she walked in, Anakin stopped pacing, facing her with his brows furrowed.

"You good?" She rose her brows, heading over to the closet.

"Yes! I- i mean yes." Anakin's voice was high pitched at first, but he quickly deepened it.

"Uh- alright." Y/N grabbed her pajamas, walking to the bathroom. "I'm going to get changed."

Y/N braided her soft Y/H/C hair, the thick locks falling over her shoulder. She slipped on her pajamas, the less revealing pair that she brought. She thought she would be having her own room, so most of her pajamas consisted of either satin nighties or thin and very revealing night dresses. She did pack one less suggestive pair of pajamas, which was a matching button up and shorts. It was black with small pink hearts adorning it. The trim was a matching pink, and the shorts had a satin bow.

She felt childish, but they sure were comfortable. After Y/N finished getting ready to sleep, she took a breath and exited the bathroom.

She internally groaned when she saw Anakin laying on the bed. He was under the duvet, but she could see his upper half which was bare. He had his flesh arm draped over his eyes, not noticing that she had come out of the bathroom.

Y/N stayed quiet, walking over to the closet and placing her dirty clothes in a hamper that was provided.

"Aw, your pajamas have little hearts on them!" Anakin laughed, causing Y/N to turn back so she could glare at him.

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, walking over to the bed. She slipped under the covers, giving them a good amount of personal space. "At least i'm not shirtless."

"Hey, I don't like to sleep with one on. It's uncomfortable." Anakin defended, which made her furrow her eye brows and shoot him a glare.

"Whatever."

Y/N's irritated demeanor was definitely from the conversation her and Padmé had earlier. Her sexual frustration as she well as the fact that Padmé called her out for her obvious feelings for Anakin made her on edge. Especially since these feelings had been building for years and this is the first time someone had called her out for it.

After a few moments of silence, she felt the bed shift, which caused her to glance over at Anakin. His expression was unreadable, but the fact that he was slowly inching towards her made her swallow nervously.

"What did you and Padme talk about?" He asked in a sing song voice. He was now right next to her, laying on his stomach with his chin resting in his hands.

"Girl stuff." She shortly replied, furrowing her eyebrows at his weird behavior. Slightly uncomfortable since she was in fact talking about him with Padme, she picked at her nails.

"Girl stuff? Like the guys you want to fuck?"

Y/N's head shot up to look at him. His head was still in his hands and he had a goofy grin on his face. "I have no clue what you're talking about." She looked back down at her hands, resuming the picking she was doing to her cuticles.

"That's not what I heard." He sang, sitting up. Y/N dead panned, looking up to meet his blue eyes. "Are you seriously going to make me say it outright? i heard you, Y/N. I heard that you want to fuck me."

"Uhhhh-" Y/N shot out of the bed, her heart racing. She wasn't one to face her problems, she usually avoided them.

"Hey! Where are you going!?" Anakin shouted, standing up as well.

"What? Sorry can't hear you!" Y/N croaked, rushing to the door. Guess she'd be sleeping in Padmé's room tonight.

But right before she could leave, Anakin grasped her wrist and spun her around so they were now facing each other. His face was no longer teasing, but now it was serious.

"Come on, Y/N/N. We need to talk about this." He spoke, furrowing his eyebrows.

"There's nothing to talk about, Anakin. You invaded my privacy. I wasn't going to say anything to you for a reason." Y/N snapped, glaring up at him.

"Why not?" He conveniently ignored the invasion of privacy comment, making Y/N roll her eyes. "Why weren't you going to say anything?" He was still gripping her wrist which made Y/N nervously swallow.

"We're not having this conversation. Now let me go." Y/N sternly spoke, looking up into Anakin's blue eyes. She could feel her self control slipping.

"No, you don't just get to act like you didn't say what you said. You can't leave me hanging." Anakin pleaded.

"You invaded my privacy, you twat. You found out something I wanted no one to know. You and l both know we're not supposed to have attachments so i'm not-"

"Fuck the code. I don't care." His voice was deadly, which made Y/N freeze and gulp nervously. "I've been controlling myself for years now. I haven't done or said anything because I wasn't going to do that to you. Not if you didn't feel the same. But, fuck, you do feel the same and now I can't not have you."

"What are you saying?" Y/N whispered, searching his cerulean eyes.

"I'm saying that I not only want to fuck you but I want you. Not just your body. I love you." His words were quiet and strained.

Y/N's eyes widened, and after a moment, all self control was gone. Their lips were smashed together perfectly, their bodies shoved against each other. Y/N was slammed against the wall, all sense of gentleness thrown out the window. 

Anakin's hands were gripping her hips and her hands were tangled in his curly blonde hair. Their kisses were quick and rough, teeth clashing and lips already growing sore from the desperate roughness.

"Need you." Anakin spoke in between kisses, his hands finding their way down to her ass and cupping it. He squeezed it firmly, making her whimper into his mouth.

"Then have me."

That gave him the permission to do what he's always wanted to do. He picked her up, their lip lock not breaking as he carried her over to the bed. He threw her onto the plush mattress, their kiss breaking momentarily.

He crawled on top of her, running his hands all over her body before smashing his lips back onto hers. Y/N swiped her tongue against his bottom lip, asking for entrance. He complied, letting their tongues meet in a messy battle of dominance.

Anakin's hand found her breast, squeezing it firmly through her shirt as he continued kissing her. He broke the lip lock, letting his kisses find their way to her neck. He wasn't being merciful. he immediately started harshly sucking on her sensitive skin, bruises sure to form.

Y/N arched her back a small amount as he found an extra sensitive spot, making Anakin smirk against her skin. His kisses traveled down until he let go completely, wetting his lips as his hands ran their way down to her shorts. Without wasting another second, he yanked her pajama shorts down, taking her underwear with them. He immediately spread her legs, taking in the sight of her dripping sex.

"Fuck." Anakin whispered. "So wet." He took his index finger and thumb, spreading apart her slick folds so he could have a better look at her soaked hole. "All for me?" He teased, not taking his eyes off of her tight cunt.

Y/N's cheeks burned red and she embarrassedly covered her face with her hands. "Ah ah ah," Anakin tutted. With his free hand he swatted her hands away. "Look at me when i'm touching you." Y/N took a shaky breath and looked back down at him, wetting her lips as her eyes met his. "Atta girl."

Without any foreplay or warning, Anakin shoved his face into her pussy, his lips attaching to her clit immediately. His vigor made Y/N arch her back and let out a loud moan.

She wasn't expecting him to touch her so roughly as quickly as he did, but Maker, did it feel good. "Anakin!" She cried out, making him pull away and give her a stern look.

"Gotta stay quiet for me, Angel." He purred, immediately attaching his lips back to her swollen clit.

Her moans were now soft and quiet, eager to listen to his demands. Anakin ran his tongue up and down her slick pussy, wanting her to feel every touch and every movement of his tongue. He slowly pushed one finger into her cunt, making her bite down on her fist to suppress the sounds she was so eager to release. As she arched her back, Anakin shoved his face harder into her pussy, quickening his pace so he could bring her to her orgasm.

He swiftly added another finger, pumping in and out of her hole with such ease and vigor that made her whole body tremble.

She was basically a mewling mess, which made Anakin smirk into her pussy. He could feel her walls clench around his fingers, signaling she must be close to her orgasm. He didn't stop his movements, he continued to desperately lap at her clit and dip his fingers in and out of her.

"Fuck! Ani- i'm so-" Y/N was too caught up in the pleasure to finish her words, instead, she bucked her hips up to his face, needing more.

Anakin knew what she wanted, so he harshly sucked at her clit and added a third finger, causing Y/N's back to arch so much that it began to hurt.

Anakin curled his fingers in her sopping cunt, brushing against her spongey g-spot she so desperately needed stimulated.

"Im-" She began to speak, but her impending orgasm interrupted her. Instead of finishing her words, her slick gushed all over Anakin's face and fingers. He didn't slow down his pace, causing her whole body to twitch and tremble in pleasure and overstimulation. "Oh- oh my g-god!" she whimpered as he eased her out of her orgasm.

He eventually pulled away, the lower half of his face completely soaked in her cum. He had a cheeky smirk on his face as he sucked her juices off of his fingers. Anakin wiped away her slick off of his chin with his bare arm, not taking his eyes off of her as he did so.

Her heart was pounding as he looked deep into her eyes, and as he slowly inched towards her so he was hovering over her, she felt small. Anakin smirked at her shyness, so to distract her, he began to unbutton her pajama shirt. He let it fall off her shoulders, exposing her skimpy black bra.

"For someone who wasn't expecting to get fucked, this sure is a slutty little thing." Anakin snapped her bra strap making Y/N shiver. She was still trembling from her orgasm, and couldn't help but whimper as she thought about how his cock would soon be buried into her cunt. Anakin unclipped her bra and groaned lowly as he saw her perky breasts, her nipples already hardened. She had goosebumps erupt on her body now that she was completely naked. "Tell me what you want." Anakin whispered, beginning to softly kiss her neck again. "Tell me."

"I-" Y/N shakily began. "I need you!" She whined.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Anakin pulled away from her neck, grinning down at her. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at his cockiness, but still gave in.

"Need you inside of me." She cried, huffing and tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants.

Anakin hummed. "Alright, if that's what you really want." He quickly pulled down his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side. He was left in black boxer briefs and Y/N could see the tent his length made through the material.

Making eye contact with her, he slowly pulled down his boxers, biting his lip as he saw her reaction. Y/N whimpered at the sight of his thick length, wondering how the fuck that would fit in her little hole.

"Don't you worry pretty girl, i'm gonna make that pretty little pussy feel so good." Anakin wrapped his large hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before he spread her legs again and rubbed it through her folds, still slick from her first orgasm. "All for me." He whispered under his breath.

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked her hips, desperate to be filled. Anakin complied, slowly pushing his cock into her needy cunt.

"Fuck!" She threw her head back and let out a shaky breath, digging her fingernails into his back.

Anakin hissed at the feeling and continued to sink himself into her pussy. As he bottomed out, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His gentleness soon subsided, him drawing his cock out of her tight hole and shoving it back in with a single thrust.

They formed a steady, rough rhythm, his cock stretching her walls out so much that her legs were shaking. One hand held himself up, sitting next to her head. He gripped the sheets, and with his other hand, he snuck it onto her neck. Squeezing her throat lightly, it made her roll her eyes back into her head from bliss.

"That's it," Anakin groaned, continuing to vigorously thrust into her cunt. Y/N could feel his cock touch every part of her, something that no man had ever truly fulfilled.

"A-Ani!" Y/N whined, digging her heels into his lower back.

"Shhh," Anakin bit down on her earlobe and gently squeezed her throat again. "Gotta stay quiet for me, pretty girl."

Y/N's mouth was wide open and she complied with his request, the sounds in her throat subsiding. Her boobs bounced as he continued to thrust into her, Anakin placing the hand that was once around her throat on her right boob. As he continued to pound her relentlessly, he kneaded and squeezed one of her breasts while he sucked and bit the other one.

Anakin spoke sweet nothings to her, pushing her towards her impending orgasm. It was beginning to grow nearly impossible for Y/N not to make any sounds, so she clasped one hand over her lips while the other tugged at Anakin's blonde curls.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good." Anakin purred, throwing his head back as he thrusted into her.

"Anakin- Anakin i'm so close!" She whined, closing her eyes and letting her lips part in heavenly bliss.

"Yeah? You're gonna cum for me? You're gonna cum on my cock?" Anakin chided, squeezing the boob that he was still kneading.

Y/N nodded vigorously, wrapping her arms around his neck and whimpering quietly. "I'm gonna- i'm gonna come, Ani!"

Her walls clenched harder around his cock, pushing him towards the edge. "Hold on baby, i'm almost there." He began to thrust harder and faster, making it so they could come undone together. "Okay pretty girl, cum on my cock."

Y/N arched her back and let out a pathetic whine, the walls of her cunt clenching around his fat cock. She felt herself gush all over his length just as spurts of his cum shot into her quivering pussy. "Oh my god-" She moaned, scratching her nails down his toned back.

"Fuck, yes," Anakin let out a small whimper which made Y/N cum even harder, loving the sounds he was making.

After they rode out their highs, Anakin pulled out and collapsed next to her, the both of them breathing heavily. He wasted no time pulling her close, wrapping his long arms around her trembling and sweaty figure.

Y/N hummed clinging onto him. Their sweaty skin stuck together and the smell of sex filled the air. It was quiet for a few moments before Y/N spoke up.

"What the fuck did we just do?" She whispered, burying her face in his neck. She was still slightly out of breath.

"We just fucked."

"Anakin, i'm serious." Y/N whined, slapping his chest. "We just broke about 20 different rules."

"I don't care." Anakin shrugged, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss on her sweaty forehead. "I love you, and i'm not going to let the code get in the way of that."

Y/N leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too."