#obi-wan Kenobi x y/n

[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!

[cinnamon-galaxies]

A Padawan's Confession

Pairings: Obi-Wan x padawan!reader Warnings/Tags: drama, hurt/comfort, age difference, no (further) romantic interaction Summary: G/N reader! You and your master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, rest by a campfire overnight during a mission. As your thoughts get heavier each second he senses your trouble and you take the opportunity to announce your decision to leave the order. Because feelings far beyond the boundaries of the Jedi slowly turn you insane as your heart craves for the man who's both the furthest and closest to you.... Words: 1.7k A/n: This short story is inspired by a one shot I've written many years ago. I hope you like it! Also English isn't my first language so there might be spelling and grammar mistakes in this story!

~~~~~~

The quiet camp fire marked tonight's resting place from your stressful mission. You and your master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, sat on broken trunks, your cloaks pulled around you tightly to keep the warmth of the fire around your bodies. But as quiet as the night seemed to be, your mind was the exact opposite. Hundreds of thoughts raced around and kept your pulse high and your tension at a maximum. It was at the time you eventually should be honest with your master and talk to him about your decision to leave the order. Your thoughts have been resolving around this topic for months now and with each day passing you felt more certain to pervade your decision, as the pressure and pain got worse and became almost unbearable.

While you tried to think about the best way to tell him, your master sensed your inner tension. "You seem troubled, Y/N," he observed. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

You hesitated for a brief moment before you nodded. "Yes. Kinda..."

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked, his neutral facial expression slowly turning into concern. He didn't want you to feel bad. He in fact despised it when you were sad or troubled and that is why he always wanted to be there for you, support you and help you through bad times. Of course it was also his responsibility to care for you but through all the year's you've been his Padawan you grew to be so much more for him, something similar to the daughter he never had. And that is a fact he never actually said out loud but it was a silent truth between the both of you.

You let out a deep sigh but it didn't release any of the heavy pressure pushing down on you. To leave the order was a life-changing decision that couldn't be undone. It could be a big mistake—or the best decision you'll ever make. But after all it hurt a lot to even think about saying goodbye.

"I-" you started but a heavy lump in your throat interrupted you. "I can no longer do this." You automatically lowered your voice and turned your face towards the darkness behind the trees to avoid his glance. You felt tears form in your eyes, so you closed your lids and held your breath. There was almost nothing else as awkward as crying in front of your master, a Jedi in accordance with the code. 'There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force,' you quoted in your mind realizing you've broken at least half of the five key principles. What a shame it would be if you'd shown your master how much you were guided by your emotions. "I'm sorry master," you said.

Obi-Wan frowned in both confusion and concern. "You're sorry? For what? What is it you can no longer do?" he asked with a calm voice. He was trying hard to hide how much he worried about you right now.

"All of this," you replied. "I made the decision to leave the Jedi order." Out of a sudden, relief flooded your veins as the heavy weight of those words left your soul with every syllable spoken.

Obi-Wan paused. He didn't even realize he forgot to beathe while the shock of your announcement washed over him. "Y/N," he finally managed to press through his lips. "Leaving the Jedi order is a significant decision."

"I know," you replied.

"May I ask why you've come to this conclusion?"

You hesitated. It made you uncomfortable to talk about the reasons. Then again, informing him was the least you could do. You still didn't manage to make eye contact. "I've broken the Jedi principles. Or, to put it better, it gets harder for me to follow them everyday. I can't no longer distract myself from my emotions and act as if I don't feel any affection. My mind starts to think in ways the doctrines of the Jedi dismiss and I'm afraid I'll and up in demise." The tears lingering in your eyes got more but you still managed to hold them back. It was obvious that your master could feel the bunch of emotions cracking through all of these walls you've built up since the beginning of your training. But there was one you could still hide. One particular emotion you hid so well from the outside and the force sensing abilities of the Jedi that you were sure, no matter how many your master could sense, that one particular emotion wasn't one of them.

"Affection, you say?" Your master responded and you nodded. "May I ask what kind of affection troubles you?"

You wish you could say that it was only a deep friendship that guided you to paths different from the force. But it was more. Something way deeper. "It's love," you said.

"Love," Obi-Wan repeated. As he turned his gaze towards the camp fire, you dared to look at him. He was obviously lost in thought. Maybe he was searching for the best response or he was thinking about you, wondering who the person might be that made you struggle this hard you considered to leave the order. "The Force guides us all on unique journeys," he then said. "And there are many that aren't consistent with the Jedi ways. You're correct, affection—especially love—is a bond that leads you on a path in-between dark and light. What could be a strength might at the same time become a weakness. Where love blooms, passion lingers. And where passion lingers, darkness awaits."

You listened to his words. It was the same doctrine you had internalized for years but the way your master chose his words made it sound different this time. You suspected that he hasn't finished his monologue yet so you stood quite, examining his side profile while his attention seemed to be caught be the dancing flames. He in fact hasn't finished yet. "As you should know I won't judge you. It's not your decision if you fall for someone. It's your decision how you deal with it. And if your feelings affect you in a way they could harm you and the Jedi order this might no longer be your journey. So don't be ashamed."

You took a deep breath and turned your gaze to the fire as well. "Thank you," you said and a tear finally released itself from your strong hold and rolled down your cheek.

"For what?"

"For your understanding."

Your master chuckled. "Let me tell you a secret. When I was your age I've been in love as well. Twice. So I know your struggle. But it was my decision to lock those feelings up and stay in the order."

You blinked in shock. Your master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, has once been in love? Well, that was something you would've never expected. But at least he's managed to keep his mind straight. And with that thought you replied: "I don't think I'll ever be able to do the same. It's so hard and the person I'm into is almost always around me." You hesitated, afraid you've said too much. But in the end, it wouldn't matter what you've said the day you announced your decision.

Obi-Wan turned his head to look at you. His blue eyes shimmered in the light of the dancing fire that made his gaze seem even warmer than it already was. "Is it your friend Anakin?" he asked in curiosity and you took a deep breath before you shook your head.

"No. It's not Anakin." And with the words spoken out loud you've finally let the last of all the walls you've built to hide your emotions break into pieces. A warm wave of the force rushed over both of you and the campfire, making it dance uncontrollably fast for a brief moment. You noticed Obi-Wan shift but couldn't certainly say what exactly changed as you allowed him to find out about your feelings for him. Your cheeks immediately turned red and you felt shame rush over you. The emotion behind that wall was the exact reason you wanted to leave. Love for your master, the one who would—and should—never return your feelings. The one who was supposed to care for you, to train you, and who played great value on the Jedi principles. He wasn't even just your master, he was a Jedi master and a member of the high council as well.

Obi-Wan didn't turn his gaze away, his blue eyes now filled with a harsh realization.

Another tear ran down your cheek but you tried your hardest to not look away and keep the eye contact. In the perfect world of your fantasy Obi-Wan would've leaned towards you and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. But this wasn't your fantasy, it was reality. And in reality all he did was sit right in front of you, obviously shocked and speechless—but at the same time comprehending many details of your (probably strange) behaviour in the past. Your stares, the way you laughed particularly often in his presence, you distancing yourself from him after you made a mistake... The ways you've tried to impress him when fighting in battles....

"I'm sorry, Y/N", Obi-Wan finally said with a low voice. He was obviously still speechless.

"I know," you replied with a cracking voice. You still watched his face, his expression, the small wrinkles on his skin that were a subtile proof for the big age difference between you and him. You studied his blue eyes that still kept all of the warmth he's met you with during this conversation. His beard, the neatly cut hair... You tried m to memorize his face as best as you could because soon you'd never see it again....

You shook your head. "No. Please don't say that as if it was your fault. It's mine. And I'm gonna leave as soon as our mission's over."

"It is your decision how you want to spend your life. But I can't offer you what you want."

"I know," you replied with a cracking voice. You still watched his face, his expression, the small wrinkles on his skin that were a subtile proof for the big age difference between you and him. You studied his blue eyes that still kept all of the warmth he's met you with during this conversation. His beard, the neatly cut hair... Everything inside of you screamed for his affection, his love, his heart. You wanted him to touch you, pull you to his chest and kiss you gently. Obi-Wan was everything you've ever wanted and the one thing you'll never get. So you tried to memorize his face as best as you could because soon you'll never see it again....

[dracowars]

Hi love! Could I request an obi Wan X reader where it’s late at night and he finds her reading in a library and he joins her?

peaceful | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader

word count: 0,6k

summary: where obi-wan joins y/n in the library

a/n: enjoy <3

warnings: mentions of war

universe: star wars

With your face bathed in a soft bluish glow, you scroll through the pages of the holobook that sits on your lap, only reading the titles of each chapter to see if there is anything relevant to you. Sitting with your legs crossed, you lean against the back of the armchair, which is located right by a large round window and has recently become your new favorite spot. It is only here that you can finally rest, letting your mind wander, and enjoy the rain gently pattering against the window, hiding the dark and busy city beyond.

Coruscant never sleeps and, apparently, neither do you. Especially not these last few days, considering you only have one day left until you embark on one of your longest and probably most dangerous missions so far. For this reason, you try to acquire as much knowledge about the planet and its habitat and inhabitants as you can in the short time since the Jedi Council gave you the instructions.

It is always hard to keep your cool in times of war, but it is moments like these when you can just sit here in the Jedi archives, alone, thinking about everything and nothing. For some inexplicable reason, it gives you a sense of security. The mission will probably cost you the last of your strength, but the end of the Clone Wars is in sight, and if this single mission can bring you a little closer to the end, then you will do just that. Giving your all and fighting for your values, for what is right.

Your eyes get caught on a chapter you find useful, and it is only when you change your sitting position that you suddenly feel a change in your surroundings. You do not even have to look up to know he is here.

"Still out and about at this hour?", you tease him, carefully putting the book aside before looking at him because let's face the truth, you can't take your eyes off of him for more than a few seconds. As soon as you do look at him, however, your heart aches in your chest.

The man in front of you has seen a lot of terrible things in this war and it only makes you want to end it even quicker. His hair is disheveled, probably from tossing and turning back and forth for hours to get his well-deserved sleep, which was obviously not granted to him in the end. Obi-Wan only returned to Coruscant today after being sent out to Kamino for several days, and has to leave again tomorrow, with you. Which is why you made it your task to spare him as many difficulties as possible, dealing with the necessary information intensely.

"I knew I would find you here", is his answer as he sits down on the armchair next to you, a small smile on his lips as he can't help himself but to softly run his hand over your head. "And before you tell me to leave and get some sleep: I can't."

"I know", you respond sadly, only knowing too well how it feels to run on low fuel and still not being able to fall asleep, letting the misery of this galaxy behind. Grabbing his hand, you push your palm against his before closing your fingers around it, squeezing lightly.

Reaching over you with his other hand, Obi-Wan grabs another holobook that you have carefully searched out a few hours ago, leaning back in his seat. But not before placing a soft kiss on your hair, whispering 'I'm proud of you' along the way.

Your heart painfully beats for this man. You know that all of this, everything you have build up, can be over tomorrow, and yet he does not disturb the peace you have built around here. He fades in perfectly and, with your hands intertwined, reads on, the soft glow illuminating his beautiful face.

You can't wait for all of this to be over. Because once it is, you will finally make him yours. And he will finally make you his.

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are about to become a Master Jedi under the guidance of Master Kenobi… 😏

Warnings: smut, drama, sort of light reading.

Warnings 2: fluffy endings, alternative universe where the Siths have been defeated and Anakin hasn’t turned to the dark side.

Warnings 3: (loosely) based on “505” by Arctic Monkeys.

Recommendations: “505”, “Do I Wanna Know”, “Four Out Of Five”, “R U Mine” by Arctic Monkeys.

No minors.

***

Once Anakin Skywalker has been assigned a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, though never truly stopping monitoring his activities, decides to carry on with other tasks to him delegated. Until Y/N appears. You are about to get your trials, but the Master who was once responsible for you was killed in battle. You are no more than twenty and five years of age—an average age to be elevated to the title of Master Jedi—but is there really a necessity to train you, prepare you for your trials?

Because he is doing this as a favor to Master Windu, who used to be very close to Master H/N, Obi-Wan sees no other choice but taking you under his wing.

Yet, he is somewhat disconcerted when his eyes spot you for the very first time—a sort of sentiment that strikes him that hasn’t effected him since when he first laid his eyes on Duchess Satine so many years ago—-; you are blessed with some sort of ethereal beauty: his blue eyes cannot divert from y/c skin, so soft and inviting to a gentle touch; your y/c hair which drops in long waves of curls that drop by your waist—impressive, Obi-Wan thought—, your curves that are so… He swallows hard, trying not to stare at how the bandage around your breasts seems to reinforce them or at your well shaped body.

Good grief, you are a well made woman. Obi-Wan tries to push away these unwelcoming thoughts, and it’s not very helpful that when you turn your face at him, sensing his presence, you greet him warmly. The spark in those y/c eyes and the smile that is pushed wide open by those rosy lips are enough to knock this man down.

Perhaps I’ve been far too lonely for my taste. Perhaps I am projecting my aching heart, having missed Satine for a while, towards Y/N. She does not deserve that. Besides, may I remind myself that Jedis must not form any sort of attachment?

He clears his throat when approaching you. You watch him with interest. Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, the same impressions that crossed his mind make home in your mind. You judge him to be the handsomest man your eyes laid on: in fact, you always believed to have gone insufferable towards your youth and young adult phase where most of your colleagues developed sentiments for someone or went to some houses of pleasure to put out the needs of the flesh.

Ironically, it is a Jedi Master who weakens your knees and messes with your reason. You thought nothing would tempt you to break this rule often professed as difficult by many of your colleagues. Although most would pass through the challenges of the heart rather easily, they still suffered the process of having feelings and broken hearts.

You thought invincible to it, indeed. You even laughed away when a friend of yours told you the following:

“One day, you will be tempted, Y/N. Laugh as you wish now, but the worst temptation is not of the kind that slaves the flesh, but the soul. And when this day comes, you’ll pay with your laughters.”

Perhaps your friend H/N is right. But your pride refuses to admit it. Yet, your eyes linger at his red hair, his beard, his lips… His well build muscles underneath the leather brown-ish robes somehow give you an unknown friction never before felt in your legs. However, what does knock you down is how his blue eyes find the path to reach your soul.

Fuck.

“Miss Y/N”, he greets you warmly. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I trust Master Windu told you about our encounter? My condolences for the loss of Master H/N. Must be difficult for you, specially concerning your current situation.”

You compose yourself, praying the Maker not to make yourself a fool—it’s too early to pay for the sin you’ve committed to your friends, to suffer the consequences of your pride, for which you are not ready.

“Master Kenobi”. You bow your head out of respect. “Your condolences are warm-felt and most appreciated, thank you. Indeed, Master Windu thought prudent that I should get my preparation for such an expected moment under a wise Master such as yourself. It is an honor to me, sir.”

The older man, experienced in countless battles and known for his tact in diplomacy, smiles at you. You already know that a path of suffering is on your way, since how a man such as Obi-Wan Kenobi would ever look at an inexperience woman as yourself? The mere thought would make you blush had you not been mindful that this man is capable of reading minds.

“Oh please”, he chuckles. “I am unworthy of such adjectives, Miss Y/N. I too was once like you, a Jedi in preparation to become a Master. Soon, a seat at the council will be yours to take.”

Somehow this perception had never been taken in consideration until now. Yet, you are careful in keeping your emotions in check.

“I only pray to get more experiences in field, sir, before being worthy of such a seat.”

Obi-Wan seems to admire this humility trait you display naturally. If only Anakin had this same thought… Again, the Jedi smiles at you.

“Well, not everything about Jedis concerns the battlefield, miss Y/N. Whilst today we are remembering some of the martial arts that are most important to defend ourselves from the enemy out there, it must not be forgotten that diplomacy is as important to use as any light saber.”

You nod attentively. There is a moment where his eyes capture something in yours, though—what is it, he is afraid to say. Obi-Wan clears his throat, diverting from the temptation of the flesh his heart seems to incline.

“Get your saber. Show me what you have, miss Y/N.”

You nod your head. Concentrated, you refuse to give ears to that of yourself who wishes to show off your abilities. You want to prove your worth. Master H/N never managed to wipe out this insecurity of yours, but here you are… Nearly close to be overshadowed by it.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan looks at you rather surprised. He did indeed underestimate you initially, an error he now does tries to placate. You put your best at show, and it is only once he manages to defeat you.

“Well done, Miss Y/N”, Obi-Wan claps at you before helping you to stand. “You were well taught by Master H/N. He would be proud.”

Your emotions betray your balance as you blush and look momentarily down at your feet before flashing a smile to Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. You will find in me a student who tries her best in doing her assignments.”

Obi-Wan smiles back at you.

“A trait I wish my former Padawan had cared to develop, I’m afraid. Well, I don’t think we are having many difficulties from now on, Y/N. Though I should warn you I am not making things easy for you.”

You chuckle in response before flashing him a smirk:

“I am not expecting otherwise, Master.”

Something about this response pleases him more than a Master normally would…

***

As each day that passes one less gets to your trials, Obi-Wan keeps his promises and you find yourself involved in complicated missions and harder trainings to the point you end your days exhausted.

“You are doing surprisingly well”, he tells you once you finish your presentation concerning the genealogy of diplomacy in different aspects of Jedi history, dominating every point he asks you. This is far worse than trying to block his blows when in field. “I think it is fair to say we are closer to end the practice before your trials.”

“Closer to end?”, you scoff at him. “Master, I thought you’d give me a break after this presentation!”

He smiles at your protests.

“You are excelling yourself, Y/N, but this does not mean you ought to relax. Not yet. What we will do next is diminish considerable your exercises. Besides, you will have this weekend off.”

You sigh heavily. You could easily drop in bed right now. Obi-Wan approaches, placing a hand over your shoulder, aware of your exhaustion.

“I mean every word I said, Y/N.”

“I thought you are no man to give some compliments”, you tease him in return.

“You are just too tense to see that I am not that serious a man I am”, he chuckles.

By saying so, he asks you if you’d like some massage and as you say you do, you realize that was something you shouldn’t have done. At the mere touch of his masculine hands full of callous against your soft skin, you start to feel a heat rising in between your legs that you are sure it is not the result of trains.

To worse matters, this simple gesture seems to bond one’s thoughts to another. Obi-Wan is surprised to find you reciprocate his attraction to you. Maybe something more is developing, seeing an attachment is ready to give fruits.

He should have removed his hands, but his mind starts to wonder what would be like to remove every tension from your body. Would you give in to his touch? How would you react if he massaged your nipples, twirling each one under his fingers?

The mere idea starts to give him a boner. Obi-Wan comes to realize that to be close to you is a dangerous thing to do. Hence why he abruptly interrupts it and gives you a lame excuse before leaving you out there, confused and upset for his sudden depart.

***

You decide that whatever impressions you have of your Master are the result of any admiration a Padawan would have for their superiors. Though you are no longer a Padawan, you feel as if you are once the days of your trials get closer.

Despite seeing how tense you are, Obi-Wan not only attempts to sooth your fears but also gets harder on you to the point you will leave little doubt about going excellent in the exams.

Though unbeknownst to you, one day Anakin Skywalker is watching your physical practices and he says:

“You never did get this hard on me, Master”, he remarks in a tone Obi-Wan cannot identify. “Why are you different with her? I don’t think Master H/N would follow these tactics and…”

“It’s for her best, Anakin. She has some struggles that she must overcome.”

Ahsoka smirks, understanding before her Master what has been implied. Hence why she remarks:

“Struggles with what exactly? The feelings she might harbor for you?”

She earns looks from both men, Anakin looking rather amused and Obi-Wan not so.

“Ahsoka Tano, that is not what I’ve meant by any chance.”

She tries not to burst into giggles and Obi-Wan sighs heavily, deciding to excuse her youth for such an improper observation.

“Or maybe is it you who hopes to find flaws in Y/N in order to defeat the admiration you’ve nurtured?” Anakin softens then: “It’s been a while since Satine, Master. The war is over, it’s more than time that you…”

Obi-Wan sighs exasperatedly.

“I was not expecting you to speak nonsenses, Anakin. You, above all, should be with familiar the fact that…”

“Jedis must not form attachments”, meddles Ahsoka, completing his sentence. “And yet, look at whom you are talking to, Master. Don’t you know Padmé is pregnant for the third time?”

Obi-Wan blushes as his own reasoning is played against him. But it gives the perfect opportunity to change topics, much to Anakin’s dismay.

In the meantime, once you defeat the droids, you take a break at the white room, trying to catch your breath. It has been an exhausting week, which sucked out your energy to the core, but you've managed relatively well.

You remember your friends praising you for achieving what only Anakin Skywalker had managed to: accomplish the hard work Obi-Wan Kenobi tends to give when he has Padawans under his guidance---which only occurred with the now Master Skywalker.

"He has quite a reputation", you were told by your fellow Jedi H/N. "And I see you are doing well."

Despite the univiting affection that has been growing for the man you aim to please--a feeling you are on the way to repress, or trying to--your attempts in staying humble sometimes do not succeed.

“Why, It’s what we do”, so was your answer. “I don’t see me doing otherwise.”

Often you jest about it, getting others to laugh at your confidences, however in reality, far from the eyes of the public, you find hard to suppress the attachment you develop for him.

So all you do is avoid his presence whenever you can. At least when trainings end. But this behavior has been noticed by Obi-Wan. He is well aware of your attempts to wipe out the unwelcoming attachment you feel for him—something he has been trying to do himself—but he does not wish this unspoken tension to change the dynamics of your relationship.

So perhaps if you both come to terms to it, all will end well. Or so he thinks.

“Y/N Y/LN.”, he meets you in the corridors. It’s a Saturday, a day he usually leaves it to your rest. “My dear, may I have a word with you later today at about 6 o’clock at the masters’s quarters?”

He knows you would find an excuse, but knowing you usually take Saturday to rest, you have thus no commitment that could impede you two to meet. By confronting you in public, Obi-Wan knows you would hardly refuse. And he is right in his assumptions, though no one but him notices the pink that colors your cheeks.

“I… Of course, Master Obi-Wan. I’ll be right there.” You sound rather shyly, which by your friends who are nearby interpret it as a sign of respect.

He side smirks at you, telling you he is looking forward to talk to you. But as you two depart, his blue eyes follow your moves. That day, your hair is tied in a pony tail and you dress your usually Jedi robes. To his surprise, you are the quietest of your small group of friends. He then realizes that he wishes to know you more, a thought he is quickly to dismiss.

***

When you show up at the time you and Obi-Wan agreed to—or rather, he decided—, you find yourself nervous. Dressing more informally, you let your y/c hair loose as you fake a confidence that is normally attributed to you. If only people knew that is how you mask your insecurities.

But as you lift your hand to knock on the door, it is as if Obi-Wan is already expecting you. He opens it and greets you with delight in his eyes and a smile that melts you.

“Miss Y/N. Please come in.”

You barely notice how that room is private and rarely used. All you care about is the smile on that man’s face that rises to his blue eyes.

“Master”, you smile back. “What is the occasion of our meeting? I believed you promised to let me rest this weekend.”

Obi-Wan chuckles as he offers you a seat. Once you do, he starts preparing tea. It is only then he answers you:

“This is not about any training, my dear. In all honesty, I’ve been preoccupied with you. I never thought to get to know you properly.” He makes a pause before adding: “I didn’t ask how you dealt with Master H/N’s demise nor how was your training. I disrespected your grief. I wanted to amend this mistake of mine.”

You are surprised by his small speech, clearly not expecting these words, yet at the same time admiring his maturity. You offer him a smile as he serves you tea with cookies. Once he takes a seat opposite to yours, you say:

“I don’t think there is anything to apologize for, Master. Though I do appreciate your concern for me, I didn’t expect it was your obligation to get to know me at all. I was never your Padawan, for a start.”

“Nonetheless, as your new Master I believe to be most appropriate to hear what you have to say.” He hesitates for a moment. “This is a mistake I do not wish to commit again.”

And this is how it begins. In between smiles, you tell him about your journey as a Padawan to Master H/N, how he found you at planet Y/C and how he was much a father to you. You also told him about your favourite books, the tricks you used at some missions you’ve been assigned to.

Obi-Wan, on his turn, tells you his links to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his scare memories concerning his family. Before you both know, the tea reunion is far lighter than you thought you’d be.

It is late night when three cups of tea had been drank and you think prudent to go back to your quarters. As you stand, so does Obi-Wan. But something seems changed when both of you lock gazes.

“I believe by now we can address one another by each other’s names, Y/N.”

You smile widely at him, a view he is mostly pleased to see. Whatever reservations you might have had with each other seem to dissipate. As you stand by the door, he takes your hand almost unconsciously.

To feel his mere touch incurs in diving into a magnetic field, resulting in waves of heat that could set both of you into an explosion. But both of you pretend nothing has happened…

“I believe we do, Obi-Wan. Thank you for the day, it’s been most pleasant.”

“Indeed it has, Y/N”. He makes a pause, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “Are you feeling more comfortable now?”

“Well I’ve never been uncomfortable around you, Obi-Wan. Far from it.” You side smirk at him. “Though I appreciate your kindness. You are a good man. My master would be very thankful to know I have been entrusted to your guidance.”

One long glance. You might give more than you want to and Obi-Wan knows it. It is as if you are both mesmerized with each other, but one noise coming from the corridors breaks the spell and you are disappointed when he lets go of your hand.

***

You finally become a Jedi Master. After years working hard to accomplish a goal that has been set up to achieve from the days Master H/N spotted the Force in you, after a turbulent period you were forced to go through, especially at the demise of the one you looked at as a father, after a hard-work training under the guidance of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi… You succeed in it.

“Congratulations, Master Y/N Y/LN. To achieve the higher ground you did. Though much to learn you had, never ending a path knowledge is”, says Master Yoda.

You bend the knee and bow your head in a sign of humility. The ceremony of your rise as Jedi Master carries on with a small speech by Master Windu, a man who you manage to surprise.

“One must admit”, the Jedi smiles, “that I’ve never had any doubt you would succeed, Master Y/LN. You are dedicated and hard-working, qualities very praised by your former Master H/N and your current Master Kenobi.”

Your heart carefully races when your eyes spot the figure of Obi-Wan as he stays beside Master Windu, echoing his speech when adding a few words of his own.

Barely perceptible to those present, however, is the growing affection one feels for the other. One look is enough to defeat the pride that has been shielding each other’s heart…

***

Obi-Wan is patient, though. As the feast ends that late evening, he excuses himself earlier than it’s closing in order to go after you, seeing that you retired earlier.

You look fabulous with your long hair loose like a y/c waterfall of locks. In addition to this unique wild beauty that is so characteristically yours, you dress a purple gown that shows some cleavage as well as your shoulders. It is enough to tempt this man.

That evening you both exchanged very few words since each group, so different in many aspects, reclaimed your attentions. But you are not too social, so you invented something to be dismissed earlier. And so did he.

You are barely making to your quarters when you hear steps. To your surprise, it’s him. And he can hear no only the beatings of your heart but the chaos of your thoughts.

“Master…!”

“Please, it’s Obi-Wan”, he cuts you gently. “There is something I need to tell you that is giving me agony. In fact, if you may, let me clear these things that have been torturing our thoughts. May I?”

You blink, hesitate at first. Fearful that he might have discovered your sentiments, you realize there is little you can do but to acknowledge at long last what you perceive as a lost battle. Yet you are surprised when he takes your face with his hands and presses a soft, but urgent kiss against your lips.

“Oh”, you sigh. When he parts it, he is searching for your eyes, some part of him fearful you might’ve changed your mind. “Obi… I thought…”

“I know. I’ve always known.” Obi-Wan rests his head against yours, eyes closing. You can feel his struggle, so you decide to release the pressure that’s been on his shoulders.

And just like that you pursuit his lips. Shushing every protest that might come from either part, your tongues pair in a sweet melody, though the urgency in the kiss eventually releases the suppression that has only suffocated this far what one feels for the other.

“I am tired of taking it easy”, he admits under his breath as he pins you against the wall. “I’ve been doing so for a little while. Oh, what kind of beast have you turned me into?”

You giggle at his words.

“Hold on just for a while”, you ask in a whisper before leading him to your quarters. “Yet, I must know…”

Obi-Wan is as red as you. When both stare into each other’s eyes, tension remains. But he is patient.

“Yes, dear heart? What is it you fear?” He shortens the distance and takes hold of your face again, delicately so as if you are a fragile thing. “I can read your insecurities. But please tell me what can I do to ease them.”

“I love you”, you don’t think twice. “Damned I am for laughing away my friends for ever falling in love. But I remain loving you, my Master, my mentor. Despite the many rules I would gladly break to be with you, despite how easy I confess with my tongue and body that I am too busy being yours to fall with someone else or to crawl away from you, offering thus my devotion. I need to know if this flows both ways, if you… if you are mine as much as I am yours.”

You explode it, you know. You never before felt so open and fragile, so easily read. All your shields are down and you feel so…unprotected. Yet, Obi-Wan smiles at you, calm and tranquil where you are a puddle of mess.

“I love you. You brought me back to life, Y/N, where I thought it to be impossible. It’s been too long and I fear I would not be the right one for you, being rather old to you.” He pauses as if by putting this out of a fact you would contest and change your mind.

Seeing that you stand where you are, his hands now slide to your waist as you wrap yours around his neck.

“I am yours”, he brushes his lips against yours and his fingers dig into your sides in a possessive manner that makes you smile. “Do you understand? I am yours in many inexplicable and unprofessed ways. Let me show you better with actions…”

He kisses you again. This time it’s slow, better coordinated and with no rush. His body makes it easy for you to trust blindly. This kiss wipes away your fears.

It is only then you feel comfortable in pushing your limits. Because Obi-Wan feels the heat warming your body, he does not shy away in giving to your silent pleas.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, he asks you softly, looking into your eyes for consent.

“Yes”, you whisper hotly. “I’ve never been so sure before as I am now.”

And that is how it starts…

***

Epilogue.

“In my imagination, when I go back…”

Obi-Wan barely breathes out as your hands promptly tie his hands. Your eyes are transfixed in his closed eyes and his barely open mouth. You smirk slyly as your fingers gently pump his erect member in that same rhythm he taught you that night.

“Yes, love?”, you encourage him to speak his thoughts, though you are aware of how indecent these might be.

Your husband has only recently returned after a long journey and it is only fair that as his wife you greet him properly. So here you are, poorly dressed, spoiling him as you prepare to get to your knees.

“You are a temptation, dear heart”, he arches his back, groaning in evident pleasure. “Don’t make me say these words.”

“Tell me darling…” you ask him softly as you finally take him with your tongue. “I beg you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes go wide at you.

“M-Maker, I…” He gasps, throughly enjoying your other…abilities, all of which he takes a secretive pride for teaching you. “You are so good in this, my love.”

But before he is about to reach his climax, he lifts you and leads you to bed. His eyes are burning with desire, especially when undressing you at long last.

“I miss you”, he whispers against your lips.

“I miss you, husband.”

And just like that he lies you down in bed and as you tangle him in your legs, the night compensates all the waiting one feels for the other…

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 78

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,325ish

Summary: You have a long overdue run in with an old friend, creating two new friends while you’re at it.

Notes: Hope you enjoy this! I was excited to bring Ahsoka back into the story, even if it’s just for two chapters. (And I know the poll isn’t closed yet, but there’s a pretty clear winner so far.)

“Aunt Y/N! Aunt Y/N!” A four-year-old Ben exclaimed as he ran up to you. You were in a clearing near the house, meditating.

“Hello, Ben,” you smiled at him. 

“Dad’s going to let me fly the Falcon!”

“Oh, is he now?” You laughed as you glanced up at Han, who was trailing behind the boy. “Have you told your mother about this?”

“She’s working.”

“How convenient.” You rose a brow at Han.

Han rose his hands in innocence. “It’s not that bad, alright?” Han tried to tell you. “Chewie is coming with us and he’ll basically be on Chewie’s lap the whole time.”

“And how long will you be gone?”

“Most likely a few hours. Not too long. I don’t even know why I’m looking for your permission, I’m the kid's father.”

“Because you know that I will react similarly to Leia.”

“Will you come with us Aunt Y/N?” Ben asked, looking up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

You were going to say yes when you suddenly felt a shift in the Force. It was a familiar one, one you believed was gone.

“I’m sorry my sweet Ben,” you said as you knelt down to be more at eye level with him. “Unfortunately, I have my own things to attend to today.” You didn’t miss Han’s curious expression. “Maybe another day.” You leaned forward and kissed his head. “Stay safe, and keep an eye on your father.”

“I will!” He was running off toward the Falcon before anything else could be said.

Han walked closer to you. “What’s going on?” He asked. “What do you need to do?”

“I… don’t know yet… But I’m going to follow the Force, see where it leads.”

“You haven’t done anything adventurous in a while. You need help?”

“I’ll be fine.” You looked past Han at Ben who was excitedly telling Chewie something. “Just don’t do anything stupid with the kid with you.”

“Me? Do something stupid?” Han scoffed. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

~~~

Following the Force, you flew by yourself to the planet of Corvus. You paused, hovering above the planet as you seeked the guidance of the Force as to where to go. After a few moments, you headed for the city of Corvus. You landed outside of the city, a good distance away. You noticed how the trees in the forest outside the city were barren and fog laced around them. There were red blasters going off at the edge of the city. 

With a lightsaber in each hand, you slowly made your way to the edge of the forest to see what was happening. You hid behind a larger tree and peeked around it. The moment you saw those two white lightsaber blades, you gasped. You watched as the warrior took out the guards, using the fog and lack of bright light to their advantage.

“Show yourself,” a woman on the wall of the city demanded after all the guards had been taken care of. “Jedi.” 

You felt like crying when you saw Ahsoka reveal herself. All this time, she had been alive.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman continued.

“Then you know what I want,” Ahsoka replied.

“You will learn nothing from me.”

“I won’t give you that choice.”

The woman motioned for two guards to bring up a prisoner beside her. “How many lives is the knowledge I possess worth to you? One? Ten? How about a hundred? The lives of these citizens mean nothing to me. Now, because of you, these people will suffer.”

“They already suffer under your rule. Surrender, or face the consequences.” Ahsoka pointed one of her white blades at the woman. “You have one day to decide.” Then Ahsoka turned off her lightsabers and disappeared into the forest.

You were so proud of Ahsoka. That, despite everything she’s been through, she was still fighting. You made your way back into the deeper part of the forest. Sensing that someone was about to strike you from behind, you ignited both of the sabers and moved them behind you. The white sabers clashed against your yellow and blue ones.

“Y/N?” Ahsoka gasped.

“Hello, Ahsoka,” you smiled.

Before either of you really thought about it, the lightsabers were deactivated and on the ground as your arms went around each other. You held each other tightly, tears threatening to spill from both of you. Ahsoka was the one to pull back first.

“How are you here?” She asked.

“The Force,” you responded. “I could feel you, after all these years, and I followed your signature… I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Somedays, me either.” She reached down and picked up the sabers, her eyes holding steady on one of them. “This one is Obi-Wan’s.”

“Yes.” You took your sabers from her and clipped them on your belt. “It helps to have it close… especially since I can’t have him as close as I would like anymore.”

She gave you a knowing smile. “I suspect we have a lot to discuss.”

“You have no idea.”

~~~

The two of you spent the night around a small fire, telling each other what life has been like since you last saw each other. Neither of you has had an easy life, both while in the Jedi Order and outside of it. Ahsoka explained what she was doing on Corvus, searching for information on Grand Admiral Thrawn. 

“I wish I could help you on your quest,” you told her. “Unfortunately, I promised to watch out for my family.”

“I could never ask you to leave them like that,” Ahsoka said with a shake of her head.

“But, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you with this task. It might be fun, kinda like old times.”

“Like old times,” she smiled. 

~~~

The two of you were working on a plan when you suddenly sensed another Force user. Your head snapped up as you looked around.

“Do you sense that?” You asked Ahsoka.

“A little,” she responded.

“Come on.”

You led Ahsoka through the woods, following the Force. You stopped before a clearing, seeing a Mandalorian and a green creature that reminded you of Yoda.

“You hear that?” You heard the Mandalorian ask. “Don’t worry.” He set the creature on a nearby rock. “Sit right here. Let me see what’s out there.” He looked around with a scope and sighed. “False alarm.”

You and Ahsoka nodded to each other before you both activated your sabers and jumped out at the Mandalorian. The two of you hit the Mandalorian but you quickly learned that his armor was made of pure Beskar, impenetrable by lightsabers. The Mandalorian used a flame thrower to burn Ahsoka’s cloak while tying you up with a rope shooting from his wrist. You jumped over him and a tree branch, freeing yourself. Ahsoka and you had him surrounded.

“Ahsoka Tano!” The Mandalorian shouted. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”

Ahsoka saw the little creature on the rock behind the Mandalorian as she deactivated her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him,” she said.

You turned off your lightsabers as you felt the child enter your mind. You headed toward him, Ahsoka doing the same thing. Kneeling in front of him, you offered him your hand, which he took it.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian asked you.

You sighed. Keeping your Skywalker name a secret was still important. The risk of the Galaxy finding out the truth about Vader and Anakin was too great. Would you use Kenobi? You did marry him and had every right to use it. It felt more like a real last name than the false one you had used for years.

“I’m Y/N Kenobi,” you responded, still focused on the child.

“They didn’t tell me there were two Jedi out here,” the Mandalorian stated.

“They didn’t know.”

~~~

Night fell and you found yourselves surrounding a small fire in the woods again. You and Ahsoka were on the side, sitting in front of the child. The three of you were communicating in the Force while the Mandalorian paced on the other side. You learned that his name was Grogu and that he was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Grogu cooed as the three of you continued to speak. Finally, with a smile you picked him up and the three of you headed over to the Mandalorian.

“Is he speaking?” The Mandalorian questioned. “Do you understand him?”

“In a way,” Ahsoka responded. “Grogu, Y/N, and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?”

“Yes,” you answered. “That’s his name.”

“Grogu.” The Mandalorian tried, earning the child’s attention.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” explained Ahsoka. “Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes… dark.”

“He seemed lost,” you added, understanding the feeling. “Alone… I’ve only known two other beings like this. Jedi Masters Yoda and Yaddle… can he still wield the Force?”

“You mean his powers?” Questioned the Mandalorian.

“The Force is what gives him his powers,” Ahsoka said. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”

“The Jedi Order fell a long time ago,” you stated, a bit too harshly.

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

You held Grogu as he began to fall asleep. “Let him sleep. We will test him in the morning.”

~~~

Ahsoka led you, the Mandalorian, and Grogu to a different clearing with various sizes of rocks.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” Ahsoka said, booping Grogu’s nose.

The Mandalorian set Grogu down as Ahsoka picked up a small stone. She stood in front of Grogu and sent it to him using the Force. Grogu caught it with a coo.

Ahsoka held her palm out. “Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” she said. He made no move to do so.

“He doesn’t understand,” the Mandalorian said.

“He does,” you replied. “He’s just scared.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka encouraged. “The stone, Grogu.” He waited a second before throwing the stone to the ground. Ahsoka sighed as she walked up to him. She took his little hand and used the Force to feel his emotions. “I sense much fear in you.”

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” you said. “It’s going to take time for him to realize he can use them without fear.”

Ahsoka stood up straight. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

“He’s stubborn,” the Mandalorian said when Grogu didn’t move.

“Not him. You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

The Mandalorian moved to stand beside Ahsoka. “That would be a first.”

“I like firsts. Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” You smirked at the saying. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.”

The Mandalorian did as directed. “Alright, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” you corrected as Ahsoka moved to stand next to you.

“Grogu. Come on, take the stone.” Grogu looked down. “You see? I told you, he’s stubborn.”

“Try to connect with him,” you advised.

The Mandalorian breathed deeply before pulling a small round thing from his belt. “Grogu… do you want this?” He held it up as he crouched down. “Well, go ahead.” Grogu reached an arm out. “That’s right, take it. Come on. You can have it. Come on.” Grogu used the Force to pull the small metal ball to his own hand. “Good job! Good job, kid.” The Mandalorian stood up to go to Grogu as you and Ahsoka shared a look. “You see that? That’s right. I knew you could do it. Very good.”

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” Ahsoka stated. “I cannot train him.”

“What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” you responded, knowingly. “All the more reason not to.”

“We’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight,” Ahsoka added, speaking of Anakin. “To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You hated how you felt like this was hypocritical, yet what needed to be done. Anakin wasn’t the only one with attachments in the Order, you were attached to him and Obi-Wan. You wanted to say that you didn’t have fears and anger that led to the dark side, but what happened after Obi-Wan’s death proved that you weren’t free from that.

“I have delayed too long,” Ahsoka continued. “I must get back to the village.”

“The Magistrate sent me to kill you,” the Mandalorian said. “I didn’t agree to anything. And I’ll help you with your problem if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

You and Ahsoka shared a look. You knew of one other Jedi who was looking for students, looking to reestablish the Order that caused both you and Ahsoka pain.

“I know someone who might train Grogu,” you told the man. “But first we finish this.”

~~~

“She has a small army of guards armed with A350 blaster rifles, two HK-87 assassin droids, and a hired gunfighter,” the Mandalorian explained as you headed for the village. “He reads ex-military to me. Combined, not even your laser swords would be able to protect you from all that firepower.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Ahsoka warned with a slight smirk.

“True,” you agreed.

“Don’t underestimate the Magistrate either.”

“Who is she?” The Mandalorian asked. “She offered me a staff of pure beskar to kill you.”

“Morgan Elsbeth. During the Clone Wars, her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger full an industry which helped build the Imperial Starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”

“Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business.”

“When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?”

“I saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.”

“We must find a way to free them.”

“A Mandalorian and two Jedi? They’ll never see it coming.”

~~~

The guards on the wall of the city weren’t prepared for what was going to happen. Ahsoka jumped up the wall first, easily attacking those on the wall. Once Ahsoka had rid the wall of the guards, you jumped up and between the huts. You being there needed to be a surprise.

“Your bounty hunter failed,” Ahsoka said as she stood in front of the Magistrate who was surrounded by guards. She threw a piece of the Mandalorian’s armor on the ground. “Tell me what I want to know. Where is your master?”

“Kill her,” the Magistrate ordered.

“Love to,” the man beside her responded, almost immediately firing at Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka activated her sabers and began blocking oncoming shots. You flipped out of the shadows with your lightsabers activated to help.

“There’s two of them!” A guard shouted.

You and Ahsoka separated, going opposite ways to get the guards to split up. It worked almost too easy. You both took care of the guards before taking places on top of the inner gate. The Mandalorian was standing on the ground, facing the hired gun. You gave Ahsoka a nod before she jumped down, into the inner gate where the Magistrate was hiding.

“So, you threw in with the Jedi,” said the hired gun.

“Looks that way,” the Mandalorian responded.

You stood at the gate, watching over the two sides. You knew that Ahsoka wanted to handle this part alone, it was her quest. The grunts and sound of lightsabers clashing against beskar signaled that the fight was on.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?” The hired gun asked, taking a few steps toward the Mandalorian. “Could be your side… could be my side.” He continued taking small steps toward your new ally. “I got no quarrel with you, Mandalorian.”

“That’s far enough,” the Mandalorian stated, his hand going to hover over the blaster on his leg.

“You and I, we’re a lot alike. Willing to lay our lives down for the right cause. Which this is not.”

The sound of the beskar rod falling to the ground echoed through the air. You looked back to see that Ahsoka had won. Then turned back to see that the Mandalorian had shot the hired gun man. You jumped down to stand beside him.

“You know, I visited Mandalore once,” you said. “My… my husband loved Mandalore. His first love was Satine Kryze… I’m sorry about Mandalore. About everything that happened to it… I really am.”

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, choosing to look at a man coming out of one of the huts. 

The two nodded at each other before the man shouted, “Behind you!”

You were faster than the Mandalorian. Before his gun was in his hand, you had activated your yellow saber and tossed it behind you, slicing the droid on the roof in half. Your saber came back to your hand easily and the man in front of you looked at you.

“I know who you are,” he said. “Jedi General Y/N L/N.” 

“Please, it’s just Y/N now,” you told the man.

“Thank you, for helping us.”

You gave him a smile before waking away. You would never get used to how people knew you due to the wars you fought in, and you never hoped to.

~~~

As the city began to celebrate their freedom, you, Ahsoka, and the Mandalorian walked out. The three of you stopped outside of the main gate.

“I believe this was your payment,” Ahsoka said, holding the beskar rod.

“No,” the Mandalorian shook his head, “I can’t accept. I didn’t finish the job.”

“No. But this belongs with a Mandalorian.”

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian took it.

“Where is Grogu?” You asked.

“Back at the ship,” he answered. “Wait here, I’ll go get him.” 

You watched as he walked off, feeling the emotions swirling within him. “They have a father-son attachment,” you noted. “That bond is… it can be dangerous if he’s trained.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “Who do you think will train him?”

“I think that Luke will. But the two need to find each other. I am not bringing Grogu to Luke. If it is meant to be, the Force will find a way.”

~~~

Due to the time that the Mandalorian was taking, you and Ahsoka ended up showing up at his ship.

“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka stated as the Mandalorian walked down the ramp.

“Because of that, we will not train him,” you said.

“There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython. You will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

“Then what?” The Mandalorian wondered.

“Then Grogu may choose his path,” you answered. “If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.”

“There aren’t many Jedi left,” warned Ahsoka.

“Thank you,” said the Mandalorian.

“May the Force be with you.”

You and Ahsoka watched as the Mandalorian and Grogu went back into the ship. Grogu waved his small hand at the two of you, causing you both to smile. You stood there until they had flown away, then you turned to Ahsoka.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave,” you said. “But, I have a feeling our paths will cross again.”

“As do I,” she responded. She brought you in for a hug. “Please stay safe.”

“As long as you promise to do the same.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

[thefact0rygirl]

Edging Obi-Wan for the kinktober list?

red | obi-wan kenobi x sith!reader

Kinktober Day Seven: Edging

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Sith!Fem!Reader

Reader Description: reader has red eyes like the sith, but there is no mention of their real eye color.

Warnings: enemies with benefits, dom!reader, edging/orgasm denial, handjob, cock ring use, face sitting

“You’re doing so well, Jedi. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan tumbles through a fog of arousal and euphoria looking for a witty response, but he can't find the words with your warm breath tickling his cheek. Not when you're kneeling over him, one hand carding through his hair while the other strokes his cock.

He swallows, his tongue feeling too big and too dry for his mouth from the time — has it been minutes, maybe hours? — spent panting and moaning as you tease him mercilessly. And it only continues when you give the tip of his cock a twist of your wrist, a pearl of precum spilling over your fingers. 

“Or should I make this tighter?" Your hand moves to cup his balls, cradling them before gently tapping the rubber ring wrapped around his base. “Hmmm? What do you think?”

There is a deep scratch along his voice as he moans your name. He wants to say something clever, something to throw you off balance and make your thighs clench, but his muddled brain freezes when he meets your intense gaze. Your eyes burn bright red. Red like blood, red like fire, red like the Sith. 

And maybe it’s the ring wrapped around his cock that is toying with his vision, but he swears he can see your natural eye color along the edge of your irises.  He remembers your eyes when there was no red. Bright and shining, just like you. He wishes he could see them again. No red, no war, just you.

Breaking away from his thoughts, he musters a strangled response, “Is this…fuck… is this really necessary? I think you’ve made your point, my dear.”

You tilt your head to the side, an amused smirk donning your lips as you give him a hard stroke. His hips buck underneath you as you slide through the precum gathering at his tip before lifting a finger to your lips. You wrap your lips around it, letting the salty taste of Obi-Wan flood your taste buds.

“Stop acting like that, Jedi,” You say, pulling your finger out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’. “You know you like this.”

And, fuck, he really does. 

The rubber ring wrapped around him…it makes his cock stand up more than it ever has, his balls swelling a little more than usual with a brighter shade of pink. The veins running along his length are more prominent, bulging more with adrenaline and pleasure pumping through his veins.

Try as he might, you don’t miss the way his dry tongue is unsuccessfully trying to wet his parched lips. “Maybe I can start by helping you with that dry mouth.” You whisper against his ear. Before he can fully process your words, you’re pushing him down on his back and crawling up his chest. Straddling his face, you coo to him, "Let's see if we can remedy that."

Yeah, he fucking loves this.

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[samspenandsword]

Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Kinktober Day 7 — Costumes with Obi-Wan Kenobi Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance other than a vague costume description. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; Costumes, unprotected PIV (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), creampie, mention of fingering, mention of biting kink, Jedi!reader, flirting overload, necking like horny teenagers, inappropriate use of the Force. Word Count: 3.6k

Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2023 Taglist Form

So in Legends, the Jedi go ape for Halloween, and what Kinktober is complete without a good Halloween piece 😉

Also, let me apologize for Tumblr eating the original version of this yesterday 😑 and that it took me longer than I thought it would for me to rewrite it 😬 but I hope everyone enjoys Day 7!

It would surprise most of the general public, but the Jedi Order was in the habit of going, what the academic community called, batshit, for Halloween.

"It's tradition," any Jedi would say to anyone who asked, adopting the most sagely voice they possibly could, all while internally thinking about the costume they'd been designing for half the year. "The younglings enjoy it."

And they did, but any master or knight who claimed it was just the younglings and padawans who enjoyed Halloween was a bold-faced liar.

Every year, the Temple was decorated and spiffed out to the extreme. Fake cobwebs adorned the doorways, carved gourds and harvest plants guarded the thresholds, candles and fake bats hovered through the halls, the scent of spicy and cinnamon crusted treats wafted out from the kitchens through the entire Temple. And there was, of course, no shortage of Halloween pranks. You remembered fondly the year you'd gotten Master Windu good by rigging his mirror to drip fake blood and read "LEAVE THIS PLACE" while fake cockroaches crawled out of his sink. His yell had been heard through half the Temple.

He'd gotten you back. Your master was nothing if not serious, dedicated, and thorough. And with a flair and gift for theatrics too, he'd gotten you back good enough that you'd almost considered never messing with him again.

Almost.

But beyond the pranks and decorations and special treats every year, actual Halloween night was always a time of great cheer for the Jedi. Kind of an unofficial day off for everyone. The younglings could trick-or-treat, go on scavenger hunts, play games, find their way out of the "haunted" maze that the Room of a Thousand Fountains got turned into every year. And at night, after all the little ones had gone to bed, masters and knights could enter costume contests, go to each others' parties, drink spiked cider, go through the haunted maze Master Yoda and Madame Jocasta designed every year. The little troll and strict archivist could come up with some of the creepiest things every year.

And the day before Halloween was also one of the only days of the year where the public could fully visit the Temple. For certain hours of the day, the Temple opened themselves to the public to come visit the mazes and games and even trick-or-treat themselves.

It never failed to amuse you how many people came by expecting some dull, boring Halloween snooze fest only to find themselves faced with giggling, costumed younglings, knights with cider and rosy-cheeks, and masters with ornate and beautiful costumes and proud smiles, and uncomfortably authentic-looking decorations.

The Clone Wars had changed the way the Jedi handled Halloween. Not a ton, as the Jedi had tried their absolute best to go all-out, for everyone needed a good break from the way, but it wasn't quite as all-out as the years before. The younglings didn't really seem to notice, so you supposed that was good. But many knights and masters weren't able to lend their hand to help in the decoration process, or they couldn't spend as much time, if any, working on their costumes. Madame Jocasta, the healers, and the creche masters had really stepped up that first year, helping to keep life at the Temple as similar as possible to before the war broke out. If only for the benefit of the younglings.

But it was to the benefit of everyone, really, to come home to the Temple and see the candles and gravestones and spiderwebs everywhere. It had given you a sense of peace and normalcy you'd not experienced since the start of the war.

Rather than fully design a new costume this year, you'd borrowed pieces from all your old costumes to cobble together something new. You were quite proud of it. And anything that hadn't been reused was donated to your clone troopers, who the Jedi had openly invited to the Temple to join the celebrations. You'd had bins of materials and fabric and makeup and wigs and old costume pieces to give to them. Some of them had been quite thrilled at the sight, having never had a real Halloween before.

And no one did Halloween like the Jedi.

You were, in short, a pirate. And not a pirate like Hondo Ohnaka, the menace. But a traditional sea pirate, with a compass, a cutlass, a big feathered hat, tall buckled boots, a sweeping red coat, and sparkling gold jewelry. You'd had to alter some of your items, like adding the feather to the hat, and adding some extra buckles to your boots, but overall, you were proud of how you looked.

Someone else seemed to be appreciating how you looked as well, judging by how he'd rarely taken his eyes off you since you'd come into the room.

The people who said Obi-Wan Kenobi was subtle had obviously never made an effort to pay attention any time he even opened his mouth, because the man was not subtle. Refined, yes. Precise, yes. Distinguished, sure. Subtle?

No.

Everyone who was anyone knew that the reason Anakin Skywalker was so flashy was because he'd learned from Obi-Wan.

The man himself looked very distinguished right now. He always did. But right now he was dressed in a form-fitting, tailed suit of black with red trimming. It had a high collar, and his copper hair was slicked back into a more severe swoop than usual. Though, you noted with amusement, there always seemed to be one strand that refused to stay in place. That strand was currently being brushed back by Obi-Wan's fingers, encased in black leather gloves. His other hand grasped a simple black cane, and he wore stylish boots of shining black.

It was not a usual look for Obi-Wan, who you were used to seeing in beiges and tans and tabards. But Force, if he didn't look frustratingly handsome in the fitted black.

He looked paler than normal, and more tired, but you guessed that was because of the dim, colored lights of the mess. At least, until you got closer and saw he was wearing makeup. Nothing extreme. Just enough to give him a paler complexion and dark circles under his eyes.

Obi-Wan's eyes remained locked on you as you grew closer, his mouth quirking into that charming half-smile, half-smirk of his.

The sight of it always made your insides flutter, and you smiled back as you reached the small group congregating by the dessert table.

"Not eating, Master Kenobi?" you asked, eyeballing Anakin and Ahsoka as they crowded around the table.

Obi-Wan flashed a grin. A grin that showed a pair of shining, white fangs. "While it looks delicious, the feast tonight is not quite to my tastes, my dear."

It took a lot for you not to burst out laughing. "Yes, not quite rich enough in iron, I suppose."

Obi-Wan's grin flashed more genuinely.

Ahsoka caught sight of you.

"You look great!" she cheered. So did she, with grey makeup and shredded clothing, she looked like an incredible zombie. She even had done her montrals to look like they were rotting and decomposing.

"You too, 'Soka," you said. It was nights like tonight that reminded you of just how young she was. And how much she needed tonight to help her feel like a child again. You side-eyed her master, who was young himself. He wore brown leathers not wholly unlike his usual clothing.

"And what are you supposed to be?"

"Uh, I'm a pilot?" Anakin stared at you like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

"I told him it was a stupid costume," Ahsoka said.

"Hey!"

"Rex agreed with me."

Anakin ignored her, saying to you, "I'm a fighter pilot from Naboo."

"Reliving your glory days?" you teased. Anakin had told the story of the Battle of Theed more times than you could count.

Obi-Wan spoke before Anakin could think of a response. "Doesn't the Naboo Royal Space Fighter Corps wear orange?" he asked, innocently.

Anakin scowled, and you and Ahsoka just about fell over laughing.

Obi-Wan's eyes never left you for long. He felt magnetized to the sight of you, whether you were wearing a costume or not. But something about this... The collared, white ruffles of your poet shirt dipped tantalizingly over your cleavage. Nothing considered immodest, but enough to attract Obi-Wan's attention like a fly into honey. The jaunty sit of your hat and fluttering of your lashes seemed entirely more seductive than you usually were, and Obi-Wan couldn't get enough of you even on a regular basis. Your jewelry glittered in the low lights like the kyber of the Ilum ice caves, every glow and shine drawing him further and further in, ready to receive what you would give him. And with the way your skintight leggings curved over your legs, framed by that coat and tucked into those karking boots, Obi-Wan thought you looked more like a siren than a pirate.

Obi-Wan blinked, and found that you were looking at him.

"You look amazing, Obi-Wan," you said, smiling that breathtakingly gorgeous smile at him. "Very classic costume."

Kriff, you were just so beautiful. And tempting.

There was a touch of mischief to Obi-Wan's returning smile. You wouldn't know it was there unless you knew that Obi-Wan could be a little shit when it suited him.

"And you, my dear, look... dangerous."

Your core instantly tightened and your breath hitched. And judging by the continued, pleasant, mischief-edged smile on Obi-Wan's face, he knew it.

"You're only saying that because you know I can beat you in lightsaber combat."

Obi-Wan continued to grin, entirely too charming for his own good.

"That's part of the reason, yes."

You smothered the smile that wanted to grow, instead saying, sternly, "I am not sharing."

"But, my dear —"

"No! Senator Organa gave me that bottle of wine as a gift, you are getting none of it. I know you, Kenobi. You'd drink the entire thing before I even got a drip. It is being saved for a special occasion."

Obi-Wan swept his gaze around the room, observing the festivities and celebrations. "And tonight's not special enough?"

"Your charm hasn't worked on me in years, Obi-Wan," you said. It was a lie. His charm had worked on you from day one and continued to do so. You'd stopped fighting it long ago.

And he knew it.

"Are you quite sure about that?"

Whatever response you could give was cut off by an impressively petulant groan from Anakin.

"Maker, would you two stop? I'm trying to eat."

Your mouth stretched into a grin, one that made Ahsoka cackle and Anakin try to backpedal.

"I take it back, Obi-Wan. I was lying before. Your charm does work on me. In fact, it works so well that I have a confession to make."

You turned to him, draping yourself to his front and your lips falling into a lovelorn pout.

"I have fallen madly in love with you, Obi-Wan. And I can no longer bear it. Tell me it is returned, my love. Tell me and spare me the pain of living without you any longer. Tell me, my love, and let us depart at once. I know someone on Alderaan, and though I know it's rushed and unorthodox, they would be happy to marry us this night!"

"Oh, Force, spare me —"

Obi-Wan ignored his former padawan, locking his amused, but oddly fervent gaze with yours. The hand not holding his cane wrapped low around your hips.

"A love like ours cannot be denied. A love so pure is surely written in the stars." He flashed his fanged smile. "Join me, my love. Let me give you all the freedom the seas have to offer, and an eternity to spend with me. The eternal night will not be so cold when we have each other to spend it with. You shall be mine, and I shall be yours. Forever. Welcome my bite, and share in our immortal love."

You couldn't keep in your laughter anymore, ducking your head down to burst out into furious giggles. Ahsoka wasn't much different.

"Eternal night? Immortal love???"

"You didn't like it?"

"I think I threw up in my mouth a little, but otherwise I loved it. Use that next time you flirt with Ventress, she'll be so caught off guard you can capture her."

"That's not a bad suggestion."

Ahsoka collapsed into giggles again when she saw that Anakin was simple staring into the distance, an agonized grimace etched on his face.

"Shuts him up every time," You nodded to Anakin and bumped your hip to Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan gave you an amused smirk, slowly shifting until your hips were touching again. Your skin was set alight where you touched.

"Like nothing else."

You laughed.

* * *

“Obi-Wan…” 

The gasp left your lips, quiet and hushed in the glow twilight streaming through the windows. His beard felt exquisite against the skin of your neck, and you sighed at the kisses he placed along its length. 

His cock felt exquisite, buried as it was so deep inside you, pumping tenderly, almost teasingly. 

Obi-Wan’s fangs had long been discarded, but he was still latched to your neck as if he were looking for a place to latch on. 

You almost wanted him to.

As if sensing your desires, and he probably could, Obi-Wan sucked your skin into his mouth and nibbled it gently with his teeth. You gasped in his hold. 

“That’s it, darling,” Obi-Wan cooed. He released your neck with a lewd suck and kissed your jaw. “Let me hear you.”

You and Obi-Wan had lasted exactly one hour before needing to sneak away from the festivities to enjoy each other. The combination of having not seen each other much in the last months, both busy as war generals, the calming normalcy of the Halloween celebrations, and the rare sight of each other in costume was intoxicating to the both of you. Obi-Wan could barely keep his eyes off of you, so gorgeous and alluring in the way you flitted around, visiting with friends and family you hadn't seen in months, complimenting the younglings on their costumes, making sure your men were having fun. And the way you always looked back at him, periodically, and just often enough that no one but he would notice your desire. And your focus felt laser-trained on him, constantly aware of his presence and how it related to you: how far away from you he was, whether he was facing you or not, even when he was blinking or flicking away that bothersome piece of hair that never stayed in place. You were aware of all of it, and the curve of his back, and the way his hands looked in those gloves, and the way the dark colors of his costume made his hair more red than usual.

And combined with the way his signature in the Force kept pulsing, wafting over your skin and mind in a tease of a caress, you both could barely stand to not sneak away after an hour.

And now, with Obi-Wan buried as far as he could be inside you, you pressed against the bookshelves of his Temple apartments with those tight leggings rolled down to your knees, and his costume unfastened to reveal the muscled expanse of his chest, pressed tight to yours, you caressed each other with the Force as much as you did with your bodies.

Obi-Wan's signature normally felt like he did: steady, calm, deliberate, with a layer of mischief and humor hiding underneath it all. But right now, it rippled across your awareness with a sort of insistence, an insatiableness, and it only made you keen into him.

"Let me hear you," he encouraged again, lips dragging from your jaw to your cheekbone.

"Obi-Wan," you gasped, and your presence in the Force wrapped around him as firmly as your arms did.

The urgency from earlier had calmed a little. Where earlier you and Obi-Wan had nearly scrambled, removing just enough clothing to where you could feel his chest and that he could slip his fingers inside you to discover you didn't need much prep, the haste had calmed into something more languid. Now with his cock inside you, you could take the time to enjoy the feeling of it. It had been so long since you'd felt him. You could take the time to bask in the way it dragged in and out of you, and simply enjoy the weight and stretch, in no rush to reach your high.

And you could relish in the way Obi-Wan kissed you. The soft scratch of his beard on your skin, the tickle of his wayward strand of hair on your cheek. Obi-Wan kissed you how he handled his lightsaber: beautifully. Precise, deliberate, with enough push and pull to let you know he was having fun with this. That he enjoyed kissing you.

That he was as much a master at this as he was at Soresu.

And all the while he continued to thrust into you.

"So beautiful," Obi-Wan murmured, breaking away from the kiss with a little suckle to your lower lip. You sighed into him, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as his thrusting sped up just the tiniest bit.

"Missed you," you said, voice breathy from the embrace of his presence. It suddenly overwhelmed you, like you were only now realizing that yes, he was here, he was with you.

He was inside you.

You clenched around him with the sudden rush of emotion, making Obi-Wan moan.

"Darling..."

He began to thrust faster.

The long coat you wore barely did anything to cushion you against the press of the bookshelves on your back, but that was the last thing you cared about right now. Right now all you could think of was the heat building inside you, the rush of arousal, and the weight of Obi-Wan's presence and own arousal, rising around you like the rising of the tide and you were the beach it would inevitably crash into.

You welcomed it. You wanted it.

Obi-Wan sensed it, grunting and thrusting hard into you.

Time began to pass in a haze of pleasure, your mind absolutely spinning with it. The pressure inside you built like a storm, gathering and compressing into a molten center that would eventually snap and release. And at the center of the whirlwind was Obi-Wan. Absorbing and giving you everything you wanted. Everything you needed.

You wanted to absorb and give everything back to him too.

So as your feelings began to rise, it brought you closer and closer to your high. And Obi-Wan could feel it, groaning with each wave that washed over him. It brought him closer too, and his pumping grew faster, and harder.

"Obi-Wan!" you gasped, clutching hard to his back.

His head had fallen back to your neck, and his lips brushed the skin of it with each encouragement he murmured.

"Beautiful," he said. "Let go, darling. I've got you."

You needed nothing else, your body seizing in the most intense and steady climax you'd ever experienced.

As you came, your presence in the Force swelled and glowed, like a beacon for his own release. And Obi-Wan rushed to meet it, thrusting only a few more times into your fluttering walls until his own end crashed over him.

The seed he spilled inside you was incidental compared to the tangling of his presence in the Force with yours, the way it crashed into yours and wrapped around it like they could merge into one. It made you gasp, feeling like every part of you, from the blood in your veins to your mind to your heart was ignited into starlight. And it along with the warmth splashing against your walls reignited your orgasm.

For several minutes, the room was full of nothing but moans of ecstasy and the warmth of the Force. Until finally, in unison, yours and Obi-Wan's bodies relaxed, and the air settled into a calm. Your Force presence still mingled with his, a steady, rhythmic, comforting embrace.

Obi-Wan kissed you. You smiled into it.

"Glad you took out those fangs," you murmured into him, never fully parting your lips.

He smirked a little into you, capturing your lips once again before responding. "Thought you liked the costume."

"I do." You stroked your hand up the fabric on his back and over his shoulder, fingers trailing across the copper hair of his chest. "But knowing me, I was going to catch my tongue on one of those things, dislodge it, and accidentally swallow it. And that would've really ruined the mood."

Obi-Wan burst out laughing. The sound of it was so warm that you couldn't help your soft smile.

Obi-Wan gently pulled out of you, and you could feel the sticky mess of both your releases begin to smear across your thighs. Obi-Wan disappeared briefly, grabbing a towel from his refresher. He cleaned both of you up, and after you both fixed your clothing and you fitted your hat back on, all evidence of what had transpired was hidden.

Until the both of you could bask in each other once again.

Likely later tonight. You and Obi-Wan were insatiable.

"Ready to go through the haunted maze?" you asked, grinning.

Obi-Wan kept a neutral expression. "Of course."

Your grin widened teasingly. It was no secret that the haunted maze was not Obi-Wan's favorite Halloween tradition. "Don't worry, Obi-Wan. I'm sure Anakin will be more than happy to hold your hand."

Obi-Wan's lips quirked. "You're assuming Anakin will actually want to go in there."

It was no secret that Anakin didn't exactly like the haunted maze either. You and Ahsoka, on the other hand, loved it.

"Are you kidding?" you scoffed. "All I have to do is call him a chicken and he'll be running in there."

Obi-Wan smiled fully now. "I bet that Alderaanian bottle of wine of yours that he only lasts five minutes before screaming."

You smirked. "Three minutes."

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[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 ."

[shrenvents]

My Bounty.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal, unprotected sex, force play. Minors dni

Pairing: Clone Wars (single) Anakin Skywalker x Bounty Hunter reader

Summary: Anakin Skywalker goes above and beyond to make your life difficult, taking whatever he wants without explanation. So when reader confronts him, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1.7k

…

The meddling nature of the Jedi was nothing compared to the nature of Anakin Skywalker. His darkness seeps its way into everything. His dark robe, gloves, boots, curls, eyes. He was the darkness enveloping me in a dizzying spiral of hate and desire. And he did it again. He stole my bounty just so he could give me that dark look.

His gaze observes the way my fists clench and how I chew my bottom lip. A wicked smirk dances on his face as clones praise and pat him on the back. He knew exactly what he was doing, watching me with an intensity, that had me shaking.

Finally, Anakin’s eyes move away from my figure, beckoned by his Master. He stalks towards Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mocking facade breaks instantly. I nearly scream at the sight. What was he hoping to achieve? Stealing my potential profits is certainly an interesting pastime, not one you would expect from “the chosen one.”

I huff out my frustration, deflating my tense shoulders. With his back now turned, I relax. Pivoting on my heel, I hurry away from the scene. On to the next hunt, before Skywalker gets the chance to take it from me.

Frankly, I have no clue how it started, his fixation with making me miserable. I almost feel paranoid, as if I’m making up the whole debacle. But from the way he looks at me, unspeaking, I know this truly is my reality. Anakin Skywalker hates me.

...

Now glaring at my reflection within the confines of my room, my restraint runs thin. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confront him because that sort of thing always goes well.

I head out towards the Jedi temple where Skywalker is most likely training his Padawan. While marching over, I contemplate the arguments I will bring up when face-to-face with him. How I will look into those comet-like eyes and not get distracted by his plump lips.

Moral of the story, I’m going to put an end to this one-sided game we play.

Once my vision connects with his broad back, his name escapes me without hesitation, “Anakin.” Saying it takes me by surprise, seeing as though I’ve never said it before. But clearly, it shocks him more, as when he turns around, his eyes are vaguely wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Y/n,” he says back flatly, face becoming neutral. Now I’m really taken aback by the way my name rolls off his tongue. Quickly, I collect myself and remember my well-thought-out points.

“What are you doing?” And out the window they go.

Anakin quirks his head quizzically. His silent reply to my rather stupid question ticks me off further. I’m practically vibrating with rage. “That was my mark you stole today Skywalker, you realize that?”

As if he’s finally understood my inarticulate speech, his lips part dumbly in “awe.” There he goes pushing my buttons, silently watching me unravel. “You think I wouldn’t notice?“ My face flushes red as I elaborate. “All the crooks you’ve miraculously caught are always the bounty that I’m after.”

There's a beat of silence where he inspects the way my chest heaves in exasperation. Then he speaks. “About time you did.” He states matter-of-factly. My jaw drops. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to notice,” he remarks with a bored look.

“Notice what?” I spit out, scowling at him.

“Me,” he finishes plainly. Silence engulfs us again and I take note of how close we’ve become. “Why would you want that?” I question, utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Anakin’s brows furrow.

“I mean you’ve never spoken to me before.”

“Neither have you.” He counters. My fists tremble.

“Why then? Why do you need me to notice you?” I demand.

“What other reason can there be?” He grumbles while giving me a once-over, and then something clicks. My face falls.

“Those looks you give me-”

“Say just how much I want you, more than words ever could.” He ends my sentence, his face remaining stoic. My heart hammers wildly. I suspect he’s now waiting for me to make a move, to say anything, maybe even reject him. Instead, I hastily circle my head around, surveilling for bystanders before frantically grasping at his robe and pushing him into a nearby room. His facade flatters once again and I see puzzlement consume his face.

After I awkwardly turn the door knob and take us into the empty room, I shove him away. Anakin staggers back, looking completely disoriented, almost regretful. “Y/n?” He trails off. My anger is radiating off my body, and I know he can feel it.

“You should’ve said something,” I assert, seething.

“I’m-“ Anakin is abruptly cut off by my lips smashing against his. With my arms reaching around his neck, I can feel his body freeze. After a short moment, I start to peel away, dejected by his stillness. But Anakin instantly chases after me, no longer shying away.

He gropes my waist, and one arm pulls around it, while the other slides up my spine to rest between my shoulder blades. A moan evades my throat and is met with a deep groan.

His palms carve out my figure and fist at my clothes. Whines rush out my mouth as his tongue mingles with mine. He vigorously makes work of me, and I have to pull away. Though his lips instinctively follow me, I’m out of reach, so he settles for my neck. Sucking fervently, one may fear the spots he’s making, but in this moment, truthfully, I couldn't care less.

“Ani,” I whimper, and he growls against my nape in response. “Fuck, I need you,” I whisper. I feel his movements lurch and he mumbles something, but I can't seem to hear it over my haggard breathing.

He tears himself away from my neck, still keeping my body pressed against his. He then shifts his gaze around the room. “There’s no furniture here, I’ll just have to fuck you standing.” An audible gasp flees my mouth as Anakin slings my body around his torso, legs straddling his hips. His hands clench around my thighs as he hoists me up, securing me in place.

Fortunately, the short gown I threw on this morning made it easy for Anakin's crotch to caress my core through his pants. I push down on him and he groans at our proximity. "I was wondering when you would snap," Anakin mutters into my ear as his grip tightens. I whimper. "Screw you."

"Be patient. You will." He soothes. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I drop my forehead to his shoulder as our lower halves grind against one another.

The sounds of our moans crowd the room and I can't take it anymore. "Kriff patience, I'm done waiting, General," I command in the most sensual voice I can muster. Evidently, my attempt to provoke him works because one of his hands leaves my thigh and clutches my hair in a fist, tugging my head back so his lips can crash into mine again. His other hand shifts down to his slacks. His breath hitches when he releases his cock, and so does mine when it springs up to my clothed clit. "Oh maker," I just about scream, head falling back.

His hands make quick work moving my underwear aside, and his member brushes against my folds. I shudder and screw my eyelids shut. I feel Anakin's gaze fixate on me. "Look at me." Hearing his order, I immediately obey.

Eyes fluttering open, I look into his lust-filled ones. Getting flustered by their heat, I squirm. "Y/n." He hushes, breath blowing across my face. Glancing at his features briefly, I nod, communicating what we both desperately need.

We both hold our breaths as he brings me down on his length in a slow glide. His cock pierces my entrance, and I clamp down on my incoming yelp. He was big. I hear him distractedly repeat my name, face buried in my collar. My eyes look to the ceiling in prayer.

His movements dissipate midway, and I feel his stomach clench. "You take me so well." He mumbles almost to himself. All I can do is bob my head in response. In this short pause, the pain disperses and all I feel is him - pleasure, darkness. His arms snake around my waist while mine harden around his nape.

Suddenly, he plunges into me, filling me up completely. My cry echoes throughout the room and I instantly sink my teeth into the cartilage of his ear. The growl that leaves him is next to primal. His rhythmic pounding begins to pick up speed, and I can barely keep up with each stroke. "Kiss me," he stammers out. Reeling back, I lock eyes with him before diving my tongue into his mouth.

His hips snap into my own, over and over. His stomach clenches once more and he pants into my mouth, "I'm close." Though I feel incredible, I'm not quite close to my limit, and he senses it.

One of his palms unravels from my body, steadily hovering over my center. Thinking he's going to touch me, I arch my back away from his embrace to allow space for his digits to meet my clit. But, as I wait, an unexpected pressure attacks my core. I gasp away from his lips and I peer down, leaning my forehead on his.

His hand isn't physically touching me, yet I feel as though I'm close to climaxing. Bewildered, I shoot my eyes from his floating hand to his lewd expression. His grin is strangely smug as he watches me. Then it registers: he's using the force to make me cum. Completely stunned, I simply bore my eyes into him, mouth agape.

Our orgasms come at once and wash over us at his charge. He puffs out a loud sigh of relief and continues to hold me, pumping slower than before, til the action ceases.

"Maker," I huff, "Next time, just use your words, and I'm yours." A smile forms on his face. He sheepishly nods, "Next time."

[micahwrites16]

Not Even the Force - Anakin Skywalker

TW: smut!

3.3k words

One thing about Anakin Skywalker is that he is possibly the most protective person you will ever meet.

If there were even the slightest bit of danger, he would lock you up if he could.

It's not necessarily out of possessiveness or over-protectiveness, but more fear of losing someone he loves. After his mother died, a part of him broke and no matter how hard you can try to love it better, you can't, and that's something you have had to come to terms with for a while now.

Just like his unwavering defensiveness, the wish that you could take all his worries away doesn't leave. All you can do is love him, and hope that it is enough.

Although you are just about as good with a gun as Anakin is with a lightsaber, you somehow end up stuck inside his ship every time he goes off on a mission. And of course that isn't enough, he has to leave Artoo with you just in case. So, you spend hours on end rambling to Artoo and listening to his sassy robotic replies, trying not to think about what Anakin is doing.

If either of you have one thing in common, it's worrying about the other.

As the only person out of you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka who knows the slightest bit about medicine, you're pretty much always dragged along. You really wouldn't mind if they would allow you to do something, anything, but no. You're not a Jedi, so apparently the only thing you can do is wrap injuries and check bruises.

Even if you couldn't fight or use the force like them, you were still part of their team and they treated you like it.

Currently, you're on Hoth, a planet of complete coldness and ice. You don't know the complete specifics of the mission yet, you just came to be with Anakin like always. It made you feel better that if he were to ever be hurt you could help him, even if you had to go through up to hours of boredom to do it.

You spin around as you hear the ship's door open, Artoo beeping and moving in front of you. You slowly back up and pull out your gun. Your finger moves to the trigger, ready to fire at whatever creature or droid or sith that might pop out. The door to the cockpit opens and right as you are about to fire, the gun is propelled out of your hands, hitting the wall of the ship with a loud clunk.

"Just me, my love," a deep voice calls, a shaky breath finally leaving your lips as you realize who it is. You relax as you see familiar waves of dark honey and the Jedi robe that you have stripped him of countless times before.

"Maker, Anakin!" Your breaths come out as soft pants as your heart calms down. "You can't just scare Artoo like that! Look at him, practically shaking." Both of you look at Artoo, and if a droid could roll its eyes that's what he would be doing right now. He beeps quietly, the sound almost annoyed as he rolls away from us. Anakin chuckles, closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring Artoo, that was very inconsiderate of me."

"Yes, very," you mumble quietly as you melt against his lips. Damn him and his perfectness. He brushes hair behind your ear as you pull away, the soft gesture warming your heart. As you finally get a clear view of his face, you gasp when you see a large gash stretch from his hairline to the middle of his cheek, mirroring the scar on the other side of his face. The skin around the cut is irritated and red, blood dripping from the laceration.

Anakin sees the intense worry in your eyes and quickly says, "It's okay, just a small cut. I can clean it up after we get off this dreadful planet." He kisses your forehead as he sits down in the pilot seat, turning the ship on.

"Wait- Anakin, it might need stitches," you follow him, him brushing off your concern as he lifts the ship off the ground. You let out a noise of protest, but quickly sit in the seat next to him, not wanting to be standing as he takes off.

"It can wait a few minutes, y/n."

You roll your eyes at his negligence, Anakin buckling you in with the force and blasting into space.

Once he sets the ship into autopilot you unbuckle and grab supplies to clean his wound, along with bandages and a needle and thread. You walk back to Anakin and straddle his hips, facing him so you can get a good look at his injury. He automatically rests his hands on your hips, shifting you closer to his chest.

"What happened?" You ask as you start cleaning the blood with a damp towel, being cautious not to hurt him further.

"Wampa. It got lucky. I was distracted," His eyebrows furrow slightly and you smile softly, the expression on his face almost looking like a pout. Sometimes you have no idea how this man is the most powerful Jedi in existence.

"Hm, okay. Well, it doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but it might leave a scar for a little while." He nods slightly and you grab something to clean his cut, pouring it on the cloth. "This might sting a bit," you warn as you press along his cheek. The only signs of his pain are his hands squeezing just the slightest bit harder on your hips.

As you continue cleaning his gash, you feel his eyes burn into your skin. His hard gaze used to make you uncomfortable, the intensity of it making you itch and want to crawl inside yourself. It was always like he was staring into your soul, taking every mark on your face to memory. Over time you got used to it, though, and learned to let him do what he wanted. You used to always hide from him, digging your face into the crook of his neck so he couldn't see. He would always pull you back and kiss your jaw, reassuring you with whispers of how beautiful you were. How he would stare at you all day if you would let him, just because he was so mesmerized by you. Then he would make love to you, once again taking every inch of your skin to memory and showing how much he appreciated you with every kiss and caress of his fingers.

Through your concentration, you don’t notice the sudden shift in Anakin, how his eyes gloss over and his hands tighten on your hips even further. You don’t notice how he seemed to have gotten lost in his mind, something in his head swirling darkly.

You finish and bandage his cut, giving it a soft kiss and putting your supplies back in your med kit. "All better," you smile and move to get off his lap, but instead you get pulled back into his chest, Anakin's face digging into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapping around your waist.

His hold is tight, almost desperate. A different kind of worry and surprise hits you at his sudden movement, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Ani?" Your eyebrows furrow, your fingers holding onto the ends of his hair. "Hey, talk to me," you say softly, his arms securing you tighter against him. You feel a shaky breath hit your shoulder, dread curling in your gut as the possibilities of what could've happened swirl in your mind.

"Y/n..." Anakin murmurs against you, his eyelashes fluttering softly against your skin and his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You can practically see dark swirls twisting around his body, emanating the emotion pouring through him. You always felt like you could understand and feel him on a level that's deeper than you should, especially in times when something is bothering him. And when something's truly bothering Anakin, it's deep and dark and it's almost as if you can feel it infecting his mind and blood. You have absolutely no idea what happened or what changed in the past five minutes, but you can almost feel him sinking into darkness.

It's so unbelievably scary.

"Anakin. Look at me, please," you plead in the gentlest voice you can manage. You tilt his head up, your eyes finding his.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Anakin murmurs, avoiding your gaze.

"Nothing's wrong with you." You search for words that could get him to open up to you, but you come up empty. Instead, you kiss his jaw and keep your gaze locked on him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I..." His eyebrows furrow again, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. He shakes his head like he's forcing something out of it. "I felt something."

"Felt what?"

"I don't know," Anakin murmurs, almost like he's lost in his head. "It felt so real. It felt like a memory, but I didn't see anything. I just... you..." You notice his eyes start shimmering and you rub your thumb back and forth on his cheek, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. "It was like grief. Like I was feeling grief for something that hadn't happened yet. Like the nightmares I had of my mother, except a feeling."

"Grief?"

"Yes. I just knew not to let you leave. Not... not now," Anakin mumbles, his face falling back into the crook of your neck. You feel a wetness hit your skin, a piece of your heart cracking for him. If Anakin's really getting a premonition like what he got with his mother, then it's definitely not good.

"I'm not leaving. I never will," you whisper, hugging him even tighter than before. "I'm right here." You feel him sigh and his lips against your shoulder, his teeth nipping and sucking softly at the sensitive skin as his tears continue to drop onto you.

"Need... need to feel you," Anakin pleads quietly, his hands roaming up and down your back, along your hips, and up to cup your neck as he places kisses on your throat. "Need to know you're here."

"Ani..." You sigh as his lips find the sensitive spot under your ear. And although you want him just as he wants you right now, you're not sure this is the best idea. You can tell something serious just bothered him, and brushing it off with sex might not be the right thing.

"Please, y/n." His hips roll up to yours gently, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel his growing hardness against your softness. "Need to feel all of you."

You can feel the lust radiating off of him with every brush of his lips and dominating grab of his hands, but more than that you feel his yearning and desperation for not specifically intimacy, but closeness. You decide you'd do whatever it takes to make him feel better.

You try not to dwell on the fact that it seems like it was you who he was grieving.

You pull his lips to yours, rolling your hips against his and pulling moans out of both of you. His lips are conquering and the swipe of his tongue against yours is needy, begging silently for something that you would give him over and over again if that's what he needed. His hips rut up into yours, causing your fingers in his hair to tighten and the boiling lava in your stomach to burn brighter.

Anakin's hands pull up the fabric of your shirt, his metal hand causing you to gasp at the coldness as it roams across your uncovered skin. "Now. Need to fuck you now, y/n," he begs against your lips, his fingers hooking on your pants, quickly lifting you up and pulling them down.

His dirty words stopped surprising you long ago. Now, all they do is fill you with an indescribable heat.

You quickly find the belt on his Jedi robe and take it off, throwing it on the floor beside where he carelessly threw your pants. His flesh hand presses against your clit through your panties, causing you to moan and buck your hips into his hand.

"Already so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect," he mumbles as he sucks on your jaw and pulls his boxers down, his aching cock springing up and hitting his abdomen. You slam your lips against his again, him grunting sharply as you swipe your thumb over his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum leaking desperately from him.

"So pretty," you murmur absentmindedly as you take in the sight of his rock-solid cock standing proudly, the tip slightly flushed and begging to be touched. You watch as his cheeks bloom into a dark red, his head falling onto your shoulder once again.

"Baby..." He sighs as his dick twitches, desire and the need to be connected to you overwhelming every one of his thoughts. He presses his thumb against your clit again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your veins. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and brushing his cock against your naked core, causing both of you to shudder. "Are you going to ride me, my love? Going to take me like the good girl I know you are?"

"Mhm," you whimper, your voice filled with lust as you position yourself above his cock, sinking down just so his tip is inside of you. Anakin grunts, his head head falling back against the seat. You slowly slide down, taking him in inch by inch until he's buried all the way inside of you, your walls stretching pleasurably at the intrusion.

"Oh fuck," he groans loudly, holding on to your hips tightly, no doubt leaving marks. "Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Taking me so well."

You moan, rocking your hips against his and reuniting your lips. Your walls clench at his words, causing another grumble to fall from his lips and in turn make your arousal grow at the sound. He guides you up and down his cock slowly, your pussy squeezing around him like a vice as he fucks into you, hitting that spot that only he knows.

Even after the many, many times before that you have been connected like this, you never get used to the size of him. Of being absolutely full, almost feeling like you could explode because of pleasure and completeness. And even though lust is overwhelming both of you, the thing both of you are enjoying the most is being so close to each other. Loving someone so deeply sometimes isn't enough, you have to be one with the other to achieve the level of intimacy you both long for.

"Anakin," you cry out, your fingers desperately gripping onto the ends of his hair as he fucks abandonedly into you.

"I know, I know, y/n. Doing so- so well for me," he praises softly, placing encouraging and loving kisses on any part of your skin he can reach. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, neck. He would devour you whole if he could. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he puts all his energy into making you feel good, wanting nothing more than to replace every one of your senses with pleasure. With him.

You latch your mouth onto his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob beneath your lips. Fire burns beneath your skin, every pulse of your heart meeting his. His groans and your whimpers bounce off the walls of the cockpit, the dirty, wet sound of you connecting causing a deeper flush to paint your skin.

"Look at you, so unbelievably beautiful on top of me," Anakin mumbles as his cock slams into that deliciously pleasurable spot inside of you over and over again. He reaches his thumb in between you, rubbing in small circles over your clit and making you cry out sharply. Your insides tighten and tighten, your toes beginning to curl as the stars are no longer just in space but behind your eyelids. He speeds up to a bruising pace, your legs faltering as you no longer have the strength to continue rocking your hips. Sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead, your throat going raw with the amount of strangled noises that he's pulling out of you.

Anakin could get drunk off the sound of you lost in pleasure. Every noise and slap of his skin against yours causes his heart to beat frantically and desire to flare inside of him painfully. You could stab him in the heart and he would thank you just for even touching him at all, and the fact that he gets to have you in this way never fully seems real. The way your perfect pussy sucks him in like it's trying to swallow him whole, how it seems like you burn for him just as much as he burns for you, makes everything in him roar with love and lust and every feeling you could ever feel for someone. Every thrust of his hips into yours makes him feel alive, almost like he's finally whole after a lifetime of missing something. Of missing you.

Your head falls forward onto Anakin's shoulder, his hand cradling your head and rubbing your scalp soothingly, holding you through the intense waves of pleasure the both of you are experiencing. His hips stutter as you whimper, your release coming closer and closer.

"Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna let me feel you?"

"Yes," you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. His head rolls back again, his mouth opening and letting out the most beautiful groan as his cock swells inside of you. His hips twitch again, letting you know he's exactly where you are. "Wanna- wanna come with you, Ani."

"I know, baby. I'm right- right there with you," Anakin gasps, bucking upwards into you, his breathing ragged and his face flushed as he staggers towards blissful oblivion. You cry out Anakin's name loudly, your walls fluttering around him as your core throbs painfully.

And all it takes is one more unsteady, forceful thrust of Anakin's hips for both of you to fly off the edge.

Both of your bodies tremble and quiver with the intense force of your release, your noises mixing into a song of ecstasy and desire. Anakin spills himself inside of you, filling you to the point where thinking is no longer possible. The only thing you can feel is Anakin. Pleasure floods through your veins, every limb in your body going still as you ride out your release.

"F-fuck, y/n. There you go baby," he praises encouragingly as you continue to cry out. You hold onto Anakin tightly until your senses start returning and the white light fades from behind your eyes. You press your lips to his again, this time softly and as an act of complete love. He murmurs gentle "I love you's," into your ear as you both come down, both of your hearts swelling as you clutch onto each other for dear life.

"Thank you," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs.

"For what?

"I just... needed to have you. To know you're here, with me." Anakin's eyes fall shut like he's trying to rid something from his mind, and you press your puffy lips against his again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Don't think about it, okay?" You search his eyes as they open again, pulling his hand to rest over your heart. "Do you feel that? I'm here. Right here, with you. I'm not leaving. I won't let anything take me from you, Anakin. You know that, right?"

His eyes lock on to where his hand is feeling your heartbeat, his eyebrows pulling together softly. His eyes meet yours again, the worry in his face fading.

And at that moment Anakin knew that nothing could take you from him, not fate, not force. You wouldn't let it, and Anakin would die a thousand deaths before he let it. You were his, and he was yours, and if the force was going to take you from him, they would rip it from his cold, dead, "chosen” hands.

"I know."

[d0llfaac3]

TOO SWEET

Pairing: Obi wan Kenobi x female! Jedi! Reader

Warnings: reader has near death experience and Obi wan isn’t too happy with his ‘friend’

Word count: 378

Obi wan came running into the medical wing of the Jedi temple on Coruscant, a determined look on his face, also one of worry, you were laying in a bed, half asleep on the meds they gave you.

He nearly broke down in tears as he saw you..he was your ‘friend’ or a Jedi master, you where close with, you were also a Jedi. Growing up with Obi Wan in the Jedi Order.

He gently cupped your face, you two had been unofficially together for months now, hiding it from the order as attachments where forbidden. For any Jedi, let alone two well respected Jedi masters..

“They’re letting me out soon Obi, calm down” you say softly, with a small smile on your face, he cared so much about you it was quite cute actually, he dropped everything to make sure you where okay..

“Oh good..maker you seriously scared me..” He says as he gently touches your hair, looking at you with such soft eyes that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

You had to giggle, couldn’t help yourself, his big hands wrapped around your hand dad make you blush. “Obi..we’re in the hospital wing not here” you say quietly and he blushes and quickly pulls his hand away mumbling something about an apology

Once the nurses released you, Obi Wan had grabbed you into his quarters, throwing you on the bed and throwing a blanket at you, getting into bed beside you still in his robes.

“You” kiss “scared” kiss “me” kiss. You did love his kisses. Something about him always made you feel so special, ever since you two were small children you two have always had a connection, from late night lightsaber training when you two where padawan learners, to late night studying sessions, to late meditation to..enjoying each other in a different sense..

He wrapped his big arms around you, suffocating you in a hug as he kissed your hair, gently putting his chin against your head, whispering soft words to you as you drifted off asleep, the last words you can remember where.

“Goodnight Mi gorffen chi bonnie” he says, in stewjon, the language in his home planet meaning ‘I love you Beautiful”

You loved him and he loved you..screw the Jedi order.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hi guys, I’ve never done a Star Wars fic before so it’s kinda goofy, hope u enjoy 🫶🏻

[ddejavvu]

a major obi-wan thought on my bedtime rotation is the idea of sparring with him like that scene from miss congeniality WOAHHH another would be the interrogation with reader being a potential spy idk maybe i just find interrogations sexy.. and u cant go wrong with the classic mean obi wan taming a brat reader whose perhaps his padawan or an unruly senator under his protection ELITEEE

if you want sparring with obi-wan, you can check out my fic betrayal, that was meant to be a quick and dirty 200 words and ended up being a 17K porn novel <3 i totally agree with you on the interrogation front, i swear with the way he holds eye contact with jango in aotc i'm surprised the guy's pants didn't drop of their own accord. all that to say i've chosen the senator plotline <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You're not entirely sure how the Force works, but you're willing to bet that it opened its big fat mouth and told your overzealous security guard that you were trying to escape. You made sure to be deadly silent, and you'd blocked the cameras set up to monitor your bedroom, so you know he hadn't seen or heard you. Nevertheless, he stands in your bedroom doorway looking very unimpressed by the one leg you've managed to weasel through your window.

"Tell me, Senator," He calls, voice purposefully casual, like you're not bisected by a pane of glass, "Are you trying to kill yourself so that no one else gets the chance?"

"I'm not going to die." You insist, moving further still out of the window, "I'm going to take a walk."

"How many stories up are we? Two hundred?" Master Kenobi asks, this time stepping forwards into your room. He approaches your window but doesn't grab you, merely staring down at the very long distance between you and the ground.

"One-hundred-and-eight." You grunt, your strength waning the more you hang from the ledge of your window. He notices the strain in your voice, but prolongs your suffering with a thoughtful nod.

"Yes, right. I think that's a wonderful coincidence, then, seeing as how that's the number of bones you're going to break if you fall."

"I'm not going to- fall-!" You gasp at the feeling of your foot slipping against the balcony below you, but you're actually thankful for the Force now that it fuels Obi-Wan's quick reflexes. He dives to catch you, and hauls you up by only one of his hands gripping your bicep. It hurts, but you suppose he was right; it would have hurt a lot more to fall.

You're set on your feet with the expression of a tooka caught shredding its owners bedspread, but Obi-Wan meets your surly pout with an unimpressed look of his own. You're safely on the floor of your apartment, but his hand remains curled around your upper arm.

"I didn't think I needed to specify to you that staying 'out of reach' of your assassins did not mean dangling above them like a strung-up target."

"I was going to take a walk in the city," You repeat, teeth gritted, "I was going to keep my hood up, and I was going to blend in with the crowd."

"An excellent plan, truly," Obi-Wan indulges you, "I'm sure the seasoned bounty hunters that are poised to shoot you on sight would have been fooled by a cloth draped over your hair."

"I'm going crazy in here! I have to get out, I have to do something!" You gush, attempting to tear your arm out of Obi-Wan's grip. He doesn't let go, though, and he muscles it back to your side with a fleeting glint of fury in his eyes that you hadn't thought a Jedi was capable of. He walks forwards, and by extension, you walk backwards until your knees hit the frame of your bed and you're pushed down onto the mattress.

"Senator," He starts, keeping his voice tightly wound as he now looms over you, "I have a duty to protect you, but you have a duty to your own life as well. And I will not see you risk it by hanging yourself off of a skyscraper for something as menial as a stroll in the city! If you'd like to walk, you may walk into the closet and get yourself changed into your nightclothes, because the only thing you'll be doing this late at night is sleeping."

"You're not my daddy," You sneer at the man, his audacity setting something in your chest aflame, "You can't tell me what to do. I'm not going to sleep."

"I find your impression of a petulant toddler truly amusing, Senator," Obi-Wan deflects your persistent attempts at boiling him over, "But as you have a hearing to attend tomorrow, I suggest you take my advice and turn in for the night."

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you're surprised it doesn't split beneath your teeth. He's right. You have a hearing tomorrow, and you're really only protesting sleep because he's asking you to do it. Perhaps.. perhaps that is below your station.

"Go," Obi-Wan's eyes flicker towards your dark closet, "But I would like you to leave the door open, please."

"What?" You rear your head back indignantly, any succession you'd decided on now gone as you process his request, "I'm not letting you watch me change, you freak!"

"I assure you I will not be watching," Obi-Wan lets go of your bicep, leaving a stinging ring around your skin in his wake, "But should there be any climb-able windows or secret exits in your closet that I'm not yet aware of, I don't want to be slowed down by a lock in my attempts to rescue you from your own foolishness."

"You're crazy. I'm telling the Jedi Council about this." You vow, storming off to your closet and tucking yourself into the walk-in portion so that your bodyguard can't see you as you strip down.

"You're more than welcome to, Senator. I suggest, though, that you be truthful with them about your attempts to fall from the two-hundredth-story of this building, otherwise you're going to make me look rather perverted."

"It's the 108th floor!" You snap, any patience you'd possessed throughout your encounter with Kenobi flooding out of you. It heats your skin, blazes it warm, which is perhaps why you've forgotten you're no longer clothed when you whirl around to correct the man to his face.

You're standing in the doorway of your closet now, very angry and very naked. Master Kenobi's eyes stay politely locked on your own, but one of his eyebrows raises, and a corner of his lips twitch in a barely-concealed smirk.

"Senator, if I were you," He drawls, his gaze heavy upon you despite being fixed on only your eyes, "I wouldn't tell the Council that you're giving me a strip show."

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Dernière Danse

Pairings: Obi-Wan x (opera singer) reader Warnings/Tags: song fic, romance, affection, deep conversation, both characters kiss Summary: You are an opera singer and Obi-Wan accompanies you to your home planet to protect you from the bounty hunters pursuing you. When you both visit a place that not only brings back beautiful memories in you, but also has a special influence on you, you both find yourself captured in an enchanting melancholy that feeds the secret affection you hold for each other. In the embrace of the atmosphere, you do what you cherish the most: sing a beautiful song, that unexpectedly leads to a fervent waltz. Song: "Dernière Danse" by Indila https://youtu.be/sCNbRElkSw8?si=92fJyU9U7k13UrMO Words: 1.9k A/n: It took me so long to finish the story and I will probably start a series with short stories about the romance between Obi-Wan and the opera singer.

~~~~~~

The soft glow of the moon bathed the ancient ruins, perched on a hidden cliff, in a silver radiance. Abandoned for millennia, this sacred place had been a sanctuary since your earliest memories. The magic of the ruins revealed itself most profoundly under the cloak of the night, an enchanted aura that drew you in like a long-lost friend. Although your visits had become infrequent since relocating to Coruscant, each return to your family home beckoned you to this hallowed ground.

The weathered murals that adorned the ruins told tales of dramas and ancient fairy tales, capturing your imagination since childhood. Tonight, however, your solitude was interrupted. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi and a dear friend, accompanied you on this nocturnal pilgrimage. Duty bound him to protect you from the bounty hunters that pursued you, yet it was your idea to share this special place, a testament to the bond you shared.

Your voice, filled with a hint of melancholy, carried the weight of memories as you spoke to Obi-Wan. "As a child, my mother and I spent countless hours here. She told me stories of the ancient civilization that once thrived in these ruins." A fond smile graced your lips, and Obi-Wan observed the light in your eyes with keen interest. The beauty and tranquility of this place seemed to touch a chord within him.

"The Vaarhi, that's what they were called, right?" Obi-Wan recalled, his hand exploring the weathered surface of a stone brick as you nodded in agreement.

"Yes, they are my ancestors."

"Really?" Obi-Wan settled onto a worn brick, his touch absorbing the essence of the aged stone. "The spiritual legacy of the Vaarhi is evident in you."

You chuckled softly, remembering how Obi-Wan had remarked on your spiritual aura when you first met him after a performance. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the night air, momentarily lost in shared memories. In that quiet moment, your mind wandered to the unexpected connection that had grown between you and Obi-Wan. Fate seemed to intertwine your paths at every turn, leading you to a profound understanding. The camaraderie, the shared ideals, and the uncanny similarities in your personalities forged a bond that transcended duty. Despite your growing affection for him, a bitter-sweet realization hung in the air—the Jedi Code forbade the reciprocation of such feelings. But all of your encounters were not mere coincidence, but forget a connection that runs deeper than duty demands. It felt like fate and fate had a curious way of guiding, even when least expected.

The nocturnal symphony of the ruins seemed to echo the complexity of your emotions. The forbidden affections tugged at your heart, yet the night held a quiet reassurance that, for now, you could revel in the shared warmth of the ruins and the profound connection that had woven itself into the fabric of your intertwined destinies.

Your eyes fluttered open, determined to cast aside the intrusive thought that threatened to permeate your mind. Instead, you immersed yourself in the delicate perfume of countless flowers wafting through the air. A symphony of joyful colors and tender emotions enveloped you. "Indeed, Master Kenobi, spirituality courses through my veins. Historical tales, superstitions, and fairy tales evoke a melancholy that eludes verbal expression. It's this connection that allows me to empathize so deeply with my roles in the opera," you explained, turning to face him. His gentle gaze lingered on your silhouette, absorbing the details of your face and the flowing dress that cascaded around your legs like a waterfall.

As your melancholy brushed against him, his aura softened, and you studied his countenance with keen interest. Something stirred in his eyes, and your heart quickened. In the night's gentle illumination, his irises mirrored the bluish hues of the flowers adorning the ruins. A flutter danced in your stomach, prompting you to turn away, wary of revealing too much about yourself and the burgeoning feelings for him. The awareness that he could sense your emotional state added an extra layer of complexity.

With purposeful steps, you reached the cliff's edge. Crooked trees, aged companions of the ruins, lined the slope, guardians of the former temple complex that loomed above the evergreen grassland. In the absence of urban lights, a tapestry of stars unfolded in myriad colors, a celestial display unparalleled in many corners of the planet.

"This place is where my passion for singing was kindled," you shared, turning back to Obi-Wan, who remained a silent observer. A tingling sensation traversed your body, and once again, your stomach fluttered. These were the moments that hinted at a connection beyond what he was willing to acknowledge. The stolen glances, the lingering stares—could he truly believe you were oblivious?

"I can imagine this place has been a wellspring of inspiration for you," Obi-Wan replied, briefly diverting his gaze to the surroundings. "It's a rare beauty, unlike many places I've visited."

"It's profoundly special to me. A haven of tranquility, seldom frequented by others. Being here grounds me and brings me closer to my roots," you explained, moving away from the cliff to settle on a stone opposite Obi-Wan. His eyes followed your every movement. Yes, it was a sanctuary for you, and that's precisely why you had brought him here.

You drew in another deep breath, and began to sing, the haunting melody weaving through the quiet night. The song, a familiar refrain that echoed through these ancient ruins ever before, held lyrics filled with sadness and heartbreak—but at the same time, was equally beautiful.

"Ô ma douce souffrance. Pourquoi s'acharner? Tu r'commences. Je n'suis qu'un être sans importance. Sans lui, je suis un peu paro. Je déambule seule dans l'métro."

Obi-Wan, captivated by the ethereal sound, held his breath as your voice painted the air. It was a sound he had heard many times before, yet each rendition enthralled him anew. Your voice, incomparably beautiful, possessed an unforgettable and haunting quality that silenced his thoughts like a siren's song. Unable to tear his gaze away, he found himself entirely entranced.

"Une dernière danse. Pour oublier ma peine immense. Je veux m'enfuir que tout r'commence. Ô ma douce souffrance."

The lyrics, tinged with emotions that reached deep within, were a poignant declaration of your romantic feelings for Obi-Wan. While you had sung for him before, subliminally during an opera performance, this time was different. It was an intimate moment meant solely for him, and the weight of it hung in the air.

You shifted your gaze, peering beyond the ancient trees to the horizon where the sea of stars unfolded. As the refrain left your lips, your voice reached its zenith, yet still withholding a fraction of its full potential.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse."

Enchanted by the spellbinding melody, Obi-Wan gracefully rose from his seat and approached you. A gentle smile adorned his face as he extended his hand, seamlessly intertwining with yours. In a fluid motion, he drew you to your feet, one hand securely holding yours, while the other rested on your waist, eliciting a delightful shiver of excitement.

"Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

Obi-Wan's eyes locked onto yours, and with the onset of the next verse, he initiated a dance, pulling you into a surprising rhythm. You followed his lead, visibly taken aback; it was the first time witnessing his dance, a revelation that defied your expectations. You never imagined he would, let alone possess the skill you were now witnessing.

"Que d’espérance. Sur ce chemin en ton absence. J'ai beau trimer, sans toi ma vie n'est qu'un décor qui brille, vide de sens."

Lost in the depths of each other's eyes, you both shared a profound gaze. As if ensnared by an unseen force, you found it impossible to look away, losing yourself in the infinite galaxies reflected in his gaze. The gentle and loving smile on Obi-Wan's lips conveyed a message that transcended mere friendship, echoing the depth of emotions that unfolded in the dance of the night.

With each note of the ensuing chorus, your steps took on a newfound extravagance. Across the ancient stones, you and the Jedi glided seamlessly, your voice ascending to meet the night's gentle breeze. The moonlit waltz evolved into a dance of emotions, a symphony of harmonious steps, weaving an unspoken narrative as the hem of your long dress swirled through the air, lightly brushing against both your and Obi-Wan's legs.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le noise, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

In an instant, Obi-Wan cast aside all pretenses. Locking his gaze onto your beautiful visage, he guided you into a graceful spin, disregarding everything—reality, his duties, and the Jedi code. All he desired was to be near you and savor the present moment. It wasn't just your enchanting voice; it was the fervor in your dance that wholly captivated him.

As the third verse echoed in the night, you began to toy with your voice, releasing notes that resonated heavenly, traversing the ruins, the cliff, and far beyond. Gathering all your emotions and the love you harbored for Obi-Wan, you expressed them through your high, soaring tones. It was an unmistakable message, one reflected in his eyes. He comprehended every nuance of your expression, the declaration of love entwined with the ache simmering within you, intensified by the realization that your love was forbidden in this world.

"Dans sette douce souffrance. Dont j'ai payé toutes les offenses. Écoute comme mon cœur is immense. Je suis une enfant du monde."

As your message resonated with Obi-Wan, his grasp on your hand and hips tightened, his gaze conveying a myriad of emotions. It spoke volumes about your significance to him, the emotions you stirred within him, and the profound desires hidden beneath the surface.

With the final rendition of the chorus, you infused the last ounce of emotion and power into your voice. Your wide eyes locked onto Obi-Wan as he gracefully twirled you through one pirouette after another.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

With the final note resonating in the air, Obi-Wan orchestrated a concluding twirl. Your dress cascaded like a radiant veil, exuding an elegance surpassing that of a billion moons and stars. In the midst of the dance, you felt the sense of freedom coursing through your limbs, all while under the careful watch of the Jedi. There was also a sense of relief, because of the secret you have now unveiled.

As the momentum waned, Obi-Wan guided you back with deliberate ease. In one seamless motion, he drew you closer, releasing his hand from your hip. At the last syllable escaping your lips, his now-free hand cradled the back of your head, initiating a kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the tender yet passionate exchange. A cosmic explosion of sensations surged within you as the long-awaited dream became true. Your hands traced over his tunica, threading through his hair, drawing him nearer. In that moment, all you yearned for was the eternity of this embrace.

[dracowars]

hello! i have had this scenario in my head for obi wan forever! little bit of background: reader and obi have been together for a while and the reader struggles a bit with her dark side. so the whole thing starts with obi and reader sleeping in bed when he has this kinda spicy dream about reader. she’s dressed up in a HAWT sith get up and is trying to get obi wan to join the dark side for her asking him if he loves her and please for me? in the dream he caves and nods not being able to say anything. when he wakes up he’s sweating and freaking out and is realizing he really would do it for her and it scares him but he’s more scared of losing her. sorry if that’s so long but i’ve spent so much time thinking about this🙃

her shadowed heart | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x sith!reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: where obi-wan gets seduced by the dark side

a/n: i love the dark side and i hope you enjoy this <3 feedback in any form is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, a bit creepy, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Obi-Wan hears a quiet voice. He listens in more closely and finally realizes that the soft voice is saying his name. So soft, so tender, almost fragile. He listens to the whisper and opens his eyes, only to find that everything around him is black, complete and utter darkness surrounds him.

Turning in all directions, he tries to follow the warmth of the voice, but he can't see anything. His senses betray him. In fact, he does not feel anything.

"Obi-Wan", the voice says again, his name echoing around the darkness. "Come here, Obi-Wan."

As he turns in the direction of the voice again, he finally spots something in the distance, a faint light flickering. Carefully, he puts one foot in front of the other and the closer he gets to the light, the more he can make out the outline of something - of someone. The closer he gets, the darker the light becomes.

"Don't be afraid, Obi-Wan," he hears the gentle voice whispering inside his head, his focus on whatever lies in front of him now. I'm not afraid, he thinks.

He is now so close that he can see some kind of throne in front of him, a huge throne made of black stone, standing there like a fortress, completely indestructible. Taking one more step forward, he halts as he hears a silent splash. Looking down, he finds the throne being surrounded by a puddle of water.

"There you are at last, Obi-Wan. I've been waiting for you this whole time."

When he raises his eyes to look at the person sitting on the throne, his breath gets caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. With one leg thrown over the armrest, you look at him from elevated position, a gentle smile on your lips. Obi-Wan has to blink several times, reminding himself to breathe as his eyes focus on you. You look the same as always, somehow. But there is also something different about you. Your body is wrapped in a long black dress, with large slits on the sides that reveal the radiant skin of your thighs. The neckline of the dress is quite revealing, giving way to your cleavage, your collarbone. At your waist, the dress is held together by a corset with buckles and laces. The high heel boots peeking out from under your dress reflect the light. On your head sits a crown, jet black, with a shining ruby ​​in the middle.

"Y/N?", Obi-Wan hears himself ask in the distance, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What is going on? Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter now that you are finally here", you smile at him, your eyes sparkling. Obi-Wan watches as you get up, walking down the few steps from the throne until you stand in front of him. He looks into your eyes, mesmerized, but for some reason he does not find the warmth in them that he usually does. A cold shiver runs down his spine when your long, pointed nails stroke up his arm.

"You love me, don't you, Obi-Wan?", you suddenly ask in a whisper, leaning into his ear as you start circling him, your palm sliding over his back.

"Of course I do, you know I do", he answers, standing rigidly in one place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move. It is as if you had trapped him, and yet he doesn't feel helpless, he's not afraid. After all, you are with him.

"I know, but I don't know how much", you giggle behind his back and step out on the other side, your hand now reaching for his face. Once there, you place your ice-cold hand on his cheek and where your skin meets, Obi-Wan suddenly feels a burning warmth. "Tell me how much you love me, Obi-Wan."

"My love for you is so much bigger than the entire galaxy", he tells you vehemently, leaning into your pleasant touch as he looks at you. "Words can't describe how much I love you. I would do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Your face is right in front of him and upon his answer, your beautiful eyes are suddenly glowing in an eerie red. One corner of your mouth lifts, as if he gave you exactly the answer you have been hoping and waiting for.

"Oh Obi-Wan," you say softly, sliding your hand down his neck. Obi-Wan places his hand on top of yours, your eyes locking. "Will you join me?"

"Join you?", he asks, frowning but with a smile on his lips. You shake your head, smiling to yourself, and run your other hand through his soft hair, loosening a strand that then hangs in front of his face.

"On the dark side", you whisper and Obi-Wan's heart suddenly starts racing. Frightened, he looks in your eyes, searching for any sign that you aren't serious, but all he finds is darkness.

"Please. You said you would do anything for me", you remind him, intertwining your hands. "Please do it for me, Obi-Wan."

His head is screaming at him, that this goes against everything he stands for, what he fights for, and he can't keep a straight thought. But his heart, his goddamn heart, is louder, drawing him to you and he knows he can't say no to you. So he caves.

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he places a kiss on the back of your hand, as befits a queen.

"I will join you."

Laughter rings out around you, disgusting, spiteful laughter that painfully rings in his ears. Staggering back, he finds it difficult to breathe and you let go of his hand, your eyes red and the veins beneath them bloodshot. The veins on your neck stand out, your face turns pale and your skin turns black from your neck down. A tear escapes your eye, but it is made of blood. Before Obi-Wan knows what is happening, your hand gently rests on his chest.

For a moment he feels hope. He feels safe. But then you push him back forcefully, so that he falls backwards, into the water. Only it is not water, but blood.

The last thing he sees is his outstretched hand, trying to reach for you. In vain.

Gasping for air loudly, Obi-Wan sits up, breathing heavily as he finally feels air filling his lungs again. He is sweating, his hair disheveled and he can't think clearly. All he sees is you. Helplessly, he presses his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the images from his head while he slightly rocks back and forth.

A quiet sob escapes him as he hears your quiet breathing next to him. Freeing himself from the blanket that is trapping him, he bends over to your sleeping figure, slumbering away peacefully. Obi-Wan reaches out his hand, wanting to touch you immediately to reassure himself that you are there, that you are you. But just before his fingertips can reach your skin, he stops. He doesn't dare touch you.

What if he had a vision? A vision of what the future could look like. And he didn't even bat an eyelid when you asked him to join him on the dark side.

He wasn't lying when he said he would do anything for you, and that newly found certainty scares him to death. He knows how much you have been struggeling with the dark side. And in his dream, he allowed it to corrupt you. Corrupt him.

Finally he forces himself to shut off his mind and touches you gently, not too much since he does not want to wake you up. But your warm skin is a welcome contrast to the cold he feels, and he strokes your arm gently. He takes a closer look at you and can't find anything unusual. He just finds what he always finds: warmth.

And although this visibly calms him down, he can't shake the fear that he might lose you one day. That you will step out of the light and into the darkness.

In that moment, Obi-Wan makes a promise to himself.

If you enter the darkness, he will follow.

[gamergoddess003]

True 😂

(P.s ……..why do they both have to be so damn beautiful 🫠)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Lessons In Love MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST  

STAR WARS MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

You are a fourth-grade teacher will Rheumatoid Arthritis. You hate it when your chronic illness gets in the way of your teaching and try to push past it. Only one person in your school knows about your illness and it’s definitely not the sixth-grade teacher across the hall that has caught your attention. Obi-Wan is firm but kind, and easily lovable by teachers, parents, and students. He would be the man of your dreams if you didn’t let doubts, work, and your health get in the way. Can you change that? Or will you forever be too focused on everything else to actually find love?

Modern!Star Wars AU 

Teacher!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Teacher!Arthritic!Fem!Reader 

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THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

MORE COMING...

Author’s Note: This series is both based on a request and my actual life. Please be kind and patient. (I am a 4th-grade teacher with Rheumatoid Arthritis.) I also no longer do taglists. So please just follow and interact.