#running theme on this blog tbh so much of my writing happens in our chatssss

[xstarkillerx]

Play Limp (Drabble)

Anakin skywalker x Femme reader

cw: Bodily fluids mention, cnc mention (up to interpretation), kinda just, generally, implicitly grusome

Anakin loves you. Anankin fucking loves you. Anankin loves you more than he's ever loved anything this universe has to offer, and he likes finding ways of telling you this this fact that make you squirm.

"I'd crack my ribs open with my bare hands and shove you inside to keep you forever." He says.

"I'll consume any divine any substance your body has to offer me, piss, shit, spit, vomit, blood, the putrid puss of a festering wound, and I'll be hard for it, I'll fucking moan with it dripping from my lips."

"You're mine, at the hight of fame, hight of sickness, hight of insanity, wealth, poverty, evil, goodness, you belong to me."

"Even if you can't move a muscle, can't even blink without my help, I'll fuck you like you're not. I'll cum inside you every day, fill you with my warmth. I love you, I love you." Anankin speaks the way Anakin does, in grand, cosmic professions of devotion, but this last one... This last one rings in your head for days. Would he really? If you stopped moving, if you were all but braindead would he... It's harder than one would expect, playing limp, waiting for the spasms in your muscles to subside, to train your eyes not to focus on anakin, but rather a point on the wall, but you get there eventually. He's careful with your body at first, his pillowy lips kissing all your favourite spots, all the spots that usually get you squirming and wet, and god he just doesn't shut up. He lives for the way your muscles twitch when he brushes sensitive areas because it's a sign of life, calls you a good girl for it even though it's involuntary. "Good fucking girl, that feel good?" It's murmured against your hip bone. "I know it did, your body told me, maker, you're fucking dripping." The push of his thick cock into your pussy is extrutiangly slow when he finally gets you wet enought to fuck; you can't see his face but the noise he makes is desperate and strained, "Oh baby," he practically whines, voice broken. "You're so- fuck. So warm baby, still so fucking warm, not dead yet are you? I know baby, i know you're there i fucking feel you, still feel so good." He curls his massive body over your smaller frame to put his face next to yours, kiss your brows above your open, vacant eyes. His pace picks up, can't fucking help it even if his baby can't tell him how to fuck her, he knows how you like it. Faster, deeper, can't help but get rough. His hands are tighter on your hips than they would be if you were conscious, he bites you everywhere, hard, borderline scarring. It takes everything in you to bite your tongue and stop your little cries of pain. He can't fucking help it, he misses you so bad.