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constellation-skirmishes · 8 months

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i miss them. my favorite commander/general ship of all time...sorry codywan & rexwalker you lose to the sapphics forever and always.

(now, rexanidala and blyla are never in competition. theyre always tied. but rexwalker vs blyla is another story. always gonna be failgirl whos madly in love & obsessed with her wife. it goes both ways but ouuughhhh)

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thegreatwicked · 3 months

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Padawan

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, it's Obi-Wan."

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

"What day is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What have I done to you?"

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

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

His?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's not what it was."

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

“Then what? What, padawan?”

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

"Please, don't call me that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What am I to do with you, padawan?”

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

"What're you doing?"

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Master."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And neither could you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This."

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

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

“Master, your padawan wants your cock.”

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

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

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

“Up, further on the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

Was this what he’d meant about punishment?

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

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

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

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

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

“Padawan,”

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

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

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

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

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

‘Master’s mouth is between my legs.’

‘Stars! He’s licking me.’

‘He’s going to make me come!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! Please, Master! Please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you shouldn't have pushed your luck.

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

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

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

"Touching your master without permission?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Darling, please, touch your master,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

“Padawan! Padwan! Padawan!”

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

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

“Oh! Maker!”

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

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

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

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

"Good girl, now, up you get."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obi-Wan…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What leg?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, yes, there's more...

~~~

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

Alright! I need a cigarette!

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #star wars #obiwan kenobi smut #general kenobi #obiwan x reader #obi wan x reader #reader insert #x reader #obi-wan x you #sweet smut #master x padawan #master kink #Dom obi-wan #master kenobi #clone wars #needy obi-wan #wounded reader #all the smut

143 notes · View notes

toska-writes · 9 months

Note

Хорошего дня или ночи! Я так рад, что нашел ваш аккаунт с вашими фиками, они просто замечательные.

Если вы не возражаете, тогда у меня есть просьба. Читатель - падаван Шаак Ти, и вместе с ней она или он прибывает на Камино, проводит там несколько недель, и читатель знакомится с 99 (этого ребенка так не хватает). Вы можете сделать что-то приятное и удобное. Вы также можете добавить маму!Шаак (я знаю, что вы пишете только с помощью клонов, но сделайте исключение, пожалуйста) и Кольт.

Заранее большое вам спасибо 😘❤️

I LOVE the idea of mom Shaak ti!

“Padawans”

Summary: Shaak Ti has found herself with the company of a new padawan, with the new feet you seem to meet some very nice clones

Pairing: The Kamino parents aka Colt and Shaak Ti x GN padawan reader

Warning: NOT PROF READ, but so so much fluff

Word count: 1528

Notes: I have had such a writing block recently and honestly that’s why there hasn’t been many updates! I apologize

The huge buildings were so daunting as the ship touched down with a thud, rain banged against all surfaces it would reach. The chorus of noises fell to the background as the ships door opened.

You were the only one that seemed to leave as you pulled your cloak around you tighter.

Chill winds nipped at any exposed skin while you traversed the slippery lading pad, the light died over the horizon line.

A figure stood etched out by the warms lights that flooded the facilities behind it. Other than the eerie appearance the silhouette only radiated a calming warm through the face.

A warmness you could use right now.

The torgruta was a lot taller than you expected. The sleek blue and white lekku reached far down her front as you came face to face for the first time with your new master.

Her eyes softened at your soggy appearance. “I’m master Shaak Ti, you must be my new padawan I’m assuming.”

She stepped to the side letting you in the dry building.

“I am.” You said with a renewed pep in your step following close to the side of your new master. “And I look forward to working with you.”

An arm draped around your shoulder and a gentle hand rub your arm trying to return some warmth back into your body.

A small smile traced your lips, your eyes returned excitedly up to your master.

With a chuckle returning your gaze she spoke. “And I with you, though I do wish these were easier times but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Growing deeper into the kaminoian facilities you watched as many clones passed, most seemed to be younger than the ones you’ve seen exiting the temple.

They all wore the same uniform and regulated haircut. Curious eyes stole glances as you continued to walk the halls. Every once in a while a simple wave was in order for the young clones, some gave timid waves back and others gave confused looks.

Master Ti’s cheeks warmed with the small gestures you gave to the younger clones. Her heart swelled slightly each time.

Some kaminoians stoped along the way either address master Ti with things you barely understood, or welcoming you to Kamino.

The kaminoians, despite their intentions spooked a young padawan like yourself.

Heavier boots echoed down the halls loudly approaching your position.

“Ah that must be Colt with a few cadets.” You didn’t have time to question Master Ti as a tall clone turned your way.

The daunting figure wore armor head to toe, a skull like pattern was painted on the helmet with the other colors being red and a pale blue.

This was the first clone you’ve properly seen and your back straightened at the sight of him.

The clones that followed behind, despite instruction, moved and tried to pear around one another too see the new person that was on their home planet.

When you see the same face everyday it’s good to something new.

“Commander Colt.” She said with a smile as the group stoped in front of you too. “I’d like to introduce you to my new padawan Y/N.”

You could feel the hard gaze of the Commander in front of you, with a sheepish smile you gave another small wave unsure of the formalities.

“Sir.” The clone nodded at you before he turned to the general. “You do know that your padawan is dripping all over the floor correct sir?”

A laugh rattled through the tall Torgruta, a hand landed on your shoulder. “We were just about to find a remedy for that Commander no need to worry.”

A few of the boys snickered at the exchange until the helmeted head shot around quickly making you smile slightly.

“Well sir if there’s time after I’m sure your jetti could show my boys a thing or too.” Colt looked between you and your master before you looked up at her yourself.

“If you want too my padawan you may.”

You pumped your fist into the air before saying. “I’d love to master.”

Master Ti wasn’t sold on the idea of a padawan on kamino learning from her but now she couldn’t figure out how she spent the days without the eyes on her.

“Until then Colt.” She nodded her head as her lekkus swayed.

“Goodbye Commander.” You bowed your head towards the clone the formality seemed right in this case.

His own arm raised from the stiff position at his side forming into a small wave of its own.

Weeks seemed to pass by in a flash, you followed Master Ti and learned many new skills from Colt along side a young upcoming group called the domino squad. They were definitely interesting to say the least.

It wasn’t until later into your time when your master instructed you too the mess hall, apparently there was someone you haven’t met yet and of course for a meal.

You scanned the room for anything that seemed out of the ordinary but only a few clones sat at the tables.

Your eyes focused on a figure slumped slightly over a far table in the corner. A broom and a bucket leaned against the wall. Two other clones seemed to be talking rather loud with the older one, until they spotted your quick pace over.

“Ah so you but be the new padawan.” The clone came into better view now. Wrinkles adorned his face and clearly he was much older than the others. He sighed was filled with relief as you stoped in front of him. “Would you like to sit down Y/N.”

“You know my name?” You asked taking the seat, the older clone seemed to relax slightly and leaned back against the wall along with his mop.

“Oh yes believe me I’ve heard much about you from the dominos.” He spoke with a slight laugh, his gravelly voice continued. “I’m 99.”

The old clone stuck a hand out which you hurriedly excepted with a smile.

“From what I hear you seem to be quite skilled with your training. I’m hoping you can teach those boys a few things.”

You laughed, it seemed like a grandpa talking about his rambunctious grandchildren with pride.

“They’re coming along-“ you started. “-gradually so.” This earned a laugh from 99.

The mess halls doors seemed to open wildly as younger groups of clones filtered in and many of the others off to other training.

The force felt lighter now with the rambunctious cadets and you could only smile. By the door a small group seemed to scan quickly before theirs eyes step on 99.

“Oh ho ho here they come.” Your attention turned back to the older clone with a smile on his face.

A group of 4 young looking clones bounded over. They couldn’t be much younger than you though from what you learned from your time on this planet was that that wasn’t the case.

They stoped wearily a few steps from the table, one with longer hair than what your use to seeing stepped foward slightly. “Made a new friend 99?” He asked cautiously.

“Boys this is Y/N, Master Ti’s padawan.” He gestured towards you.

One of the clones towards the back pushed foward, he seemed to be larger than the others but only had a goofy smile on his face.

“Woah your a Jedi?” He asked like a small child amazed.

You laughed before nodding slightly looking back towards 99. He pointed to each boy. “The one towards the front his Hunter, that’s Wrecker.” He pointed to the cadet right in front of you. “That’s Tech and Crosshair.”

One clone was lost in his datapad and the other seemed like he was trying to kill you with a glare. This group was an odd one before.

Lunch went better than most days. The cadets along with 99 seemed like perfect company for once during your meals. Many of the other clones were awkward or didn’t even talk.

At least a few of members of this squad seemed to enjoy it. One silver haired boy did not but hopefully that friendship will come with time.

You didn’t even notice the buzzing of your com link until the torgruta looked over the table.

“Ah so my padawan did take my instructions.” Master Ti’s airy words flew through the other conversations in the mess.

“Making some new friends dear?”

Your cheeks burned red as you stood to greet the master with a bow. “Umm yes Master, I guess I missed the start of training?” You looked up at her expectantly.

To say her face didn’t completely melt was an understatement, you had the Jedi wrapped around your finger. At least she new Colt felt the same.

“That’s quite all right my young padawan, why don’t you come find me after you and your friends conclude your meal.”

Without thinking you quickly shot forward and hugged the waist of the torgruta before saying. “I will, thank you master.”

“Of course my dear.” She spoke and then watched you return to your seat with an excited force signature around you. “Of course.”

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @ct-0113

#star wars #star wars clone wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #star wars x platonic!reader #shaak ti #mama Shaak ti #commander colt #kamino #clone 99 #clone force 99

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hannagoldworthy · 6 months

Text

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR STAR WARS LEGENDS

One take I regularly see from the “Jedi Critical” corner of this fandom always manages to baffle me: “In Legends, Luke Skywalker corrected the mistakes of the dogmatic Jedi Order!”

Since my days as a dumbass first-time tumblr user, in which I was rather sternly corrected by older users if I got too aggressive in my arguments, I’ve tried to steer away from pointing out how STUPID that take is. But? Nothing’s saying I can’t make a post of my own about it!

So.

With the bare minimum of due respect.

What fucking book did you read where Luke Skywalker corrected his own fucking mistakes, let alone those of any Jedi who came before him?

Because from what I’VE read? Luke had a nasty habit of doing the same things everyone criticizes the Prequel Jedi for doing, only ramping the ante up in a way only a Skywalker trained by TWO of the Disaster Lineage can.

Mace Windu threatened a “helpless” old Chancellor in his own office and was trying to assassinate him? Gag me. Luke Skywalker electrocuted Shimrra Jamaane to death with Force Lightn-pardon me, “eLeCtRiC jUsTiCe.”

The Jedi Order of the Prequels used Padawans as “child soldiers”? Please. Luke Skywalker possessed the body of his nephew to duel Exar Kun…when Jacen Solo was TWO, a FUCKING TODDLER. That’s not even getting into the number of very young teenagers who died horrible deaths as SOLDIERS in the war against the Yuuzhan Vong - for pity’s sake, Anakin Solo was knighted at sixteen and KILLED AT SEVENTEEN, where his grandfather’s knighting at nineteen was considered a rush job!

The Galactic Army of the Republic was a slave army? So was the army of YVH-1 battle droids built to battle the Yuuzhan Vong invasion! “Oh, but those were just droids” yeah and? The anti-Jedi folk cried when Anakin Skywalker was rightfully punished for not wiping R2’s memory of sensitive battle information, and they’ve outright said they have more sympathy for the battle droids than for the living, breathing people defending themselves against the battle droids. Not to mention, Legends had a Droid’s Rights movement in full swing at this point in time, so? YVH’s were people programmed from “birth” to die in battle. Next question.

Obi-Wan was too mean to Darth Maul and Darth Vader when he cut off their limbs? Alema Rar would like a word! Luke Skywalker permanently crippled her lightsaber arm, his sister cut off one of her feet AND one of her lekku (brain tails, that HAVE HER BRAIN IN THEM), AND put her in the way of a spider-sloth that BIT HER IN FUCKING HALF. And this was after Luke helped raise her as a youngling and HAD A VISION OF HER TURNING TO THE DARK SIDE, and did FUCK-ALL to prevent her from turning!

On the topic of doing fuck-all to prevent something…oh, was Obi-Wan Kenobi unable to prevent his Padawan from being groomed by a Sith Lord? Well, Luke Skywalker GAVE his son Ben as an unofficial apprentice to Jacen Solo, who turned out to be Darth Caedus and mentally, emotionally, and physically tortured Ben for six years! And, while Obi-Wan did not like Palpatine and continuously advised Anakin not to trust him without even knowing Palpatine was Sidious, Luke fully suspected Jacen was headed down a dark path and still encouraged Ben to be his apprentice because he was afraid of the Skywalker legacy dying with him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi flirted inappropriately with enemy generals? Luke Skywalker banged them. No, seriously, Legends Luke’s sexual body count is in double digits, the man was an unrepentant fuckboi. Mara Jade, Calista Masana/Mingla, Gaerial Captison, Shira Brie, some blonde named Mary who was in one comic to die at the end, fucking ABELOTH? Yeah, Luke only married one of those women, BUT HE FUCKED ALL OF THEM. And now, we have the DinLuke ship (which only exists in fanon, so I will count it as Legends) to mirror the Codywan ship (which actually has some basis in canon), just to cement that Luke Skywalker is a persistent playboy for BOTH teams. He loves them and leaves them like a pro.

Oh, there’s a persistent fan-theory that Korkie Kryze was Satine and Obi-wan’s secret love child? There were rumors that Brisha Syo was Shira Brie’s daughter with Luke…rumors that were credible enough that Luke had to do his own investigation into the matter. Shira Brie, aka Lady Lumiya, whom Luke blew to smithereens when she tried to kill him, and fought her with no mercy when Darth Vader pieced her back together and sent her to fight him again. So, while Obi-Wan has a rumored lovechild from a respectful relationship with a woman who opted not to tell him, Luke legitimately blew up his alleged baby mamma in the void of space with the bare minimum of regret.

Yoda and Obi-Wan sent Luke to kill his own father because they couldn’t manage to do so? Luke sent his niece, Jaina Solo, to kill her TWIN BROTHER because he could not bring himself to kill Jacen himself. And, while Luke was understandably torn up about killing Anakin, Jaina had a Force-bond comparable with a canon dyad withh Jacen - it hurt her a lot more when she killed Jacen than it ever would have hurt Luke to kill Vader. She nearly DIED of heartbreak, that’s how bad it was.

Obi-Wan hurt Anakin’s trust by faking his death and going undercover? He beat the crap out of Anakin to maintain his cover? Luke hurt Leia’s trust by faking turning to the Dark Side, becoming a reborn Sidious’s new apprentice, ACTUALLY FALLING TO THE DARK SIDE, and mentally fighting Leia WHILE SHE WAS PREGNANT, to the point she WENT INTO LABOR EARLY.

Obi-Wan beat Anakin in a duel and left him to burn to death? Luke Skywalker BEAT THE LIVING HELL out of Vader until Vader was wordlessly pleading for MERCY, which he DID NOT DO ON MUSTAFAR.

Now.

Is there any nuance in Luke’s situations, throughout all of these examples? Yes, there is...but there’s also nuance in the Jedi’s situation in the Prequels, which no one seems to acknowledge in their case. So, whatever grace I extend to Legends!Luke being an imperfect and fascinating character, also extends to the Jedi being imperfect and fascinating characters in their own right.

I love Legends!Luke BECAUSE he reminds me of the Prequels Jedi, not because he corrected any of their “mistakes” (he did not. He very clearly did not). So don’t come at me saying Legends!Luke was better than the Prequel Jedi. I have read the books! I have kept the receipts! AND I WILL USE THEM.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Legends #Pro-Jedi #Pro-Luke Skywalker #Pro-Jedi Order #Pro-Obi-Wan Kenobi #Pro-Yoda #Pro-Mace Windu #PRO JEDI CODE

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padawansuggest · 3 months

Note

Ok, so I was supposed to draw one small fanart, but I got carried away and created an au ^^''

Jedi cats Au

(Disaster lineage edition)

Yoda: Small green cat with tufts of white fur on his tail tip and across his spine. He loves being cuddled by the younglings as he tells them stories(basically their therapy, grandfather cat) and going on occasional trips to Dagobah for meditation (at least, that's his excuse). What he really does there is hunting frogs(he claims they're good for his bones) and camping out in the swamp(the whole trip traumatizing Dooku in the process).

Dooku: Huge white cat with brittle yellow eyes and spiked-up fur. He doesn't change much in his cat form, but when he does, he spends most of his time sunning himself on the council chairs(you can't blame him, cats can't resist such a good sunning spot), skulks around the temple corridors looking elegant and graceful, and steals sith holocrons out of nowhere so he could 'study' them(they were later confiscated and thrown out of the temple when Qui found out). He never lets anybody pet him except for Sifo, Jocasta, Qui, and sometimes Yoda(his adoptive father figure), or Obi-wan(his grandson whom he's secretly proud of)

Qui-Gon: Greyish brown cat with long silky fur and leaf-green eyes. He mostly hangs out on the temple's huge tree or goes on trips to Lothal to have tea with Loth-cats and wolves. (The Loth-cats kind of worship him as their 'god', and the wolves invite him and his apprentice for night strolls and 'singing to the moon' meetings)

He also randomly adopts kittens(padawans; in this case, Obi-wan, Anakin, and recently Ahsoka)

Obi-wan: Small auburn cat with darker splotches and grey-blue eyes. He's smaller than his apprentice but twice the sassiness. Cody loves to cuddle him and stroke his soft fur for hours while talking about how his day went(Obi doesn't mind^^). As a kitten, he constantly kept Qui company while he studied at night(at least that's what he says when Qui complains about his student/son being annoyingly cute and knocking over his mug of tea on purpose every five minutes).

Anakin: Brown tabby emo with sky-blue eyes. He hates sand, is very chaotic in many ways, and has a talent for annoying Obi(he actually passes down his 'abilities' to Ahsoka, who becomes more like her master). He also holds a record of being the most troublesome padawan in existence.

Despite all this, Padme finds him adorable (he often sneaks out of the temple in his cat form to meet his gf), but Obi-wan and Ahsoka know better(sure, he's nice and charming, yet can also be pretty stupid and reckless).

Ahsoka: Sleek, lithe, orange cat with white tail and blue stripes. Her Lekku still exists in her cat form as well as her facial markings(the Lekku are used to communicate with other cats or Jedi, and also play an important part in balancing their bodies while they leap agily or pelt across obstacles at high speed).

Toruguti cats have very short, smooth fur on their bodies(the pelts are mostly an orangish hue, with blue stripes appearing on the back of their flanks as they get older), but their tails are often white, bushy and flecked with blue stripes.

She's one of the 501'th's favorites because she often hangs out with Rex and the clones(sharing stories, playing games... etc)(the clones especially love placing random things on her head until she moves). As her species are carnivores, she has an instinct for hunting small animals(sometimes leaving her half-dead prey on Anakin's desk like the cheeky adorable prankster she is).

I might upload some headcanons and designs btw

Have a nice day ^^

😭 NOT OBI CUB LOOKIN LIKE A LIL LIPN CUB PLZZZZZZ😭

Lil baby man who looks like an infant permanently no wonder he wants a beard so bad in human form.

Soka’s Lekku is so cute and I love how pissy Ani is. They’re all precious to me. Swamp kitty Yoda is so perfect.

#Jedi are cats #star wars

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sailorkamino · 1 year

Text

you can sit with us

wildflower masterlist

relationships: twi'lek!jedi!reader x bad batch, background reader x plo koon & 104th battalion [gn, can be platonic or romantic]

summary: you're knight aola, a jedi with an abnormally strong connection to the living force and commander of the 104th. a reassigment leads you to kamino where you meet some equally unique (and chaotic) men, clone force 99.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: no use of y/n (reader will be called commander aola or smth flower related), proective!wolffe, shinies are in love with you, one mention of slavery, set 1 yr into clone wars so no echo yet

ryl translations: aola - flower

mando'a translations: Gar copad at jorhaa'ir laam, vod - you want to speak up, bro?

gif found on pinterest! credits to owner

When Yoda suggests getting your own special forces unit after your knighting you know you had to meet them before making any decisions.

You decide to go to Kamino rather than have them come to Coruscant, that way you can train together. Besides, you like to visit Kamino between assignments when you have time. Shaak says it’s good for the clones’ morale… mainly because they start showing off as soon as you enter the room. Plus the employees are on their best behavior when they have an audience.

That’s how you find yourself a few days later in a large mess hall. You can feel hundreds of brown eyes on you as you hold your tray. Beside you Wolffe glares at as many of them as possible. Your co-commander had brought you to the ocean planet to meet your new squad and ship, he only needed to drop you off but he seemed determined to stay as long as possible.

You assume it has to do with the young shinie’s who keep ogling you. A few have already approached you in the hallways on the way here but Wolffe took it upon himself to scare them away.

It's not hard to spot clone force 99 amongst the sea of identical haircuts. Like all vode they're completley unique in the force: from deep browns, to vibrant pinks, to dusty yellows, to blood reds. Oddly enough no one else is sitting with them. You lean towards Wolffe's ear as you get closer to the table. “Play nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

You hold back a snort at his deadpan tone. You pull your lips into a polite smile as you come to a stop. “Is this seat taken?”

Instead of a verbal response the four clones gawk at you. The pricking of jealous stares from all around the mess hall make your lekku twitch but you don’t let any discomfort show on your face. You once again remind yourself these men have very limited experience with nat borns.

“Yeah, of course, general!” The big one answers. He hastily makes room on the bench, almost shoving his grey haired brother to the floor in the process.

You hold back a laugh as you sit beside him yet the new title rings in yours ears. You never wanted to be a solider in the first place and now you're a general? You do your best to release your feelings to the force before introducing yourself.

Wolffe still hasn’t spoken. You subtly kick his boot under the table. “Commander Wolffe. He/him."

“You want to sit with us?” The goggled one asks with a cocked head, reminding you of a curious purgil. Ah, he must be Tech. “I do,” you respond confidently. Although you’re a bit confused they don’t know who you are, weren’t they briefed on their new officer? They probably weren’t shown a holo of you though. Well, this should be fun.

Your response seems to break the long haired clone out of his stupor. “I’m Sergeant Hunter. This is Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech. We're all he/him."

You note it will be easy to remember who specializes in what. You can sense the batch glancing at Wolffe’s cybernetic eye and you know he can too. They haven’t been deployed yet so it’s most likely the worst injury they’ve ever seen. Without looking up from his food the commander simply says: “lightsaber.”

The clones around you not so subtly glance to the two sabers at your waist. You slap his armored shoulder indignantly. “You can’t just say lightsaber, it looks like I did it!” You look at the curious shinies around you, tilting your head in Wolffe’s direction, “that would be courtesy of Dooku’s apprentice, Ventrass. But I think it just adds to his roguishly handsome vibe.”

Wolffe scowls but his cheeks flush at the compliment. You were there for every step of his recovery and since then you had taken it upon yourself to be his personal hype man. Plus seeing the stiff commander flustered is just too entertaining to pass up.

“Is their name really Ventrass?” Tech asks curiously.

“No, it’s Ventress, but she’s a real ass. Hence the name.”

You look down at your tray as they process the new info. “Ugh, this food should be considered a war crime. Remind me to never complain about the temple’s cafeteria again.” Wolffe doesn’t react, long used to your non sequiturs. The other clones share bewildered looks.

"As soon as I take you boys off world I’m getting you real food.” You add for good measure. Now you can literally feel the confusion radiating off of them.

"What do you mean 'off world’?” Hunter asks.

You look at him curiously. Okay maybe they don’t know they’re getting a new officer at all. “Wait, you guys haven’t talked to master Ti yet?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Oh, well that explains your confusion. We’re gonna be working together.”

Hunter and Tech’s eyes widen comically. Crosshair squints suspiciously. Wrecker chokes on his mystery meat. You pat his large back to help it pass, wordlessly handing him some juice. “Sorry boys, it was kind of a last minute assignment but I was hoping you’ve been briefed.”

A stunned silence follows that quickly becomes awkward. You clasp your hands in front of you, “well that’s alright! After you eat we can run a sim together!”

Your comm pings. You've never been so greatful for a distracion because clone force 99 is still gawking at you. Then you see the sender and any gratitude drains from your body. You roll your eyes without realizing it (a habit you picked up from your co-commander.)

"How do I diplomatically tell Tuan We to kriff off?” You ask said clone.

Wolffe's lips twitch up, which is his version of laughing. “Negotians are your department, sir.”

“You don’t like ‘em either?” Wrecker asks, wonder in his voice.

You lean towards him with a conspiratorial whisper. “Jedi aren’t supposed to be vengeful but between us I’m about one interaction away from drop kicking the prime minister.” Pride feels your chest at the shocked laughs you recieve. Even Crosshair and Wolffe are unable to hide their amusement.

Another alert from your comm has you prepared to cut it in half with one of your saber's but then you see the sender: Master Shaak Ti! You have always been quite close to the togruta who brought you to the jedi order (and subsequently saved you from a life of slavery.) You haven’t got to see her in person in forever. She must’ve been pretty busy lately if she wasn’t able to brief your new unit on your arrival.

You look at the table of clones with a cocky grin. “Hey, have you boys ever seen a lightsaber duel?”

You pointedly ignore Wolffe’s eye roll. You’re convinced his cybernetic eye is gonna get stuck in that position one day.

💀

Shaak Ti happens to be a master of makashi, aka the form both Dooku and Ventress prefer. That’s why neither of you are trying to end the duel by winning. It’s more of a studying opportunity. Especially considering you have a nasty habit of pissing off sith. To be fair what was Master Plo expecting when he asked Obi-Wan to teach you about negotiation?

You flip to avoid a graceful lunge from the general. Her violet eyes shine with pride. “Your ataru has greatly improved, young one.”

The slightly breathless praise has you grinning, feeling like an eager youngling again. You skillfully dodge her green blade, “am I tiring you out, master?”

She tries to appear disapproving but you can feel her amusement. “A jedi should be humble.”

You beam at her through the clash of your sabers. “I’ll have you know humility is one of my best traits.”

A beeping goes off from Tech’s datapad, alerting the end of your allotted sparring time. You come to a halt. The adrenaline of a good duel leaves you both glowing softly in the force.

“Woah! That was awesome!”

The bellowing voice makes you grin. “Thank you, Wrecker."

You power down one of your lightsabers, clipping it back to your hip. You extend your now free hand as you call your water bottle into it. Shaak Ti bows, bidding goodbyes to you and the clones before making her leave.

“What is ataru?” Tech asks, fingers stilled above his datapad screen.

You take a few gulps before answering. “Form four of lightsaber combat. It’s known as the aggressive form but really it’s more acrobatic than anything.”

Wolffe mumbles something along the lines of ‘show off.’ You aren’t surprised. He’s never been a fan of ataru. He thinks all the flips are impractical. “Gar copad at jorhaa'ir laam, vod?” You tease. Your eyes flick to the bad batch, noting their confusion in the force. “Do you speak Mando’a?” You ask and immediately regret it. You didn’t mean to put them on the spot.

“Some. Tech knows the most,” Hunter answers gruffly. His tone makes you think there’s a deeper meaning to them not knowing the language. You and Wolffe share a curious look but neither of you say anything. “Well I just told him to speak up,” you translate a bit awkwardly. You don't want them to feel excluded.

“How many lightsaber forms are there?” Tech suddenly asks.

You shoot the genius a thankful look for breaking the tension. “Seven. I can show you if you’re interested?”

“That would be fascinating!”

You’re starting to really like Tech’s enthusiasm. You glance at his brothers. They don’t necessarily feel bored but they aren’t as excited as Tech. “You boys don’t have to stay for this if you don’t want to.”

“Are you gonna do more tricks?” Wrecker asks. You can’t help but chuckle. Despite his size he reminds you of the younglings back at the temple. You miss them.

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay!”

Crosshair tries to seem uninterested. “I don’t have any other plans,” he simpers. You can tell bonding with this vod won’t be easy but you’ve always liked a challenge. You look at Hunter expectantly since he has yet to speak up. “Sounds interesting," he shrugs.

“Great. Tech, you can record this if you like.” He flashes a small, grateful smile as he clicks away on his pad. You leave your shoto by your waist, igniting your regular saber as you fall into a familiar stance. “The first form is the most basic, shii-cho…”

As you move through katas you know you’ve found your answer for Master Yoda.

#the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #clones x reader

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tsireyasyawntu · 9 months

Text

moonlight on the river

ahsoka tano x fem! reader

The cold midnight breeze blew by you.

Your hair rose with it, eyes shutting to avoid the gust.

having trouble sleeping wasn’t a problem you had. You could always sleep, it was simple.

but lately, since an unfamiliar feeling inside you had arose, you couldn’t seem to be able to join the place of slumber.

a sigh left your throat as the feeling inside you began to show itself again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?” Ahsoka’s voice rang behind you, earning a huff of air to escape you at being caught.

“aren’t you supposed to be in your room?” you retorted, missing the small grin that made itself present on her lips. She came to sit beside you, her clothes shuffling with her movements.

“why are you out so late?” she asked, you could feel her eyes on you.

you inhaled lightly. You knew you couldn’t tell her the true reason you were breaking the order’s rules by being out so late— but, at the same time, it doesn’t even matter. You’ve broken the main one.

don’t fall in love.

“Mayn snores too loudly.” you replied, earning a chuckle from the Togruta beside you.

“he does. he shakes the building.” you two laughed, the breeze, the swaying of the water against the muddled land was playing in the back, comforting your spacing nerves.

the soft giggles dissipated slowly, ahsoka subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“but… what’s the real reason you’re out here? You’ve.. I don’t know, kinda been off for a few days.” she mumbled, her eyes still focusing on your side.

You fought roughly against the pounding in your chest, the dizziness in your head and the sweat that coats your body. You tried to follow the order’s rules.

You didn’t reply to ahsoka, simply ducking your head into your arms.

it went silent, the air suddenly becoming unbearably tense. Ahsoka swallowed, you could hear it from beside you.

“honestly y/n.. with how you’ve been acting, i’m.. I’m worried about you.” ahsoka confessed, causing you to melt in guild. “You’ve been so distant. I don’t know if i did something to make you upset, or angry and if i did i’m sorry— I’m so sorry but please tell me. I—”

“ahsoka, It’s not you.” you interrupted, finally facing her fully for the first time in a while.

“It’s never been you. I just… kriff, I’m having trouble with something. It’s not you, I’m sorry i’ve been so strange.” you admitted, watching her face twist with concern.

she moved closer, so close you could smell the light scent of Jogan fruit lingering from her form.

“what’s bothering you, then?” she asked, the short distance between you both making your head light.

“Just.. something like an internal debate, really.” you replied, voice just above a whisper, your eyes moving up lock with hers.

the eye contact between you both was so thick you could cut it, eyes searching for answers of unasked questions in each other.

ahsokas eye darted to your lips for less than a second before she shut her eyes and moved her head away, seemingly shoving down a thought she had.

“do… you still like that boy?”

you furrowed your brows, confusion following on your features soon after.

“what boy?”

“I dunno, the one that would visit you in the temple every now and then? his name was ju—ja.. jau— ju—”

“Juaro?”

ahsoka nodded. “yeah.”

you stare at her, her eyes obviously fighting the urge to look at you, but losing the battle when you laugh.

“what’s so funny?” she bites, huffing.

“Juaro is my cousin. not biologically, but we are basically cousins.” you told her, watching as her face shifted.

“but— that’s against the order, to.. have family.” ahsoka said lowly, her voice dropping sadly.

you frown. “I know. but, I’ve known him and his mother for so long. You know ahsoka, you’re the only one who knows about them.”

she quickly looked at you, her lekku moving softly with her rash movements.

“what? i though Obi-wan knew.”

“Nope, only you.”

she seemed to be in deep thought, her cute face scrunching in thought.

“you.. trusted me with that? I could’ve told the council.” Ahsoka said, her eyes flickering to the lake, and to your face that was so close to hers.

“I know. But, i trust you.” you comforted, smiling.

“why?”

“why what? why do i trust you?”

“yes..”

you didn’t reply, knowing that if you did you’d ruin everything. Your friendship, your best friend, your ahsoka— your everything.

yet, at the same time— it was already too late. You were head over heals in love with the togruta, nothing but time could change that and you weren’t sure you were willing to wait that long.

with a heavy heart, you inhaled.

“because i think i’m in love with you.”

silence engulfed the air like a wave swallowing a city, your heart not knowing which way to beat. your mind racing like a racing fathier.

ahsoka hadn’t moved— for all you could see, she wasn’t even breathing.

you began to move, preparing yourself for the loss of your world, and the humiliation of your confession— right before she caught your arm, you didn’t even have a moment to process what was currently happening before you were pulled down, and a pair of unfamiliar burgundy lips landed on yours.

it took you a few seconds to gather what was currently happening, but within no time you melted into the affection. Your lips dancing with hers in a rhythm you didn’t know you were capable of doing.

the way her hands reached for your waist after a shy moment, kissing you deeply when her hands found solace on your body.

If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what was.

The gap between you both opened once again, providing you both with fresh air once again.

Ahsoka hadn’t moved her hands, preferring to keep them on you.

“I think love you too.”

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squidsponge · 1 year

Text

Sims 4: CC Update: This probably isn't how Rex ended up with his stealth outfit, and maybe Ahsoka tossed her headdress after the Siege of Mandalore, just go with it (download at the bottom)

'Look Commander-' 'Ahsoka.'

'Fine, Ahsoka. Why are we knitting in a kriffing warehouse on Coruscant when the Empire wants your head on a platter?'

'You're new to this whole on-the-run thing, Commander-' 'Cody.' 'Well Cody, when you're on the battlefield, you need your armor. When you're trying to fly under the radar from the Empire however, your best armor is a good poncho.'

'We don't even know how to knit.'

'Well none of us has access to a quartermaster anymore, do we? With Plo gone, and the Empire breathing down our backs, I can't exactly step foot into a boutique for near humans, so hmm, what was that saying you love so much, Captain?'

'Experience outranks everything. And we have none of that.'

'Look, if you boys have better ideas, I'm open to suggestions-'

'If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick with my armor.'

'That might be for the best.'

ANYWAY- Grab your TBB inspired stealth outfits now and Ahsoka's Siege of Mandalore lekku, now available for public download.

There are two versions of the female jumpsuit for those who have the Batuu pack but not Snowy Escape.

Lekku and facial markings are base game compatible and her headset lights up :)

TBB STEALTH SET - DOWNLOAD

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kaaragen · 21 days

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By the Scenic Route

(A short(ish) fic inspired by this conversation with @stellanslashgeode)

Ahsoka glared at her datapad as if narrowing her eyes further would force the information to align in a way she liked. Sat in the Noti pod that was now her base of operations, the data was refusing to comply. However she spun it, twisted it, rearranged it, pleaded with it, argued, and threatened to throw it against the wall, the datapad was resolute.

No purgil migrations would be happening for another two years. Minimum.

Which meant her chances of escaping Peridia were zilch. Nada. Nought.

She sighed and leaned back against the cold metal of the wall, stretching her legs out across her cot, long lekku draping down toward her waist. Months they’d been out here, with no sign of a way out. She’d briefly scouted the space around the planet with Huyang, scoping with the sensors as far as possible, but wherever Peridia was it was the ass-end of it. Nothing was out there for light years.

And while she was stuck here, Thrawn was back home. Doing who knew what. Yes, sure, she trusted Ezra, trusted Hera and Luke and everyone, but still.

The sound of running feet scuffing through dust twitched her montrals and the sigh was leaving her lips before Sabine even skidded to the open hatch.

“Master!” Sabine shouted, doing nothing for Ahoska’s headache. “The bandits are attacking!”

Ahsoka feathered fingers to her temple. “Sabine, for the love of the Force, can you and Shin find other ways of hanging out...”

Sabine looked affronted, even as her cheeks reddened. “Hang out--what do--they’re murderous, rampaging bandits!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms sourly. “Really? And when was the last time they murdered something more valuable than flowers?”

“I--”

“Never mind!” Ahsoka threw up her hands and stood, storming past Sabine and into the cold light of the village. The Noti looked spectacularly unbothered for people apparently about to be raided, going about their daily tasks of mending the curving, snail-like pods, caring for the children and organising the supplies. A couple poked their eyestalks toward Ahsoka and Sabine but most paid them no mind as Ahsoka strode for her howler, Yoti, snoozing at the edge of the village circle. She gestured and Yoti responded to her presence, yawning and stretching.

“I’m going out,” Ahsoka said, gathering up her saddle and reins and putting them on Yoti, “I place you in full charge of the defence of the village.”

Sabine put her hands on her hips, frowning. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome Padawan. Enjoy the lightsabre duel. Make sure the plant pots stay safe.” She cracked the reigns and Yoti shot off, bounding across the mottled earth.

“Sheesh...go have a wank or something, don’t take your frustration out on me...” she heard Sabine mutter.

----------------

Ahsoka wasn’t aware of how long she rode, or even where. The light didn’t change much at the best of times, and much of the planet had a drab, hewn grey. But she could pick out some markers to lead her back to the Noti. For everything else, she had the Force.

She breathed deeply. Casting her eyes up into the cloudless day, the pale blue of the sky revealed nothing, save for the purple line cutting across the heavens like a lightsabre blade. Huyang had determined that that phenomenon, whatever it was, was several million lightyears away but was unable to determine what it was. Focusing on it and questing through the Force in the past had brought Ahsoka nothing but a deep, sickly feeling so she’d ignored it since.

What was she going to do? Everything inside her was screaming at her with visions of destruction, death, returning to the galaxy to fine the Empire renewed and everyone she knew gone. Again.

Sometimes she could shut it out. Sometimes she could keep it quiet. But there were nightmares. And during the day, they would intrude into her consciousness, jabbing like needles into her skin.

It was happening again.

She breathed. She let the rhythmic thump of her mount’s stride reverberate. She reached through the echoing pulse of her feet striking the ground. Followed the ripple of its waves into the grass. Followed the pollen leaking from the grass up and up into the air. Followed them as they dappled down, landing across furrowed ground and then some tools and then the sides of a hut and up and up and landing on...

Something...familiar?

She opened her eyes, confused. Ahsoka cast her gaze to the East and directed Yoti to follow a path she hadn’t traversed before. The path led her toward a mountain, where tumbled statues fell across the ground, large stone hands that had once been upraised in triumph now beseeching to anyone passing by. She ignored them, focusing on the horizon getting closer and closer, crossing a small stream.

The curve of the planet unrolled and she came across a small hut with a flat roof, sat at the end of a ploughed field. Several crops poked from the furrows of the ground, some hanging fruits as well as rooted vegetables. Ahsoka swung off the howler, and walked across the field, her eyes never leaving the figure sitting in a cross-legged meditation pose on the hut’s roof.

Ahsoka halted a meter away and stared. “Barriss?”

Barriss Offee, for it was she, cracked open an eye and turned her head slightly. She wore a plain, loose black tunic, a shawl wrapped over her hair, the black freckles of her diamond tattoos across her nose and cheeks standing out from the yellow skin. A few lines streaked her face, but still recognisably her.

“Ah, hello Ahsoka,” she said, closing her eyes again. “My apologies, I’m in the middle of completing an exercise. Would you mind waiting?”

Ahsoka raised a bewildered brow.

Barriss’ eyes flew open and her mouth twisted into a rictus. She toppled off the side of her hut as if she’d had a heart attack.

Thud!

“...Owww...”

Ahsoka looked down at Barriss, rather inelegantly sprawled upside down with her ankles in the region of her ears, wincing at what was an almighty whack to the head when she fell.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ahsoka asked, more in shock than anything else.

“I live here!” Barriss replied. She scooted herself around to a seated position, rubbing the back of her head. She cast a vicious glare at Ahoska, as if she’d missed a ‘private property - keep out!’ sign. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Ahsoka started and then trailed off. She’d been asking herself that same question, repeatedly. “I...live here too...I guess.”

“You guess? Are you not aware?” Barriss scoffed, getting to her feet. She froze slightly and cast a worried eye at her. “You’re not...you’re not here for...?”

“You? No. Until this moment I had no idea you were here.” Ahsoka frowned. “What are you doing here?”

A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped Barriss’ throat. “What do you think? Hiding. Trying to find some semblance of life away from it all. I had to run to entirely different galaxy to escape my demons.” She paused, her expression falling into a pit. “Seems they found me anyway.”

Ahsoka swallowed. “I’m...Barriss I’m not looking to...” She shook her head. “How did you find your way here?”

“The fairy tales. I always like them. I read up on purgil migration patterns and thought I’d take the chance. Anything was better than...than where I was.” She cleared her throat. “The Inquisitorious...it was...”

“I know,” Ahsoka interrupted. “We found the list.”

She’d spent days staring at it, when she’d seen Barriss’ name among the reports, declared dead some two years after the rise of the Empire. There had been a part of her that had ached. Ached for the loss of closure. For the missed opportunity to talk. But she’d put it away and had largely not thought about Barriss for nearly thirty years.

Now she was suddenly, quietly, back in her life.

She almost couldn’t process it. There was the face she remembered from her youth. Older now, but still her. The person she’d almost died with, multiple times. The person she’d gone through a war with. The person she’d grown up with.

The person she’d felt...

Who had betrayed...

Barriss’ eyes flicked to her, and their gazes hooked into each other for a long moment.

Barriss’ lip trembled. “I...I wouldn’t presume to hope that you’d know...but I want to say that I’m so sorry for--”

“Barriss, stop.”

Just like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She collapsed into a squat, energy draining out of her. Her arms hung limp over her knees and Barriss said nothing, just watched her.

“I’m...I’m so tired.” Admitting it felt strange, but it came with a pulse of truth. She took a deep breath and ploughed through. “I get it. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand it. I’ve been fighting, constantly, since I was fourteen years old. The Empire has been gone for twelve years and I’m still fighting. Even now, stuck here, all of my thoughts are about trying to get back, trying to keep fighting, and what will happen if I don’t.

“I was angry with you. I’m not going to lie, I spent a lot of hours imagining confronting you in the aftermath of...of it...”

“Did any of them take place in a galaxy far, far away?” Barriss asked weakly.

Ahsoka cracked a smile. “No, but a spectacular number ended with you getting punched.”

Barriss’ face twitched. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it.”

“But seeing you, now, just makes me think...that I’m too exhausted for this anymore. I’m too exhausted to stay angry. Or anything.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Barriss cleared her throat. “I don’t...I don’t want to give advice but...if you really can’t get back, then perhaps take that as a sign?”

Ahsoka squinted up at her.

“The Force and I...we don’t have the best relationship. I’m trying to find my way back to it, to let it back into my life. But it’s been good out here. It gave me time to think. To decompress. To...” She waggled her hands. “To rest. Maybe you’re getting a signal that you should do the same?”

Ahsoka swallowed. There as a part of her that rebelled at that idea. That couldn’t stand the idea that she should just leave things be. That wanted to rage against the infinite box she was placed in. But...but what good would it do to even return to the galaxy if she was this tired?

Her confrontation with Anakin had told her something; that death wasn’t the right path. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some rest. That she couldn’t take a break. That she couldn’t let herself truly breathe...

She chuckled softly and stood. Maybe the Force had led her with its pollen path?

“Thanks, Barriss. I think I needed to hear that.”

Barriss smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome, Ahsoka. May the Force be with you.”

Ahsoka nodded and turned to go to Yoti. She reached halfway across the field, before pausing and then swinging back. Barriss stared at her, rooted to the spot, eyes wide and a trembling across her face.

Ahsoka swallowed and opened her mouth--

“Do you want to see my village?”

Barriss blinked. “What?”

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. All the vaunted maturity she’d thought she’d gained over the years fled out of her system and suddenly she was a teenager again, desperate to say something but not knowing how to or even what the something was beyond a vague feeling. But this time the feeling was clear: she wanted her friend back.

She opened her eyes, and there was Barriss and for the first time she saw all the fear that had coagulated in her being. “Do you...do you think we could just pretend that we talked it all out a long time ago? That we moved past it?”

Barriss held still a moment, then she crumpled back against her hut. Her breath came thick and short, and she squeezed her eyes closed. For a moment, Ahsoka thought she was going to vomit, but she seemed to get herself under control.

“I would like that,” she gasped. “I would like that very much.”

A wave of relief, carrying with it a long-buried feeling, settling over her like an old cloak. Not exactly comfy, perhaps, and maybe not fitting right anymore. But comfortable, with the familiar scent providing warmth. She walked to Barriss and lightly put her hand on her shoulder. Barriss looked up at her wide-eyed, hopeful and scared.

“Then let’s do that.” Ahsoka smiled.

-----------------

The ride back was comfortable, the two catching up on the way. Barriss didn’t have much to tell, apart from her “less-than-daring escape” as she put it, and Ahsoka chided her to come up with something more entertaining to tell later. From Ahsoka’s side there was so much.

“So they built two superweapons?” Barriss queried, riding behind Ahsoka on the mount, her hands resting on Ahsoka’s thighs in a light way that suggested she was afraid of touching something scalding.

“Yeah. I think there must have been an underspend in the budget somewhere.”

“And they called this planet killing weapon the Death Star?”

“They sure did.”

“What have they called the solar system destroying weapon? The Sun Crusher? The Starkiller?”

Ahsoka laughed. They crested a rise and came onto view the village, the pods all miraculously undestroyed and unraided.

“Here we are,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not much, but it’s a base.”

“It looks lovely. I’ve traded with the Noti before. Very friendly people. You’ve done well.” Barriss squinted past Ahsoka’s arm. “Are those Scar-Waste Bandits?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka frowned. Alright, this was unusual. Usually the bandits scuttled off after a bit of ritual bellowing and a lightsabre fight between Sabine and Shin, that usually ended with Shin fleeing and threatening vile retribution like some HoloNet serial villain. But this time, they were hanging about. Drinking tea with the Noti, spinning some of the kids in their disc-shaped hats, and generally being pleasant people. Their helmets were off, pale blue skin with green eyes peering out. “This isn’t normal.”

“From my experience, they’re not ones to trade or be pleasant, even when it would be more advantageous to them. But they leave you alone if you give them a sufficiently thorough kicking.”

Ahsoka raised a brow at Barriss, and her cheeks darkened. “They caught me on a bad day and took a potato crop that had just ripened. I’m not perfect!”

Ahsoka slid off Yoti and Barriss followed her through the village. She reached out, trying to locate Sabine and twigged her presence as coming from their pod.

With...someone else...

Ahsoka halted outside of the pod, the hatch door shut. “Sabine?” she called.

Someone swore. There was a fumbling, stumbling noise, two people in a hushed argument. Sounds of items being thrown and clinking against the walls and floor. An isolated curse. And then the hatch popped open and Sabine popped out, flushed and panicked and wearing a light grey tunic that was familiar and also not Sabine’s.

“Oh! Hey, Master, I thought you would be longer--that is, it’s good to see you back!”

“Master?” Barriss queried with a twitch of her lips.

Ahsoka flapped her hand. “What are you doing?” she asked Sabine.

“Uh...well, actually, I’m in the process of negotiating a peace treaty with the bandits.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s voice dripped with so much sarcasm it nearly pooled at her feet.

“Pretty intense negotiations actually.” Sabine toed her boot into the ground, the ankle and leg above its hem bare.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and let out a suffering sigh. She turned to Barriss. “I don’t suppose I could stay at your place?”

For what might have been the first time in her life, Ahsoka saw a genuine smile cross Barriss’ face. She slid her hand into Ahsoka’s and gently squeezed.

“Come on, I’ll take you home by the scenic route.”

Home. She liked the sound of that word and the implications it held.

Ahsoka squeezed the hand back. “That sounds like just what I need.”

#star wars #fanfic #barrissoka #wolfwren #my writing #fluff #mild angst #hope you enjoy!

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imarvelatthestars · 1 year

Text

Six

Pairings: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: just cuteness, thigh grinding, and a little intelligence/competence kink maybe; references to sex; reader wears glasses and is plus sized coded, but it's not explicit

Notes: At this point, I'm sure no one is surprised I have more Wrecker content. Was this a blatant self insert? Yes. Hush.

Like most clones, at least the ones that are interested in this sort of thing, Wrecker isn't sure what to do when faced with a pretty girl. And the galaxy has loads of them - tall and muscular, short and round, stick thin and broad shouldered and round ankles, and he loves them all. He even likes some of the non-human ones, the ones with pretty purple skin or patterned lekku. So when he sees you for the first time, his reaction is about the same as it usually is.

His breath stutters, his legs tense up and his chest gets tight, his hands go clammy under the gloves, and his heart goes pounding right out of his chest. He knows Hunter can sense it all, but he usually doesn't tease him about it other than a smile and an elbow to the ribs. The rest of the team are thankfully fixated on something else, Tech on his pad while Crosshair and Echo discuss something. It's all nonsense to him, really, because all he can focus on is you.

Your spectacles are the first things he notices. They're not goggles like Tech's, but actual spectacles with transparisteel lenses; he can tell by the way they catch the late afternoon sunlight and refract it across your cheeks. Then he notices your profile, the slope of your nose as it bends to your lips and chin. There's a softness to you, something in your cheeks or your mouth, your shoulders and arms perhaps, or maybe it's the way you've furrowed your brows? He can't put his finger on it. All he knows is that you're disarmingly cute.

The relaxed expression you're sporting suddenly shifts and your entire body moves in response until you're sitting at attention, scrambling about you for something. It takes him a moment to realize that you're writing.

He reacts without thinking. "Hey, Tech." His hand smacks against his brother's shoulder pad and there's a quiet huff of irritation immediately following. "I thought writin' on paper didn't exist anymore."

Tech looks thoroughly unimpressed. "It is an outdated method of preserving information, I'll admit, and much less efficient than any contemporary technologies, but it is still a viable-"

"Well, then why's she usin' it if it's so outdated?"

Four heads go swiveling your direction, following the vague direction of Wrecker's outstretched arm. And suddenly he remembers just how loud he can be, how far his voice carries, because you're suddenly looking up. At him. You're looking at him. Kriff.

He's embarrassed you, he can see it in your eyes, the line between your brows, the way the corners of your mouth have turned down. Double kriff. Shit fuck kriffing stars above, why is he such an idiot? He can hear Echo lightly chastising him and Hunter sighing, but mostly he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because you look so uncomfortable and he feels like such a fool. He was only curious.

"Really living up to your name, aren't you?"

Wrecker turns and glares. "Shut it, Crosshair."

But his brother simply smiles. "You're just mad you scared her off."

"Did not!"

Crosshair points back in your direction with a lift of his chin and sure enough, you're gathering your things under your arm and starting to rise from your seat. Something in the back of his mind screams no! because you looked so perfect sitting there, so pretty with the sun behind you and your spectacles all shiny. You looked interesting, sweet, soft, smart, all until he opened his big mouth.

His entire body wilts. He probably wouldn't have approached you in the first place, but now he definitely can't and it makes him sad.

"I believe you embarrassed her."

"I know," he sighs.

"You probably should not have said that."

If ever there was a time he wished Tech came with an off button, it's now. "Yeah, I know!"

"Lads, lads!" Hunter's voice cuts through it all with the practiced patience of a sergeant. "Settle down. Now's not the time."

Wrecker is still watching you leave and feeling all the while like a kicked massiff.

"Echo, Tech, you two head back to the ship and get it ready. Crosshair, with me. And Wrecker?" Hunter's hand claps on the curve of his pauldron. "You still have a mission to finish."

That has him frowning even more. "I-I do?"

"I believe you have an apology to make. And a comm number to retrieve. Now get going, soldier."

By all rights, you should get along with Tech the most and while the two of you do have plenty in common, you seem to like Wrecker the most. He tries not to brag about it.

And by all those same rights, he shouldn't like you as much as he does. Because you remind him a bit of his brother with the spectacles and intellectual tendencies, but that's where the similarities stop. You're so much kinder, so thoughtful and curious. And you're funny, much funnier than Tech's ever been on purpose.

He likes that you're smart. You love history and other cultures, learning about their art and their religions and all the little intricacies that build up their traditions, and you love sharing them. You love libraries and outdated things like paper and ink and handmade fabrics. He loves that you're not like anyone he's ever known.

You're so soft, he's not sure he'll ever be over it. You have your rough spots, of course - the callouses on your fingers from so many years spent writing things out by hand, the ones on your feet from a lifetime of travel, the dry patches on your elbows - but you are made mostly of gentle curves and swells and dips, even in the most angular lines of your bones. He holds onto the side of your thigh now as you rut against him, marvels at the strength of your muscles beneath all that softness.

"Keep goin', mesh'la," he grunts.

Your voice trembles when you try to speak again. "I can't."

Wrecker shudders as your hot breath fans out across his face. "Go on." Every molecule and atom in his body is straining against his skin, desperate for release, for the pleasure of your mind and body to sing out for him. "Wanna hear you."

When you start to protest again, both his hands suddenly settle on your hips and grind you down on his thigh, and your resounding yelp only serves to egg him on even more.

"Tell me, smart girl. Can't..." White hot arousal shoots up the entire length of his body when one of your knees rubs into his crotch. "Uh, can't let you come 'til you finish tellin' me."

It takes you a long second. You're fighting with yourself, trying to struggle through the fog of pleasure to find the words, and he knows he's not making it any easier for you. But he has to hear you.

"It's... it's because they're from the same, fuck, same linguistic ancestor."

He can't help grinning. "Yeah?"

Your head bobs. "Uh huh." You're mewling by now, whining, all but begging for him to let you come, to touch you where you need it most, to fuck you properly, but he knows you know that won't happen just yet. "I think they split off a couple, couple centuries before the mass emigration, fuck, right there."

He'll never be over how smart you are, either. Never. You're not as smart as Tech, probably no one is, but you're brilliant in your own right and dammit it all if that isn't the sexiest thing about you.

"The numbers," he pants, simultaneously grinding your crotch down onto his leg while bucking his against your knee. "You said somethin' about the numbers. I-I don't-"

Now you're smiling. "That's how you know they share a linguistic ancestor, baby." And Maker, your voice. "Every, every single dialect and language in the tree has the same word for six. Almost, mm, no fluctuation in pronunciation or spelling."

Oh? Wrecker can feel his ears perk up. There's something about that number that he likes. "What's it called?"

You swallow hard as your chest rises and falls. "O-Ono. It's ono."

Warmth bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. He leans into you, puts a hand on the back of your neck to draw you on top of his chest, and sucks on your earlobe for a second. "I think that's how many times I'm gonna make you come. Ono."

The sound you make is utterly profane.

"You like that, pretty girl?"

A shudder ripples up your spine and you all but collapse. Wrecker spreads his big hands out over your shoulder blades, down your back, under the swell of your ass, and he teases his fingertips along the seam of your underthings.

"Please," you whimper into his neck.

Yeah. He thinks you like that a lot. You'll like it even more once he has your legs over his shoulders and his tongue buried in your slick.

#wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker #tbb wrecker #star wars #my beloved husband #this week's out of context linguistics lesson inspired by the fact that i cannot shut up about the polynesian language family #and i think wrecker would like a smart girl who makes him laugh and dazzles him with her special interests

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wandering-writing-waffles · 10 months

Text

His Most Prized Possession

Rating: E for everyone

Word Count: 819

Relationships: Darth Maul x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Mentions of blood, implied romance, implied kidnapping

Notes: Hello there! So this is just a quick lil oneshot I wrote a while back but kind of want to make into a full-fledged fic???? Idk, I may continue this and may not. I would certainly like to! But hey! I hope you enjoy what I have so far!

Summary: Maul had only ever loved one thing in his life, and that was you... But one day when he came home and all he could find of you was a small trinket of yours lying dormant in the doorway, he knew there could only be one explanation... You had been taken... Taken right out from under his nose! Heart filled with a newfound rage, he vows to scour the galaxy looking for you wherever he can. He will do anything to get you back.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Maul felt the heat of the blade lightly graze the center of his chest. On a regular occasion, he wouldn’t have paid any mind. His body was littered with scars and scratches after all. Years of fighting for survival had left their mark in the form of nasty raised abrasions all across his body. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just his body that was at stake this time.

He lifted his hand up to examine the area at which the blade seethed his flesh and to his dismay, it was gone. All that was left in its place were burnt, broken tethers from where it once laid.

He quickly tilted his head back upwards, towards this so-called attacker whom he assumed was just some insignificant bounty hunter from some insignificant little planet looking for a quick and easy score. Oh was he mistaken…

Maul seethed at that thought, a newfound, burning rage beginning to build up in his core, ready to burst at any moment. ‘What a pathetic waste of time,’ he thought to himself.

The attacker went rigid. His eyes widened in a fearful stupor as he made contact with Maul’s piercing golden gaze. The sweat at his temple began to pool and drip down his now furrowed brow bone and Maul could see his hands and the pinprick tips of his blue lekku start to tremble.

Maul snarled in response, not feeling the slightest bit of empathy. As far as he was concerned, no one messed with his belongings and no one wastes his time.

Without hesitation, he leaped forward, eyes fixated on the young twi’lek who had unknowingly just sealed his fate.

The man jumped back in response, but it was too late. Lightsaber drawn, Maul slashed right at the center of his torso, effectively severing his cobalt body in half.

Maul’s senses were immediately filled with the smell of burning flesh, followed by a loud shriek and the sound of the assailant’s body plummeting against the floor. His breathing hitched in response, eyes trained on the man’s chest, making sure there was no longer breath in his body.

When he was certain he let out a scoff, quickly sheathing his lightsaber and turning around on the heel of his foot.

‘Where is it?!’ Maul internally cried. He began searching the area, desperate to find what had fallen. But the muck-stained floors of the alley were making it difficult to search. He became more desperate, removing his gloves and falling to his hands and knees to dig through the thick grime. He only found relief when he felt his fingers lightly brush against a small, cold object.

Quickly looping his finger around the base he pulled it out, taking care to brush off the dirt that it had picked up before resting the object in the palm of his hand.

There it was… His prize.

Maul smiled warmly down at the object as it gleamed against the dimmed light. His twin hearts rested, and he felt calm once more. For this trinket sitting in his hand wasn’t just any old thing. No… It was much more than that. It was a ring. But not just any ring. In fact, it didn't even belong to him. Its true owner, although indeed rare, was someone whom Maul had held and still holds in the highest regard…

For it belonged to you… His beloved… His whole world… His starlight…

Maul’s grip tightened as he held the gleaming ring in his hand, memories flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of his love for you who had been so cruelly taken from him. The ring symbolized your bond, a promise you had made to each other in happier times. It was a token of your unwavering devotion, an unbreakable vow etched into its delicate design.

Crafted from a metal found only in the deepest crevices of his homeworld, the ring radiated an otherworldly brilliance. Its intricate carvings depicted your intertwined destinies, your love story eternally etched into the precious metal.

To Maul, the ring represented hope in the darkest of times, a tangible connection to the one person who had breathed life into his scarred soul. Whenever he felt lost, his fingers would trace the contours of the ring, seeking solace in its presence. It was a symbol of his unwavering determination to find you and reunite with the one who had captured his hearts.

As he clenched the ring tightly, Maul's resolve solidified. Your trail… His beloved’s trail would not go cold. He would stop at nothing, traverse galaxies, and face any adversary to reclaim what had been stolen from him. With the ring as his guiding light, Maul embarked on a relentless quest, a love-driven odyssey to rescue you and restore your shattered bond.

For you, he would do anything. And that was what he was going to do.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the read! I know it was short but it means so much to me! Let me know if I should continue it and if you have any pointers for where it should go if I do! Thank you again! Chow!

-Waffles XOXO

#darth maul #star wars #maul opress #opress brothers #darth maul x reader #maul #starwars #star wars the clone wars #star wars au #star wars darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x y/n #x reader #implied kidnapping #implied relationship #no smut #oneshot #short prompt #under 1000 words

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photogirl894 · 1 year

Text

@clonexreaderbingo

Square: "I love you"

Yay, my second bingo one-shot! This time, for Captain Howzer! This is my first time writing for him, so I hope I do the good Captain justice! 😊😊 Enjoy!!

“Hera? Hera! Hera! Where are you, child?”

You cried out for the young Twi’lek girl in your charge as you wandered outside on the top balcony of the Syndulla household, wondering where she had wandered off to. The child was always getting into mischief along with her C1 unit Droid, who you swear had more sass and attitude than the girl herself. You’d done your daily lessons with her and then let her be so you could prepare dinner for her as well as Cham and Eleni, the girl’s parents, who would be expected to return soon. Of course, of all the times for Hera to disappear, it had to be just before her parents came home. Though, they most likely wouldn’t be surprised, but even still, it was embarrassing for you to appear as though you’d lost their daughter. The sun was just beginning to set, coloring the sky a deep gold and orange, and you hoped you’d find Hera before it got too dark.

Looking around to the courtyard and beyond the wall of the estate, you called out again, “Hera! Chopper!” When no response came, your hands came up to your hips as a groan of frustration escaped you. “Where has that girl and her Droid gone to now?” you asked aloud. You had checked all through the house and there was no sign of her. She’d better be outside somewhere.

At the start of the Clone Wars, you were hired by the Syndulla’s to be the governess for their daughter since one or both of her parents were constantly away, especially with Cham Syndulla’s involvement in the war as well as the liberation of Ryloth. You were a simple woman who had come to Ryloth for a new start after you had lost your family to a famine on your home planet. The Syndulla’s seemed like a good family who had nothing but their people’s best interests at heart and you found there was never a dull moment with them, especially with the fiery-spirited Hera, who was on the verge of her young teenage years. They paid you and treated you well and gave you your own room in the house to stay in; you really felt like you were part of their family some days.

Then off in the distance, you managed to spot a small cloud of dust and heard the faint revving of an engine. Your eyes narrowed, trying to make out the shape coming in your direction. It was a speederbike. After a few seconds, you spotted a familiar shade of teal against the gold of the sunset sky behind him which brought a smile to your face.

It was him…Captain Howzer.

He was a Clone captain over a squadron of troops that had been sent months ago to help the citizens of Ryloth after they were liberated from the Separatists. He had also personally been assigned to serve with Cham Syndulla and his family. He had been to the Syndulla home many times. Sometimes to retrieve Cham when he was needed for a battle of some kind, to check on the wellbeing of the family or to bring Hera back after she’d scampered off somewhere…which you could tell was the reason for his unexpected visit this time as you then spotted a smaller figure peek out from behind him, her green skin and lekku illuminated by the sun.

Seeing them approaching the outer wall, you ducked out from the upper balcony, made your way through the house and went outside to meet them. Howzer drove in through the gate and brought the speederbike to a stop in the courtyard. You saw Hera slide off the back of the bike and Chopper, who had been magnetized to the very back, jumped off using his thrusters, chirping in greeting to you and waving his little mechanical arm like nothing was wrong.

“Oh, don’t act all innocent with me, Chopper,” you chided him as you walked towards them. Then you looked to Hera. “Hera Syndulla, where have you been? Your parents will be home anytime now.”

Before Hera could answer you, you all heard the sound of a shuttle approaching and saw it come zooming in overhead. It was Cham’s personal shuttle. You had a feeling he and his wife were going to question why you all were out there and possibly why Howzer was there unannounced. The shuttle came in for a landing inside the courtyard and you shielded your face from the exhaust. Within seconds, the Syndulla couple disembarked their ship.

“Well…we have quite the welcoming party, my dear,” Eleni remarked to her husband as they came your way.

“So it would seem,” replied Cham. “What are you all doing out here…and what brings you by, Howzer?”

You opened your mouth to explain what had happened, but Howzer answered first, saying, “Hera needed help replacing a part for her Droid, sir, so I offered to take her to find what she needed while (Y/N) got things prepared for dinner. We only just got back. My apologies if I overstepped.”

“Not at all. That is perfectly fine,” said Cham.

Your eyes widened slightly at Howzer and you grinned a little to yourself. He had covered for you as well as Hera…for probably the twentieth time, at this point. He was far too kind and noble…and that was why you loved him.

It hadn’t taken long after Howzer had come to Ryloth for him to catch your attention and for you to catch his. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scars on his chin and his cheek, and he thought you were beautiful beyond compare. There were many stolen glances when any of the Syndulla’s weren’t looking, secret meetings when Hera was in bed and her parents were still out and a couple lingering touches of your hands when you stood by each other. After a couple months of getting to know each other, growing closer and subtly flirting, you had finally kissed Howzer during a night alone and you both decided you wanted to be together. You weren’t sure if Cham and Eleni would approve of your relationship, so you tried your best to keep it a secret and act cordial around each other when they were present. However, you’d caught some knowing looks from Eleni a couple of times. Either you and Howzer weren’t being as discreet as you thought or Eleni was much more observant than you gave her credit for, which was already a lot. Eleni Syndulla was a sharp and witty woman that you admired a great deal. She most likely knew of your relationship with Howzer, but she’d never said anything, which gave you the idea that she didn’t mind or she approved.

To quickly move the conversation along, you spoke up, saying, "Supper is ready for you all in the dining room."

Eleni then looked to the Clone Captain and said to him, a grin on her face, "You will join us for dinner, won't you, Howzer?"

"Thank you, ma'am, but I wouldn't want to impose, especially since I'm here unexpectedly," he replied.

"Nonsense, you would never be an imposition to us," she said back. Then she smiled even more. "Besides, I'm sure our lovely governess made plenty of food for everyone."

Of course, Eleni made it a point to say you were lovely…but you simply said politely, "I did, yes. There will be enough for you, as well, Captain."

"Please stay and eat with us, Howzer!" cried Hera excitedly.

Seeing all the women were staring at him, Howzer stole a look at Cham. The Twi'lek leader just shrugged and said, "The ladies have spoken, Captain."

"I guess they have, sir," he said. Then he agreed, saying, "Very well."

Pleased with his response, Cham and Eleni went into the house with Chopper following behind them. However, you stopped Hera as she tried to go after them.

"Now, where were you really, young lady?" you questioned her in a low voice, your eyebrows raised and your hands on your hips.

Hera laughed sheepishly and told you, "Uh…I went to go find Uncle Gobi…because he told me if I could get away, he'd take me flying. Howzer found me instead and brought me back."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Gobi really is a bad influence on you. You're both gonna get me in trouble someday," you commented. You gave her a pat on the head. "Go on, troublemaker, go wash up for dinner."

Hera ran off up the stairs and into the house, leaving you and Howzer alone.

"I honestly think Eleni knows about us," you commented to him.

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. She's an intelligent woman."

"Though, she hasn't said anything to me, so...I'm assuming she's okay with it?"

"She'd better be…because I would fight for you and for us if she didn't." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, giving you butterflies in your stomach and what he had said. "Let's go, I'm dying to have some of your cooking."

Dinner went well with the Syndulla’s and Howzer complimented what you had prepared…multiple times, even. Howzer was never really around for mealtimes, so this was a very rare occasion to have him there. He too fit in well with the family dynamic.

As you were clearing the table, the Captain stood up, took up his helmet underneath his arm and stated to the room, "Thank you for the meal. It was very appreciated. I'll go ahead and leave you now for the evening."

"As you wish, Howzer," Cham responded. Then he said to you as you took his plate, "And (Y/N), you may have the rest of the evening off. Eleni and I will handle getting Hera to bed."

"Oh! Are you sure, sir?" you asked, surprised.

"I'm sure. You've worked hard today, especially after preparing this meal for all of us," he said. "Go, have some time for yourself tonight."

When he turned away, you snuck a look at Howzer, who had stopped in the front doorway when he heard Cham tell you to take the night off. He grinned at you and quickly motioned with his head outside, signaling to you that he'd wait for you, and then closed the door.

"I appreciate that very much, sir," you said gladly to Cham. "I'll go on a walk after I get the dishes."

You took the dishes into the kitchen to clean them, but found yourself intercepted by Eleni, who took the dishes from you.

"I will handle dishes, dear. No more work for you tonight," she told you. "Go enjoy your walk." Then she leaned in and whispered, "Enjoy your time with the Captain."

When she came back, she winked knowingly at you. It was certainly now safe to say that she definitely knew about you and Howzer.

Gratefully, you smiled back and replied, "I will, ma'am. Thank you."

You grabbed your jacket from your room and retreated back downstairs. You bade Hera goodnight and gave her a kiss on the forehead before heading out the door. The sun had gotten lower in the sky to where it just a soft light, the sky covered in pale pink and purple. Howzer was standing by his speederbike in the middle of the courtyard and a pleased grin crossed his face at seeing you. You broke into a run down the steps and leapt into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you with ease and spun you around, chuckling in your ear.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested.

"Yes, please," you replied, already halfway on the back of his bike.

He got onto the bike and started it up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and the two sped off into the endless deserts of Ryloth. You rode on for a while until you came to a cluster of rocks in the middle of the desert; a spot where you and Howzer had escaped to many a time.

He helped you off the speederbike and you immediately found yourself in his arms, his lips connecting with yours passionately.

"I'd hoped I'd get you to myself tonight. I've missed you," he said, referencing that it had been a couple of days since he'd been able to see you.

"I've missed you, too," you replied.

You kissed him once again before he pulled out a blanket from the back of the speederbike. Then he laid it out on the ground for you and you sat down upon it. Then he took the time to remove his armor, stripping down to his undersuit, before joining you where you snuggled up close to him in his arms. The two of you laid back on the blanket and looked up to the sky, seeing that the pinks and purples were growing deeper in color and you could see a sea of stars beginning to appear as night was approaching. The two of you gazed up at the stars without saying a word, the beating of his heart drumming in your ear.

Finally, after a long while, you heard him ask, "What do you think will happen when the war is over? What will happen…with us?"

"I don't know," you said. "I don't know if the Syndulla’s will still need me when Cham no longer needs to fight for Ryloth…and you'll probably be shipped offworld because the Clones won't be needed either." You nestled up closer to him, your arms snaking around his waist. "What are we going to do? I don't…I don't want to lose you, Howzer."

Howzer sat up, pulling you up with him, and looked steadfastly into your eyes. "You won't lose me, babe," he promised, laying his hand on your cheek. "I don't know what our future holds for us when the war is done, but I do know this: when that time comes, wherever you choose to go in the galaxy, I will always be at your side."

You reached up and grasped his hand on your cheek, leaning into his gentle touch. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course, I do," he said, kissing you long and slowly. His forehead tenderly touched yours when he pulled away. "I love you."

This was the first time those three words had been spoken between the two of you and a quiet gasp escaped you at hearing them. When you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, you found there wasn't a hint of any lie or uncertainty in them at all. He meant what he said truly and irrevocably. Though, you knew you shouldn't question him. Howzer would never lie to you. He was always honest in everything when it came to you. There was no reason for it to end here.

"I love you, too," you told him back with a smile. "Even when you're no longer a Captain and I'm no longer a governess, I will always love you and we'll always be together."

There, under the starry desert sky of Ryloth, you and your beloved Clone Captain promised that no matter what happened in the future, you would always have each other and that was all you would ever need to be happy.

Clone x Reader Bingo 2023

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch howzer #howzer x reader #cfb2023

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